School Days Are Here

By Joe Barker
 

We've delayed sending Marty to preschool, mainly because we can. Since I'm not working it would be hard to justify paying for school. Plus, calling me a stay-at-home dad sounds so much better than calling me a work-shy layabout, which would be hard to avoid if I didn't actually spend some time with Marty. However, the arrival of Alice may speed Marty's arrival into the world of education—I hope it's bracing itself for his impact.

Trying to look after two children once my wife's maternity leave ends is already looking likely to be beyond me. As Alice gets more mobile she is going to need all the attention Martin used to get, and Martin is not ready to relinquish that attention without a fight. “Put Alice down”, “Give Alice to Mummy” are his constant refrains at the moment, and currently Alice demands very little attention. Apart from the odd nappy change and the occasional bottle, she's mainly content to wriggle and burble to herself while watching the world go by. When she can crawl this will change, and Marty will not like that. So packing him off to school may be our best option.
 

Let me tell you how to do it

Few things seem to spark as much debate, among parents and non-parents alike, as education. After all we've all been educated at some point and so have a view on what education is and how it should be done. The strength of popular views on education can strike terror into the hearts of even the stoutest teachers. What are years of training and an understanding of the latest research plus plenty of classroom experience when weighed against the latest Instagram post and a parent's insight into the exceptional prowess of their offspring?

Having dallied unsuccessfully with teaching over a number of years, I shall probably be worse than most parents. Ignoring the fact that I proved utterly incapable of controlling a class or planning lessons, I shall be full of half-remembered educational theories and strong opinions on how schools should be run. Oh, what joy parents' evening is going to be for all concerned—to any school admissions officers reading this and hastily making a black mark against my name, I promise to be on my best behavior and let my wife do all the talking—please don't make us homeschool! 

The thought of homeschooling fills me with dread. Much as I love Marty and Alice, I am very much looking forward to them being old enough to start school so that I can have some child-free time. Having to look after them all day, and instill an understanding of math and spelling, is the stuff of my nightmares. At the moment it feels like all I can do to get them to the end of each day without any of us doing anything too stupid, or me shouting too much. If I can't get Marty to understand that sharp knives aren't toys and that we mustn't touch the oven, what hope do I have of teaching him the alphabet? 
 

Teacher or parent viewpoint

As a teacher, I had no doubt that the problem with schools was parents and their offspring. Why were they sending me these obnoxious little monsters who couldn't do what they were told and had no interest in learning? Clearly what was needed was more parental engagement and a bit of discipline at home. As a father, my view is somewhat different. Having abjectly failed to impress any basic manners on Martin, I'm placing all my hopes on school to make him and Alice into pleasant, calm, and personable children rather than the raging balls of energy careening through my life that they currently are. To be fair, at four months old, Alice is presently more of a static ball of serenity, but with Marty's expert guidance I'm sure she'll soon become a spreader of chaos. 

With a classroom full of 30 kids, I considered it an achievement to be able to remember a child's name let alone having the time to really get to know each child. The quiet ones were largely ignored and the noisy ones were little devils put upon this earth solely to torment me. I had little patience for parents who expected a detailed analysis of their child's progress or deep appreciation of their offspring's unique abilities. As a parent, however, woe betide any teacher who fails to appreciate Alice and Marty's exceptional characters and intelligence. I can spend hours listening, mesmerized by Martin's tales of tractors he's seen or marveling at Alice's ability to burble, and I will expect their teachers to find them equally fascinating. Do they not realize that they are lucky to have such amazing children in their classroom?

Regarding progress, I shall want a constant and detailed account of everything they've learned and are going to learn. Nothing should be too much trouble. Again, to any fearful admissions officers, I promise to be good; please don't make me keep these monsters at home.
 

Change is coming

Thrilled though I am at the thought of having a little more spare time once Marty starts school, and peace from his incessant questions—I think I'm developing a twitch in reaction to the phrase “but, why?”—there is a twinge of sadness at this approaching change. What will it be like not spending all my days with Marty and not knowing at all times what he's done? School will be such a big step towards independence and moving away from Daddy, and soon I'll be adding “former stay-at-home dad” to my list of failed careers. Good thing I'll have Alice to fill that gap and allow me to postpone for a few more years any thoughts of what I'm doing with my life. Far better to live vicariously through my children than face difficult personal questions.

Despite all these concerns, I'm excited to watch Martin head to school. To start to learn to be an independent person, to find his own friends, hobbies, and ideas. I just hope he doesn't totally forget about me and still wants to play sometimes.

About the Author

Joe and his wife Diane moved to Thailand in 2018. Since the arrival of their son Martin in 2021 and daughter Alice in 2024, Joe has been a stay-at-home father. The whole family enjoys BAMBI playgroups and Thai beach holidays.