The joys of parent-watching

One of the most satisfying phrases in the English language is: ‘Sorry. I’m afraid I have to go to a parents’ evening.’

I love it because it’s such a perfect excuse for turning down dreary social engagements: you come across like someone who takes his parental responsibilities seriously but at the same time, if you use the right tone, as someone who’d much rather be doing whatever boring thing you’ve just been invited to, but you can’t, you simply can’t, because little Johnny and his teachers would never forgive you.

And I love it because parents’ evenings are one of the few events in the school calendar you can really enjoy. Unlike with plays or concerts, you don’t have to sit there for hours, alternating between boredom (at having to watch other people’s kids do their thing) and terror (that your child might fluff his lines or play a bum note).

Unlike with remembrance services you don’t have to be solemn. Unlike with sports days, no one gets to see how crap your car is or how basic your picnic. Unlike the rest of the time, you don’t have to be embarrassed about forgetting all the teachers’ or other parents’ names because the teachers are labelled for you at their desks and the parents wear badges with names on (usually their kids’, which isn’t perfect but does at least get you into the right ball park).

Also, they’re such brilliant occasions for people-watching. Here are some stereotypes I’ve encountered over the years. See how many of these are familiar.

Miss Squib

Wet primary school teacher. All you bloody want is to hear how well your child is doing. But she can’t or won’t tell you a) because she’s drippy and useless and b) it seems the rules in the state system forbid any form of grading or criticism.