I was sweating so badly before one parent conference that I stuffed Kleenex under my armpits in the staff bathroom, Niepodam.

It was my very first year teaching second grade. Half my class couldn't sound out simple words, and the family coming in was one of the most high-powered families in the school.

I sat down across the table from them with a racing heart.

Then halfway through our meeting, one of my sweaty tissues popped out from under my shirt.

But the Kleenex wasn't the worst part!

The worst part was sitting across from that family, working as hard as I knew how, and not knowing if their child's reading was actually getting better.

I walked out of that room and made myself a promise: I'd never feel that panic again.

Here's the part that took me years to understand…

My college reading class had taught me that reading is "caught, not taught."

They said kids would pick up reading on their own just by being around books, the same way they learn to talk.

That worked for the handful of kids who seemed to learn to read like magic. But if a kid was stuck or soaring way ahead, I had no idea what to do next.

I was a floating duck, smiling calmly on top while my feet paddled like crazy underneath.