Schools out

Unexpectedly, this evening the Other Half was left in sole control of the little ones for the first time on his own.

This was because we were invited to a prospective parents evening (what! having to go to school type things already? Where has the time gone, eek!) and when we turned up with the kids in tow, we were politely informed that kids were not welcome. Presumably they are more welcome during the day, otherwise it would be a poor excuse for a school. Somewhat panicky, I gave into the Other Half’s proclamation that he was more than able to get them both home in one piece and look after them for an hour, while I sat through various staff extolling the virtues of our local educational establishment. Bubby D was due a feed, but the Wee Man had meatballs that he’d bought on the journey with him, so I felt there was likely to be an hour of screaming from only one of the little ones, rather than both which can be *somewhat* stressful.

The whole school issue is a little bit daunting, especially in light of the recent press regarding the woe of children born in August (which both mine are). Seems they are doomed to a potential life of perceived stupidity, friendlessness and bullying.

I can understand the perceived stupidity, being that they will be almost a year younger than the eldest of their peers, and therefore almost a year behind in experience and learning. When I think about my first days as a new mum with the Wee Man, and the huge gaping gulf that there seemed to be between my little 5 week old and the big bouncing 3 month olds that were attending the new parents group, I can see where this distinction between relatively short periods of time fits in, in relation to ability. Those first few years cram in so much learning, its hardly a great surprise that a recently turned 4 year old knows much much less, and can do much less, than an almost five year old. But school has to start and finish somewhere – moving the cut off date simply alters the month in which pupils become the most disadvantaged. Perhaps it is the way that achievement is assessed that needs to be changed? Alternatively, we could just move to New Zealand, where the school year starts in January, and have children that are 1/3 less stupid!

At the prospective parents evening, the headteacher stated that she felt in this country children start school too young, then with her next breath stated that it was important that children attend nursery regularly, despite it being non-compulsory. Somewhat contradictory I feel, but I do agree with her second point – I think that nursery is important in bridging the gap between school and no educational establishment attendance, and it also helps with socialising. (For Mums as well as children. Having moved to this area a year ago, I’ve still not met any friendly local Mums with children the same age as the Wee Man. I’m sure there must be some!)

Anyway, it turned out that the nursery was most lovely, with bright airy rooms, lots of modern, clean, child friendly equipment and a variety of haphazard splodgy pictures proudly on display. Wellies are required for jumping in muddy puddles (the Wee Man will be pleased about that) and the attached school has an activity hall complete with climbing wall, a library and an ICT suite – we barely had one of those at secondary school!

Hurriedly heading home, I steeled myself for the howling onslaught that was sure to be emanating from the house, and sure enough as I made my way down the garden path a wailing sound could be heard growing steadily louder.

Not, however from Bubby D. The Wee Man was standing in the kitchen doorway, howling his little heart out. Howling so much, that he didn’t hear me come in and almost jumped out of his skin when he finally did register my presence. And the reason for the howling? Daddy tried to give him banana milk when all he wanted was JUICE.