This past school year, a parent reached out to me. In our very first communication, she threatened to go to the school board if I did not locate an assignment that we later discovered her child had not even turned in. Although I am in the habit of accepting late work without penalty, the student had not made any attempt to complete the missing work.
I found that parent’s threatening tone and manner of address wholly unacceptable and I asked her to address me as a professional. An administrator who had been copied on the communication didn’t take the opportunity to step in and protect his teacher—instead, he reached out to me to suggest I change my email signature so that parents know how to address me correctly in the future. It was just one of many instances I’ve observed in recent years where, faced with parent resistance, administrators conclude it’s the teacher who must change.
Education increasingly resembles customer service, an expectation that privileges the comfort of parents and students over educational realities and priorities. Instead of serving our students and having difficult conversations with parents and stakeholders, teachers are often encouraged to “make the customer happy.”
When teachers encounter problems with students and parents, we’re likely to hear one or more of the following “solutions” from our school leaders: Do what you have to do to make the parents happy. Find a way to keep the students engaged. Choose assignments that the student will want to complete. You are responsible for the teaching, the learning, the grading, and how parents react to those grades. If you did not get through to a belligerent parent, this is a problem that you have created. If a student has failed, you did not offer enough opportunities for them to succeed.
What administrators mean when they convey these messages is: “I want to hear from parents less. Preferably not at all.” For that to happen, it’s the teachers’ job to ensure that our customers—students and their parents—are always happy.
I fear that this push toward a customer service model in education will lead to poor outcomes. An educational experience can’t always feel fun and five-star-review worthy.
In the private sector, customers generally meet a business halfway. There is choice on the customer’s end, but there is also an expectation regarding conduct—it is a clear transaction that relies on participation from both parties.
In education, the “customers” rarely choose the places they patronize. Despite the recent expansion of school choice policies, the vast majority of students still attend a traditional public school. Public schools get the students they get based on the district’s geography and enrollment policies.
Additionally, customers tend to want to go to the businesses they frequent. It is illegal for students not to attend school in some form or another, which flies in the face of the customer service model.
Our main competition for students’ attention is social media—they are making 15-second videos while we are “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell”-ing our customers to death. In many cases, our student “customers” do not want or see value in our services.
As for our parent “customers,” we are expected to sell them comfort only. Parents often have an inflated view of how much their children are learning. Many of them seem to care far more about whether their children receive passing grades than what they’ve actually learned. A customer-first mindset would have teachers give them what they want—high grades—which is not always what is best for the students and their educational outcomes.
The pressure to consider our work as customer service also does a disservice to teachers. The idea that the customer must always be right puts pressure on teachers to turn a blind eye to disrespect and inflate grades.
Take, for instance, an administrator I know whose recommendation for dealing with parents or students who are verbally or physically aggressive is to turn the other cheek. A true customer service agent, he recommends that teachers make every effort to ensure optimum satisfaction. He even penalizes teachers who disrupt this customer service ideal by heavily weighting parent feedback in teacher evaluations. In his evaluation system, a teacher with low student-test scores but high parent-satisfaction rating receives a higher rating than a teacher with high test scores but varied parent feedback.
While this might be consistent with keeping a business in the black and creating customer loyalty, it is disruptive to the authenticity and honesty of a school.
Administrators who suggest that teaching should be like customer service are not only out of touch but are a danger to the profession. A lack of support from administrators is already one of the top reasons teachers cite for leaving the profession.
The customer service model will always privilege customer comfort. If we treat education like a business, what are our bottom lines? What are we willing to give up to reach those bottom lines?
Sometimes, learning is uncomfortable. While it can and should feel worthwhile, it is not always enjoyable. Administrators should remember that public schools are a public good and their purpose is not to entertain or placate but to educate.
Instead of thinking of education as customer service, we should think of it as a plate of vegetables. You can steam them and cover them in cheese, but they’re still vegetables—and they must be eaten.
