It is that time of year again when we get the letter from school inviting us to the a parents’ evening. I spend the weeks leading up to it, reminding my husband of the date and time to make sure he can come along with me. With two days to go, I issue the final reminder. “You have remembered the parents’ evening on Thursday haven’t you?.” He replies, “It isn’t in my diary. You could have given me some warning.”
We have been given early evening slots so the schedule is accelerated to ensure that tea, baths and homework are complete by the time Granny arrives to babysit. Eager to be on time and to avoid a black mark for tardiness, we climb into the car. As we pull out of the drive, I glance down to see a pair of half chewed furry slippers on my feet. We reverse and I make a mad dash back into the house to find a half decent pair of shoes.
Thankfully, we arrive in good time and wait outside the classroom. I feel a bit like I am waiting to go into a job interview, although worse. Someone was about to talk to us about our two precious angels. “We must ask some sensible questions,” I tell my husband. “Like is he able to tie his shoe laces by himself in PE?” he says. We shuffle in cheerily and perch on a couple of tiny chairs in front of the two teachers. I pity them having to handle such sensitive interviewees. They tell us our four-year-old is a bit quiet. For those regular readers of this column, you might understand why this came as a bit of a surprise. We were utterly relieved as he is the classic middle child – llively and on some occasions tests us to our limits.
We move on to our daughter’s classroom and begin to relax. Afterall, an eldest child, particularly one with two small siblings, tends to be fairly sensible and grown-up. In our daughter’s case, even at the age of five, she takes life and education very seriously. She had also cleverly instructed me that on entering the classroom, I was to tell her teacher how much she loves school. A good tactic to use on parents’ evening.
We arrive home exhausted to find the four-year-old tearing around the house shrieking in delight as he pulls the Baby along behind him on a piece of elastic. If only we could have a taste of that quiet little school boy at home!
Showing posts with label school reports. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school reports. Show all posts
Friday, 30 November 2007
Friday, 3 August 2007
First school report
Our five-year-old daughter has just finished her first year at school. At the end of term, we were presented with her school report. It lay in a brown envelope and as my husband and I opened it, with a large drink in our hands, it brought back memories of opening our exam results.
I will spare you the contents. There is nothing worse than parents who bore you to tears with a blow by blow account of their childrens’ progress. I recently had to endure a friend telling me all about how his son was a natural sportsman – and all at the age of three years old. However, what impressed us about my daughter’s report was the length and detail of it. She attends our village school and based on my childhood we did not expect to receive more than a couple of brief sentences such as “she has settled in well” or “she had made good progress in her first year.” In fact, we received very detailed and comprehensive feedback on how she was doing in every area imaginable. It was well written, perceptive and quite obviously not put together on a teacher’s lap while watching an episode of East Enders. There are 23 children in our daughter’s class, so this was no mean feat.
It prompted me to dig out my own school report. My mother had been keeping these neatly bound together in a file, along with a bizarre collection of handwriting books, newspaper cuttings and end of term reports ranging from 4 to 17 years old. The equivalent report at the end of my first year at school read: “Sophie has settled into school well although she takes life very seriously. She likes playing with the older boys and organising other children. She is a great chatterbox.” I dread to think what my parents thought when they read it. My husband said, “Well, it may be brief but it’s pretty accurate.” So perhaps the first report in life is the most telling. Teachers see a five-year-old for what they are, before they learn to act, lie or be influenced by their friends.
Perhaps employers should be asking for copies of the first school report to really get an insight into a new recruit’s character and personality!
I will spare you the contents. There is nothing worse than parents who bore you to tears with a blow by blow account of their childrens’ progress. I recently had to endure a friend telling me all about how his son was a natural sportsman – and all at the age of three years old. However, what impressed us about my daughter’s report was the length and detail of it. She attends our village school and based on my childhood we did not expect to receive more than a couple of brief sentences such as “she has settled in well” or “she had made good progress in her first year.” In fact, we received very detailed and comprehensive feedback on how she was doing in every area imaginable. It was well written, perceptive and quite obviously not put together on a teacher’s lap while watching an episode of East Enders. There are 23 children in our daughter’s class, so this was no mean feat.
It prompted me to dig out my own school report. My mother had been keeping these neatly bound together in a file, along with a bizarre collection of handwriting books, newspaper cuttings and end of term reports ranging from 4 to 17 years old. The equivalent report at the end of my first year at school read: “Sophie has settled into school well although she takes life very seriously. She likes playing with the older boys and organising other children. She is a great chatterbox.” I dread to think what my parents thought when they read it. My husband said, “Well, it may be brief but it’s pretty accurate.” So perhaps the first report in life is the most telling. Teachers see a five-year-old for what they are, before they learn to act, lie or be influenced by their friends.
Perhaps employers should be asking for copies of the first school report to really get an insight into a new recruit’s character and personality!
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