Our little house is in a state of uproar.
To begin with, I trusted The Teenager to go to the hairdresser on his own.
He’s fond of the woman who cuts his hair and he’s partial to the lollipops (meant for the little kids, not six foot 14 year old’s), so I thought I’d leave him to it.
Off he went. Within half an hour, a photo pinged to my phone. A selfie of The Teenager, pretty much bald. And I paid a tenner for the privilege.
Then Parent’s Evening. Or rather, lack of it. After last year’s disaster (a complete and utter bun-fight), I asked him to kindly request that his teachers email me their reports. MS heat intolerance and unsteadiness on my feet make it nigh on impossible to queue-hop and use my elbows effectively.
I waited. And waited. ‘Oi, you’re teachers haven’t emailed me yet.’
‘Oh, computer servers must be down (rolls eyes) you know what it’s like.’
‘Hmmm.’
I waited some more.
‘Oh, there’s a terrible bug going round. Like, no one’s in school. Hoooooonestly.’
‘Hmm.’
I called the school. ‘Oh yes, you are the mother of The Teenager?’
‘Um, yes.’
‘Ahhhh.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes. We have a few, well, issues.’
I explained what I thought I had organised. ‘Hah! (foolish parent). Anyway, an email was sent out to all the teachers, asking them to get in touch with their thoughts about my son.
Let’s just say it wasn’t pleasant. When he got home from school that day, I brandished a wad of printed off emails at him and demanded answers.
‘All the teachers hate me. S’not my fault.’
‘Why has one teacher said ‘he appreciates the difficulties with regards The Teenager attending after school training?’ You live a couple of hundred metres from the school. What’re you saying??’
(furtive, shifty look) ‘Dunno.’
Anyway, to cut a fraught story short, I reminded him that I did not spend an entire Sunday putting together a flat-pack desk from Ikea, just for him to put his telly on it. And the lovely little lamp I got him. Or the executive chair.
‘And why are you answering your teachers back?’
‘Dunno. They said I wouldn’t get any qualifications so I asked to see theirs.’
I was a girly swot in school. I have no idea where he gets this attitude from. What annoys me is that he can do it if he puts his mind to it. We had The Discussion. About how he was throwing away his future.
‘I’m not! Alan Sugar started off selling stuff from the back of his car.’. Give me strength.
I like him already 🙂 Give him a chance. My son threw his life away with reckless abandon throughout school (we were once called by a teacher from Italy during a skiing holiday…) but now he is 21 and living it to the full.
You know what, that’s brilliant to hear!
He’s always wanted to run before he can walk. I do think he’ll come good in the end.
Here’s hoping!
x
My daughter frustrates us immensely. She seems to coast happily. Her marks are all fine (apart from Latin and Spanish where she is apparently brilliant) but she puts no effort in, doesn’t care if she gets a bad test score, doesn’t care if her punctuation and presentation leaves something to be desired. Her dad and I can’t cope. We were both people who were devastated if we got bad marks and were always trying to get better. Madam shrugs her shoulders and sighs, it’s fine . She has choices this year and given the option of Economics (in her 2nd language -French) or starting a fourth language. 4th language won hands down. She reckons she can do all sorts of jobs if she goes with languages and chemistry.. She reckons it’s less effort. Aaaaargh! Geography she loves but needs to put more effort in as she has to that in 2nd language too. I also bought a lovely old desk on ebay for her to study at but the dining table is still the revision place of choice. Not sure I can cope with 4 more years of this. Gin, gin gin!
Oh dear – I think your daughter and my son would get on like a house on fire!
It’s very frustrating as if son puts his mind to it, he does really well. He just chooses not to. He thinks he will become a YouTube sensation and earn lots of money. Fair play, he’s very good at coding (which he is taking for GCSE), but he really needs to concentrate on his English and Maths.
Like you, I was gutted if I did less than my best and would study every night, for hours and hours during GCSEs. He doesn’t seem to have inherited this ethic.
Gin is a very good idea…
x
Here’s something that will make you feel better: yours truly was once told by her father that if she didn’t shape up, she’d end up “in a trailer park.” Yes, indeedy. Good old Dad!
I went to three colleges because in the first one, my third semester grades were — brace for it — 3 Fs and 1 D. That college didn’t work out. The second one was to get my grades up so I could transfer to a better one, which I finally did. And it all took me a mere 6 years! Just look how I turned out.
…
Hmmm, this comment was *supposed* to make you feel better. Sorry.
That’s a brilliant comment, thank you!
I just want him to be happy in what he does. It’s soooo frustrating when he can achieve the grades but chooses not too!
x