Episode Summary

In this episode, I continue exploring the changing realities of teaching by looking at how parent expectations and family-teacher communication have changed during my 24 years in education. Many of those changes are positive, but technology and increased access have also created new expectations around availability, communication, grades, and how quickly problems should be resolved.

I talk about the important difference between advocacy and entitlement. I want parents to advocate for their children, ask difficult questions, and speak up when something doesn't seem right. At the same time, children need opportunities to struggle, experience appropriate consequences, develop resilience, and discover that every uncomfortable experience does not need to be removed by an adult.

I also explore why assuming positive intent, gathering the entire story, maintaining professional boundaries, and documenting important situations can strengthen communication. Parents know things about their children that teachers don't, while teachers see students in environments and situations families may never see. Neither perspective is complete by itself.

Ultimately, I believe parents and teachers don't have to agree about everything to be on the same team. Strong partnerships are built on trust, respect, communication, accountability, and a shared commitment to helping a child succeed. Kids need great parents and great teachers, and they're at their best when those adults stand beside each other instead of on opposite sides.

Show Notes

• How parent expectations have changed
• Increased access and teacher availability
• Advocacy versus entitlement
• Why productive struggle matters
• Beginning difficult conversations with curiosity
• Professional boundaries and documentation
• How repeated conflict affects teachers
• Building genuine family-teacher partnerships

Key Takeaways

• Increased access to teachers should not mean unlimited access.
• Parent advocacy and trust in teachers can coexist.
• Children need opportunities to struggle and experience appropriate consequences.
• A child's version of an event may not be the complete story.
• Assuming positive intent can change difficult conversations.
• Professional boundaries help make teaching sustainable.
• Parents and teachers can disagree while remaining on the same team.

This is Mr. Funky Teacher with BeAFunkyTeacher.com. I'm coming to you with another Be a Funky Teacher podcast.

Welcome back, everyone.

Today's episode is called Parent Expectations Have Changed.

I'm beginning my 24th year of teaching, and one of the things that's changed during that time isn't just what happens inside the classroom.

It's what happens around the classroom, especially the relationship between families and teachers.

And let me start by saying this.

I've worked with some absolutely incredible parents over the years.

Parents who advocate for their kids.

Parents who support teachers.

Parents who ask great questions.

Parents who disagree with me sometimes.

And that's okay.

I've had parents tell me things about their children that completely changed my understanding of what that student needed.

Those partnerships matter.

But expectations have changed.

Communication has changed.

Technology has changed access to teachers.

And in some situations, the relationship between families and schools has shifted from partnership toward something that can sometimes feel almost transactional.

There's an expectation of immediate access.

Immediate answers.

Immediate grade updates.

Immediate responses.

And sometimes immediate resolution.

I heard about a situation involving a teacher where a parent was unhappy about something involving their child's grades.

So the parent went to the teacher's home.

It was actually a friend of mine.

This teacher was from another school district.

A parent showed up at the teacher's front door and wanted to talk about grades.

I mean, think about that for a second.

You're making spaghetti, and the next minute you have a parent of one of your students at the door knocking, wanting to talk about grades.

That just kind of blows my mind.

Just think about that.

It wasn't in the classroom.

It wasn't at the school.

It was at the teacher's home.

And that's a boundary.

That's a boundary violation right there.

I would say teachers absolutely should communicate with families.

We should answer questions.

We should explain decisions.

And we should listen to concerns.

But being a teacher doesn't mean families have 24-hour access to you.

And I think that story represents something larger that's worth talking about.

What should families reasonably expect from teachers?

And what should teachers reasonably expect from families?

And how do we get back to seeing each other as partners rather than opponents?

Because ultimately, there's a child standing between us who needs both.

Before we get into it, let's ground ourselves in gratitude.

Here are three things that I'm thankful for.

The first thing that I'm thankful for is parents who tell me what I need to know.

Sometimes a parent reaches out and says:

"Hey, I just wanted you to know something happened last night."

Maybe there's been a change at home.

Maybe the child didn't sleep well.

Maybe they're worried about something.

Or maybe something significant happened in the family.

That little bit of information can completely change how I interpret what I'm seeing at school.

I'm just thankful for parents who recognize how communication can help me understand their child better.

The second thing that I'm thankful for is people who can disagree respectfully.

This goes way beyond education.

We are not always going to agree.

Parents and teachers aren't always going to agree.

Teachers and administrators aren't always going to agree.

And that's normal.

I'm thankful for people who can sit across from somebody, disagree with them, listen, explain their perspective, and still treat that person with dignity.

We need more of that.

The third thing that I'm thankful for is families who trust teachers while still advocating for their children.

Those things can exist together.

A parent can trust me and still ask me a difficult question.

They can advocate for their child and still listen when I share a concern.

I've had many families over the years who approached our relationship exactly that way.

And when that partnership is strong, kids benefit.

So the topic once again is Parent Expectations Have Changed.

I don't want this episode to become:

"Parents are the problem."

That's not where I'm going.

Parents should advocate for their children.

I want that.

If you believe something isn't right with your child's education, ask questions.

Speak up.

Teachers aren't above accountability.

Neither are schools.

But there's a difference between advocacy and entitlement.

There's also a difference between access and unlimited access.

And there's a difference between questioning a teacher and automatically assuming the teacher is wrong.

That's the territory I want to explore today.

Because parents and teachers don't have to agree about everything to be on the same team.

Access to teachers has changed.

When I started teaching, communication looked different.

Technology has changed that dramatically.

Today, families may have email, messaging systems, online gradebooks, learning management systems, school apps, sometimes even direct messaging.

And a lot of that is good.

Parents can know more about what's happening in school than ever before.

Teachers can communicate quickly.

Families can ask questions.

Information can move almost instantly.

But there's a downside to instant communication.

Sometimes instant communication creates an expectation of an instant response.

A parent sends something at night and wonders why the teacher hasn't responded.

A grade gets entered and somebody immediately wants an explanation.

A child comes home upset and a message can be sent before anybody has had time to understand what actually happened.

Teachers need to communicate.

Absolutely.

But teachers also have lives outside school.

Families.

Children.

Responsibilities.

Dinner.

Sleep.

Maybe even a little time when they're not thinking about work.

Being accessible doesn't mean being constantly available.

That distinction matters.

Because when professional boundaries disappear, teaching can begin consuming every part of a person's life.

Advocacy and entitlement are not the same thing.

I want parents advocating for their children.

Let me say that clearly.

Parents know their children in ways teachers don't.

If something doesn't seem right, ask.

If your child needs something, communicate.

If you believe your child isn't receiving appropriate support, advocate.

That's healthy.

But advocacy changes when the message becomes:

"My child should never struggle."

Or:

"My child should never experience a consequence."

Or:

"If my child is unhappy, somebody at school must have done something wrong."

That's different.

School is partly preparation for life.

And life includes disappointment.

Mistakes.

Consequences.

Challenges.

People who disagree with us.

Things we're not immediately good at.

If adults remove every difficult experience from a child's path, we may actually remove opportunities for that child to develop resilience.

There's a term we've used for years.

Helicopter parenting.

Hovering.

Rescuing.

Trying to clear every obstacle.

Usually, it comes from love.

That's important to acknowledge.

Parents don't want to see their kids hurt.

I understand that.

Sometimes love means allowing a child to work through something difficult while standing beside them instead of removing the difficulty for them.

That's productive struggle.

And children need opportunities to experience it.

Boredom doesn't automatically mean bad teaching.

Here's one I've heard over the years:

"My child says they're bored."

Okay.

Let's talk about that.

Maybe they are.

Maybe I need to look at my instruction.

Teachers should reflect on that.

I absolutely want students engaged.

But I also think we've created an unrealistic expectation that children should be entertained every second of the school day.

Learning isn't always entertainment.

Sometimes learning requires sustained attention.

Sometimes you have to read something carefully.

Sometimes you have to work through a math problem for 15 minutes.

Sometimes writing is difficult.

Guess what?

Sometimes practice is repetitive.

Sometimes learning requires doing something that doesn't provide instant gratification.

And that's especially challenging in a world where children go home and experience constant digital stimulation.

Video games.

Short videos.

Social media.

Streaming.

Instant entertainment.

If the brain becomes accustomed to constant stimulation, a difficult piece of text may feel boring.

That doesn't automatically mean the teacher isn't engaging.

Our job isn't to compete with a video game every minute of the school day.

Our job is to help students learn.

Sometimes learning is exciting.

Sometimes it's fascinating.

Sometimes it's creative.

Then there are times when it's work.

Helping children learn how to persist through those moments is part of education too.

Children don't always tell the entire story.

I'm going to say something that every parent knows.

Children don't always tell the truth.

That doesn't make them bad kids.

They're kids.

Sometimes they misunderstand.

Sometimes they remember things differently.

Sometimes they leave out a detail.

And sometimes they absolutely know they are not telling you the whole story.

I've experienced this personally as a teacher.

I once had a parent raise a concern because their child said I wouldn't let them use the bathroom during a school day.

According to the story being told at home, I simply wasn't allowing this child to go.

There was one problem.

I had documentation.

The student had signed out of my classroom to use the bathroom four different times that day.

The student's own sign-out record showed it.

So when the concern was escalated and I had a very upset parent coming to me, I wasn't relying on:

"Well, that's not what I remember."

I had documentation.

And the documentation told a very different story.

That's why I think families need to begin with curiosity.

Your child comes home and says:

"Hey, my teacher won't let me go to the bathroom."

Instead of immediately deciding:

"That teacher refused to let my child use the bathroom."

Maybe start with:

"Tell me what happened."

And then contact the teacher.

When you contact the teacher, you can say:

"Hey, here's what my child told me. Can you help me understand what happened?"

See, that's a completely different type of energy.

It doesn't automatically believe the teacher.

It doesn't automatically disbelieve the child.

It gathers information.

And that's what partnership looks like.

Assuming positive intent changes the conversation.

Think about two ways to begin the exact same conversation.

Here's the first way:

"Why did you do this to my child?"

The second:

"My child came home upset about something today. Can you help me understand what happened?"

Same concern.

Completely different starting point.

And teachers can do this too.

Instead of assuming:

"This parent is attacking me."

Maybe we ask:

"Hey, what are they worried about?"

Sometimes anger is fear.

Sometimes a parent is scared their child is struggling.

Sometimes they're frustrated because they don't understand what's happening.

Assuming positive intent doesn't mean accepting disrespect.

It doesn't mean tolerating abusive communication.

And it doesn't mean pretending a problem doesn't exist.

It means we begin with the possibility that the person sitting across from us ultimately wants something similar to what we want.

They want that child to succeed.

When we begin there, hard conversations become much more productive.

Teachers need boundaries too.

Let's go back to the parent who showed up at a teacher's home.

That's not okay.

And I don't think saying that is anti-parent.

I'm a parent myself.

That's simply a professional boundary.

Teachers are professionals.

But we're also people.

We have homes.

Families.

Private lives.

And time that belongs to us.

If you email a teacher in the evening, there's nothing necessarily wrong with that.

Email whenever it's convenient for you.

But the teacher may answer tomorrow.

That's okay.

If you send a message on Saturday, maybe you won't hear back until Monday.

That's okay too.

A healthy school should establish reasonable expectations around communication.

And remember the larger conversation we're having in this series.

We're talking about why good teachers struggle.

We're talking about retention.

We're talking about sustainability.

Boundaries aren't evidence that a teacher doesn't care.

Boundaries are part of making caring sustainable.

Documentation protects everyone.

I've become a big believer in documentation.

Not because I want education to become some giant legal file.

Not because I assume every interaction is going to become a conflict.

But because human memory is imperfect.

And when emotions become involved, people remember situations differently.

Documenting important communication can create clarity.

If there's a significant behavior concern, document it.

If you've contacted home multiple times, keep track.

If there's an important agreement from a meeting, write it down.

If a student signs in and out of your classroom, there's a record.

Documentation can protect teachers.

But it can also protect students and families.

Because good documentation isn't about building a case against somebody.

It's about establishing what actually happened.

What communication occurred.

What interventions were attempted.

What was agreed upon.

What happened next.

That makes difficult conversations less dependent upon:

"They said."

Or:

"No, they said."

And more grounded in information and facts.

And that's professional practice.

Constant conflict changes teacher behavior.

This is where parent expectations connect directly to teacher retention.

Imagine you're a teacher and every difficult conversation turns into a conflict.

Every concern becomes an accusation.

Every consequence becomes a complaint.

Every grade becomes a debate.

Every email feels like it could be forwarded to your principal.

Eventually, you begin protecting yourself.

Maybe you hesitate before reaching out.

Maybe you think:

"Do I really want to open this can of worms?"

Maybe you communicate only what you absolutely have to communicate.

Not because you don't care.

Because repeated conflict teaches people to avoid conflict.

That's human.

I've experienced situations where communication with a family became difficult enough that I had to be very thoughtful about when and how I communicated.

And that's unfortunate.

Because ideally, communication should increase when a student is struggling, not decrease.

That's why the tone adults establish matters.

Teachers have responsibility for that tone too.

I try not to become emotional with families.

I don't yell at parents.

I don't raise my voice.

I try to always remain professional, even during difficult conversations.

But partnership requires effort from both sides.

Because when communication repeatedly becomes punishment for the person communicating, eventually people communicate less.

Great parent partnerships don't require agreement.

Some of the best relationships I've had with families weren't relationships where we agreed about everything.

That's unrealistic.

There have been parents who questioned me.

Parents who saw something differently.

Parents who advocated strongly for their child.

That's okay.

The difference was respect.

We could sit down and say:

"Here's what I'm seeing."

And they could say:

"Here's what I'm seeing at home."

Maybe those things were different.

That's valuable information.

A child may behave completely differently at school than at home.

That happens.

Instead of arguing about which version is real, let's become curious about why they're different.

Great partnerships involve trust.

Communication.

Respect.

Accountability.

Parents sharing information teachers need.

Teachers listening.

Families listening.

And both sides being willing to say:

"Maybe there's something here I don't know."

That's partnership.

We don't have to agree about everything.

We need to agree about the biggest thing:

We are trying to help this child succeed.

And the child should bring us together, not put us on opposite sides.

The child should bring us to the table.

This is where I want to land today.

Sometimes education begins feeling adversarial.

Parent versus teacher.

Teacher versus parent.

School versus family.

Everybody preparing to defend themselves.

And somewhere in the middle, there's a kid.

That's backwards.

The child should be the reason we come to the table.

Not the reason we choose sides.

Parents bring something incredibly important to the table.

They know their child.

They know their history.

Their personality.

Their experiences.

Their life outside school.

Teachers bring something different.

We see that child in a learning environment.

We see them interacting with peers.

Working through challenges.

Responding to expectations.

Navigating independence.

Neither perspective is complete by itself.

Put them together and we understand the child better.

That's why parents and teachers don't have to agree about everything to be on the same team.

We can disagree.

We can ask hard questions.

We can advocate.

We can hold each other accountable.

But we should keep coming back to:

"What does this child need from us right now?"

That's the partnership our students deserve.

Well, as I do a reflective close here, I have to say that parent expectations have changed.

Some of those changes are good.

Families have more information.

Communication is easier.

Parents can advocate more quickly.

Teachers can communicate more efficiently.

But increased access also requires increased responsibility.

Parents need boundaries.

Teachers need boundaries.

And both sides need trust.

Parents, please advocate for your children.

Ask questions.

Speak up if something doesn't feel right.

Communicate.

But give teachers an opportunity to explain.

Remember that children don't always bring home the entire story.

Allow your child to struggle sometimes.

And allow them to experience appropriate consequences.

Allow them to discover that something can be difficult and they can still work through it.

That's how resilience develops.

And teachers, we have responsibilities too.

Communicate.

Listen.

Don't become defensive every time a parent asks a question.

Remember that families know things about their children that we don't.

Document important situations.

Maintain professional boundaries.

And whenever possible, establish the energy early that:

"Hey, we are on the same team."

Because when families and teachers trust one another, something changes.

The teacher doesn't have to be afraid to call home.

The parent doesn't have to assume the teacher is hiding something.

The child doesn't learn that every difficult situation requires choosing sides.

Instead, that student sees adults communicating.

Problem solving.

Disagreeing respectfully.

Holding expectations.

Offering support.

And working together.

That's a pretty powerful lesson all by itself.

And here's the reflection I want to leave with you.

Are the adults surrounding a child teaching that child partnership, or teaching that child how to choose sides?

That's worth thinking about.

Because the strongest parent-teacher relationships aren't built around agreement.

They're built around a shared commitment.

We both want this young person to succeed.

That's where we start.

That's where we come back to when things get difficult.

And that's where I think some of the hope is in this conversation.

Teachers aren't the enemy.

Parents aren't the enemy.

The overwhelming majority of both are trying to do right by kids.

So maybe instead of approaching one another wondering who's to blame, we approach one another by asking:

"What can we do together?"

Because kids need great parents.

Kids need great teachers.

And kids are at their best when those adults aren't standing on opposite sides of them.

They're standing beside each other.

In our next weekday episode, we're going to look at another major part of the changing reality of teaching:

More Responsibilities, Same 24 Hours.

Because while the expectations surrounding teachers have continued to grow, the number of hours in a day hasn't changed.

Well, if you found value in this episode, head over to Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen to your podcasts and hit me up with a five-star review.

Let me know what you think.

It helps more teachers find this space.

And as you go into your day, I want you to remember to inspire greatness in young people.

And don't forget to be a funky teacher.

Bye now.