I wagged some 4th form science classes. I would be terrified I’d get caught, so it was hardly worth it for all the anxiety I went through. I marveled at friends who wagged a lot and didn’t give a damn, or at least that’s the impression they conveyed. I think I wagged other classes during high school, but not so many. I always had a fear of authority.
Obviously, this fear of authority is not genetic or T1 would be a different child. If it were genetic, then the strength by which the Ex has little or no respect for authority (tax law, road rules, safety guidelines etc) would crush any genetic influence of mine.
I never heard of anyone wagging his or her end of year presentation ceremony. Until last week. My son didn’t go to his final assembly. Not that I was there to witness this.
I had to go away for two days. It took a lot to get me to go away for a night. T2 and T3 are always keen on staying with friends. T1 refused to let me organize for him to go anywhere. He could look after himself, he said. At 15, he probably can but that isn’t the point. Anyway, a session with my occasional shrink, Nigel, put things in perspective.
Work + professional development opportunity = money, independence, personal growth and development, fun, time out, time with other adults.
So I packed up, locked up house and went. I think T1 only realized I was gone when I phoned the next day at 8am to encourage him to get up and go to his assembly.
You never know, I said, maybe school has found a way for you to get your Certificate of Attainment and you will cross the stage with your friends, and if not, you will be there out of respect for them and support for your mates.
What he said to that comment could only be described as pure derision.
When I got home, there was a message on my machine from the school. T1 is being given his Certificate of Attainment, and the school wanted him and me to know so that T1 could make sure he was there when his name was read out.
As far as I am aware, he didn’t have to do anything additional last week after all to gain the CofA. Perhaps, they awarded it for other reasons, maybe it was not such a dire situation afterall, maybe they moved the goal posts (again) for him, maybe, like me, they are accepting that they can’t change or force him by threat or punishment (coming back all next week to complete school hours and course work) to change his behaviour or attitude.
Whatever it was, and I will find out, he gets to go on to Year 11.
T1’s response: I told you they’d give it to me and I didn’t have to do anything else for it. I’m going out now. Bye. (Slam of door).
He got it this time, but I truly wonder how.
Finally. Hooray, it is the end of the school year. We got there. I got there. I really think I deserve a Certificate of Fantastic Awesome Parenting (FAP) Attainment all of my own! I spent huge hours at or talking to the school, did some incredible research and presentations, and influenced positively any number of people. My son is still alive. I should have limped bruised and bleeding across that school stage myself to collect my honour.
How about you parents – you surely deserve your Certificate of FAP too!
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