school work Archives - Circles in the SandCircles in the Sand

The front door burst open and the sound of school shoes pounding on our marble staircase got louder.

“MUU-MMM! WHERE ARE YOU?”

I was upstairs, trying desperately to finish some work in the relatively quiet couple of hours between one school pick-up and the arrival of the school bus.

“Mum, I have to tell you something!”

“What is it BB? What is it?”

Who says only dogs eat homework?

As I’ve mentioned before, he tells me very little about school, and I usually have to ask leading questions like: “What was the best thing that happened today?”, “Can you act out what you did at break time?” and “Who were the naughty children?”

So I was all ears. The slung-aside school bag, upturned lunchbox and my unfinished column could wait.

“I brought my igloo project home Mum,” [the marshmallow one I posted about last week, after learning that another mum used diamonds]

“Where is it?” I asked, suspiciously.

“Um, something happened.”

“On the bus,” he continued, a guilty look replacing his initial pained expression.

“Did you leave it on the bus? I’m sure the bus nanny will find it.’

“No, it’s not lost Mum…it’s gone…. it got eaten. By the children, on the way home.”

There’s nothing quite like finding out that your son let all his friends devour marshmallows that we’d rolled in glue (while avoiding munching on any himself) to make you rush over to the glue pot to make sure it was non-toxic. Which it was – thank goodness!

Still, I can’t help wondering if there might be a few empty seats on the bus tomorrow.

Back in my day, parent-teacher conferences involved mums and dads trooping into the classroom at allotted times to talk to the teacher, with the student otherwise occupied elsewhere.

Knowing full well you were being discussed, you had little choice but to wait nervously – your ears ablaze – until your parents returned and you could gauge the expression on their faces as they walked through the door.

How times change.

Today we went to my six-year-old’s school for his student-led conference – which I presume are becoming popular the world over.

The information reminded forgetful parents to express pride in their children's progress and provided sample questions!

We’d been prepped by the school beforehand with a letter telling us what to do. It would be a ‘non-teaching day’ (which, and I did have to think about this, was a fancy way of saying ‘a day off for the kids’) with 30-minute slots for each child/parent combo.

The idea was for your child to take you through his or her work in the classroom. In case this whole concept was beyond us, we were advised to be supportive, be positive, be curious and to listen to our children.

A slight, okay glaring, error on my part meant our son was the only child not in school uniform when we rolled up for our turn (DH and I both looked at each other as if to say, “do you not read the emails?”), but I think I made up for it by asking BB lots of questions. Whilst lavishing praise, my journalism training meant I practically quizzed him and what I’d heard about these conferences was right: the kids jump at the chance to show off their work.

One of the books was a diary and, on further inspection, I realised his teacher must know everything about what we do as a family. Our trip to an airport museum in Sharjah, outings on the monorail, parties and visitors – it was all there, coloured in and with scrawly handwriting in places. Thank goodness there weren’t any pictures of mummy sitting on the sofa, glued to the iPad (phew).

As we went through his ‘portfolio’, the teacher was obviously listening from behind her desk, but wasn’t participating – BB did most of the talking and thoroughly enjoyed it.

At the end, as we were leaving, I nudged DH to remind him he’d wanted to ask the teacher about something on BB’s report card. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ll wait till next time.”

Kids – when it comes to student-led conferences, you’re onto a winner!