As we settle down into a new term at school, the changes at 40something towers are small but noticeable. Homework is a regular thing, PE kits have to be ready, meals require military planning, I have to be more organised, more efficient, more on the ball than ever before and bunking off because I don't feel like it is not an option. Woe betide me if my precious darlings have not got everything they need. It's not their fault for forgetting, it's mine for not reminding them!
Bubble has started high school and has in the main settled into his big boy life quite well. Squeak continues sailing through primary school and seems to be finally coming into her own now she does not stand in the shadow of her big brother. She is gaining a quiet confidence and no longer creates havoc and pandemonium when her brother is around, separating them for a year or two will be a good thing I think.
Back in the day, High School was called Secondary School, you turned up, had lessons, ate chips and a sausage roll for dinner, and if you got in trouble you were sent to see the headmaster. These days High school involves healthy lunches involving pizza or pasta in the restaurant, vertical tutor groups and a new creature to me called a Pastoral Manager. "Pastorals" as they are known in school are not teachers or teaching assistants but professionals employed by the school to oversee the welfare of our precious darlings. They deal with any trouble and strife, emotional turmoil, bullying or bad behaviour, handing out justice swiftly and seem to be generally a good idea.
To say that Bubble and I had a break down in communication the other week is like saying my delinquent dog will never again disgrace himself.
After being in school for a week he was late back one evening, sauntering in and throwing his bag on the kitchen table he said "sorry I am a bit late mum, I was kept back at school to see the pastoral person about the trouble last week" (The previous week there had been some sort of fracas and whilst not directly involved in the trouble he had stepped in to try and break it up).
I asked a few questions about what was said and what happened. Bubble told me he had had to make a statement and the pastoral manager had given him a warning. He did not seem upset or troubled by this so I thought no more about it. That is until I spoke to my friend on the phone that evening. Telling her about my day I mentioned that Bubble had received a warning. I was informed that getting a warning at high school is a very big deal. You only get 3 and then you are out! Off down the river, excluded, persona non gratis!
This put a different light on things and I started to fret that my little boy had got off to a bad start before anyone at High School knew him. In fact so troubled was I over this revelation that I phoned the school first thing the next day. Chatting away to Bubbles pastoral manager I explained that I knew what had happened and that he had been to see him, but that I was concerned. The poor guy must have thought he was dealing with a slightly insane and deranged parent when he told me that "NO my son was not in any kind of trouble, NO there was no disciplinary action to take as he was indeed not directly involved, and NO he had not received an official warning. He had however warned him that in future he was not to sort it out himself but get a teacher!"
I came off the phone feeling very relieved and also a complete knob!
I then decided to tell Bubble what I done. Waiting until he had settled down at the kitchen table with the dreaded homework, I made my confession. Bubble was quite indignant that I would interfere with what was obviously a matter that was already dealt with. I explained my reasoning, about the 3 strikes and your out bit and enlightenment lit up in his eyes. He burst out laughing " Well I did not know that there are warnings and WARNINGS mumsy!"
My son rarely takes the world too seriously especially now he has taken to calling me mumsy!
Thanks for reading x
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