How does anyone survive their schooldays? I mean, nearly everyone does, obviously, but that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t count as one of life’s great achievements. The happiest days of your life? For some of us, maybe. For a few others, the worst of days. But for everyone, in their own way, they are as challenging as anything adult life throws at you. I base this view on my own schooldays, my children’s, their friends’, and the children of my friends. In nearly every case, the kids involved have been just fine, they’ve done well, but I can’t help feeling these successes are achieved against all odds.
Day one is monumental enough. My mummy dropped me off and left me with a bunch of children I didn’t know, and a nice lady called Mrs Timmins. Blimey, I thought, this is a big deal. I got through it, though. When my mum picked me up to take me home for lunch, my little chest was puffed out with pride. I’d done well, everyone said. But after lunch the bombshell was dropped that I’d be going back there for the afternoon. What? And I’d be going back the following day, and the day after that, and every subsequent day for the foreseeable future. This hadn’t been made clear to me. I thought it was a one-time event to be brave about, like a visit to the nurse for a jab, or a trip to a safari park. Nobody told me it was a whole new way of life. I was outraged.
