Editor’s note: The author, lawyer Brooke McIntosh Crump, is a working mom in Mt. Gilead and writes bi-weekly for the Speckled Paw Times.

I am fully aware that when I share this story, many people will think less of me. But I’ve always been very open about my neurotic tendencies, so here it is y’all: My kid didn’t get an award at his Pre-K graduation and I’m mad.

I know what you’re thinking. “Not every kid can get an award, Brooke.” But to you I say that you must not have met my kid because those that have, they know. When they gave out the final of the three awards, my grandma glanced over at me with a look that was a mix of shock and disgust. My kid is award-winning, and that is just who he is. He was the very first student of the month. His teachers and coaches rave about his participation, his zest for life, his awareness and his kindness. He is loved by everyone he meets.

The head barista at Speckled Paw Inc. even informed her children, “If you have a son that is half as cool as Lincoln, I can totally get on board with being a grandma.” I am now 48 hours past the incident, and I am still not okay. And now I’ll tell the real zinger of it all: I went to the school yesterday to speak with his teacher about it. I know what you’re thinking. I am that parent that teachers hate. You are now seeing me as a millennial who thinks every child deserves a trophy. But I do not believe in participation trophies. And that is the problem I have with awards day. Oftentimes awards are given out to kids to encourage them to work harder. But I am of the camp that believes awards should reserved for those who earned them.

So I did it. I went to his teacher, who both my son and I adore, and I asked her where I dropped the ball. Is my child not kind? Is my child not hardworking? Is he not doing well in the classroom? Where did I go wrong throughout the year for him to be the first child of the year chosen for an award to not even being recognized in the end.

Now that I’ve gotten that off my chest, the real issue is this: Where do we draw the line when it comes to advocating for our children? When do we cross over to helicopter parent status and being a big fat thorn in a teacher’s rear end? I have been in the teacher’s shoes when a parent has demanded my explanation of similar situations. I have been furious to have my professional judgment questioned by a parent. To my child’s teachers, and even the administrators, I say I am sorry. To many parents of my former students, I also say that I am sorry because as a teacher, I got it wrong sometimes. There were times I didn’t update parents and there were times I showed favoritism. There were students who pressed my buttons easier than others. I always tried to do what was best, but I know there were times I dropped the ball.

I am a teacher advocate. But at the end of the day, my loyalty will always lie with my children. That’s how I was raised. When I was a sophomore in high school and dropped from second in my class due to a 92.3 average in Algebra 2, I will never forget the day my mom went to school with me and we attempted to reason with my teacher. I know many of you will again think less of me for this, but to this day, I still think that teacher got it wrong.

As a former teacher, I can say with certainty that grades are not a perfect science that directly reflect a child’s efforts and abilities. There is a great deal of discretion that goes into a child’s grade and I am thankful that my mom went to bat that day, even though we struck out. Don’t worry, y’all, I still got into college, but a margin of .2 percent can make or break an acceptance for a student.

I also remember the strongly worded letter my dad (may he rest in peace) wrote the cheerleading coach the year I wasn’t moved up to varsity. Again, I the possible overly-zealous advocates my parents were. Did they create a monster who thinks she is (almost) always right and can win every trial? Probably. But a day never went by that I thought my parents didn’t believe in me. These things matter, y’all. A teacher told me that I was putting too much pressure on both myself and my son. But awards matter. Grades matter. As parents, how do we decide what we let slide and when do we march into the school after eating a Bojangles biscuit in our car on our lunch breaks to stand up for our kids? Most would say not after a Pre-K graduation ceremony and you’re probably right. But if we don’t believe in our kids, who will?

(Sidenote: To all of Lincoln Crump’s current educators: A cup of Speckled Paw coffee this week is on me.)