School Daze

Our children’s school just had their annual Presentation and Graduation day.

Boy, have things changed since I was a kid!

Or perhaps it’s just that nowadays I get to see it from a parent’s perspective.

Oh, and before I go any further, I should clarify that I’m not one of those parents either.

You know the ones I’m talking about…never be seen in the schoolyard without full hair and makeup, not to mention the latest fashions all topped off with bling. I’m not saying that’s wrong, it’s just not me.

No, I’m one of those mums who are lucky to get through a shower in the morning without having to yell or race up the hallway to avert some major crisis on a minor scale. Some days I don’t even get to finish breakfast before the school run. And other days I eat my breakfast in the shower (and doesn’t that take a particular skill set and flexibility to avoid soggy toast?)! Mind you, I have become a huge fan of Nescafé instant frothy coffees in an insulated travel mug. (It’s amazing how invigorating it is to hop back in the car after offloading one’s offspring, just to sit and savour the silence and sip a still warm shot of caffeine, for a change!)

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t make a habit of heading out in public in anything dirty or with holes in it, and I can honestly say I have never set a foot in the school that was shod in some sort of slipper (my tootsies are actually an Ugg-free zone). But nor have I ever arrived having used any sort of electrical appliance on my hair beforehand. Hey, if I’m having a bad hair day, that’s what hats are for, right? Makes me look a little avant-garde amongst those that are coloured and coiffed within an inch of their life, I reckon.

As for makeup, well, a little lipliner or gloss swiped across the pout before going out looks like one made an effort without expending much energy. (Ye gods, I am turning into my mother- whose entire beauty regime is based on keeping a trusty lippy within arm's reach!)

Anyway, there I was, perched on a portable plastic chair nestled in amongst a veritable (and dare I say visible) cloud of product and perfume, trying to catch a glimpse of my child amongst the cohort of kids crowded into class groups ready for the big event.

It was pretty obvious pretty early on in the piece that a mere handful of parents really should have bothered fighting the early morning P-plate traffic at the local high school to be present as presentation after presentation went to the same few names over and over again.

Now, this is a good school. Very high achievements both academically and athletically, and every other kind of extra-curricular endeavour is fairly well covered too.

But one wonders how many parents are living vicariously through their kids.

I swear I could see certain mums and dads actually mouthing the words of their child’s acceptance speech. One grandmother almost copped detention for her overly enthusiastic behavior every time one of her grandchildren went up on stage. And you could tell by the end of the two and a half hours that some of us were merely making a polite show of clapping for kids that didn’t share the same surname as ourselves.

About two hours into it I found myself paying closer attention to what was going on in the student audience as opposed to what was unfolding up on stage… smiling in sympathy at those fidgeting in their seats, chuckling at the ones dancing on the spot during the performances by the “award-winning” school band and choir; and discovering that one really doesn’t need to be a lip reader to know what some were saying behind their hands while particular kids went up for the fourth, fifth, and sixth times to collect some kind of trophy or certificate.

So maybe I’m wrong, maybe I don’t see things from the parent’s perspective at all. If I recall rightly, I didn’t get selected too many times by the teacher to receive some accolade for attitude or application in class. Way I remember it, I was the one tripping up or down the steps on the rare occasion my name was called out. And even back in my day, there sure were the kids we all loved to hate for their over-achievements. We giggled at some of the parents too.

Maybe things haven’t changed so much after all, and like I’ve said before: just because we grow older doesn’t always ensure we grow up, especially when it comes to official school events. My Beloved says if I can’t behave myself, I won’t be allowed to go next time. Unless of course one of our little bright sparks gets noticed by the teacher for all the right reasons; and it’ll be my turn to whoop and holler as they make their way to the stage.

Better get cracking- with school wrapping up for the year, they’ve only got another 12 or so to do so. Which’ll give me just enough time to upgrade my makeup techniques too…

Jx
©December 2009