It’s the end of term so all the hysteria and peer pressure should calm down for a while.
But enough about the P7 Parents WhatsApp group.
Plus, this time next week we’ll have a new leader and the campaigning, mudslinging and debate will be over.
Again, I’m still talking about the P7 Parents WhatsApp group.
Being included in these round-robin online chats is like being stuck in the eighth circle of hell, only with bake sales and prom night fundraisers.
It’s been so stressful for some parents I’ve thought about starting a support group, but that would probably require a WhatsApp chat so you can see my dilemma.
In the run-up to July 4 I’ve heard concerning tales of economic uncertainty and social injustice but I’m told that “difficult decisions” have to be made when it comes to the end-of-term disco.
End of term in Scotland spells expenses for parents
Weary parents have been talking about the huge outlay required for prom party outfits and end-of-year events.
We have also discussed the sly shaming that goes on when a mum has the temerity to ask if their child’s teacher really expects a £300 spa day instead of a potted plant and a handwritten card as a parting gift.
I know the embarrassment mums feel when their child’s name isn’t added to the Thank You Teacher card because they didn’t pay £15 towards the M&S gift voucher.
Worst of all, everyone in the online chat knows about it.
And some people reckon it’s the pupils who should be banned from social media!
End of term can put parents under pressure
As the P&J’s Talking Point article today reveals, parents can feel pressurised into overspending on gifts for teachers.
Yet according to our readers on Facebook, it would appear that teachers neither expect nor want an expensive present at the end of term.
They are quite happy with a bag of Maltesers or a hand-painted picture of their dog.
A gift for the teacher isn’t the only expense parents face in the run-up to the summer holidays and yet discussions about personal circumstances are exposed for the rest of the online chat to see.
As a result, WhatsApp has become the digital age’s equivalent of a twitching net curtain.
One of my WhatsApp class chats was akin to a toxic workplace, taking up hours of every day with micromanaging, over-communication, and veiled threats to be a team player.
Sure, it’s a lot easier to make two dozen pirate-themed cupcakes than to produce an Excel spreadsheet with colour coding and mathematical formulas for each cell, but you see my point.
Disagreements and guilt-tripping was only the half of it. If I’m honest I’m still mystified as to why it took 30 sets of parents three months to organise a children’s party.
The proverbial knees-up in a brewery springs to mind, but at least with that everyone is three sheets to the wind so they have an excuse.
From party politics to playground politics
For some light relief from all this school stuff I watched the leaders debate between Rishi Sunak and Sir Keir Starmer on Wednesday night.
One commentator called it “spiky”, and there was certainly a lot of frustration and bitterness on show.
But that pre-election political jousting is tame compared to playground politics and at least someone wins a new house and a chauffeured car at the end.
Brave beekeeper saved 180,000 bees at a home in Westhill
I also read, with some trepidation, the story about a brave beekeeper who was called in to save up to 180,000 bees who had made their home in the walls of a house in Westhill.
Andrew Card, owner of Loch Ness Honey Company, carefully removed the bees, which had taken over a space around six feet by eight feet behind the plasterboard.
The warm weather meant that he and a friend were left dripping in honey for two days as they worked to move all three colonies.
That’s brave, but I dare them to walk into a swarm of furious mothers after their child has ruined the school show by refusing to sing a soppy duet with an arch nemesis.
The summer holidays are in sight and the next challenge will be to keep our kids off their phones for the whole six weeks.
It won’t be easy. I blame the parents.
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