The first parents evening you have, you’re mildly excited. You can’t wait to hear how bright your little darling is. How popular they are.
After your first one, you begin to dread them.
Sitting in a chair designed for a 2yr old, the teacher towers over you in their ” big” chair and basically interrogates you on how often you do homework with your child, and tests your understanding of phonics.
All of a sudden, you’re back at school… literally. You make lame excuses for no reason whatsoever… ” Well we both work full time, and sometimes it’s difficult to sit down to read”…..” We have a very demanding 18mth old” ….,
The teacher gives you a look of pity as you basically describe living in a feral environment with no books where your child has to fend for themselves.
You carry on panic talking…the teacher zones out. She is thinking about the parents sat outside and calculating how long she has before she can open the Pinot Grigio.
She does not care about your child and how shit they are at reading.
Today I met my daughters new teacher. I decided to get in first…”Poppy isn’t very academic is she?”….,.
I then spend about 5 minutes basically slagging my daughter off. The teacher looks on bewildered…
” Well Poppy is very kind”…..,
“She’s very popular”
I appreciate she is trying to be positive here. However, she is essentially confirming my daughter hasn’t got an academic bone in her body.
A person doesn’t become a Dr by being popular.
The teacher shows me Poppy’s work book. She smiles as she points to a page. I look at it and think how creative Poppy’s been with the picture. The teacher informs me it’s her handwriting. I pretend to read it. We both know it’s near on impossible to do so.
We talk about homework and I realise that I’ve got the spelling test date wrong. Instead of saying ” oh my, I have the date wrong.”….. I swear. I say ” Oh shit” I have basically swore at my daughters teacher.
The teacher now thinks that not only do we live in a feral environment, we also sit around swearing and probably drinking….and/or doing drugs.
The teacher changes the subject. She looks at me with concern. She mentions that Poppy has told her she’s going blind…
Apparently Poppy puts out her hands and bumps into things. She apparently can’t see the board to write on… she apparently needs glasses…. just like her friends…
I burst out laughing. The teacher looks taken aback. I appear to be laughing at a disability my daughter has…
I tell the teacher my very dramatic daughter is ” playing her”
I explain that my daughter spent a week wearing cinema 3D glasses to copy her friends. She even wore them to school once.
The teacher pales realising that Poppy has well and truly had her. I think she half expected Poppy to turn up with a guide dog with the extent she went to.
I get up from my seat. I leave her with the thought that my ” kind and popular” daughter probably has a career as a con artist…or benefit cheat.