Open House
The school year began like any other year, with the highly over-rated, dreaded open house. This year was no different and as I looked around I could see the same plastered smiles on each and every teacher, the square tiled floors with a fresh coat of wax, the walls still bare, waiting for another round of carefully written seat work to be taped to their cold, lonely crevasses. The classrooms full of a fresh supply of crayons, glue sticks, scissors and pencils. The desks scrubbed down with a clean, sterile coat of Lysol, awaiting their bright, untarnished name tags. The alphabet neatly glue-gunned above the dry erase boards, vibrantly colored posters of numbers, phonics and classroom rules methodically, strategically placed throughout the rooms to ensure that every child could reference to them. As students and parents began to arrive, I anxiously waited at my door, imagining the year ahead of me, the 10 months I would be liable for a new set of children. I had 17 on the roll, 7 girls and 10 boys. I was pondering what I would say to them, as I recognized how important first impressions are. It was my first chance to gain parental support, create a personal connection with them, to establish ways for continued communication during 
the school year. Throughout the night it was more of the same superfluous conversation welcoming each parent and child into the, warm, inviting, engaging world of first grade. I chuckled to myself as the majority of the children feigned shyness. I knew that would not last very long. As the evening was winding down the debatable words of the parents were echoing through my mind, “My child loves school”… “My child is well behaved”… “My child likes to draw”… “I would love to volunteer in the classroom.” In all, 12 parents showed up.
The school year began like any other year, with the highly over-rated, dreaded open house. This year was no different and as I looked around I could see the same plastered smiles on each and every teacher, the square tiled floors with a fresh coat of wax, the walls still bare, waiting for another round of carefully written seat work to be taped to their cold, lonely crevasses. The classrooms full of a fresh supply of crayons, glue sticks, scissors and pencils. The desks scrubbed down with a clean, sterile coat of Lysol, awaiting their bright, untarnished name tags. The alphabet neatly glue-gunned above the dry erase boards, vibrantly colored posters of numbers, phonics and classroom rules methodically, strategically placed throughout the rooms to ensure that every child could reference to them. As students and parents began to arrive, I anxiously waited at my door, imagining the year ahead of me, the 10 months I would be liable for a new set of children. I had 17 on the roll, 7 girls and 10 boys. I was pondering what I would say to them, as I recognized how important first impressions are. It was my first chance to gain parental support, create a personal connection with them, to establish ways for continued communication during 
the school year. Throughout the night it was more of the same superfluous conversation welcoming each parent and child into the, warm, inviting, engaging world of first grade. I chuckled to myself as the majority of the children feigned shyness. I knew that would not last very long. As the evening was winding down the debatable words of the parents were echoing through my mind, “My child loves school”… “My child is well behaved”… “My child likes to draw”… “I would love to volunteer in the classroom.” In all, 12 parents showed up.
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