Parents’ evening was a pain when I was at school: my parents would come out generally pleased, but always, it seemed, with a caveat: Could do better.
To be fair, they were probably right. I applied myself only to “interesting things” – which, fortunately, covered a lot of things – developing a voracious magpie reading habit from a young age, which has never failed to make life – and conversation – more interesting over the years.
My love of interesting things hasn’t served me quite so well at work, where I still struggle to understand how anyone can be an accountant or get excited about sales figures. Why would you dedicate your short life to that sort of thing when there are so many fascinating and amazing things going on in the universe?
Anyway. This was supposed to be about the girls’ parents’ evening last night, not mine.
Millie got a glowing report, and the hard work she puts in (rather unlike her father!) is paying dividends, as the teacher told us she’s moved up to the middle of the class in maths and remains well above average in her reading ability and writing.
She was also curious about Millie’s premature birth, having noticed (as have we) that her delicate features seem often to be a marker for prematurity; so we told the by now well-rehearsed story of birth three months early, weighing just 1lb 7oz, etc., and Millie chipped in with the detail that when she was born her head and body would fit in my open hand. 🙂
Amber’s report was more nuanced – and the girls weren’t allowed in the classroom with us. Her teachers told us that Amber needed to concentrate more, to learn to plan her work, to work on the layout, that she was in too much of a rush.
And…that was pretty much it.
I only realised afterwards, we came away assuming that Amber’s still doing fine (except for her tendency to rush headlong into things and barrel through them) but without actually knowing that was the case.