In my little book of grand plans for Ordinary School, I had written that I would have a few open parent meetings to introduce myself and get to know them.
It seemed like a fantastic idea! It is the sort of thing that all the good headteachers I knew said I needed to do straight away. “Get to know the parents.”, they said. “Let them know a bit about you and answer their questions.”, they encouraged. “It will be fine.”, they assured!
So, that is how I found myself in a warm, stuffy room surrounded by about 30 parents all anxious and armed with lists (YES! LISTS!) of questions! (I had already been through interview, right?)
Settling everyone down, I take a big swallow of my VERY hot tea which ripped across my tongue and down my throat, keeping a perfect professional face and trying desperately not to spit it out over all of the egan faces of the parents, I begin.
I had it all written out so I wouldn’t forget anything. There was where I was born (Because, that is important, right? They really need to know my date of birth so they can throw me a party later in the year!) Then, there was where I went to school. (My primary school track record started then. They didn’t want any primary school slacker!) Finally, of course, was what I had planned for the school for the year and years to come.
They were all very polite and listened with some even taking notes when I mentioned high expectations, broad and balanced curriculum and the whole child. They even practiced a wide range of faces as I spoke; crinkled up noses like there was a bad smell in the room (Considering how warm it was, it could have been me! Eeeeks!), pronounced frowning and wrinkling of the forehead (I worried about their premature aging.) those half smile/half frown mouths where one side goes up and the other down (I was hoping no one was having a stroke.) and so on.
When I finished, I asked if there was any questions and there was SILENCE; not a whisper, a cough, a squeak or a breath. I looked around with my manic, plastered on smile and waited and waited and waited. (Crickets could be heard in a far away distance and tumble weeds blew past the window.)
As I contemplated telling a joke. You know the one, “Knock, Knock. Who’s there? …” a parent piped up with a question. (It was clear she was the leader, the big parent on campus, the one to be reckoned with.)
“What is your opinion about Sports Days?”, she demanded in a gruff tone.
I wanted to say, “They are the bane of my life! There is nothing worse like getting 350 restless children all dressed in PE kits in the middle of a British Summer that usually feels like an Arctic Winter to spend hours watching about 10 children at a time run across the field while their parents scream their heads off and demand photo finishes or reruns because they are sure little Johnny cheated and their little Ben had won.”
Instead, I said, “They are a British institution that encourages the development of competition and sportsmanship and should always be part of a school’s tradition. ”
“Ok then! Will there be a parent’s race? “she replied.
“If that is what parents want.”, I responded.
“GOOD!”, she said with lots of enthusiasm as she folded up her paper and stuck it back into her running jacket, stood up and began to leave.
With that, a noticeable happy sigh of happiness rippled through the room and they all just started following her.
I hurriedly thanked them for their time as they filed out behind the Queen Mother and I was left sitting there in a state of confusion. Where were the probing questions they had on their lists? We will never know.
I continued to sit there with my NOW cold cup of tea and reflected on what I had learned from the encounter. I came up with a VERY IMPORTANT rule I have continued to live by…
Don’t Mess With Sports Day!
The Misadventures of a Frazzled Headteacher 