She smiled softly. "Jaime's fine for the grownups," she offered, but she got it. Boy, did she get it; there was at least one other teacher in the school that insisted she be referred to by her surname, which happened to also be hyphenated, and a mouthful. No one particularly liked her much, and Jaime mostly just avoided her.
Shaking her head, she maintained the smile despite her exhaustion. "I've met a fair few of them before and not all of them look that interested," she added with a playful wink. She wasn't offended by it. She was just happy they bothered to show up at all; paying attention was just a bonus.
"Unless the parent requests it specifically, I don't send home reports, no. I do keep my own notes on each student, of course. A hundred or so kids is a lot to keep straight without some sort of system," she continued. "I do make sure to comment in the report card fields, and if there are problems, I certainly notify the parents. What they do after that is ... up to them, but I can only do so much where I stand."
She tilted her head slightly, but without context she wasn't sure who the neighbor was. "Which one's that?" She had gotten a few students in the class -- not as many as she'd hoped, but a few -- and she couldn't recall all the names off the top of her head.
Jaime glanced to the side, ostensibly to look at another set of parents passing nearby, but mostly to hide her expression (she had such trouble keeping neutral faces when she was tired) when Dahlia mentioned TJ wasn't sleeping well. It could be a coincidence. In TJ's case, it could just as easily be because of his mother's violent passing. "It's hard to say what to do, where the boundaries are," she said as she swung her blue eyes back to Dahlia. "The most you can really do is ... make sure he knows you're there if he needs you, provide other outlets for communication. It's hard sometimes to do something face to face, but easier if you suggest he email you, text you, or write you a story about it. Or even draw a picture if he's artistically inclined." She smiled softly, sympathetically. "Even parents who've been parents since birth have the same concerns," she said softly. "When to push, when to pry, when to let it lie until he's ready to move on his own terms. He seems like a bright, capable kid though, from what I do know of him." Which, admittedly, wasn't much, but after a decade of kids trampling through, she'd learned how to get a read on most of them from day one, and she wasn't often off the mark. Sometimes, of course. Sometimes they projected in a way she read wrong, but ... not a lot.
She could usually tell the bullies, the bookworms, the teachers pets, the problem children. The ones who had problems at home ... but those sometimes were harder to spot because going chameleon became second nature to them. "I can certainly keep an eye on him if you have any concerns though," she murmured. "Beyond the usual ones."