Commentary: I admit it – I’ve texted my son’s teachers after school hours

SINGAPORE: I admit it. I have done it.
I have messaged a teacher after working hours. And in light of the recent conversation about leaving teachers alone when they’re off the clock, I now feel guilty.
But here’s my excuse.
It was a Wednesday night in a typical Singaporean home with a young child. After dinner was dispensed with, I checked the schoolbag of my nine-year-old.
He told me at 8pm that he had a composition to hand in the next day. But he had no clue what the expected format was. I didn’t want him to flounder and fail. So, I caved in. I texted the teacher at 8.25pm.
She responded immediately.
I know the Education Minister suggested that a child being unprepared for a spelling test is not the end of the world. Trust me, I know this from having two older boys who missed many a spelling test and still seem able to spell.
The difference with my third child is that he has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), and is coping with the demands of a mainstream primary school.
ADHD is a neurodevelopmental condition that affects a person’s executive functioning, including their working memory. Like many children, my son loves school, is highly sociable and truly a joy to be around.
He has, however, only a vague interest in what’s being taught in school and an even fuzzier awareness of what’s being assigned for homework.
My son’s not the first child to have ADHD, and he’s not the last. Plenty of kids and their parents deal with it successfully without bothering their teachers.
But it is my first time raising a child with special educational needs and I’m learning as I go.
And if I am being honest, there is a lot to remember, from ClassDojo notifications to learning portal passwords and SwimSafer test dates. Not only do I have to keep up with these on his behalf, I have to coax and cajole him to sit down and complete his tasks.
I feel the weight of his teachers’ responsibilities when I look around his classroom, even though it’s reduced in size to accommodate children with learning differences.
I can only imagine the constant chasm they get caught in, between ensuring meaningful learning among their students, keeping everyone happy and comfortable, keeping the communication lines open with parents, and delivering results.
If I can hardly get my one kid to sit down and do his homework for 10 minutes, how do they manage 30?
The biggest irony is that I am an educator too. While I teach at a polytechnic, over the years, I too have seen more requests to accommodate a variety of learning challenges. I once received a parent’s note to seat their daughter near the door and nowhere else.
I’ve also received panicked texts from students and their parents outside school hours. I oblige – we all do. It seems like the right thing to do.
I am normally an advocate for “lighthouse parenting”, a term coined by paediatrician Kenneth Ginsburg to describe the approach of nurturing and guiding children, as opposed to being quick to solve all their problems on their behalf.
As a working mother of three, I simply cannot drop everything and rush to deliver a missing art bag. Besides, kids are adaptable. Sure, my child might go without art supplies for the day, but it’s an opportunity for him to learn to negotiate, share and to remember to pack properly next time.
It seems intuitive, but it can be a real struggle especially if you have a kid that is wired a little uniquely.
Physician Gabor Mate believes that the scatteredness that children with ADHD experience is in fact a by-product of our distractedness in modern life. He advocates for nurturing environments for them to heal – both at home and in school.
When I last met my son’s teachers and discussed his ADHD, they told me that while he needs more help to focus on his work, we should also embrace him for who he is.
It was down to me to re-evaluate what success means to my child. So what if he fails his composition? What if I were to reframe his failures as chances for him to grow?
It’s a lesson I am still learning every day. Every time I take the risk to trust him to handle challenges independently, it gets a little easier.
In the long run, I know it will help him formulate habits, fix problems and be independent. Some kids just take a little longer. In his words, “Take a chill pill, mum.”
Eventually, like his older brothers, he will have to fly the coop. My mild obsession to get things right for him may just make the transition a little harder than necessary.
Parenting is hard. After all, we are biologically wired to protect our children from pain, clearing away obstacles that may seem insurmountable to them but are easily tackled by adults.
In this day and age when work-life boundaries are grey, it is as easy as a text message to the teacher at 8.25pm on a random Wednesday night.
So sorry, Teacher, I promise not to text at night. I’ll do it first thing in the morning.
Emilia Idris is a polytechnic lecturer, educational researcher and a mother of three.