46 parent conferences later

I am wiped out.

Parent conference week has always been one of those weeks that wears me out. But ever since I started teaching PreK with double classes and double the amount of parents, it really takes everything I've got.

The last two years, I scheduled conferences in every little bit of time I could find all throughout the month of October (and then again in February). Last year my principal gave me an extra half-day sub. so I could finish more in less time.  That helped a lot--until I got sick on the day I scheduled at least 20 in one day.  Ugh. It never fails.

So this year my principal gave me a half day sub. AND the district gave us a half-day off just for conferences. I filled those two days with 48 fifteen minute conferences back to back, grateful that I didn't have to stress myself for a whole month. A few of them couldn't make it on their scheduled time, so I squeezed them in a day early. By Friday morning, I could feel myself wearing down. By noon, after the 46th conference (two no-shows), I went home and went straight to bed.

Now I'm sniffling and sneezing all over the place. It never fails.

I promised the boys we'd go to Six Flag this weekend (in lieu of the State Fair). We got there,  I rode two rides with Mike and the boys, and then I went back to the car to take a nap. Yep. I was that tired.

(That's me in the front seat!)

I really do love having those conferences with parents. I love getting to know them and learning more about their families. I love giving them ideas of things to practice at home, and I love it especially when both the mom and the dad take off work to come to the conference together. It shows me which parents are dedicated to working with their child, and it also shows me which children are going to need more attention and patience from me. Fall conferences really do set the tone for the whole year between you, the child, and how much the parents will support you.

My favorite conference moment this time was when one of the dad's brought up the fact that he heard I learned Spanish in Argentina. He then proceeded to tell me that he is Argentine. :) It's interesting how God keeps bringing little bits of Argentina back to me, almost 20 years later.