It was the end of the school year and my son Andrew’s high school graduation was just weeks away. But Andrew hadn’t turned in his final project for his English class, and he, his English teacher Mrs. Walsh, and I were meeting at school for a conference.

I was frustrated, angry, and afraid. It hit me that he might not hand in the project and that could mean failure in the class. Failure that would prevent him from graduating.

I knew it could happen, because in my own work as a high school English teacher, I had seen borderline students who for some reason—stress, pressure, fear—let it all cave in those last few weeks of high school, sabotaging their own graduation. As a teacher, I had seen it in my students, but as a parent, I never thought I would see it in my son.

Sitting in Mrs. Walsh’s classroom, I told Andrew to take off his hat.

“Why?” he sneered.  A second later, he hurled the frayed baseball cap to the other side of the classroom. Head in his hands, legs outstretched, he shook his head slightly from side to side to signal his utter disdain and frustration. 

Never had I been more mortified. I could almost hear Mrs. Walsh’s inner thoughts: “Well obviously, she is an awful parent. How can she possibly be a teacher if she has such poor communication skills with her very own child?”

I don’t know what Mrs. Walsh was really thinking, but I remember that her words were soft and kind.

“Andrew, I know you’ll come through with your final project. I know you’ll get it done and you will pass this class.”

Gently, Mrs. Walsh turned to me and said, “Mrs. Benjamin, what Andrew has handed in so far is very good, and I have no doubt that he has the ability to complete his final project. I am sure he is ready for college. I am so excited for this next step in his life.”

As she spoke about college, she switched her focus from me to him and smiled. Andrew’s face relaxed and he looked straight at her.

Mrs. Walsh wasn’t saying anything to Andrew as a teacher that I hadn’t said a million times as a parent. But as a teacher, she had credibility that even a parent doesn’t have with a teenage boy.  Her calm words of encouragement were modest but extraordinary—just a teacher who wanted to see her student succeed.

***

In the end, Andrew finished the project, passed the class, and graduated from high school. I had never anticipated how my heart would pound as I watched my son accept his high school diploma.

Several weeks later, with Andrew’s graduation gown still draped over the door of his closet, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Walsh. She was calling to tell me a story that she hadn’t had a chance to until summer vacation. She told me about a speech that Andrew had been required to make in class about a person who had an influence on him.

“He made that speech about you, Mrs. Benjamin,” she said. “He said that, without you, he wouldn’t be anything. His voice caught in his throat a little when he said that. I just wanted to tell you.”

As a teacher, I had made these types of motivating comments before, to students and parents. But until I was on the receiving end, I didn’t realize the impact they had. I thanked Mrs. Walsh for being so patient and encouraging Andrew at the end of the school year. I also thanked her for taking the time to call me. “No problem,” she replied. “I’m just doing my job.” I never mentioned it to Andrew, but I tucked the story into my heart—as a parent AND a teacher.