Vice Principal UnOfficed

Dear Parents...We Need To Talk

• Lisa Hill • Season 1 • Episode 23

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Join host Lisa Hill, as she dives into the wonderfully chaotic world of parents—the emails, the phone calls, the parking lot drama, and the moments that leave you wondering how some of these adults survived childhood and are now raising kids of their own. Because if you think students keep things interesting… wait until you hear what their parents do. 

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SPEAKER_00:

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Get started today at Wheeze Tease.com. On this episode of Vice Principal on Office, join me, your host, Lisa Hill, as I dive into the wonderfully chaotic world of parents. The emails, the phone calls, the parking lot drama, and the moments that leave you wondering how some of these adults survived childhood and are now raising kids of their own. Because if you think students keep things interesting, wait until you hear what their parents do. So let's get laughing and learning. Attention students, I mean listeners. The stories in this podcast are told from the host's personal and farcical point of view. All names and identifiers have been omitted or altered to protect identities. Now get to class and enjoy the show. All the parents just laughed, saying, We really don't care. Our children are yours till that last school bell rings. And here's a two-dollar gift card for babysitting. When the final bell rang, the children flew out the door. The teachers were right behind them, screaming, We can't do this anymore. The vice principal stood silent as she watched the parking lot clear, whispering, Dear God, please let me win the lottery this year. Exhausted and weary, the vice principal turned to depart. When a parent appeared with a comment to start, blah blah blah blah blah was all the vice principal heard, for she knew some parents were clueless and very cruel with their words. Your school is a mess, the parent raged in a huff, to which the vice principal thought, See why you can't make this shit up. Lisa Am Merry Christmas, Mom, and happy holidays to all of you folks listening out there. I hope everyone is enjoying this holiday season. There's definitely no shortage of reasons to celebrate, because I recently read that there are more than fifteen holidays celebrated during the holiday season, when you include religious, cultural, and federal holidays, which means from the end of November until the beginning of January, people celebrate, and then celebrate some more. K-12 educators, on the other hand, spend the second half of the holiday season sleeping, napping, Netflixing, and sleeping again. And there's probably a little alcohol consumption mixed in there somewhere, because it's officially educator hibernating season. And this episode is dedicated to all the public educators currently sleeping away the day while their bodies recharge for round two of instructing children, navigating district and state nonsense, and surviving parent demands that no human being should ever have to endure. Which is why this episode is titled, Dear Parents, We Need to Talk. Of course, I really wanted to call this episode for Christ's sake, parents, give me a break. Your child is really not the perfect little angel you think they are, and their teacher is not the devil. Well, okay, some teachers are, but most teachers I work with are absolute saints and frankly deserve a holiday that is an entire month and is reserved exclusively for them because some of you parents are harder to deal with than a teenager deep in puberty and denied Wi-Fi. And with that, let's jump into dear parents. We need to talk. After 39 years in the education business, I've worked with a lot of parents. And while some were crazy, mean, or both, there were hundreds of other parents that I truly enjoyed getting to know. These parents were kind, cared for their child, and trusted me in that I knew what I was talking about when it came to educational stuff. I count myself lucky in working with so many nice parents. I once had a parent bring me a home-cooked meal during parent-teacher conferences. I've received beautiful Christmas gifts, heartfelt thank yous, and developed enduring friendships from some parents. I still laugh with a parent who became a lifelong friend about the time I was supervising a basketball game and her dear child stood by me asking a million questions. I finally said to the sweet little cherub, go tell your mom that she wants you. The child scurried off to her mother, sitting on the bleachers, and said, Mom, that lady over there said to tell you that you're looking for me. My friend Stephanie laughed and later said, Maybe I could have watched my daughter better. I mean, she was only four. That happened about 15 years ago, and Stephanie and I still laugh about that moment. I often received hugs as thank yous, because the parent just needed a shoulder to cry on after a bad parent conference, or even after I suspended their kid for doing something stupid. One team I worked with called me the Parent Whisperer. This team was always amazed that I could take the angriest parent screaming their head off for some dumb reason and bring them back to normalcy with a little smile to boot. These were the parents that often brought me gifts at the end of the school year to say thank you for putting up with me, my child, and our crazy family behaviors. Someone on that team asked me how my parent whisperer skills worked. Was it magic? Was there a secret to my gift? I didn't have a concrete answer, and I still don't. I think I just listen to people. You know, let them vent and know that I hear them. Absurd thinking and all. And I try to find that one little thing we have in common. Because I believe all anyone really wants is to fit in. To have that friend you can confide in, laugh with, argue with, and know that the friendship will still be okay. There were many times I told parents that we may have to agree to disagree on some issue with their child, but that our disagreement had nothing to do with our relationship. Parents seem to accept that answer as we work through some problem. So maybe transparency and acceptance is the answer to being a parent whisperer. Of course, I didn't win them all, which is why this episode exists. I remember working with one young man who lived with his grandparents. Now, lots of kids live with grandparents, along with aunts, uncles, siblings, or their moms and dads. That part wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that these grandparents believed their grandson was destined to become a future church leader. Possibly more than that. Maybe the next big thing. The kid even wore a chastity ring, also known as a purity ring. According to author Dylan Banks, Purity Rings surged in popularity during the 1990s alongside the evangelical Christian movement. The idea behind the ring was that it symbolized a commitment to waiting until marriage to have sex, while also promoting thoughtful decision-making, moral behavior, and choosing the right life partner who shared the same Christian beliefs. And hey, if that works for you, you do you. One day, these doting grandparents came in to meet with me because they felt the school wasn't protecting their grandson. The very first words out of their mouth, You're the principal? I smiled because in that moment I knew exactly what kind of meeting this was about to be. The grandparents truly believed they were raising the next prophet of the world. Their reasoning? Because of it, he had strict medical limitations for life. No PE, no running, no strenuous activity, and no getting overly excited. As they proudly explained all of this, they made sure to mention, again, that their grandson wore a chastity ring, which in their minds meant he was pure, morally superior, and clearly destined to lead people within their church congregation. Eventually, according to them, he would rise to a very high level of leadership within their church. After listening to what I'll politely call bullshit for about 20 minutes, I shared what I had personally witnessed their grandson doing at school, and what was very likely documented on our security cameras. 1. Their grandson had been caught jumping on cafeteria tables, causing chaos during lunch more than once. 2. Several girls had reported that this soon-to-be prophet had touched them inappropriately during passing time. Butts, boobs, you name it, he grabbed it. And three, the kid swore like a sailor and was openly defiant toward any adult who tried to correct his behavior. Naturally, the grandparents didn't believe me. That is, until their grandson confessed to everything while the four of us sat in the same room together. My generally happy approach to life and my use of humor was probably a little too much for them. As for the boy, I'm fairly certain he did not become the next prophet of the world. Though to be fair, I really don't know what age one officially becomes a prophet. So I suppose there's still time. Let's see, who else has been an absolute joy to work with as a parent? Huh. I've got one. I once worked in a district that offered an educational program that many surrounding schools simply didn't offer. Because of that, students from neighboring districts were sent to us to participate in this amazing opportunity. One day, a father from a participating school decided that while his child was in class, he would simply set up shop in our cafeteria and work remotely. Laptop, papers, the whole thing. Now, this was definitely not something we normally allowed, but I try to be kind and accommodating. So I agreed, one time. With one condition. He stayed in the cafeteria where the office staff could keep an eye on him. That arrangement lasted about three minutes. Next thing I know, he's storming into the main office demanding we provide him with a quiet private workspace. Apparently, the cafeteria full of teenagers on their way to class was not ideal for his Zoom calls. He then informed us, loudly, that he was a taxpayer and therefore he had rights. After he finished yelling at the secretary, I was called in. I calmly explained that, yes, he absolutely paid taxes. Just in a different school district, in a different town, not this one, the one he was currently standing in, not his. I then escorted him out of the office, down the stairs, and offered him two options. He could wait in our vestibule or he could wait in his car. He chose his car, and we never saw him again. Truly a holiday miracle. I've often wished people had to pass a test and obtain a license before they were allowed to reproduce. Because it's painfully apparent that not everyone should be a parent. Just picture it. Hospitals across the country require future parents or guardians to pass a written exam before they were allowed to leave with a baby. Nothing crazy. Basic stuff. Feed the baby. Don't shake the baby. Keep the baby alive. You'd need at least a C average to pass. Instructional links on how to raise a human would arrive right alongside the baby's social security card. Honestly, it would solve a lot of problems. Unfortunately, the world doesn't work that way. So instead of licensed parents, we get stories. Some heartbreaking and some that fall squarely into the you cannot make this shit up category. Take, for example, the mom who bounced from illegal drugs to prescription drugs, and then back again. She was also addicted to chocolate cigarettes. Yes, chocolate cigarettes. I've never tried them, but if you remember from episode 11, smoking makes me throw up. So just knowing this about her already had me on edge. Anyway. Eventually, the principal walked in. The chocolate cigarette-fueled mother immediately jumped out of her chair like she was meeting royalty. She grabbed the principal's hand, shook it enthusiastically, locked eyes with him, and said, I hope I don't have fleas. My damn cat has fleas and they're kind of catchy. Without a word, the principal slowly pulled back his hand and stared at it in horror. He then quietly sat down as far away from her as humanly possible. I swear his chair scooted back before he even sat down. After the longest parent conference of our lives, the mother thanked us, said goodbye, and walked out. The principal waved politely, then immediately beelined it to the restroom to sanitize his hands like he was prepping for surgery. And that, my friends, is why we can't have nice things. That couldn't be further from the truth. In fact, some of the kindest, most high achieving students often come with the wildest parents imaginable. Which brings me to the band parent. Equipment was loaded, students were boarding the buses, and for once in band history, everything was running on schedule. Almost. During a final headcount, the band director realized one student was missing. But Marchie Man contests run on military-level precision, and waiting simply wasn't an option. With the clock ticking, the director made the call, and the buses pulled out of the lot. Buses full of kids and trucks full of equipment caravanned onto the interstate headed toward the competition. And like every band trip ever, the next couple of hours were filled with singing, laughing, sleeping, and eating snacks that definitely weren't approved by the school nutrition department. Eventually, the band director leaned back in his seat, enjoying a rare moment of calm, when suddenly a car came flying up behind the last bus, swerving, honking aggressively, and driving like it had a personal vendetta against public education. The bus driver ignored it, because honestly, who honks at a school bus? But when the band director glanced out the window, his stomach dropped. The passenger in the car was the missing student, and the driver? His mother. This normally quiet, polite, demure woman had transformed into a full blown road rage maniac. Laying on the horn, flipping off the bus, and mouthing profanities most parents would never say in front of children, or ever. Not being a fan of confrontation, and also because, you know, the interstate, the band director told the bus driver to keep going. I mean, where exactly were they supposed to pull over? The shoulder of I-80? The road rage mama was not deterred. She stayed on the gas, continuing her rant for what felt like forever, until she finally peeled off the interstate into a rest stop. The missing student missed the marching band contest. Now, some people might say the band director should have stopped at that rest stop. But I'd argue he made the right call. Why? Because he was thinking about all the students on that bus. Had they stopped, those kids would have witnessed a full-scale Regina George meltdown. And you do know who Regina George is, right? Please tell me you've seen Mean Girls. An absolute classic. Sweet one minute and completely unhinged the next. And that road rage mama? Total Regina George energy. Now, I don't think our bus driver would have run this mother over like the bus scene in Mean Girls. But honestly, I can't say for sure. He has so many parent stories, truly an unlimited supply. And I promise I'll get to more of them down the road. But for now, I'll leave you with just a couple more tales from the parenting files that made me pause, blink twice, and question reality. Let's start with the mother, who was absolutely convinced her middle school son was using drugs, or possibly selling drugs, or both. Yes, middle school. So naturally, she called her friend the sheriff and asked if he would come to the school and conduct, wait for it, a strip search. Yes, I said a strip search. And this is the part of the story where you'd expect me to say, Of course, the sheriff said absolutely not, because surely that's where logic steps in. But no, the sheriff said yes. He came to the school, met with the boy, and then as requested, conducted a strip search in my office, unbeknownst to me. Let me be clear, I was not present for that part of the story. And frankly, I'm very thankful for that, because there are some things you can't unsee, and some parent decisions you can't unknow. And if we're talking about things you can't unsee or unknow, let me tell you about a parent I witnessed attending parent-teacher conferences. This parent walked through the school conference to conference, clearly on a mission, focused, determined, and absolutely committed to finishing every single meeting on their schedule. While having very clearly peed their pants. Not a spill, not rain, not maybe the hallway floor was wet? No. This was a situation. And yet, nothing slowed them down. They checked schedules, they sat down, they listened, they asked questions. Meanwhile, every adult in the building was silently thinking the same thing. Do we stop this? Do we acknowledge it? Or do we pretend this is not happening? As professionals, we chose the only option available to us. We carried on. Because sometimes working in schools means honoring the mission, and never ever speaking of certain things again. Now the last story I'll share on this episode actually has a happy ending. Yes, those do happen occasionally. One day I received a phone call from a parent who was absolutely furious about something the school had supposedly done to their child. The rant was impressive, well-paced, emotionally charged, and clearly well rehearsed. I let the parent finish, fully, because experience has taught me that interrupting an angry parent only adds fuel to the fire. When the parent finally paused to breathe, I calmly asked a simple question. Silence, a long silence. Then the parent answered, and that's when I said, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Lisa. I was actually your teacher when you were in high school. There was a short pause in our conversation, and then the parents started laughing. They said they'd been wondering whatever happened to me. The anger completely dissolved. The tone shifted. Suddenly, we were reminiscing instead of arguing. A few weeks later, that same parent walked into school, smiled, and gave me a big hug. Because sometimes the angry parent on the phone isn't really angry at you. Sometimes, they're just talking to their old teacher. And honestly, that's about as close to a happy ending as it gets in this job. And stories like that are the reminder that at the end of the day, schools and families are far more connected than we sometimes realize. For years I've reminded my colleagues that we all have joint custody of our students. Some of us have physical custody during the school day, but we all share responsibility over the kids. Because as the saying goes, it really does take a village to raise children. So, like it or not, K-12 educators must partner with parents. The sane, the crazy, and the absent. Parents send their children to our schools, hoping we'll do more than teach academic skills needed for the post-secondary world. They're also counting on us to help teach the positive behaviors that kids need to function in society. And maybe, if we're lucky, help make the world a little better in the process. In most days, that parent partnership works. But every once in a while, there's that parent. The one who reminds you exactly why this job requires patience and perspective and a very strong sense of humor. Which brings me to this. She knew with some rest her icky feelings would soon pass because come Monday morning, after a short winter break, the vice principal again thought her job was optimistically great. So standing in the halls, greeting students and teachers, the vice principal smiled in her new Christmas sneakers. And then she told all with cheer, ignoring any school strife, welcome back to you all, and to all a good life.

SPEAKER_01:

Hey hey hey.

SPEAKER_00:

Well, kids, the dismissal bell is ringing, so until next time on Vice Principal and Office, push in your chair, put your name on your paper, be kind to your classmates, put your phone away, and use your indoor voice. Or not, thanks for listening. And I hope you enjoyed the tales from Vice Principal and Office as much as I enjoyed sharing them. And it is also my hope that you were not only entertained by this episode, but that you walked away with a little nugget of knowledge that gave you some insight on how working in a school is not for the faint of heart. And as I've said before, life is short, so you gotta do the best you can to leave the world in a better place than when you got here. And of course, for the love of God, see the humor in life. It's a lot more fun and a little easier to get through the ickin life with a smile on your face. Catch you next time on Vice Principal on Office. Next time on Vice Principal on Office, tune in January 13th as your host, Lisa Hill, shares transportation tales about bus drivers. From buses that won't start due to student sabotage to heat waves so intense, ambulances had to be called for sick drivers. It's one episode you won't want to miss. Hey students, I mean listeners. Thanks again for tuning in. And if you've enjoyed today's show, please leave me a review. It really helps grow the show. And don't forget to hit the follow button so you don't miss an episode. Trust me, you don't want to be late for this detention. And listeners, if you've got a school story of your own that you think would fit Vice Principal on Office, I'd love to hear it. Just head to my podcast website and send me your story. And who knows, your story might even get a shout out in a future episode. Thanks so much for listening and for your support. Vice Principal on Office is an independent podcast with everything you hear done by me, Lisa Hill, and supported through Buzzsprout. Any information from today's show, along with any links and resources, are available in the show's notes. So if you want to do a little homework and dive deeper into anything I've mentioned, head over to my podcast website and check it out. And a big thank you to Matthew Chiam with Pixabay for the show's marvelous theme music. And of course, a huge shout out to my mother. This podcast is for the purpose of entertainment only, like the recess of your day, and not a platform for debates about public education. Though you never know, you can learn something. And just a reminder that the stories shared in this podcast represent one lens, which is based on my personal experiences and interpretations, and also reflect my unique perspective through humor. Names, dates, and places have been changed or omitted to protect identities and should not be considered universally applicable. Until next time, keep laughing and learning.

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