‘I’ll never look at teachers in the same way ever again’

Primary school teachers are shocking liars. “Soley’s a joy to work with,” they said. “A delight in the classroom; never any bother.”

Really? They must have been dealing with some other Soley, not the tiny tyrant, mini malcontent, diminutive diva combo I’ve been attempting to ‘home school’ over the past two months.

Every weekday morning brings a weary, leaden-footed trudge towards that unrelenting, exasperating, unwinnable battle of wills.

Two hours of pleading, delicate negotiation, occasional bribery, emotional blackmail and psychological terrorism. “Write the sentence, Soley.” “No.”

“Come on, do it for Daddy, please write it.”

“No.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, just write the bloo...”

“Daddy, you said ‘bloody’”. “I didn’t.”

“Yes you did. I’m telling mummy.”

“No, no, don’t. Tell you what, pet, let’s just skip this bit...”

Yes, two bloody hours punctuated by toilet breaks, tantrums and tears.

But enough about me. What matters is that my five-yearold keeps learning throughout these unparalleled, unpredictable times.

She can spell ‘coronavirus’. She knows why school’s out, why Mummy and Daddy are working from home.

She knows what social distancing is, understands why she can’t have play dates or visit grandparents, is aware those grim numbers read out on TV are examples of addition, not subtraction.

‘Covid-19’ doesn’t appear on the daily online worksheets but it’s a word and number that is easily explained, even to five