My first-ever job was working as a waitress at a diner, and the most significant thing I learned is that I look like Sally Fields. Back when I was 17 this meant the "Gidget" Sally Fields, possibly even the "Smokey and the Bandit" Sally Fields, but definitely not the "Steel Magnolias" Sally Fields. It came as a surprise to me--I really didn't see the resemblance--but after about the millionth customer commented on the likeness, I began to accept it as truth.
Twenty years later, Sally began her role in Brother and Sisters. Boy did she remind me of my mother. I should point out that I look an awful lot like my mom. And really, Sally looks great for a 65 year-old, so I guess that's not a bad outlook for me.
During our final full week of school I sent home a parent survey. The idea was that I'd ask easy-to-answer questions about our 2nd grade experience to improve any problem areas. I asked parents to list three things they liked, 2 things we ought to improve, and a question about 3rd grade. In my mind, all parents would be thrilled to be asked their opinion and would thoughtfully and promptly complete the short survey.
I have 23 students. I got 8 responses. That's a mere 35% of surveys completed. One student told me, "My dad said it was stupid and he's not doing it." Another said, "My dad didn't know what to do with it." A third survey got lost somewhere between mom's and dad's houses.
So what does this failure to respond mean? Well, the Emmy award-winning actress within me hopes they didn't respond because everything about our room is so perfect there's nothing to fix. Every parent is so, so happy with every single thing I do. They didn't respond because parents were too busy organizing the campaign to get me a Golden Apple Teacher award. My inner Sally wants to cry out, "You love me, you really love me!"
But the good teacher part of me, the reflective part, is still pondering this mystery. Was the one-page survey too time-consuming? Was it too close to the end of the year for parents to care? Was it a stupid idea?
I'm wondering if, while my commitment to these particular families is stronger than ever, it might not go both ways. Based on notes and comments I've gotten from parents, it's safe to say they are generally relieved to know their child will have The Flying Nun next year and are pleased that it's not an ogre. Perhaps I need to remember what Sally told Tom: Life is like a box of chocolates. The survey may seem like a caramel to me, but covering a survey in the promise to loop doesn't mask the flavor of homework.
