21 March 2016, 5 pm
I go to a parents’ evening. This is the type of thing that Good Parents do, apparently, so I do not do it very often. Of course, no one recognises me. This gives me a tactical advantage. By keeping quiet and looking like I know where I’m going (which is exactly what I do at CIPA), I learn a lot about other people’s children, not to mention their teachers’ emotional disorders. I also learn that my own twelve-year-old is extremely good at doing the minimum necessary to get by. It is possible, therefore, that he is not my son at all. Or that I have come to the wrong school. My older children have explained to me that once you become a teenager, your parents are no longer welcome at parents’ evenings. This is also the time when you stop getting school reports, have every other Friday off, become exempt from the uniform rules and can serve detentions online using a smartphone app. This makes life easier for parents, especially the ones who are not Good Parents. It therefore sounds very sensible to me.
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