Why I Always Ask Classroom Educators to Review My Parent-Created Learning Resources
The paper coffee cup sleeve was already soaked through by the time I leaned against the PTA table at my local elementary school’s volunteer coffee hour. Crumbs of chocolate chip cookie scattered across my manila folder as I pulled out the stack of revised early reading fluency grids, and Ms. Lopez, my oldest son’s former first grade teacher, wiped her hands on her lanyard and smiled. “Still tweaking those?” she asked. I nodded, and pushed the folder across the table. “I rewrote the nonsense word section to match what your state test actually uses now. Can you tell me what’s garbage before I share it?”
She pulled out a chair, flipped through the first five pages quickly, and paused at page seven. “You’ve got 15 words per grid here,” she said, tapping the paper with her pen. “My one-minute fluency checks are exactly that—one minute. Most of my kids hit 15 words in 30 seconds this time of year, and then you’ve got half a page of nothing. Why not add a second set for kids who finish early? That way I don’t have to grab a second sheet mid-check.”
I jotted that down in the margin of my notebook, and Mr. Torres, a second grade teacher who was dropping off his cookie plate, leaned over to look. “Can you bump the font up a point? Ten point works for your kid at your kitchen table, but I’ve got three kids who haven’t gotten their new glasses yet this year, and even the ones with perfect vision strain at this size when we’re doing quick checks at the back table.” I added that to the list too. That’s how it always goes, when I ask teachers to review my resources: they spot things I never would have thought of, even after years of helping my own kids navigate learning struggles.
I started making these resources three years ago, after my youngest son got his dyslexia diagnosis. Every pre-made fluency pack I bought was either too expensive, covered in bright distracting graphics that messed with his focus, or progressed too fast for where he was. I made the first set of grids for him, just printed on plain copy paper, and shared photos in our local parent support group. A dozen other parents asked for copies, so I cleaned up the file, and I’ve been adding new sets ever since. But from the very first set, I’ve never shared a resource publicly without asking at least two current classroom educators to look it over first.
Last year, I made a set of addition fact flashcards for K-2, and I grouped all the facts by sum, which made sense to me when I was practicing with my son. A second grade teacher I asked to review them pointed out that almost all elementary classes teach addition by addend, to connect to fact family lessons. She also noticed I’d put the answer dead center on the back of every card, so kids were memorizing the position of the answer instead of actually solving the problem. “Just shift it a little to the left or top on each card,” she said. “It’s a tiny change that makes a huge difference.” That was an easy fix, and it’s the most common compliment I get on those flashcards now.
I know teachers are stretched thinner than ever, so I never ask for more than 10 minutes of their time before or after school, and I always bring a $20 coffee gift card as a thank you. I don’t ask them to test the resource with a whole class for a month, just to flip through and point out anything that would be annoying, inaccessible, or unworkable for their daily routine. That’s the stuff no online training or curriculum guide can teach a parent creator like me.
The things teachers consistently catch fall into three simple categories, and I’ve started expecting them now. First, transition and prep time. I make resources for one kid at a table, so I don’t think about cutting out 25 sets of cards or passing out sheets. When I first made the fluency grids, I put four per page to save paper. Ms. Lopez told me most teachers just print one and slip it into a dry erase sleeve for intervention, so one per page is way less work. I now add both versions to every digital download, so people can pick what works for them.
Second, accessibility. Teachers write and adjust IEPs every week, so they notice things I miss: low contrast between text and background, font that’s too small, instructions that are too wordy for kids reading below grade level. After Mr. Torres pointed out the font size issue on my fluency grids, I bumped the base font up to 12 point for all my early reading resources, and that small change has gotten so much positive feedback from both teachers and parents.
Third, alignment to what they’re actually teaching, not what I assume they teach. Standards change all the time, and what my kid learned in third grade two years ago isn’t what third graders are required to learn now. Last year, I made a set of science vocabulary cards, and a third grade teacher pointed out that half the words on my list weren’t in the current state standards, and four key words that are required were missing. That would have been a useless set for most teachers if I’d posted it without that review.
Right now, I’m reworking a new phonics resource based on feedback I got last week. One teacher pointed out that the little black and white pictures I added next to each word to help with context were actually letting kids guess the word instead of sounding out the vowel pattern, which defeated the whole point of the resource. I’m taking all the pictures out now, adjusting the font, and adding that second set of words per grid for early finishers. I’ll drop the revised copy off with one more teacher next week, after she’s done with parent-teacher conferences.
I don’t always get perfect feedback, and sometimes two teachers disagree—one prefers one grid per page, the other prefers four to save ink. Adding both versions to the download takes five minutes, so that’s an easy compromise. It’s extra work, asking for reviews every time, but when I get a message a month later from a teacher saying my fluency grids are the only ones that actually fit into their 10-minute intervention block, it’s worth every minute. There’s no substitute for the perspective of someone who spends six hours a day in a classroom with kids. I don’t think I’ll ever stop asking for it.
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