Let’s do this together YOUR

COMMUNITY CORNER

The sound of spontaneous cheering broke out across The Dark Lord’s online maths lesson yesterday as it was confirmed they’d all be going back to a proper classroom in two weeks.

Never in the history of childhood have so many kids been happy to go back to school.

Not that they’re looking forward to watching their maths tutor drone on about quadratic equations in person, but they’re desperate to see their friends.

“March 8th?” Jesse checked with me after lessons had finished. “That just misses my birthday on Friday 5th.”

“Yes that’s annoying,” I agreed. “It would have been nice for you to share cakes with the class, but I can organise a Zoom party with local friends if you’d like?”

“Er no thanks. I’d rather be on my own than on another Zoom call with a bunch of shrieking girls,“she said miserably.

I know all our kids have had it tough, but for Jesse it really couldn’t have come at a worse time. The lockdown has meant she’s lost touch with friends from her old junior school and she didn’t settle in that well in big school before being sent home for bedroom school.

She was in tears at the weekend crying that she only has three friends left in the whole wide world, which is probably a bit dramatic but these things are important when you’re almost 12.

Trying to cheer her up, I said: “That’s three more than I had when I moved back to London from Wales at about your age.” “Really?” she sniffed. “What happened?” Creaking open the memory vaults, I reminisced about my first day of big school. “Well I walked into my class and they all called me Pam Ayres because of my funny accent and pudding bowl haircut.

“Then one girl beat me up at lunchtime and tore my favourite shirt with gold stripes and big flappy collar, and another pinched my free school meal token. It wasn’t the best day of my life.”

She looked at me sadly. “That’s horrible – what did you do?”

“Nothing,” I shrugged. “They all picked on someone else the next day. And it wasn’t long before I made friends with the other outcasts.”

Getting back to her birthday, I said: “We’ll have a summer birthday for you instead, and on your actual birthday, we’ll just have a games night and I’ll let you beat me at Monopoly. Even better, I’ll bake you a lovely birthday cake.”

She looked at me, and smiled weakly, “That’s OK, Mum, I’m fine with a shop-bought one. And I’m not a kid any more – I won’t need two birthdays. I can handle this last one of lockdown.”

Email me at siobhan.mcnally@mirror.co.uk or write to Community Corner, PO Box 791, Winchester SO23 3RP.

Yours, Siobhan

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