London - There are many times in life when the size of my bottom has troubled me.
Trying on swimwear (obviously), squeezing through toddler-sized tunnels at soft-play centres - and parents’ evening.
Perched on a junior school chair, suitable for a supermodel-sized behind, I sit there wondering what I’m more fearful of: finding out my child is an academic nitwit or having to balance like a clumsy circus animal on furniture incapable of supporting my weight.
You secretly want to hear your child is a maths/musical/literary genius, but you actually hear they’re ‘doing just fine’ because, unless he or she is top or bottom of the class, there’s very little to say about the majority in between.
Still, parents’ evening always make me nervous, not least because I have four teachers to see and get confused about which child I am discussing.
And now our eldest is in senior school, it’s up to her to arrange the appointments.
This is something new, and looking at the timetable she has arranged for us, I wonder what I will do in the illogical teacher-free gap between 5pm and 7pm she has created accidentally? Can you take biscuits (wine)? While these ten-minute exchanges are loaded with expectation for moms and dads, I feel sorry for the teachers facing the relentless tsunami of similar questions.
So, to save time and provoke a more honest exchange, here’s a list of things I wish I could tell teachers in advance:
1. We do not believe everything our children tell us about school (bear in mind my son once told you I was married to a Power Ranger). Therefore, we do understand small minds are occasionally prone to fantasies about events in the classroom. For example, I Googled one of my girls’ chemistry teachers and, though he was an actor as they say, he did not star in Zoolander. I think we can agree much of the information relayed back and forth about school and home must not be viewed as 100 percent accurate.
2. Bear with us, because it’s difficult to let our children go at first. So, when you say he must learn to be more independent, you may as well be telling me he is leaving home tomorrow. Of course, I know he can tie his own shoelaces, but the moment I stop doing it, then I am cutting that invisible umbilical cord.
3. We may cry. After racing to parents’ evening from a stressful day at work, I once held a teacher’s hand across the desk when she told me one of mine was ‘ever so kind’.
4. I swear my daughter does not leave home with her skirt that short.
5. It is OK to use the word ‘lazy’. Really, I don’t mind, we use it all the time at home. However, I do object to the word ‘mediocre’. This is absolutely ‘not cool’, as my 12-year-old often mutters.
6. I do understand PE is a real subject and has to be taken seriously; I just can’t get that through to my child. Sorry.
7. I will never sew a label in a jumper. Lack of time and skill prevent me from doing that. Instead, I’ll take the risk and dive head-first into the giant, chaotic lost property box along with all those other working moms.
8. I apologise in advance for the clumsy way I will inadvertently put you on the spot and ask how my child compares to others in the class.
9. And yes, I have secretly looked at the other pupils’ school trays and read their books to check out their marks. You should never keep me waiting outside the classroom. Therefore, I am aware that my child’s handwriting is like that of a excited drunk drawing a map. I will try to correct this at home by means of bribery. Walnut Whip as a reward always works for us.
10. Finally, please note that we come into that classroom full of respect for you. We are grateful for what you are doing and if someone were to ask us what other job we’d do, we usually say ‘teacher’, though, of course, none of us would ever be patient enough to sit through even one parents’ evening.
* Lorraine Candy is editor-in-chief of Elle magazine.
Daily Mail