I have been taking my eldest to high school for 3 years now and in all that time, I have spoken to the ladies on reception only once. They didn’t know my name and I didn’t know theirs.
Cue youngest starting and less than a term in, we are already on first name terms. This is not to say we go out for drinks, but some weeks it feels like we should. As a result of this, they know my son, they talk to him and they now know that I write, because ‘Mum will be in; she’s only writing’!
“Oooh, how would you fancy coming in to talk to some of our kids about writing?” they asked.
I think my face said it all.
“Well, what about a small group? Just an informal chat?”
Okay, so at this point I decided to put my big girl knickers on and be brave, so I thought about it and after I got home (from one of my many calls-in to sort out youngest’s latest crisis) I said yes.
A couple of weeks passed and I had relaxed about the whole thing and then I got a call from school – not reception! – from someone in the English department… about my agreeing to take an entire year group for an hour.
With my heart racing, this teacher talks me through what she wants me to achieve and I swallow and say okay, and she leaves me to think about it for a few weeks.
So I tell myself I can do this and start to plan my hour … with a whole year of 12-13 year olds … in one room … on my own…
But I do it. I remember all she has asked for and work out what I could do and after a few more Malibus I think I’ve managed it.
And then the other day she rang and left a message on my answering machine, to discuss how I was getting along with my ‘workshop’.