I’m Ready For My Closeup, Mrs N
Sabrina is happily pawing through her dressup box, searching for the perfect costume. All thoughts of last week’s heartbreak are forgotten in the face of her exciting news: Her class is putting on a play and she gets to be The Princess!
In case you haven’t figured it out, the teacher and I had a little chat this morning before school. It went well, I think.
Being a teacher myself, I always feel caught between the proverbial rock and hard place in these situations. On the one hand, I know how hard the job is, and I know the party lines (no small parts…learning to accept disappointment…teamwork). I also know how “That” parent–the one who doesn’t seem to grasp that her child is unique, just like everyone else’s– is talked about in the staffroom. But on the other hand, my child was the one reduced to tears, a fact that requires some sort of response even if it does place me in the ranks of “That” parent.
To make it worse, I like this teacher and I’ve always gotten the sense that she genuinely liked my high energy, high strung, high maintenance daughter. Which made confronting the apparent favourtism of the casting of the prinary productions all the more difficult. I truly did not want to be making the accusation that I appeared to be making, but didn’t see how I could possibly call myself Sabrina’s advocate if I didn’t address the issue.
Turns out that the teacher immediately agreed that the situation had been unfair. The music teacher had made the final casting call and Mrs. N didn’t realize until it was too late that the same core group of children had once again been given the lead roles. Among other things, this revelation certainly sheds some light on Diva Girl’s newfound dislike for music class. On a professional level, Mrs. N. did bring out the arguements of learning to accept disappointment and work as a team. On a personal level, however, she aacknowledged how difficult it is to watch your child be passed over when you know how desperately she wants her chance to shine.
I really respected Mrs. N for being willing to acknowledge the unfairness. Her stock rose even higher with me when I heard her plan to make it right. She had been planning to do a reader’s theatre literacy centre of The Little Red Hen. After thinking about all the kids who had been forced to be happy (or not) with the chorus due to the lack of parts in the play, she added The Chicken Princess to the playbill and decided to present them on stage and invite parents to watch.
Apparently she told Sabrina she would make an excellent Little Red Hen, but bowed to Diva Girl’s preference for the princess role. Because really, who wants to dress up like a chicken when there are sparkly crowns and floorlength gowns to be worn?
I may very well be “That” Parent. But I’m that parent who is watching her daughter shine with the excitement of playing the lead in the class play, so I think I can live with it.