Reply All

We’re jumping right back in where we left off — jaw on the floor, blood boiling, and my Reply All email drafted in my head and begging to be sent. So I started typing:

To: Ms. Teacher #2
CC: Husband; Ms. Academic Director; Mr. Principal; Mr. Head of School

Ms. Teacher #2,
I am sorry, I do not appreciate the snippiness in your email or the notes sent home last night. As written, your notes in Eli’s agenda book state, “He is not doing fluency. He is not doing IRJ”, and does not provide me with much guidance on how to ensure his success. We are doing our best at home with him each night based on your instructions in the agenda book to read “assigned pages” – with no other information provided that I have been able to find.

We have been reading one chapter a night since the start of the year as agreed with Mrs. First Teacher, if expectations had changed you could have responded to the note that I sent in his folder day-after-day after you took over her class, but the note was returned home every day until Christmas break with no indication that you had read it, nor a response – so I eventually took it out.

The note was simply to inform you of the accommodations that were made and agreed to with Mrs. First Teacher, Ms. Academic Director, Mr. Principal, and Mr. Head of School, and asked if you had any concerns with continuing with that agreement.

[As agreed] He does 1/2 the math problems each night, he reads one chapter [each night], and then he dictates three sentences to me that I write out in cursive and then he copies them, and then we do BIRDS in small chunks [throughout the week] so that he is not overwhelmed.

As I am sure the aforementioned School staff members can attest, Eli has been struggling for a while and we are all doing the absolute best we can, and if he is not progressing at the speed of the other students or to your expectations – I am not surprised, but I am certain that this was not the best way to go about getting resolution to your concerns in the classroom.

My phone almost immediately started ringing, but I was far too hot to speak with anyone from the school — over the phone or otherwise. Enter Husband, who has built his career on his ability to convince people they should see things his way (he’s in sales 😉).

I honestly don’t remember much of the back-and-forth that followed, but there were multiple conversations between Husband, Mr. Principal, and Mr. Head of School. Then, more than 24 hours after I sent my (heated) email, I received this:

Hi Mr. and Mrs. Walker,

Thank you for letting me know how homework has been going with Eli. Those routines (1 chapter a night in his book, 3 dictated sentences, ½ the math problems, and BIRDS in small chunks) are all fine. I appreciate your support at home. I am looking forward to meeting with you next Friday to review the growth that Eli has made since August, and we can talk through the homework routines further if that would be helpful. In the meantime, please reach out if you have any questions or if I can be of any assistance.

In partnership,
Mrs. Teacher #2

Come again?

Is this the same teacher who could only type and write in simple sentences just one day ago? The same teacher who, I was certain, was parent-shaming me from the other side of her Post-It Notes and emails?

I had never been more enraged — or more determined — to fight for better for my kid. To fight for what shouldn’t need to be fought for. And to never stop.

Even though I had always advocated loudly and proudly for my kids, this incident turned the volume all the way up to 100.

I didn’t know it then, but that email exchange marked a turning point for me. Not because I “won” anything — but because it stripped away any lingering doubt I had about my role. From that moment on, I stopped worrying about being labeled that mom and started focusing on being his mom. The kind who documents everything. The kind who asks hard questions. The kind who doesn’t back down when something feels wrong, even when it’s uncomfortable.

Fourth grade was the year I learned that advocacy isn’t loud all the time — but it is relentless.

Susan