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Tuesday, 6 December 2011
It’s that time of year again – parents evening at The Seven Year Old’s school. For some reason, I find that there always seems to be a bit of an air of being sent to see the Head Teacher as if we’ve all done something wrong. This is no reflection on The Seven Year Old who we are often told is “exceptionally well behaved” at school. This sort of comment makes me swell with pride and I feel the prickling of tears threatening to well up behind my eyes – since having children my emotions feel like they are dangerously close to the surface for all to see.
Before getting to chat with your child’s teacher at Parents Evening, the usual routine is to be handed your child’s books to examine and explore. This can provide a real insight into how your child’s mind works. Not to mention a waning about what the teacher you are about to speak to already knows about you.
Last year, The Seven Year Old, who had then been The Six Year Old, had been learning about how to write about feelings and emotions. The fact that I’d been impressed that this was on the curriculum quickly paled into insignificance when I read what made The Seven (six) Year Old feel angry… “I feel angry when I drop my Lego on the dusty floor” he had written in his best handwriting. And so it was that the whole time we were speaking to the teacher I knew that she was fully aware of our lacking in housekeeping skills.
I look around the living room in which I am sat writing this post, surveying the chaos in which we currently live. Oh dear. I may not be able to look The Seven Year Old’s current teacher in the eye this evening Wish me luck people.
Posted by Ju at 12:14