Saturday 25 April 2009

The day before tomorrow...

Tomorrow I run 26.2 miles in the Flora London Marathon in aid of Epilepsy Action and I am scared. I am scared that I won't find the start. It all seems so horribly complicated and I am bound to be late. I am meant to meet up with some fellow Epilepsy Action runners by the Trucks at 9am but have a funny feeling there will be an awful lot of trucks and an awful lot of people. Hopefully in my gorgeous Epilepsy Action running vest, which is ever so slightly too tight for me and therefore strains over what I used to think as my not too full bosoms, I shouldn't be too hard to spot. I am also wearing The Boy's bright red baseball cap which sports the Red Dragon of Wales on it. I am sure I will look quite delightful. That is when I am not dashing off to the loo every five minutes.
Talking of loos I was given some instructions as to how to go to the loo when I registered. As a girl I have been advised to do this standing up using a Pee-Mate. The instructions are slightly awkward as they presume of course that all us girls will be wearing running pants/shorts etc with a zipper. I am sure we will all adapt but the idea that this will make it easier and the queues less long I fear will come to nothing. I also worry that I may land up running with a damp patch - joy!
I have done everything I can now to be fit enough and prepared so the rest they say is in the lap of the Gods - I do so hope they feel beneveloent!
Wish me luck!

Wednesday 1 April 2009

Could do better…

Can anything be crazier than giving an eight page report on a child who has yet to attain his sixth birthday? I mean what can you say? There aren’t that many subjects he’s taking and the majority of those are all taught by the same teacher.
However, I can tell you that those in charge seem to think there is plenty to say - the problem is I don’t understand any of it. I mean for heaven sakes what is a diagraph? And would you recognise it on a dark night?
I have a feeling that the reading of school reports is an Ancient and Dark Art for surely the writing of them seems to more akin to the readings taken by the haruspex in Ancient Rome – and just as messy.
I picture the teachers faced with a plethora of blank pages upon which they must chart the progress or lack thereof of a six year old’s mathematical development. I too might resort to the auspices for inspiration or at least something so chronically complicated in written form that scares the parent into submission or if not that, then utter confusion.
I mean I was thrilled to learn that the whole class covered addition with and without the use of concrete materials and that they continued to look at addition and subtraction operations – though why they needed to go to a building site to learn to add-up and take-away is still quite beyond me.
Suffice to say after several hours trying to decipher the meaning behind the extremely long sounding and technical words, I am far too frightened of showing my ignorance to my son’s form teacher to complain – a factor I am sure the school is relying upon.
It seems to me that the School regards reports as a necessary evil - a bit like the parents.
However, there is a growing attitude, I fear in these uncertain times, that in addition to baffling parents with teacherspeak it is better to keep the parents happy and quiet by bunging in as much Uriah Heep-like praise as would fill a Dickensian Novel. Basically a dumbing down of school reports with lots of fluffy praise, which in fact means nothing at all once you’ve worked out what it is they were trying to say in the first place.
There is a bit in me that misses that old school mentality of calling a spade a spade and doing it in plain English I mean if my son had the final report that a friend of mine’s had on leaving a highly regarded public school in the north – I would rest easy in the knowledge that he was surely on the road to greatness.
'X is to be congratulated on having navigated his entire school career totally unencumbered by academic achievement'
However, I suspect, that in this day and age it was lawyers at dawn!

Go on you know you want to...


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