We were sat having dinner this week, doing the usual thing of ‘let’s spend quality time together as a family and try to sound interested about each other’s days.’
“What did you do at school today?” I asked Belle, (obviously. My fiancé is too old for school.)
“PE,” she said. “It was fine, I got a lollipop.”
“A lollipop?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes,” she said, “because I did well in the stretching exercises and sit ups.”
Tonight is parents’ evening.
Oh joy!
I really dislike going to parents’ evening, partly because it means I have to leave the house at a time when I should be settling down to eat my dinner and watch some Dinner Date, but mainly because it always feels like a complete waste of time. The way I see it, if there was an actual problem, someone would get in touch, they wouldn’t wait until the next parents’ evening to tell me about it, and if there isn’t a problem then, well, quite frankly, what’s the point?
This is going to be what happens: View Post
I hate homework.
I hate having to remember to ask Belle to do it, I hate that thing at 8.58pm where she suddenly remembers she has half an hour of homework to do before the next day, I hate the stupid tasks she gets set that you know the teacher has just found on the internet in about the time it takes Belle to sigh heavily and open her homework diary. I hate all of it.
I also hate that it interferes with the things I want to do. In the evenings, having been working all day myself, I would quite like to be doing something fun like going to the cinema or out for dinner. I don’t want to spend my free time explaining how to multiply and divide fractions.
BORING!
The crux though of my dislike for homework comes down to this: school is meant to prepare us for adult life right? It’s about routine and self discipline and obeying the rules, I get that.
But hang on… View Post
When eBay asked me to help them put together a back to school buyers’ guide, I should probably have warned them that I know absolutely nothing at all about how to be cool at school.
As a teenager, I just never quite got to grips with what was expected of me; what trainers I was meant to have, where I was meant to hang out at lunchtime – I always got things a little bit wrong. (And by ‘a little bit’ I mean dreadfully.) On non-uniform days, when everyone else just switched to the uniform of jeans and t-shirts, I tended to think it would be rather nice to borrow a floral blouse from my mum, to jolly things up a little bit, and to perhaps wear a nice skirt.
It’s been quite hard for me then as a parent to help my own children ingratiate themselves with their peers, and more often than not, when lacking any understanding of the right sort of back pack to be seen carrying, I have resorted instead to reminding them that it’s the kids who were popular at my school that are now unemployed drug addicts, living in bedsits in Bridgwater.
It’s not ideal.
Rather than make a fool of myself then, I enlisted Belle’s help in putting together my eBay guide and between us we came up with 14 super cool backpacks that hopefully won’t make you a complete social outcast.
No promises though.
Check out my buyers’ guide here.
Sponsored post
My Dad is a primary school teacher so the end of term was always a fun time in our house. Partly as we got to have him home with us for the holidays, but mainly because sometimes he would also bring home the school’s BBC computer and my sister and I could play Malory Towers. Malory Towers was the very height of technological sophistication – a text based murder mystery where you had to type in things like ‘go to garden’ and in return would get such edge-of-your seat replies as ‘the gardener is here, do you want to talk to him?’
Nail biting stuff. View Post
I had a little bit of a panic this morning.
I was doing my work planning for the next few weeks, and despite the fact that it feels like I’ve only just finished picking pine needles out of the carpet and wondering what to do with seven bags full of used wrapping paper, there are only two full weeks to go until half term.
Two frickin’ weeks! View Post
Belle is home from school today. I sent her in yesterday, despite her protests that she was definitely going to be sick or faint at any moment, and when she got home she did seem actually unwell. She went to bed at 7.30pm, rosy-cheeked and whimpering, and was asleep before 9pm – practically unheard of for Belle, who normally likes to sit up in bed crafting small items out of coloured paper until at least ten o’clock.
This morning then, I was prepared for her to milk her feverish state as much as possible, and so when she came into my room at about half past seven, forcing out a cough and doing her best ‘look how sick I am’ face, I relented, and sent her back to bed.* Now though, seemingly having made a partial recovery, she is sat in bed quietly making friendship bracelets and reading her library books. She is being very quiet indeed, hoping I think that I will forget she is there and not make her go into school at lunchtime.
Open wide…
Canvassing opinion this morning on Twitter and Facebook, it seems that there are several rather distinct schools of thought. Some parents are happy for sick kids to snuggle up in front of the TV under a duvet when they’re off school. Others, like me, are more in the ‘cruel to be kind’ camp, believing that if a child is ill enough to stay home from school they should be in bed, being as bored as possible. Boyfriend, who is slightly more extreme in his views, would just send her in with a plastic bowl and a packet of Tunes, but I’m a little bit too soft for this – partly just because I’m lazy, and partly because I don’t want to be That Mum – the one who sends a child in with their leg falling off just so she can get some peace and quiet at home.
I’ve probably been influenced as well by own experiences as a child. My Mum, and I’m sure she would be the first to admit this, has never been a fan of tough love. At the first sign of a quivering lip she’d have you on the sofa watching Richard & Judy. Sneeze in her presence and you’d be whisked off to the doctors, have been told to drink plenty of fluids, and be in the chemist buying a sugar-free lollipop before you could get your hanky out. I was off school a lot as a child, and have fond memories of being sat under a duvet with a bowl of tomato soup sprinkled with grated cheese.
That’s the problem though isn’t it? I don’t especially want Belle to think fondly of her time off school, otherwise where is the incentive for her to get better? By making a day off as dull as possible, the hope is that her bout of ‘feeling sick’ will be over as quickly as possible. What do you reckon – is this mean or just practical for a working mum?
Before finishing this, I thought I should go up and check on her. In desperation she has finished her maths homework and is learning her spellings. “How are you feeling?” I ask her.
“Fine,” she says, without thinking, and quickly corrects herself. “Well not fine of course. I feel a bit better, just not 100%”
Sounds like she is on the mend to me. It’s amazing what a good dose of boredom can do.
Hands up if you’ve ever asked your child ‘What did you learn at school today?’
Now keep your hands up if they normally answer ‘nothing’.
*looks out over sea of hands*
I thought as much.
Belle is the worst for it. I’m pretty sure, given that she can read and write and do basic maths, that she must actually have learnt something and some point, but on a day-to-day basis you’d be forgiven for thinking that I was sending her to school simply for free childcare. (This is the main reason obviously).
Now Bee is doing A-levels, her learning does tend to be a little bit more focussed, so normally she has something a little more helpful to say. Like today.
“He-ey!” I called to her as she walked in the house, doing my best to make the word into two syllables, as this infuriates her and I am mean. “What did you do at college today?”
“Well,” she said, “we had a lesson this morning about why you shouldn’t stereotype and be prejudiced against chavs.”
“OK,” I said, “well that sounds good.”
“But then on the way home,” she added, “I saw a man in a tracksuit steal a copy of The Sun from outside a shop.”
(I feel I should say something here by way of conclusion, but all I want to do is hit myself in the face with my hand, so I will stay quiet.)
The new term is just around the corner. Thank goodness. Belle is really lovely company, but she misses the structure and stimulation of school, and by the end of the holidays is a little on the twitchy side to say the least.
This year is her last year of primary school, and come September she will be moving up to big school. Weird, given she still feels so small to me. I know it’s going to be a massive step for her, and I want to make sure she is prepared for the change in workload and routine. How will she cope with the change, the move to a massive school and all the homework?
I’ve been rooting around on the interweb and come up with my favourite ideas to help support children at school. Do you have children who are moving or have recently moved to secondary school? Please share your top tips to help Belle settle in and do well.
Build confidence
Moving to a new school can be really scary, but if you can help build up your child’s self-esteem beforehand, they’ll find it easier to be themselves, make friends, and be less likely to join gangs, bully others, or be bullied themselves. There are lots of ways you can increase self-confidence – from just paying them more compliments, to getting them involved in a hobby or sport where they can nurture a talent or develop a new skill.
Get to grips with the basics
Although as parents we worry about the big picture, kids are often more anxious about seemingly trivial things like what they will have to wear, how to find their way around, and where they are meant to go for lunch. Do everything you can beforehand to help them feel confident about the logistics – walk the route to school with them a few times, find a map of the school if you can, and find out online about start and finish times, uniform requirements and what equipment they need.
Children need all the latest gadgets and equipment
Don’t be afraid to ask for help
This is something children struggle with a lot. Nobody wants to be the kid who is always sticking their hand up and saying they don’t understand do they? I try to teach my children that there is no such thing as a stupid question – chances are if they are thinking it, so are plenty of other kids in the class, kids who will be grateful if someone else is brave enough to speak up. If your child does struggle with something, they can always talk to a teacher after class. Lots of schools will offer extra help if you just ask, or you can always look for external support from a personal tutor or online tutoring.
Get involved
This is something I’m a bit rubbish at, but a lot of children do like it if you make an effort to get involved with their school life. This could be anything from helping them to plan their homework schedule to becoming a parent governor and finding out more about how the school runs. Don’t get too involved though. No child wants their parent popping into their classroom every day or turning up at school assembly to demonstrate their accordion playing skills.
I have been to visit three potential secondary schools for Belle in the last eight days and I am fed up with it. I am fed up with having to spend an hour and a half doing something that should be over in half an hour because of all the parents who insist on asking so many boring, stupid questions.
I appreciate that choosing a secondary school for your child is a big decision, but with that in mind, do some research beforehand if you must. You visit a school to get a feel for its atmosphere, to see the building and grounds, and to watch children taking part in lessons. You surely do not visit a school to waste everybody’s time asking the headteacher what proportion of children take part in after school clubs?
And not just roughly either. One dad this morning really wanted to know. “I’m not sure of the exact proportion,” the head said, “but I can tell you that last summer when we had a fie drill at 4pm that there were about 150 children out at the fire assembly point.”
“And how many children at the school in total?” asked the dad, clearly not satisfied.
“About 950,” said the head.
“So about one in six then?”
“I guess about that,” said the head, looking perplexed.
“OK, one in six.”
Good grief.
Does it matter? Who cares how long lunch break is? It will be a sensible length for a lunch break. Do you really have to wait until you are in a group of 50 people to ask about GCSE results and options? Can you not just look up things like that on the internet like a normal person?
The best question though, which made me want to smash my head against a wall, came from one very keen dad, who had already asked half a dozen equally stupid questions.
“This is a bit of a circular question,” he said, chuckling indulgently to himself, (I’m doing a Will from the Inbetweeners voice here if you can’t tell). “My question is, will there be any more time at the end to ask more questions?”
Well, here we are. All moved and stuff.
We’ve been in the new house a grand total of ten days now. All the boxes are unpacked, the broadband is set up (miracles do happen) and I’m at the point now where I have time to sit back and reflect. What I realised, on reflection, is that I have moved us to a city where basically none of us know anybody.
And yes, I knew that really, but I was so focussed on the long-term, on the picture in my head of us all thriving in a vibrant city, surrounded by interesting people and activities, that I forgot about the bit in between, the bit where you have to go out and meet people. View Post
Today was Bee’s last day of school.
“Gosh, you don’t look old enough to have a teenager!” is the standard response when I tell people my eldest daughter is 16 this year.
“I’m not old enough to have a teenager,” I normally reply. The day people stop looking slightly shocked will be the day I know I am old.
I can remember my last day of school, 17 years ago, very clearly – all the Year Elevens gathered in the school hall, the shirt signing, the tears. Weird how at the time those people feel like your whole life. That afternoon in the hall, the mascara running and the hormones surging, I thought we’d be friends for life. View Post
