Thursday 19 August 2010

A Belated Summary of Josh's Very Bad Day.

It's A-level results day. Josh has been up all night worrying, and he looks very twitchy when I see him before I go to work. I think it's just occurred to him that Robbie and the others may have been being economical with the truth when they told him that they weren't doing any work for their exams, as apparently they weren't half as stressed as he was when he spoke to them late last night. I kept telling him that they were talking bullshit and that of course they were studying at least some of the time, but Josh never listens to me. Idiot.

I make him promise to phone me at work as soon as he gets his results. He nods, but doesn't say anything. I'm not used to Josh not having a witty response at the ready, so it's very unnerving. I really wish it wasn't seen to be so uncool to work hard and to succeed at state schools, especially for boys.

Mind you, Connie had a really hard time at school, too. After her first year, we had to formally request that she not be given any more "Awards for Achievement" in class, just so she wouldn't get bullied every time it happened. It's mad, isn't it? Although I do remember thinking that she might not have got so many certificates, if her spelling hadn't been so vastly superior to that of many of her teachers.

Anyway, I'm so busy fretting about Josh when I get to work that my concentration is shot, so I have to reverse my usual prioritising system and deal with the usual suspects' non-issues first, instead of last as is my usual practice. I figure that, if I screw up before I hear from Josh, at least it won't actually matter much, seeing as US* cases are either imaginary or totally ludicrous anyway.

Greg really isn't helping, though. He keeps winding me up, saying that I am a failure as a parent, and that    Josh is going to end up as a Neet*, who'll still be living off me when he's thirty. Considering that Greg is almost thirty himself, and still lives with his mummy, I'm not amused. Wearing Armani ties does not signify independence in my opinion.

Every time the phone rings, I think it's Josh - when of course it's always Miss Bloody Chambers. She almost breaks the sound barrier today.

"British Gas, " she screams. "I sent you a copy of the bill - what have you done about that overcharge?"

"If you stop shouting at me, I'll be able to tell you," I say.

"I'm not shouting," she says. Not now she isn't, thank God.

"Right, then - look at your copy of the bill," I say. "That £13.48 that you said was an overcharge?"

"It is an overcharge. How many times do I bloody well have to tell you people?" Her volume's increasing again. Godsake. I take a deep breath, then say,

"It is not an overcharge. It is a credit."

"What do you mean?" Up another few decibels. Where are the HSE* when you need them?

"They've given you some money back," I say. "That's why it says 'credit' on the bill. Okay?"

"Well, why the hell didn't they say so?" she shrieks, and slams the phone down.

If I had the time, I'd learn voodoo and spend every evening sticking pins into effigies of that bloody woman. But it seems she hasn't even finished yet - the phone rings again.

"Yes?" I say, cautiously.

"Hurrm."

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Is Miss Chambers playing sound games now? Full volume, then whispering?

"Mum." It's Josh. A very quiet Josh. Oh God.

"How did you do, darling?" My voice is so bright and brittle, it even manages to annoy me.

"Crap."

"What do you mean, crap? It can't all be bad, can it?"

"Well, I got a D in Film Studies," says Josh, as if that is meaningless. Which it could be - what exactly is Film Studies?

"Oh, well - that's not a terribly important subject, is it?" I say. "How did you do in the other two?"

"Two U's," says Josh. "Bye, Mum. And sorry."

Oh my God. I try phoning Josh back, but he doesn't answer, so I text Robbie:

"Hi Robbie - is Josh with you? And how did you do in your A-levels?"

Robbie's reply comes straight back:

"Hello, Mrs B. Josh went home - had a headache. I got two A's and a C :-)"

I have absolutely no idea what I am going to say to Josh when I get home. It's not that I think university is a guarantee of success - I'm living proof that that's not the case, after all -  but there are no bloody jobs for under-25s, and no-one's going to be offering apprenticeships in this economic climate. I suppose he could always become a stand-up, but I don't think he's going to appreciate that suggestion at the moment.

I walk very, very slowly all the way home, and when I finally get there, am very tempted to turn around and head off to Sainsburys or something - anything rather than to have to go inside. But Connie's obviously been on look-out, and spots me. She opens the front door before I can make my escape. She is beaming.

"Mum, Josh failed almost everything. What a muppet!"

Honestly, if there were exams in sibling rivalry, both my kids would have doctorates. Now I have to find a way to convince Josh that there is more to life than academic success - without making Connie feel that  I don't value her achievements in that field. Bloody hell - sometimes parenting is much closer to the practice of politics than is generally appreciated.

*US - usual suspect(s) - shorthand for barking mad and a pain in the arse, as usual.
*Neet - Not in Education, Employment or Training, i.e. a write-off.
*HSE - responsible for safety in the workplace, allegedly.

4 comments:

  1. Bad - yes. I know about that. But this is to be seen in perspective.

    These exams only test certain things. I know that because I'm half way through a PGCE at the Institute of Education. I've studied different types of assessment. Passing exams is a matter of jumping through the right set of hoops in the right order. It doesn't test you in many of the other important things in life.

    Through ill health I got kicked out of the workforcce completely and I had to struggle really hard to work out what I was going to do with my life. Not the same situation as Josh's but I reckon he may feel he's stepped off an escalator.

    Going to uni is all very pre-defined. It is sold as a great experience and for some it is but that is not the case for all. Maybe Josh has other activities planned already. Maybe he needs time to work out what he wants to do.

    Maybe this wasn't the right time to be sitting exams. People don't all flower automatically in late adolescence. Some find they have other strengths. The world does not need an army of academics. We need practical people too and such people are very important. Maybe Josh will decide later in life that he wants to study - perhaps some different subjects.

    I used to feel acceptance from family & friends depended on me passing exams & having a wonderful career. I felt dreadful I didn't manage that & I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone. I certainly don't wish it on Josh. So I wish the young man well - whatever he does.

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  2. I agree. I feel quite strongly that the 50% university target may be encouraging young people to go massively into debt, and often to obtain less-than-rigorous degrees from less well-recognised universities, when their talents might well have proved better-appreciated and more lucrative in other fields, and without the need to go into such debt.

    And that's not even considering whether we have graduate-level jobs for so many graduates, or whether - as my old university tutor tells me - degree courses now have to be aimed at the lowest common denominator in much-larger classes, as well as how we fund such a massive expansion in numbers....

    At the same time, we have de-skilled craft and trade skills quite massively, and undervalued them for too long. I have always thought Josh's talents would be well-served by being an inventor or an engineer, but who's to say what will happen next......everything feels very final when you're 18, but when you get older you know that changing direction is possible for a hell of a lot longer than that. Mind you, as his IQ measures higher than Connie's (according to the Big Intelligence Test and much to Connie's chagrin), I do blame the poker for his results ;-)

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  3. One of the best arguments for private education I have ever read:

    'I really wish it wasn't seen to be so uncool to work hard and to succeed at state schools, especially for boys.'
    'Mind you, Connie had a really hard time at school, too. After her first year, we had to formally request that she not be given any more "Awards for Achievement" in class, just so she wouldn't get bullied every time it happened. It's mad, isn't it? Although I do remember thinking that she might not have got so many certificates, if her spelling hadn't been so vastly superior to that of many of her teachers.'

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  4. Indeed - for those who can afford them! But for the rest of us, maybe it's one of the best arguments for a change in the culture of state schools?

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