I thought I had done such a great job of communicating with her parents.

Image Source: https://unsplash.com/@alexisrbrown

It was an 8th grade English class in a previous teaching context. Students were engaged in a collaborative writing activity in Google Docs, working in small table groups around the room.

I like to make learning visible whenever possible. While students worked, I began cycling through their various Google Docs on the big screen, adding real-time affirmations and encouragement when and where I could.

I did this for a few groups and was pleased with what I saw. So far so good.

Then I moved to another group’s Doc. They were writing, all right. But soon I could see that something was amiss.

One of my writers hadn’t yet caught on to the fact that his group’s work was now featured live on the big screen for all to see. And — not a shock for 8th graders — I could see that his writing wasn’t exactly on task.

Instead, he was trying to draw laughs from his writing partners. To my horror, I watched in real time as he typed something disrespectful about one of his female classmates who was in the room and working with another group. The comment was crude and inappropriate.

I switched quickly away from his Doc, but not quite quickly enough. A couple of classmates had seen his classless composition, and their reaction was loud. I felt angry and disappointed and sad all at once.

Time to craft those parent emails

Once the dust had settled and students were all home for the day, I set to work on writing emails home to parents. I wanted to address this issue quickly and head on, especially with the parents of the female student (who I expected would likely hear about it from their daughter). Nip it in the bud, as they say.

I wanted her parents to hear that they could count on me and our staff team to make sure that our school was a safe place for their daughter. That she was known, loved, and appreciated in our learning community. That we wouldn’t tolerate acts of aggression or sexual harassment in our classrooms.

And so I gave her parents a clear summary of what had happened along with a few thoughts and commitments regarding my next restorative steps. I felt good about my wording and made sure to BCC my principal.

I re-read the email to make sure I had avoided grammar errors and I was representing myself professionally.

Send.

There’s just one small issue

The next morning, my principal was his usual encouraging self. At first.

“Great email, Tim. Your communication was professional as always. There’s just one small issue.”

Uh oh.

He went on to kindly explain where I had gone off track. The parents of the female student in my classroom didn’t need to know the name of the student who had harassed her, he pointed out.

My mind raced. I had considered the privacy angle when I wrote the email but had decided to go ahead and name her aggressor. After all, their daughter would obviously name the boy involved, right?

If anything, my naming of him would signal to her parents that I wasn’t going to tiptoe around this issue. It would show them that I was serious about calling it like it was and following up firmly. Or so I thought.

There were a couple of problems in my thinking there.

For one thing, we never know exactly what our students will or will not tell their parents. My student may have shared the name of the other student, or she may not have. Frankly — and in the form of many middle schoolers — it was possible that she may not have even mentioned the incident at all.

But really, what my student communicated to her parents is beside the point. Because that’s her business. It’s between her and her family.

What is my business as an education professional is what I communicate with the parents of my students. And here, my principal made a critical point for me that I have never forgotten.

The parents of my students should NEVER learn about the misbehavior of other (identified) students from me.

Some privacy advocates will jump in here to take this rule even further. They’ll say that parents should never learn ANY information about other students from their teacher, but I’m not so sure. I can think of contexts where this may be appropriate. Imagine a class newsletter that celebrates the successes of group science projects, for example.

But all it takes is putting your parent hat on for one minute in order to quickly grasp the problem that occurs when a teacher overshares information about student misbehavior.

How would you feel if it was your child that was being reported on?

Speaking as a parent myself, I know I wouldn’t be thrilled. Some other parents out there are hearing a report with specific details about my son? Without the knowledge of his parents or an opportunity for us to see or hear this version of the facts?

Nope, not cool. Not cool at all.

When you really think about it, this kind of communication is completely unnecessary. It has basically zero chance of helping anything and instead has the dangerous potential to mushroom into other problems.

Just imagine parents of students in your class engaging in an unofficial WhatsApp chat (lots of those in my current school community) that gets into the topic of a recent behavior incident that occurred at school. One parent tries to helpfully clarify details of the event and leads with “Actually, I heard from Mr. Cavey that Johnny did X, Y, and Z.”

Yikes. That’s not going to end well for me.

It’s best practice and protects everyone involved.

I’m thankful that my principal had the courage to share this lesson with me. It’s one that I’ve never forgotten, and I pass it on whenever I can.

Yes, in some cases it will take a little more work to craft emails about school incidents that are rife with mentions of “a classmate” or “another student.” It makes the wording super awkward in some cases.

But that’s how it needs to be for all concerned.

We have a duty of care to our students, and part of that professional duty compels us to protect the reputation of each child. When we discuss student misbehavior incidents in the staff room, we take care not to name the students involved. Other teachers don’t need to know.

The same thing applies to our email and phone communications with parents. They don’t need to know the names of other students involved. And if gossip does come to their ears, we sleep easy knowing that it didn’t come from us.

Of course, the other win here is that by following this practice of privacy, you’re actually protecting yourself. When you name other students and describe their misbehavior to adults who are not their parents, you’re not just risking the trust that parents place in you. You’re inviting accusations of slander.

Do yourself a favor and abstain.

Thank you, teacher, for doing the hard work of carefully communicating important developments with the parents of your students. Keeping families well-informed is such a critical piece of the school-family relationship and it is deeply appreciated. It takes time, care, and energy.

Years ago, I messed up and overshared. That’s unfortunate.

But learn from my mistake, fellow educator. Protect your students and protect yourself. Your community will be safer, happier, and healthier for it.

Let’s keep that fire for learning burning bright.