How often do you pick up the children and ask how was school? I’d hazard a guess at daily. I’d also go out on a limb and suggest that the answers are monosyllabic. Or in Olive’s case “I can’t remember”. Are you freaking kidding me! Like the last 6 hours are some kind of distant memory. If you follow me regularly *cough if you don’t my Facebook Business Page is : JoanneDewberry.co.uk check it out and hit LIKE* my daughter Megan loves dancing, drawing and writing stories. She’s such a creative soul. Yesterday she presented me with this poem she had written during her lunch break (like you do!) and as a parent to 3 children this is literally my daily car drive home, I couldn’t have written it better myself!
How Was School?
Mum can’t you see why it’s uncool
to ask me cheerfully
“How was school?”
She shakes her head and rolls her eyes
to everyone of these replies.
“Good,
Not bad,
You what,
OK,
Awful,
Grim,
It’s hard to say.
Well,
It’s …
Can’t remember.
Ask me again in December.
History.
Stop nagging,
What’s for tea?
Tests all day.
Wish we could flee.
None of your biz.
I can’t think.
Boring mostly.
The usual stuff.
We did some work,
Then sang a hymn.”
My mum is such a peculiar creature.
She knows how school was!
She’s my teacher!
By Megan E.J Giltrow (age 10)
*disclaimer her mother isn’t a teacher*