For parents, because it’s a chance to find out exactly how their little darling is doing (having failed to elicit more than a grunt on the subject from the little darling itself). For teachers, because they’re aware that, in our results-obsessed age, they’re being judged. And for pupils, because, frankly, it’s embarrassing having Sir and Miss finally meet Mum and Dad.
These meetings pose a conundrum for teachers, in particular. Just how honest should they be? No teacher is going to call a child a dimwit, especially to a doting parent’s face. So some tact can be needed.
What’s more, while parents naturally want details about their child’s prospects, teachers will be wary of making comments that could come back to haunt them. So there is a discrepancy between what teachers say and what they mean. Parents would do well to brush up on their interpretation skills. Shall we look at some practical examples?
“He can be quite lively in class!”
What this innocuous statement often means is that the teacher is having problems with basic control of this child, let alone passing on any useful wisdom.
To my shame, I once said these precise words in a breezy tone to the parents of a teenager so badly behaved he was making my life a misery.
I couldn’t think of anything constructive to say, yet dreaded admitting my own failings in allowing him to be so disruptive. The parents in question smiled knowingly, but said nothing.
Then there is the all-important question many parents will be planning to unleash at the first opportunity next term:
"Tell me honestly, is Jemima going to get an A in her GCSEs?"
There is only one response a parent is likely to receive here ― a guarded one: “That, er, depends how thoroughly she follows the clear advice and revision program I’ve given her.”
Note the absence of precise predictions here. Teachers, by nature, want to encourage pupils, but cannot afford to be too gung-ho. They know from bitter experience that well-intended comments in April can look awkward come August ― especially when Mum’s jotting down every word they say on her iPad. There is every temptation to be evasive.
“He’s a little quiet in class. I’d like to hear more from him.”
This sounds helpful, but could cover a host of hidden meanings. Does the teacher mean the child in question is simply shy ― or is he contributing nothing because he’s totally switched-off?
More worryingly, is the child too intimidated to speak in front of 20 other teenagers? There’s a need to probe further.
Similarly, parents may well hear this sort of thing:
“Hugo is quite alert in class, but his written work is weaker.”
This needs dissection. Being alert suggests Hugo enjoys the lessons, which is encouraging (though it may simply mean he’s awake). But that weaker writing should be ringing alarm bells. Exactly how weak, the concerned parent may be wondering?
Parents should be ready with their follow-up questions, and the one that should be posed here, phrased as politely as possible, of course ― is this: “Is anything being done to help him?”
The best way to improve on paper is regular practice. So is Hugo being set written work on a weekly basis (and is this marked promptly, with helpful feedback)? Or is he being given one essay per term, miraculously timed to coincide with this meeting?
How about this classic teacher’s opening gambit:
“What a delightful child Tabitha is. I’m so glad to have her in my class.”
This sounds lovely, guaranteed to have proud parents purring. But it could be polite code for what’s really meant about this hapless child: Her teacher can find nothing whatsoever of any note to say about her, apart from the fact she never causes trouble.
This comment also seems promising at first: “Lucy’s doing pretty well and is making progress. But how well exactly and what kind of progress? Well enough to get into Oxford? Or to secure a basic pass mark?
Such bland comments can be euphemisms for bland performances. Busy parents may not be best pleased to be dragged away from the office to hear platitudes such as this. Again, there is a need to dig deeper.
So parents should now have a better idea of the real meaning behind some of Sir or Miss’s remarks. And they might bear in mind that they are in a long line of equally anxious adults.
There will be a fidgety queue behind them waiting for their 10 minutes to be up, watching the clock as impatiently as class 4C on a Friday afternoon. The teacher, too, will be keen to move on. This can lead9- to overhasty words.
A final word of caution: Please, don’t take too many notes. That’s sure to make even the keenest teacher clam up (“You assured me she’d get an A!”).