A friend from one of our Reach Schools shared this open letter “To My Child’s Dorm Parent” with us, and we wanted to share this with everyone working in the boarding school space.
Our schools may be spread out globally, but they all share a deep commitment to student safety, and parents everywhere get anxious about being away from their children – with no place to express that fear on official registration forms.
That’s why Reach adds extra layers of safety – our school’s have the capacity to manage everything from events and meals to medications, reports and more. Giving dorm parents the chance to track, monitor and effectively engage with students while keeping them safe and giving families back home the reassurance they need.
Dear Dorm Parent,
How strange it is that I’ve never met you and in a few days you will become the most important person in my life.
I suppose you’ve been told that already: ‘These are other people’s children – their most cherished loved ones: they’d actually give up their own life before they would let anything terrible happen to them…,” etc., etc. But I hope you don’t think it’s strange if I take a few moments to write down a few things that I would want you to know. Oh, sure, there are those official school forms where I can tell you that my child is allergic to a rare kind of wallpaper paste, loves volleyball but not when it’s cloudy (please keep an eye out for that), or has promised the parole officer not to set any more big fires. I wanted to take a few extra moments to tell you some things that don’t really belong on a form.
I’ve been thinking a lot the last few days about babysitters. Whenever I used to hire one to look after my kids, I would interview them. I had the chance to meet them. Ask them things, and watch how they interact with my children and how my kids responded to them. I could personally talk to people for whom they’d worked before. And I’ve thought about regular schools: I get to meet the teacher before it starts.
But when a parent sends their child to boarding school, odds are they’ve never met the people who will stand in the parent’s place. If I understand right, at some schools you don’t even know the houseparent’s name until September arrives. I just wanted to tell you that all of this is scary.
Please don’t be insulted. I trust the Head of School who hired you and would never think of sending my child unless they did. If the Head of School trusts you, then I trust you. But I know that the Head of School is not going to be taking care of my child personally. You are. And, I just wanted you to know what an extraordinary act of faith it is for me to put my child into your care. Please hold my child carefully.
There were a few other things I wanted to tell you: I don’t expect you to be perfect. Heaven knows I’m not. With any luck, maybe heaven doesn’t know… l’ve brought my child up the best way I know how and I know I’ve made mistakes. I keep trying to learn how to do better, and just when I think I’ve got this parenting thing down, my child grows older, changes considerably, and sends me back to the drawing board to figure it all out again. But I have learned one thing: if you don’t know, ask, read, watch others or invite help. I have a lot of good friends who I talk to all the time about raising my child. I’d hate to think you were suddenly trying to do this on your own when I can’t do that myself.
Please know that my child is not perfect either. I’m hoping that you will forgive just as you would like to be forgiven yourself, and that when my child does something that isn’t right that you will focus on helping to show what should be done better next time. In other words, just treat my child exactly as you will want to be treated if you mess up.
I know you’ve got a lot of children to take care of. They are all important.
I hope that you find something special about mine. I don’t mean better. I just mean something unique that sets my child apart as a valuable individual.
You see, I love my child very much. And I tell my child that every day. But the problem is that I’ve raised a reasonably smart child who figures that it’s my job to say “you’re smart” and “you look great” and “people really think you’re terrific.” From time to time my child must wonder if I say these things because they’re really true or because I’m supposed to say them.
Wouldn’t it be great if my child met you, a complete stranger, and you discovered valuable things in my child all on your own? See, if YOU find and talk about these positive things, my child can say “Hey, people notice that I’ve got good things inside of me – I guess maybe I do…”.
So I’ve sort of ended where I began: talking about strangers. Ironically, the very fact that you are a stranger to my child gives you, in some ways, even more power than I have. One final thing: sometimes when I write my thoughts down I understand them better.
When I started writing this letter I didn’t really see this, but I do now. It just occurred to me: If you care for my child with love and patience and skill, then you’re no stranger. You’ve suddenly become my most important friend in the world.
Thank you, friend.
Have a most wonderful school year.
– A Child’s grateful Parent
