Parental advisory: Why the school nativity play is rivalling sports day
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It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Yes, yes it is. Unless you’ve arrived late to your child’s school nativity play and had to squeeze into a back-row seat behind the tallest, broadest parent in the year group. Or worse, perhaps you didn’t even nab a seat at all because Sandra from the PTA ensnared you in conversation on your way through the playground and now, here you are, standing angrily at the side of the hall, projecting ill will toward all. Bloody Sandra.
If you thought the nativity play was a uniformly magical experience, spare a thought for this year’s performance at Redriff Primary in Rotherhithe, south east London, where the early years’ nativity reportedly descended into acrimony, with parents trading insults as they jostled for the best view of the stage. “Derogatory and oppressive racist language was used and voices were raised,” said the school, rebuking the recalcitrant audience in a memo about “parent conduct” issued afterwards.
It goes without saying that racist language is unacceptable in any context. That it should be heard at a school nativity, of all places, seems especially repugnant. But the idea that parents could fall out at such a joyous occasion? Well, that is maybe less shocking. You’ve heard of the levels of competition displayed on the touchline at school sports day. Don’t for one minute suppose the stakes are any lower when it comes to the nativity play.
Only last week, we learned of research that suggested the role a child plays in the nativity can predict their future employment. The Virgin Media poll found, for instance, that those who played the part of the ox now earned more than twice as much as those who played a lamb or a sheep. Those who had played Mary were the most likely to be content in adult life, with former Josephs coming in second place and more likely to end up with a job in finance or banking. In short, the nativity matters more to us parents than we’re sometimes willing to let on. Here’s how we know it has become the new sports day:
1. Seeing is believing
As evidenced by what we might henceforth call the Redriff Affair, your view of the stage matters. If your child is playing a wise man, but all you can see is the sleeve of Shepherd No3 and the back of very many adult heads, that’s your Christmas ruined right there. You may as well not have turned up. You may as well not have had a child in the first place. Seriously, what was the point?
2. Pictures or it didn’t happen
An unanticipated photo ban is enough to send you into a festive rage. Because it’s not just pointless being there if you can’t see properly; it’s also pointless being there if you can’t take a photo of your darling ox and post it to your social media feeds for posterity and his/her future embarrassment, accompanied by #proud and two dozen heart emojis.
3. Costume drama
It took you four whole episodes of Strictly to stitch together that cow costume. It’s better than the cow costumes worn by all the other cows, except Oscar’s, but you happen to know Oscar’s mum cheated by buying it on Amazon Prime two days ago. At the same time, you can’t help wondering why your child is only a cow and not Mary. She’d be a fantastic Mary. The kid they chose is useless and you don’t care who hears you saying so.
4. Lines of beauty
You’ve been practising your child’s lines at home with her and, if you do say so yourself, Meryl Streep has nothing on her. The way she says “bright star” brings tears to your eyes. Except, on the day, she gets nervous and fluffs it, and you don’t mind, honestly, but it’s just such a shame that the world will be unable to appreciate her talent, especially as you’re covertly filming the play despite the photo ban. (Shh, don’t tell Sandra.)
5. Positioning statements
You thought you had a good understanding with your child’s teacher. She seemed like a reasonable and compassionate sort. So why, then, in the name of Angel Gabriel, has she positioned your own little angel in the back row of the chorus where no one can properly see his face? Does she really value his contribution to ‘Little Donkey’ that little? Sure, he’s tone deaf and knows none of the words, but doesn’t that apply to half the class? You’ll have to have words. With the headmaster. About the teacher being fired.