The Wonderful Well-Attended Careers Day at R's School

I admit that I did have a glass of organic white Bordeaux (thin, dry) when I was told this tale, this may have influenced my extreme reaction;    I laughed so much the muscles of my abdomen went into spasm and I couldn't see for crying.

Yesterday was Careers Day at the school.  A school which makes no attempt to get into any kind of relationship with students or their families, demands that parents come in on a Saturday morning and woman/man a stand in order to talk about their career to pupils who couldn't give a damn.  Anyway,   no-one in France that I know of has actually chosen a 'career' or likes it.  Needless to say, the parent-careerers were a bit thin on the ground.

Parent visitors and their offspring were however present in large numbers, why (oh why?).  The parents were there because the headmistress, Mrs Scruton,  had cunningly combined Careers Day with a Parents Meeting, I believe this is called a motivational technique or manipulation.   I use the word 'meeting' loosely.  The idea is you turn up and the teachers are behind desks at which there is a long and desultory queue, you join the queue, you reach the teacher, you hope you have not made a mistake and the guy is actually your offspring's teacher, the teacher hastily consults his notes because he has no idea who your offspring is.

As R predicted before the event;  'The teacher has no idea who the hell he is supposed to be talking about, he smiles, and sneakily eyes the list of scores for clues. If you got an average of 10 out of 20 he says 'dreadful, yes, doesn't concentrate, no good' and if you get 19 he says 'very good student'.'

The teacher that JC queued for did exactly as R predicted.  JC and this teacher got into a conversation about the dangers of internet gaming.  The teacher in question was very understanding about the problem of teenage online gaming addicts.   ???? WOT, this does not happen, understanding, what's that?

'Oh yeah, he's really cool, he plays Black Ops 2' says R.

'What was the career day like?' I asked JC.

'There were only 2 stands' said JC 'and one of those was empty'.

'No Dad, one was the supervisor making sure we all turned up, because if not we get detention on Monday, and the other one was the police.  The stands were INSIDE the dining room'. (we have to assume JC missed the careers day).

Well at least JC did manage to queue up to see one token teacher, we'll call him Black Ops, the one that gave R the worst marks, JC likes to maximise his efficiency.  Then he queued up to see the class teacher who is also the French teacher and nobody likes her including me, see previous blog.  She was there with her Essex Face-lift and protruding knees and unenviable dress sense because she is an ex-model married to a fashion stylist.   JC and 2 other parents queued patiently and noticed that other people behind them in the queue were getting to see this teacher before them, to they interpolated her against her will and she said 'You can't see me unless you have an appointment'.

'But we didn't know' exclaimed the parents who didn't know.  (Don't know how the other parents knew but they always do).

'You should have had a note in the 'carnet' ('communication' exercise book/prison id papers)' came the clipped reply.

'But we didn't - and anyway, the whole point of this is that we come to see the teachers and queue up, if we wanted an appointment, we could have rung up and asked to see you at a time convenient to us both.  We are here to see you!

'Tough, that's how it is, I have 3 classes, I can't see everyone'.  (my suspicion is that she is bombarded by so many irate parents that the has to manage the crowd as best she can).

JC found this so absurd, he laughed.  The French teacher was so unaccustomed to hearing laughter that she also laughed - and went back to her appointments.    The 3 parents who did not have appointments did not get to see the teacher, grumbled about it together and agreed that it was not in the spirit of the thing, and went home, duty done.  Now the class teacher will probably call R's other parent 'stupid' in front of the class.

R was forced to go to this event by the motivational techniques of:     one hour's detention if he didn't go, and having to fill in a questionnaire proving that he had dutifully done the rounds of each stand (if not filled in one further hour's detention).   He planned to go, but stay for a maximum of 10 minutes.

'Perhaps it will be interesting?' I piped up 'you might find a career that would suit you'.

'It's not interesting, Mum, nobody wants to go and nobody is interested'

He left at 10am and was back by 10.10am.  He had executed his plan with remarkable skill.  First he went and got his form signed (detention avoided), then he persuaded the class 'intello' (intellectual) to let him copy his (excruciatingly dull) questionnaire.

'How did you persuade him to do that?' I ask

'I made him an offer he couldn't refuse'

'What?'

'er, I offered him a sweet'.

There was a stand which must have been manned/womanned by a very canny parent, because it featured a bowl of sweets for the visitors, I believe this is called a motivational technique or manipulation.   This stand (along with the stand of the computer game programmer) actually had visitors.   R has no idea what career the stand was talking about, all he could see was the bowl of sweets.  He helped himself to a handful,  used one to bribe the class intellectual to give him the answers, went home and ate the rest in front of the telly.

Now the Headmistress Mrs Scruton will be able to write a glowing report of her wonderful  well-attended Careers Day,  that's the main thing.