Surviving Open House & Teacher “Appreciation” Week
It’s Teacher Appreciation Week. Tomorrow is Open House. And I’m tired.
Not “I need a nap” tired. Soul tired. The kind that comes from giving more and receiving less, year after year.
Let me be real:
Open House feels like a performance I didn’t audition for. I’ll smile politely while inside I’m stewing over the fact that:
Parents now donate half (or less!) of what they did in 2009—despite our school fees remaining unchanged for 20 years.
We’re taking a pay cut for the next three years thanks to budget shortfalls.
Our work days are being canceled—not to preserve our time, but to avoid disrupting the kids’ schedules.
Next year, I’ll be teaching 25 more students.
And at Open House, parents will still ask, “How’s my kid doing?” even though this isn’t a parent conference and I don’t walk around with their grades memorized.
Meanwhile, we get a stick of gum and a punny quote in our mailboxes for “appreciation.” Or a box of donuts when what we really need is a cost of living raise, benefits that keep pace with inflation, and respect for our time and expertise.
💬 What Do I Even Say to Parents?
Here’s what I’m doing this year: preparing a few calm, clear, boundary-setting lines for those Open House small talk moments that feel like landmines.
When a parent asks how their child is doing:
“I’d love to dive into specifics, but tonight’s really a showcase. Feel free to email me if you’d like to schedule a deeper conversation.”
When I’m feeling cornered into flattery or overexertion:
“Your child has a unique voice in class. I appreciate their contributions.”
(And that’s enough.)
When someone tries to gloss over the bigger picture:
“I love what I do—but it gets harder every year to do more with less.”
These aren’t fake smiles. They’re professional boundaries with heart.
🧠 Reframing the Week—For Myself
Appreciation can’t be bought with granola bars. It’s earned through advocacy, respect, and decent pay. So this week, I’m reframing things:
I’ll show up—not to be performative, but because my students deserve consistency and care.
I’ll own my worth, even when the system pretends I’m cheap to replace.
I’ll protect my peace with water bottles, exit lines, and private eye rolls when needed.
And I’ll remember: I’m not alone.
🫶 To Every Teacher Reading This:
If you’re walking into Open House with a pasted-on grin and a heavy heart, I see you. If you’re rolling your eyes at “appreciation treats” while budgeting around another pay cut, I’m with you.
We don’t need trinkets.
We need time, support, and a voice.
Let’s keep showing up for the kids—and for each other.
Not because the system deserves us, but because we deserve better, and change starts with truth.