Too often, parent–school communication begins only when something goes wrong. Teachers bring evidence, parents defend, children fear punishment, and the conversation shifts from what the child needs to who is to blame.
A child does not stop being a member of the family when they enter the school gate, nor do they stop being a student when they return home. Home and school are two of the most influential environments in a child’s life, and what happens in one inevitably affects the other. A child who is struggling with friendships at school may bring that frustration home. A difficult situation at home may affect concentration or behaviour in the classroom. Likewise, encouragement from a teacher can strengthen a child’s confidence far beyond school, while the support of a parent can influence how that child approaches learning, relationships, and challenges.
Yet we often behave as though these two worlds are separate. Parents may assume that education is primarily the school’s responsibility, while schools may expect parents to deal with behaviour, character, motivation, or emotional difficulties at home. When something goes wrong, the conversation can quickly turn into a search for who is responsible: Why didn’t the teacher notice? Why didn’t the parents do something? Why didn’t the child tell us?
A better question is: What can we do together for this child?
Children Benefit When the Adults Around Them Communicate
Parents and teachers hold different pieces of the same picture. Parents know dimensions of their children that teachers may never see: their temperament, fears, family experiences, interests, values, struggles and aspirations. Teachers, meanwhile, observe children in an environment that parents rarely witness. They see how a child behaves among peers, responds to authority, manages competition and disappointment, participates in groups, handles academic pressure, and navigates friendships.
A child who is lively and talkative at home may become unusually quiet at school. A teenager who tells parents that “everything is fine” may be withdrawing from friends in the classroom. Conversely, behaviour that deeply worries a parent may be something a teacher has observed across many adolescents and can help the family understand more clearly. Neither parents nor teachers necessarily possess the complete picture. When they communicate openly, however, those different pieces begin to come together.
This partnership is about much more than academic achievement. Children are simultaneously developing their character, identity, confidence, relationships, values, emotional regulation and ability to make decisions. These aspects of development do not fit neatly into “home responsibilities” and “school responsibilities”. They overlap constantly.
Preparing Children to Become Contributing Members of Society
Ultimately, education is not only about helping children succeed in school. We are preparing them to grow into adults who can participate meaningfully in society: people who can work with others, take responsibility, solve problems, care about their communities, respect differences and contribute something of value. Muslim children are no different. We want them to grow into capable, principled and compassionate adults who are strong in their faith while contributing positively to the societies in which they live.
This becomes much harder when there is disharmony, discord or poor communication between parents and schools. When the important adults in a child’s life send conflicting messages but rarely speak to one another, the child is often left in the middle. For example, a school may encourage students to speak up, ask questions and express their opinions, while parents interpret the same behaviour at home as disrespect. Without communication, the child may become confused about when it is acceptable to have a voice. A teacher may interpret a Muslim student’s reluctance to participate in a particular activity as defiance, while the parents assume the school is deliberately disregarding their religious values. A simple conversation might reveal that neither interpretation is accurate and that an acceptable alternative can easily be found.
Problems can also arise when each side sees only part of what is happening. A child who is being excluded by classmates may become angry and withdrawn at home. The parents see the anger but not the exclusion, while the teacher sees the child becoming increasingly quiet but knows nothing about the arguments occurring at home. If the adults do not communicate, each may respond only to the behaviour they can see rather than the difficulty underneath it.
Similarly, an adolescent struggling academically may tell parents that the teacher “doesn’t like me” while telling the teacher that the parents “don’t care about school”. If the adults never speak directly, misunderstandings can grow and the child may increasingly experience home and school as opposing camps.
Parent–school partnership therefore has a purpose far beyond preventing disciplinary problems or improving examination results. It helps children learn something they will need throughout adulthood: how to remain grounded in who they are while participating constructively in a diverse society. When children see parents and educators communicating respectfully, solving disagreements, listening to one another and seeking common ground without necessarily abandoning their convictions, they are also being shown how responsible members of society behave.
This Is Even More Important for Minority Communities
The need for parent–school partnership becomes even more significant for minorities, such as Muslims living in non-Muslim majority countries, because children may be moving every day between environments with different beliefs, practices, expectations and social norms.
At home, children may be learning about prayer, modesty, respect for parents, Ramadan, Islamic manners, relationships, responsibility to others and their identity as Muslims. At school, they may encounter classmates and teachers from many religious and cultural backgrounds, celebrations their families do not observe, different understandings of relationships and individual freedom, and questions about beliefs or practices that other children have never encountered before.
A Muslim child growing up in Tokyo, London, Sydney, Toronto or another minority setting may therefore be asked questions such as: Why don’t you eat this? Why do you fast? Why does your mother wear hijab? Why do you pray during the day? Why don’t you celebrate the same festivals?
Such questions are not necessarily hostile. Often, they arise from simple curiosity. But they remind children that aspects of their everyday lives are unfamiliar to others. A child who has developed a secure sense of identity may be able to explain these differences comfortably. A child who is already uncertain about belonging may experience them very differently.
There can also be situations where the values promoted at home and those encountered at school appear to conflict. A child may hear at home, “We don’t do that because we are Muslim,” but receive little help in understanding why or how to explain the decision respectfully to friends and teachers. At school, the same child may hear messages about inclusion and belonging while feeling that an important part of who they are is invisible or misunderstood.
Over time, some children may begin to compartmentalise their lives: behaving one way at home, another way at school, and perhaps another way again with friends or online. The problem is not that children encounter different perspectives. Learning to live with difference is an important part of growing up. The problem arises when children are left to navigate significant differences, tensions and misunderstandings largely by themselves.
We do not want our children growing up feeling that they need to become different people in different places: one person at home, another at school, and yet another among friends. Sometimes we loosely describe this as developing a “split personality”, but what we are really concerned about is a divided or fragmented sense of self. A child may learn to hide their questions at home because they fear disappointing their parents, while hiding their faith at school because they fear appearing different. They may speak and behave according to one set of values when their parents are present and another when they are with their peers. The greater the distance between these worlds becomes, the harder it may be for the young person to answer a fundamental question: Who am I when nobody is telling me who I should be?
The aim is not for children to behave identically in every setting. All of us adapt appropriately to different social environments. Rather, we want children to develop an integrated identity: a stable sense of who they are and what they stand for, while learning how to communicate and behave appropriately in different situations. A young Muslim should be able to enter the classroom, sports field, university, workplace and wider community without feeling that their Muslim identity must be left at the door.
This is where cooperation between home and school becomes particularly valuable. The goal should not be to create a protective bubble around Muslim children, nor should it be to expect schools to reproduce everything taught within a Muslim household. Rather, parents and educators can help children learn how to navigate difference without feeling that they must abandon one part of themselves to participate in another.
The message we want children to internalise is not simply, “I must choose between being Muslim and belonging here.” It is: “I can be confident in my Muslim faith and identity while learning, contributing, forming friendships and living respectfully alongside people who are different from me.”
Parents Can Help Schools Understand
In minority settings, teachers may genuinely know very little to nothing about Islam. A teacher may see a tired teenager during Ramadan and assume that the student is disengaged. A school may schedule an important activity on Eid without realising its significance. Teachers may be unsure about prayer, fasting, halal food, modesty requirements or religious celebrations and may hesitate to ask because they are afraid of causing offence.
Parents can help bridge these gaps. This does not require entering the school ready to complain whenever something is unfamiliar or uncomfortable. It means building enough of a relationship that conversations can happen before misunderstandings become conflicts.
Parents can introduce themselves, explain relevant religious practices, respond to teachers, participate where possible, and share information that helps educators understand their child. They can explain rather than immediately accuse, ask rather than assume, and recognise that a teacher’s lack of knowledge is not necessarily evidence of disrespect.
Schools, in turn, can create space for parents to speak and be heard. They can ask questions rather than make assumptions about Muslim families, recognise that Muslim families themselves are diverse, and consult parents when situations arise that may have religious or cultural implications. This turns difference into an opportunity for understanding rather than a source of tension.
Do Not Wait Until Something Goes Wrong
One of the biggest weaknesses in parent–school relationships is that meaningful communication often begins only when there is a problem. The parent receives a message saying that the child has been involved in an incident, and immediately everyone becomes defensive. The teacher prepares evidence, the parent prepares explanations, and the child prepares for punishment. The discussion quickly becomes about who is responsible rather than what the child needs.
A healthier relationship begins much earlier. Parents can ask not only about grades but also about friendships, participation, confidence and behaviour. Teachers can contact parents not only when a child is struggling but occasionally when something is going well. Schools can create genuine opportunities for parents to contribute rather than communicating with them mainly about fees, examinations, discipline or administrative matters.
These small interactions matter because they build trust. When a difficult issue eventually arises, the teacher is no longer a stranger contacting the family with bad news, and the parent is no longer simply “that difficult parent” appearing to make a complaint. There is already a relationship upon which a difficult conversation can be built.
Partnership Does Not Require Agreement on Everything
Working together does not mean parents and schools will always agree. This is particularly important to acknowledge in minority communities. There may be genuine differences concerning curriculum content, religious accommodation, dress, food, celebrations, relationships, social activities or other sensitive issues.
The question is not whether differences will arise, but how adults handle them when they do. Parents can hold firmly to their convictions without becoming hostile, while educators can disagree without dismissing the family’s beliefs. The objective should not be for one side to defeat the other. It should be to find the best way forward for the child while preserving dignity and a workable relationship.
There is also an important lesson here for children themselves. They are watching how adults deal with people who think differently. If parents constantly portray the school, teachers or wider society as threats, children may learn suspicion and withdrawal. If schools treat religious families as troublesome, backward or unreasonable, children may begin to believe that belonging requires distancing themselves from their faith.
There is a better model. Children can watch their parents engage confidently and respectfully with others. They can see teachers listen even when they do not completely agree. They can discover that it is possible to say, “We see this differently, but let us understand one another and work out what is best for the child.” That, too, is education. It teaches children how to hold conviction and courtesy at the same time.
From Parent Involvement to Genuine Partnership
There is an important difference between involving parents and partnering with them. Parent involvement may mean inviting parents to attend an event, contribute food, supervise an excursion or listen to a presentation. Partnership goes deeper. It recognises parents as people who bring knowledge, experience, values and insight into their children’s education.
Likewise, parents need to recognise educators as more than service providers employed to deliver academic results. Teachers are among the adults who may profoundly influence children’s development. They spend many hours with them, observe them in relationships that parents cannot see, and sometimes become trusted adults to whom children disclose concerns. When both sides respect what the other brings, the relationship shifts from “What are you doing to my child?” to “What can we do together for this child?”
The School–Home Connection Supports Whole-Person Development
For Muslim families, education has never been only about examination results. We want children who can think, communicate, make responsible choices, contribute positively to society, treat others with dignity, withstand unhealthy pressures, and remain conscious of God. This is a much larger task than academic instruction. It is about whole-person development: nurturing a child’s character, values, identity, capabilities and sense of responsibility alongside intellectual growth.
Parents remain central to that responsibility, but they do not raise children in isolation. As children grow, more people and environments enter their lives: teachers, friends, coaches, neighbours, community members, religious educators and, increasingly, the enormous digital world carried in their pockets. Parents cannot control every influence, nor should that be the goal. What they can do is build strong relationships with the people who share significant parts of their children’s lives.
For Muslim families living as minorities, this partnership can become an important bridge between faith, family, school and wider society. Our children should not grow up believing that they must choose between being confidently Muslim and participating confidently in the communities in which they live. They need adults who show them how to do both.
That begins when parents and schools stop standing on opposite sides of the school gate and recognise that, although their roles are different in some ways, the child is their shared concern. Perhaps, then, the question for every parent and educator is not simply, “Am I doing my part?” but something more demanding: “Are we truly working together to help this child become the person they have the potential to be?”
Featured image by Thirdman