‘Please call me Mark,’ I’ve always said to the teachers at my son’s school. ‘If you call me “Mr Mason” it makes me feel 85 – and if I call you “Mrs Smith” it makes me feel seven.’ I know their first names, and always use them, in emails, phone calls and in person. A few return the compliment, but most keep it formal. It feels wrong, putting distance between us when we’re having a conversation, often an in-depth and important one, about my only child.
The best teachers and staff have taught me fascinating things about how to deal with Barney. I’ve only been a parent once; they’ve encountered thousands of kids. It was the same at his primary school, starting with Sonja, when I was a volunteer helping with the class’s reading. One girl always said ‘I don’t know’ whenever I asked her what a particular word or letter was. ‘Try saying “But if you did know, what would it be?”’ advised Sonja. The next week I did just that – and the girl got every answer right.
There have been some similarly fascinating insights from the staff at my son’s current school, usually from the ones who call me Mark. When you’re engaged in a discussion about the intricacies of human behaviour, especially the behaviour of a human to whom you’re related, ‘Mr’ strikes completely the wrong note. The formality kills the moment, ruins the sense that this is a tricky project you’re tackling together.
It’s made me wonder who I do want to address me as ‘Mr’. My bank does, but I wouldn’t mind if they called me Mark. Other companies use my first name – my electricity supplier, for instance – and I like the way it implies a relationship, an acknowledgement on their part that I’ve chosen them over other firms. As long as there’s none of that overly-pally wackiness that sometimes invades the corporate world (‘Hey there, how’s your day going?’), ‘Mark’ sounds right.
Officialdom is slightly different. I wouldn’t want the DVLA or my county council opening with ‘Mark’. That’s a relationship where distance is required – but horizontal rather than vertical, the ‘Mr’ keeping things at arm’s length rather than conferring status. And even there, if I got to the second or third call with a particular employee who was helping me on a specific query, it would feel strange not to progress to our forenames.
I always view people who insist on titles (be they ‘Mr’ or ‘Sir’ or ‘Lord’) as fundamentally insecure
So why does my son’s school stick to formality? I’ve asked if it’s an actual policy, and been assured that it isn’t. One staff member told me she’d never really thought about it: ‘I suppose it’s just me being professional.’ She meant it with the best of intentions, but actually true professionalism is about dealing with your customer (in this case a parent) in the way that makes them feel most comfortable. The absurdity of it showed when she left me a voicemail beginning: ‘Hello Mr Mason, it’s Jane Smith here.’
A few of the teachers strike me as uninspired, lacking the imagination to engage with the question. I suppose it might be a carry-over from the pupils calling them ‘Mr’ and ‘Mrs’. One or two have the air of wanting to be addressed by their surname, as though they entered the profession to feel big and clever about themselves. But most of them are great – they’re enthusiastic teachers who have lots to say, about both their subject and Barney himself. It’s just a pity that the surname habit gets in the way of that.
In the end I think my ‘Mr’ aversion is part of an overall refusal to be an adult, at least in spirit. You never really feel grown up, do you? And nor should you. Einstein and Picasso both talked about the importance of seeing the world through a child’s eyes, of staying in touch with how you felt and thought as a youngster. I always view people who insist on titles (be they ‘Mr’ or ‘Sir’ or ‘Lord’) as fundamentally insecure. Well, we’re all insecure – that’s the whole point – it’s just that they refuse to admit it. If in doubt, watch the clip below of Emmanuel Macron having a go at a student for calling him ‘Manu’ rather than ‘Mr President’.
Would you want to look like that? I certainly wouldn’t. ‘Mark’ is just fine, thanks.
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