I love my children, but sheesh it’s time they went to school. These holidays have gone on forever

If we’re being brutally honest, there are moments when you look at your children and ask yourself why they are here. What cosmic forces conspired to bring molecules together as lifeforms that evolved into this vaguely intelligent bipedal species? What confluence of events brought your parents together on those fateful occasions? What quirks of DNA made one child an irrepressible dreamer and the other an incorrigible schemer?

Lately, however, the more pressing question is, “Why aren’t you at school?”

The family Ruffles: Vincent, Jai, Kim and Michael. Credit: Michael Ruffles

If parenthood is about anything other than cloning yourself so your genes live on and haunt the earth forever, it’s about marking the milestones as your children turn from amorphous blobs of squawking flesh into beings that vaguely resemble humans.

First steps. First scratches. First words. First swear words. First teeth. First teeth falling out and being placed under pillows before forgetting that you have to be the Tooth Fairy. First solid foods. First time covered in vomit in the middle of a shopping mall. All the memorable moments.

Like the first day of school. Well, for son No.2, we’re still waiting for that. And thanks to a deal the NSW government struck with teachers last year, we’re waiting for what seems like forever in the school holidays that will never end. There are extra pupil-free days (sorry, school development days) and four of them are loaded up at the start of term 1.

Our youngest turned five on January 28. He’ll almost be able to drive himself to kindergarten by the time February 6 rolls around. He’s certainly been driving me crazy.

“I want to play Chicken Gun,” Mr Five says. In answer to my blank look, Mr Nine helpfully explains: “What you do is, you’re a chicken and you have a gun.” Great, fine, whatever. Are you going to pick up the sticky tape and remnants of blue and yellow rubber left over from the attempt to make a Mega-Minion out of balloons?

When school starts next Thursday, 50 days will have passed since the end of the last school year. I remember it distantly: December 18 was not only the day son No.1 finished year 3, but we moved house and I’ve suppressed most of the memories of it. We’re quite settled in the new place, it’s like we’ve been living here for years.

February 6 might be the latest school has started in NSW, at least in living memory; the NSW Department of Education had a hunt through their records but could not say definitively whether school had ever started later. The idea of going to school in January seems consigned to the past.

“In 2025, staff development days will focus on embedding explicit teaching methods and implementing new syllabuses,” a spokesperson said. “Students will all start school on the same day – a change from previous arrangements which saw some year groups start later than others.”

These words all sound reasonable, or would if the holiday had not crept into an eighth week. Explicit teaching (the step-by-step instructions in class, as opposed to exploring for answers) can only be a good thing for boys who need to be told to wipe their faces – and not on your shirts, dammit! – and the merits of using cutlery over their fingers – and stop wiping them on your pants! The only explicit teaching they get at home is a lesson in conjugating curse words.

Before the holidays, some time shortly after the continents started drifting apart, kindergarten orientation stressed the need to prepare the little ones for the adventure of big school. The calendar of suggested activities ranges from “practise writing your name” to trying on your uniform to make sure everything is in order. No worries for this one, who in November was proudly wearing his hat everywhere and declaring that his preschool was for babies.

The main problem is that about 2.7 per cent of his life has passed during the holidays and his enthusiasm has waned. Yes, I did the calculation. I also calculated that it would have cost about $2700 to send them both to holiday care; the three pupil-free days next week alone would have been between $270 and $390. A mixture of working from home and annual leave came to the rescue, but it’s expensive and not every parent has flexibility or help at hand.

It’s hard to begrudge teachers a pay rise or professional development, but the extra week is playing havoc with parents. It’s not great for children, either: they need to learn to line up, sit still and listen to stories, do as they’re told, squabble with their peers over balls and books and toys. They need to learn things we cannot teach them.

I love my children, but sheesh it’s time they went to school.

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