It’s parents evening week at my sons’ school. I don’t dread it half as much as my primary school teacher mate. I get to spend 10 minutes being bathed in praise for the little humans that we made. Which is nice. I liked school, my boys liked school, my boys’ teachers like my boys. I’m less keen on future high school parents evenings with their speed dating format and at least three subjects you didn’t even know were a thing.
Dropping my kids to school most mornings means I see their teachers and LSAs a fair bit. I’m not stressing about being judged by the teacher on parents evening (in Secret Teacher style) because I’m sure they’ve already made their judgements. That said, I have brushed my hair and changed out of my leisure wear, just in case.
If my boys have an issue or I’m worried about something, the teacher and I can and do address it really quickly, not store it up for an arbitrary 10 minute sit down on miniscule chairs.
Mr VoG Mam isn’t able to make it today (poorly step daughter) which is probably for the best chair-wise. They’re not built for his bulk. My parents had their wedding reception in a primary school which has always conjured up images of wedding guests with the knees of their flares up their moustachioed nostrils.
I did have to do that I’m-a-terrible-mother thing of postponing the 4 year old’s parents evening until after half term because a work meeting moved dates. But, you know what? Both the boys’ teachers are also working mums of primary aged children so they get it (I hope).
I’m toying with a parents evening bingo of phrases like “unique sense of humour”, “a pleasure to teach”, “a credit to you”, “gets on with everyone”, “numerical reasoning” and possibly “who?”.
If they’re friendly and working their hardest then I’m happy. Same goes for both the teachers and the boys.