Illustration by Beatriz Choi
This week, we bring you the next instalment from our Staffroom Confidential series. We’ll be keeping the identity of our school spies firmly under wraps, but read on to find out what teachers really think of parents' evening...
The triumvirate of pupils – parents – teachers is usually a delicious power play of Top Trumps fun with one team assured of an ace card at any given time. How wonderful, then, that there is one glorious leveller in which all three parties are equally faint-hearted.
Yup, it’s Parents’ Evening! Or Consultation Afternoon. Or Informal Chat Morning. No matter the timing, no matter the title, it’s a tough one for us all. The event which strikes dread into the hearts of children everywhere; they are terrified that we might actually tell their folks The Truth. However, if they ever stopped to think about it, they would realise that there is absolutely nothing to fear. Secretly, Mummies, Daddies, Sirs and Misses are also dabbing at their brows. Now you, dear reader, already know why you’re feeling anxious. What awful judgments and scathing revelations about your progeny might be exposed? Well, don’t you worry; the staff are cacking it, too! You’re ever so frightening, you know. Pay attention class and consider the following points.
Ecoutez!
- Prep school teachers are, on the whole, benevolent creatures who actually like the children they teach, even (especially?) the naughty ones. There’s certainly plenty more to say about the cheeky Charlies and sassy Susans, and we are a bit scared of an awkward silence at these things.
- Prep school teachers are pretty poor at being adults and are, as a consequence, scared of Proper Grown Ups. Parents count as Proper Grown Ups.
- Too vociferous or sustained a complaint from a teacher about a child’s behaviour, work ethic, manners, intelligence etc. will, ultimately, backfire. It will be met with a steely gaze and the question, “Well, what are you doing about it?” shot back across the table. Prep school teachers generally enjoy: making lessons fun; being on break duty with their work bestie; eating cake that was left over from tea yesterday; making coffee whilst discussing the pros of oat milk; saying they are tired; soldiering on and Games. They do not like solving problems. They don’t really know what they are going to do about “it”. They were hoping you might have some suggestions. We’ll all just gloss over “it”, if you don’t mind.
To whit, each Parents’ Evening is a treacherous voyage, through which we attempt to navigate our way between the rocky coastline of what we really want to say and the shark infested waters of what the parents really want to hear. Luckily, we all know the dance. Akin to an expert on a National Geographic documentary, we all understand what the whoops, chirrups and howls really mean.
A typical Parents’ Evening exchange may run something like this:
Ms SUZETTE: Good Evening, how lovely to see you again. (
Oh Christ, it’s you. You once made the Deputy Head cry. Please don’t make me cry.)
PARENT: Yeeeeessss… (
You look vaguely familiar, but I can’t remember your name. At all. However, if I mistake you for another teacher, people will think I am a bad parent who is not truly invested in my child’s education, and judge me.)
Ms SUZETTE: Soooo, let’s start by looking at Alex’s book. (
We have only just started and I am already playing for time). As you can see, Alex put a lot of effort into this piece. (
Alex did not put a lot of effort into this piece. Alex stared blankly around the room, rearranged their pencil case at least twice and produced what can only be described as the bare minimum. I will hide the other books so that you can’t compare them.)
PARENT: Yes? (
I want to be a supportive parent but…really?)
Ms SUZETTE: Now, the real benefit of this piece is that we have been able to identify a number of areas for Alex to develop. I think they can make a lot of progress from here. (
Alex cannot possibly do any worse than this. This is not a challenge of some sort, just a fact.)
PARENT: Yes! (
No shit Sherlock.)
So there you go; just say yes! And so the merry ceilidh of bitten tongues, sighs of relief and hearty handshakes continues throughout the night, swapping tables every five minutes in what seems to be the world’s worst speed dating event.
And just like speed dating, business breakfasts and whole staff meetings, these sessions of mutual dissatisfaction can run for an interminably long time. Whilst most parents fall into the category of the benignly disinterested, the perpetually confused or the ones who do not ever turn up (teachers like these ones), there are always the ones who WANT TO ASK A LOT OF QUESTIONS. This is a bad thing. It leads to a queue at one hapless teacher’s desk whilst all the other teachers sit around, waiting for that one final elusive appointment, seething quietly with resentment as they pile into the leftover shiny wrapped biscuits that only come out for such a relentless occasion.
Such behaviour not only upsets the teachers and the other parents, but will often drive the Deputy Head into a state of near hysterics as they powerlessly watch their pre-booked ticket system/five minute limit gong/dynamic clock seating formation shudder, tilt and sink beneath the waves. Teachers very rarely feel any sympathy for Deputy Heads in the same way that children very rarely feel sympathy for dormitory prefects: this is the exception.
At some point, probably closer to midnight than not, the whole exhausting charade will draw to a soul-sapping close. Land has been sighted and the weary voyagers may disembark, breathing a sigh of relief that it is all done and dusted for another year. We’ve all survived. The triumvirate remains intact. Power share complete.