The Power of Noticing — and the Parent Email that Led Me to Notice it.

Vrinda Loiwal
Aug 25, 2017 · 4 min read

I am a first-year teacher in a progressive charter school in the Silicon Valley in USA. It is 7 pm on a Friday evening in September. I have just come home from an exceptionally productive and high-adrenaline day at school: My co-mentor, Mr. E, and I met with the parents of 18 of our 7th grade mentee students, for the first time today, and for half hour each.

At the moment, I am restless. I have too many thoughts circling my head, and I am finding it hard to calm my mind. I pace the house listlessly. After twenty minutes of this, I pick up my phone and see a notification for a new email. The email is from Mrs. B, one of the parents I met with today. Here I share it with you, with all names changed except my own.

Dear Ms. Loiwal and Mr. E,

Thank you for meeting with Mike and I today. I feel a lot better about Mike. My experiences with Mike at previous conferences have been very emotional. He was not doing well in the traditional school setting. I made the gamble and switched him to this school. It was the best decision I made. He has more confidence and he is learning so much. Now he has a passion to learn. This was one of the best conferences I have had. Thank you so much.

Blessings,
Mrs. B

I read it once. No emotion. I pace the house without motive some more, pick up a stray sweater off the carpet, and then without warning, I burst into tears. In the next fifteen minutes, my crying has turned into loud sobs, and I am clueless as to what has brought this forth.

It takes me an hour to regain my composure. Later that night, I tell Bhabhi about the email and what Mrs. B has written. After listening intently, Bhabhi asks me, “So what did you do differently?”

I find myself impulsively resisting the question: You see, in my daily job, there are no daily results, but there are daily complaints and daily vocalisations of displeasure. The possibility that something I am doing in school may be making a difference, and even contributing to the lasting difference that Mrs. B has emailed about… is a possibility I would rather avoid considering at the moment, lest I become too attached to the feeling that accompanies this possibility.

I feel the weight of the question, as Bhabhi waits for me to respond. Compelled to think, I begin to discover what I, and Mr. E (Mike’s co-mentor with me) may have done differently at the parent-teacher conference:

  • At the conference, I began with explicitly stating to Mike and Mrs. B (referred to as ‘Mom’ hereafter) the exact things I had been noticing in Mike: He always brought a smiling face to class, he followed directions immediately, and he was always respectful in his speech and actions.
  • Next, Mr. E asked Mike how he was feeling about his transition to 7th grade. Mike said he felt proud because he was passing his assessments at a more consistent pace this year than he had been in 6th grade. We agreed with his deduction and validated his experience of pride.
  • Mr. E showed Mom how Mike was faring on each of his subjects. Mr. E commended Mike for balancing his time working on all of the subjects.
  • Mom then shared a strategy she uses at home with Mike to keep him learning well — and we discussed a potential way to incorporate that strategy for Mike in school.
  • I asked Mike what he wanted to be when he grew up — and Mike responded “Electrical or Mechanical Engineer, so I can design cars”. I playfully asked him, “Will we see you as the Head Designer in the Tesla factory soon?” Mom and Mike laughed. Then Mike went on to say, “Well, I also want to be a DJ”, and we goodheartedly laughed some more. We learned that Mike and his dad both like to create music.
  • Mom then shared that Mike’s dad had had a heart attack a week before school started. We were shocked to hear this, as we’d never heard or guessed anything of the sort from Mike’s daily demeanor. Mom went on to share how she was playing the role of a single mom to 5 kids at the moment. She felt guilty about not being there for Mike’s Back-to-School Night and about not being as engaged in Mike’s school work this year. We thanked her for letting us know, and offered to go out of our way to communicate with her more frequently.
  • …. And in the entire 30 minute conversation, no one brought up or even remembered that Mike has a speech defect.

As I write this, I am amazed by the profound human experience I’ve just had — without realizing it, I’ve managed to touch a child’s life, and his Mom has deeply impacted mine. We noticed Mike and the positives he brings everyday, and Mrs. B noticed us. The extraordinary lies nowhere, but in noticing what seems ordinary.

)

Vrinda Loiwal

Written by

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade