Parent-teacher conferences are stressful.

If your child is bright, gifted and perfect you wonder how they will possibly continue this streak. You wonder if he’ll be challenged enough at school and maybe a scholarship is not out of reach. I know it is only third grade, but you never know!

If your child consistently tries hard but does average, you wonder if he can try harder. What can you do to motivate him to do more? Does he need extra help? Tutoring? Maybe that extra hour of TV a day Little Guy is watching is having an impact?

Your inner mommy voice has prepared you for this meeting, you have coached your husband on how to act and what not to say. Remember, honey, we have no idea why Little Guy said that bad word. Where could he have possibly heard it?

You and your husband are ready to portray yourselves as the loving, motivating, perfect parents that you both know you are. So imagine our surprise when the teacher mentioned enrolling in a parenting class.

Actually, it went a step further. The school was sponsoring a class and she had already taken the liberty of enrolling my husband. Let’s call my husband the Really Big Guy, since the teacher has somehow gotten the impression that he may be partially responsible for some extremely playful, rough behavior Little Guy and his brother Big Guy had been demonstrating.

I did not get off scot-free. It would have to be a joint effort in order for it to be successful. Apparently, good parenting is all about being on the same team and being consistent together. Perhaps those looks Really Big Guy and I had been passing each other were not going unnoticed by the children?

Really Big Guy and I planned on attending class on different nights. That way, we would have the same lessons and learn the same techniques without worrying about child care. Another perk? Really Big Guy wouldn’t be able to look over at me during class to remind me that I never follow through when I threaten and I wouldn’t be able to remind him that when he yells like a crazy man, the children run for cover saying, “Daddy’s gonna blow!” After all, this was parenting skills, not marriage therapy.

We started out slowly. Not being opened minded, the class seemed a bit kumbaya for my taste. Everyone truly wanted to be a better parent and was concerned about growing into that role. I felt shallow. This was taking two hours and honestly, what could this program really teach me? Isn’t parenting an experiment? Don’t you learn as you go and hope for the best?

These parents were different. They were so interested. They wanted to share and discuss. Not me. I wasn’t letting our dark secrets out. They did not need to know about the blood curdling screams and punches during Little Guy’s and Big Guy’s fights. I was not letting them know that I was one of those mothers that would sometimes loose control of my children in the grocery store. I had been guilty of sporting that fake, pursed lip expression right before you lose all rational thinking and embarrass yourself in public. I only prayed that the Really Big Guy would keep his mouth shut, too.

Then the oddest thing happened. After week three, I had to admit defeat. The exercise when we stood on our chair and yelled at another adult who had been kneeling on the ground did both me and Really Big Guy in. We realized how small the boys were and finally recognized that a whole lot of yelling doesn’t really accomplish much. And truthfully, if Big Guy has Little Guy in a head lock and Little Guy is trying to bite his arm, they are not listening anyway.

Both Really Big Guy and I started to read our homework more closely and look forward to class. I actually committed to memory the phrases that I would use to eliminate some misbehaving and backtalking. I had a toolbox full of tools and was not afraid to use it!

In seven short weeks we had joined the cult. We were one of those parents now. We sang our kumbayas proudly and wore our laminated cheat sheet for eliminating undue attention as badges of honor. We were graduates. Now when Really Big Guy and I rolled our eyes at each other, it would be with a knowing nod that we had outsmarted our children and produced positive results with our fantastic parenting.

One year later, our kids are still not perfect and neither are we, but we are smarter, slightly more patient parents. Little Guy and Big Guy know when we give an “either/or” or “when/then” statement we mean business. Lesson learned.

Illyse Lane appears every Thursday on TriangleMom2Mom.