The ex and I went parent-teacher speed dating together last night.
I don’t know if you’ve done the public high school parent-teacher thing, but it involves – at ours – a hall full of teachers at little desks and a big brass bell that rings every five minutes to let you know it’s time to move on.
I booked every one of the youngest’s teachers that was available … but made the tactical error of organising them back-to-back, so we were running frantically around the room.
I didn’t understand what any of the three-letter symbols meant next to the teachers’ names on the booking website, so I had no idea what subjects each one taught. But I made the fortuitous decision to see the PE teacher first.
The PE teachers eyes lit up at the mention of the youngest’s name. The youngest apparently bounds into every class with the biggest smile on her face. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given the youngest is obsessed with skipping. (Although she was horrified to accidentally qualify for zone cross country last week as she HATES long distance running and is already making excuses to get out of it.)
Actually, most of the teachers aside from the humourless maths one said the same things about the youngest: big smile, funny, enthusiastic, good kid.
The maths teacher just said she needed to work on her “integers”. I looked at him like this …
Then I turned to my ex and said: “Do you know what an integer is?”
Fortunately he did. I’m absolutely useless when it comes to maths homework.
The English teacher kept going off topic and wanting to discuss the benefits of Evening Primrose Oil for eczema, and I’m like, Mate, we only have five minutes, can she spell?
The art teacher said there’d been no time to do anything because of Easter and cross country and the like, so we had a wistful chat instead about how disappointed she was to lose the eldest as a student after just a few short weeks. She even told us about running into the eldest in the city the other day and racing up and say hi, which was lovely to hear .
The history teacher raved about the youngest’s first essay on Mungo Man. She also said the youngest was keen as mustard – walks into the classroom and heads straight to a desk at the front so she’s in a prime position to ask questions.
Fortunately the questions are becoming more discerning as the term progresses.
I was a bit startled when the last teacher – design and technology – told us the youngest had forgotten to hand in her assignment so she couldn’t show it to us … then I got a phone call an hour later apologising and explaining it had been stuck inside another folder and to please not give the youngest a hard time … I’d just thought it was a bit odd and immediately forgotten about it, but I assured the teacher I wouldn’t send the youngest to bed without supper.
It’s quite lovely to get all the positive feedback, as the youngest didn’t have the easiest time with schoolwork throughout most of primary school.
She’s adoring high school, with her colour-coded folders and timetables and tests that she can re-sit if she’s not happy with her initial mark.
I have NO idea where she gets it from.
Well, I liked learning. When the history teacher ran us through the year’s curriculum it sounded totes cool. But I hated tests and I wasn’t all that keen on being at school. I certainly wasn’t organised. And neither was her dad.
She’s such a weirdo.
She’s having fits about taking the last day off school to head south for her uncle’s 50th because it will ruin her perfect attendance record.
I asked if there was a prize or something for having a perfect attendance record.
So why does it matter?
Apparently it just won’t look as good on the report card.
Also weird: having parent teacher interviews when they’ve only know your kid for a couple of months.
Surely mid-year would be better – what do you reckon?
Song of the day: Pink Floyd “Another brick in the wall”