JEREMY CORBETT

JEREMY LEARNS HIS LESSON WHEN HE NEGLECTS TO GO TO SCHOOL ASSEMBLY

One of the great joys of completing your secondary education is no longer having to attend assemblies. That is, until you have children. There’s a wonderful Goldilocks zone in between the ages of 17 and “parent” where you aren’t subjected to long forums where you are merely a spectator. Sadly, the gap is usually filled with pointless work meetings, but I digress.

To prevent me being torn limb from limb by teachers next time I go to pick up the kids, let me just say I have huuuuuuge respect and love for teachers! Our kids go to a wonderful school and they have great assemblies where children are recognised, informed and taught that effort has rewards.

I just don’t need to be there.

Maybe it’s just me, perhaps my school years traumatised me, but when I finished, I thoroughly enjoyed the idea of never having to go back. Especially to assemblies.

So it was that Megan and I decided there were more important tasks to complete than attending our daughters’ assembly last week. We should’ve known something was up: Billie, our eight-year-old, had uncharacteristically mentioned the assembly several times in the week leading up to it. We took it as a positive sign of her growing interest in her education. We didn’t go.

When we collected our darlings later that day, Billie was jumping up and down, excitedly waving a certificate! One she had been presented with during that morning’s assembly.

We felt guilty. We had missed a formative moment in our daughter’s life.

But things were about to get worse: somehow our child knew the power of guilt. She was about to give us a good old telling off! Thankfully, she picked on Megan.

“I got a certificate at assembly. The assembly YOU WEREN’T AT, MUM!”

I sat silently behind the wheel, staying still so as not to attract an attack. Megan’s head went to her hands. The guilt palpable. “Ohhhh, nooooo, Darling! I’m so sorry!”It was genuine remorse.

In her defense, we had only skipped the assembly because we had a very important sit-down-and-relax we had to do. But I was not about to speak lest I get caught in the crossfire.

Then I noticed our child was not downcast or even mildly upset.

‘We felt guilty. We had missed a formative moment in our daughter’s life’

Au contraire. There was a smile and a spark in her eyes that suggested she was very pleased with how she had employed this new weapon.

No doubt buoyed by the certificate she proudly held, she had executed the perfect parental checkmate. Not only did we have to recognise her achievement, but it had to be in the form of a tangible gift to offset the mental harm we had inflicted with our neglect. I honestly believe she enjoyed this new leverage way more than if we had turned up to witness the presentation.

Thus, I have made it my mission to avoid every assembly in future, just so my kids can learn the gift of emotional bribery.