The awful truth about parent-teacher interviews | Susie O’Brien

Is any family duty more excruciating than a parent-teacher interview? It’s just an exercise in ritual humiliation and shameless lying, writes Susie O’Brien.

“Oh, so you’re Arabella’s mum – she’s such a ... spirited child!”

This week I’ve had parent-teacher interviews. It’s a bit like online speed dating, only there’s less chance of a happy ending.

At my son’s school you’re allocated five minutes per teacher.

The first hurdle is remembering to book the interviews in the first place.

At my son’s school they open bookings online at 6pm on a Sunday night the week before, building up lots of false excitement and competition for the prime interview spots that neither you nor your child’s teacher will share.

When the big day rolls around, finding the email with the log-in details is the first step, followed by remembering your password then making the Microsoft Teams or Google Meet link work.

“I thought you wrote down the password to the bloody parent portal!”

After three failed attempts, two calls to IT, five frantic texts to your teenager for help, you’re finally in!

Go you, and there’s only 45 seconds to go in your timeslot! Should be just about enough.

By the time you’ve worked the tech side of it out, finding out how your son is responding to the third semester trigonometry module is way down your list of priorities (which usually has wolfing down a pizza and glass of red as numbers one and two).

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Parent-teacher interviews rely on a timeworn pact between parents and teachers.

Parents are required to listen with a straight face as the teacher describes someone they don’t even vaguely recognise as their own child.

You’ll tell the teacher your kid is really enjoying their subject (hoping they don’t ask for any evidence of this bald-faced lie).

And in return the teacher will tell you your kid is enjoyable to teach (hoping you can’t tell they’ve already bribed the principal to make sure they don’t get them next year).

Don’t forget to look interested when the teacher mentions “opportunity to interface in your son’s developmental space” and act like you know what they are talking about when they say he’s “doing well acquiring the EAPE skills he needs for the SOL and the MAP”.

Just when you think you’ve got away with the fact that you’re not as involved in your child’s learning as you should be, the teachers start quizzing you. This is where it all goes bad.

Teacher: “So I’ll bet (insert child’s name) has told you about what she’s learning this semester. What did you think about this current module?”

You: “Ummm. Is that the time? I’m late for my next appointment.”

You don’t want to admit you didn’t even realise your child was in year 8 – doesn’t time fly! – let alone that they were learning geography. So, you have no chance of being across the fact that they’re learning about subcontinental natural disasters in the Neolithic age in term three.

Just when you’re getting to the good stuff – usually the shortcomings of other children in the class – it’s time to move on.

Often these interviews are little more than an exercise in humiliation and subterfuge dressed up as an exchange of useful information.

Teacher says: “She has great language skills.” (I wish she’d shut up and let some other kids speak.)

“He has an appetite for learning.” (I just need him to stop biting other kids.)

“He has a strong personality.” (He’s the least likeable kid I’ve ever met.)

“Your daughter is quite the character.” (She’s the reason I’ve put in for early retirement.)

“She’s having an interesting year.” (The law prohibits me from telling you what I really think.)

Sometimes there’s an unspoken mutual understanding: parents are happy not to believe everything the child says happens at school if the teacher doesn’t believe everything the child says happens at home.

As they put it on The Simpsons: “Parent-Teacher Night. Let’s Share the Blame.”

The Simpsons sure got this one right ...

With three kids, including one who’s still in high school, I’ve had my fair share of parent-teacher interviews.

I honestly can’t fault the teachers, who are passionate, patient and devoted to learning.

I’m grateful, because I don’t have time to care as much as I should. I need them to be across it all because I know I am not.

All I can say is that I am very glad there’s RateMyTeacher but no one yet has thought of a RateTheParent.

Here’s my advice.

Don’t forget that teachers are people too.

They don’t get paid as much as they should and they do spend most of the summer preparing for the following year.

And whatever you do, don’t pick a fight with any teacher your younger child is likely to get the following year.

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Originally published as The awful truth about parent-teacher interviews | Susie O’Brien