When I headed off for the twinlings’ first parents consultation evening I was braced for news of angry outbursts and answering back. But it turns out the twinlings are saving all that for me.
So I’m unashamedly blogging about a good school report, working on the theory that my embarrassment of late when being hollered at in public places could do with being diluted down with a shot of pride.
I wasn’t ever what you’d call a model pupil. The feedback in my school reports and at parents evenings was always the same – ‘talks too much’. My parents really didn’t need anyone to tell them that. One primary school teacher was so fixated with my ‘verbal diarrhoea’ that she spent a meeting that was meant to be about my sister, discussing her incredulity at my ability to talk for England. I’d obviously made a lasting impression – this was four years after she’d taught me.
At 38 and studying for an MA I’ve finally got it. In fact I’m even shocked by the girl who sits on her phone for most of the lectures, lectures she’s paying for. I’m not quite in the territory of answering the lecturer’s questions with one arm raised, the other anchoring me to the desk while I squeak ‘me, me’ , but you won’t catch me chatting in class these days. So who knew that to keep me quiet I needed to wait until I was approaching 40 and paying a princely sum for my tuition.
The twinlings on the other hand seem to have taken to the school set up early on. In their classroom, I tried to get comfortable on the little person seats, feeling like I’d drunk the ‘eat me’ potion in Alice in Wonderland. Spread out in front of me was the massive grid of tick boxes and standards the teacher is constantly on the look out for, thankfully she translated it from jargon to some lovely anecdotes of what they’d been up to.
Pickle is showing a preference for all things numbers and enjoys construction toys and seeing how things works. This was exciting news for all the neglected DIY chores we have around the house. My first thought was the curtain poles edging their way from the wall in the living room. Is four too young to get a drill set from Father Christmas?
Ladybird likes to read and yes you guessed it, talk. But unlike me at that age she doesn’t seem to be talking when she should be listening. Teacher told me Ladybird quite often prefers the grown-ups’ company, for a bit of adult conversation and I can just imagine the chat her teacher told me they had about the weather.
So the first of many school reports and parents evenings over. If only they could all go as smoothly as that one. Something tells me we won’t be so lucky.