I could use the excuse that I’m “too busy” and haven’t been aware of what’s going on in the school lives of my children.
Maybe, maybe, I could be a little more vigilant in following up notes and stuff and things.
I can’t take all the blame, however. Firstly, one child won’t let me enter his room, and resorts to Lynx deodorant to deter me, and the other, well, his room is like … I can’t really determine which scrunched up bits of paper lying on the floor are Important School Notes That Need Signing And Need To Be Handed In Today, an invitation from last November, or a chocolate wrapper.
More than once it has been the Important Note, and last week it was one that was Due Three Weeks Ago.
This one I found partially under the bookshelf, and was awarded an “oh, yeah” upon my presentation of it.
I do ask. It’s pointless, but I do ask.
I also asked about the year 10 exams. I had heard in the whispers of the wind that these were happening, and I figured they must be soon approaching. It was only that I bumped into a friend, whose child goes to a private school and they have been subject to exams from their first day, who asked if Monkey Boy had exams, too.
“Ahhh,” I said. “Erm. Eh.”
I thought for a moment, before continuing.
“Errrrrm. Um. Ah, I don’t actually know,” I eventually replied.
I made a Note To Self, and between all kinds of activities, I sought him out and asked him.
“Yes,” he answered, somewhat dismissively when I asked him.
“When?” came my next question.
“They start next week,” he told me on the Sunday. Next week, it transpires, was the very next day; Monday.
Inevitably, the barrage of questions came … “when”, “what time”, “what do you have tomorrow”, “are you prepared”, “have you studied” … the list goes on … those of you who have been there will know, those of you who haven’t, you will.
“This,” says Monkey Boy. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
And I kind of get it.
So we had to come to an agreement; that Grumpy Pants and I were allowed to have ten minutes of questioning, now, and we were allowed to ask “how’d you go?” each exam day, and we’d not be allowed to ask anything exam related outside of those agreed times.
Although I did manage to get him to send me his exam timetable, so that was rather clever of me, I thought.
Exams over, we all survived, mostly because we were oblivious to the idea. I actually didn’t mind it, really – although, I am a little anxious about the results. I can be, right?
I did actually get a note early this week, too. Twice. The school are clearly onto this No Note Giving Policy that children have had since the dawn of time, and emailed it to me. I printed it, then Monkey Boy presented the copy he was asked to pass on.
I’ve never been faced with this situation before, where I’ve had two copies; one I could sign and return, and the other I could keep and stick on my whiteboard to remind me of what I’d actually signed, along with the dates and times and stuff.
It was terribly exciting!
I signed. I handed it back to Monkey Boy straight away. He looked at it.
“Interviews with my teachers?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
“Do I have to go with you?” he asks.
“Euwww. No! How embarrassing!” I say.
He considers this carefully.
“Wait? You’re going to meet with my teachers without any supervision? Who will keep you in check?”
He may have had a point, but do I really want to be seen with him?