Primary School Confidential (14 page)

So in conclusion, apart from the teacher who doesn't give a fuck, the staff of your local school work hard—damn hard. And for those who maintain that teachers are only in it for the holidays, well, you deserve a detention. After all, they also have to put up with you—and you might be one of those pain-in-the-arse parents . . .

12

HOW TO BE A PAIN-IN-THE-ARSE PARENT

I must admit at times that I have felt like a pain-in-the-arse parent. You see, I am quite often losing notes and forgetting important dates, so on occasion I have had to shoot off an email like:
Hi, it's Jack's mum here. What time is his assembly on today?

And with that little query, I become a pain in the arse, for the recipient of my email then has to go and find out when the assembly is, and respond to me.

At other times, I've had to go into the school because ethics classes are about to start and if I don't get the form in yesterday, the kids will be stuck doing the dreary ‘Non Scripture'.

‘I'm so sorry,' I say. ‘I'm not usually one of
those
parents . . .', when in fact that's exactly what I am at that moment.

Pain-in-the-arse parents are a real thing and every school has them. You can see how teachers try to avoid making eye contact with them as they move about the playground, trying to find someone to complain to about something completely ridiculous. So, let's take a look at some behaviours that will definitely make you the topic of conversation in the staffroom.

COMPETITIVE PARENTS

These are the parents who see their kids' achievements as an extension of their own—and they're not satisfied with second place. The crown for Most Competitive Parent undoubtedly goes to the wicked Wanda Holloway. In 1991 Wanda was so upset that her daughter Shanna was not selected for the cheerleading squad at her Texas high school that she arranged for a hitman to kill the mother of one of the girls who did make the team. Unfortunately for Wanda (and fortunately for her intended target), her plans were foiled by her ex-husband, who totally dobbed her in. Wanda served ten years.

Of course, that's an extreme example. There are many less high-profile instances of parents who push their kids to the limits. I'm sure you encountered the mums who brag about how busy they are taking their kids to music lessons and tutoring and sporting activities and language classes so that they ‘get ahead'. (This over-programming can actually lead to increased anxiety in children, so my tip is ‘less is more' when it comes to extracurricular activities.)

Perhaps you've been caught at the side of the footy field or the swimming pool by some bore who insists on regaling you with details of the amazing achievements of her wonderful daughter.
Then there's your brother-in-law, who wants you to watch the entire soccer match his son played in last weekend, which he taped—ON HIS PHONE.

Like all tedious people, the best way to deal with competitive parents is to look them in the eye and say, ‘Sorry, I have to go to the car and get something.' And then go to your car, slip the keys in the ignition, and drive far, far away.

THE TYPE A PARENT

Here come the power parents, the ambitious, business-minded, multitasking go-getters who live to stick to a good rule. Often employed by large law firms or financial institutions, these parents quite often take on the position of the president of the school's P&C. They are generally feared and loathed by the principal, who has to put up with their constant emails and general arrogance. Teachers dealing with Type A parents need to be on the top of their game, as they are a demanding bunch. Homework has to be distributed on the right day, or the world will end. Type A parents are the ones who will enter the classroom when you are in the middle of a mental computation workshop, and think it is perfectly reasonable to demand that you stop what you are doing and enter into a long in-depth discussion about their son's literacy issues.

‘Why don't you make an appointment to see me after school?' the teacher might suggest. The Type A parent will pause briefly then recommence her questioning, all the while keeping one eye on the stock market movements on her phone.

Hey, their time is more important than yours. Sit up, take note and thank the lord that you don't have a classroom full of them.

THE SEPARATED PARENT

Children from what used to be called ‘broken homes' are just like everyone else in the class—but the same cannot always be said for their parents, particularly those who are recently separated. Separated parents become pains in the arse when they bring that tension into the classroom.

Fights and nit-picking should be left at the school gate. Bringing your super-hot new girlfriend to your kids' kindergarten Christmas concert to parade in front of your ex-wife is not cool. Have a plan; let the teacher know of the joint custody arrangements, if there are any. And focus on your kids' happiness.

THE ENTITLED PARENT

Have you ever pulled up at the lights and seen one those cars that has a sticker on the rear windscreen to let you know which school the driver's kids attend? You know the ones. They're usually on the back of a Volvo four-wheel drive, or maybe an Audi. Well, these parents spend tens of thousands of dollars a year to earn the right to drive around with that sticker.

These are the parents who expect the best of everything for their kids. And fair enough; we all do. But while most of us will send our kids to the local school and play the hand we are dealt, the Entitled Parent has paid exorbitant fees and therefore has huge expectations with regards to the return on their investment. So they will happily turn up to the opening of their school's newest polo field and give their approval to the colour palette chosen for the new archery targets.

And when it comes to teaching their offspring, well, you had better be a Rhodes Scholar.

THE ABSENT PARENT

I dealt with a few of these parents during my short career in the classroom, and let me tell you: they are a massive pain in the posterior. A lot of time is spent chasing up notes and sending home reminders that little Johnny's home reader has not been spotted for a whole term and could we please have it back. Or could you at least can send in $8.50 for its replacement?

There might seem to be an overlap between the absent parent and the disorganised parent, but there is a crucial difference: the disorganised parent at least tries to stay on top of things; absent parents just don't give a shit.

THE TOO-AVAILABLE PARENT

At the other end of the spectrum from the absent parent, you have the parent who is always around. They're there for the morning bell as you carry your coffee across the playground to greet your class (this was before the introduction of policies that mean you are now sent to jail for carrying a hot drink near a child). They're there as you walk your class to the classroom, ready to start the day. They're there as hats and bags are put away. They're there as the students file into the classroom and there as you take the roll. And, as sure as shit, as the afternoon bell blares out, there is that face again, peering through the window of the classroom, just checking out what is going on. The too-available parent is always the first to volunteer to come on the excursions,
to do reading groups every day and to spend hours covering books in contact paper.

Still, as I always say, we need all types of people to piss us off. And if you belong to one of the categories listed above, please adjust your behaviour—or rest assured that weary educators are discussing you in most unflattering terms in the staffroom at lunchtime.

13

FORGOTTEN VALLEY

I was a fresh-faced twenty-two-year-old when I turned up to school for my first day of being a proper teacher. In retrospect, I realise that twenty-two is far too young to be given the responsibility of shaping and moulding young minds. I was far too green to be thrown in the deep end.

But into the deep end I went.

In 1995 I was assigned my first teaching job, a one-year contract at Macdonald Valley Public School, a small school near St Albans, just outside Sydney. And when I say small, I am not kidding; the staff consisted of the principal . . . and me.

My charges were the infants department; yes I had a whole department of my own! My classroom was an old cottage and I had eleven students from kindergarten to Year 2.

My boss, Mrs Chapman, was a firecracker of a lady; very open-minded and a bit of a hippy—which was probably quite a good fit for the area, as St Albans had its fair share of hippies.

On the first day, she gave me a quick rundown on the local families and characters; to say this tight-knit community of a hundred or so people was diverse was a complete understatement. We had artists and hippies, actors and musicians, fundamental Christians and Ashram members. And given that the school only had twenty-seven students in total, it was not long before I knew them all. And they knew all about me.

The village of St Albans was settled in 1842 and was an attractive spot for farmers to establish crops due to the proximity to the river, which made transport easier. But as railways were extended further west, it earned the nickname the ‘Forgotten Valley'. There was a pub, a courthouse and a police station; although in my time only the pub was still used for the role for which it was intended.