Joseph Kelly, EB Blogger
I realised something as a fact the other day: parents are competitive. Up until this point I’d always thought the competitive parent thing was a bit of a joke or an exaggeration. But I can now testify, having actually spoken to some parents, that competitive parents are real and they probably live in a street near you...
Susie has long criticised me for my complete inability to engage in any small-talk with other parents. Actually, going right back to a time before kids, Susie has long criticised me for my inability to make small talk with anyone. This of course places a burden on Susie to do all the playground socialising by speaking to as many mums and dads as she can when doing the afternoon pick-up. As the parent in charge of the morning drop-off, my practice has been to drop Maisie in the playground and then stand behind a tree until assembly is called. At this point I make a strategic and hasty retreat.
But due to extensive road works in my area I have found it actually benefits me to head to work a bit later – meaning that I have time to hang around the school gate. This has bought me into contact with a whole collection of parents who I have never spoken to before. I must note here that my inability to effectively communicate with other parents stems from the fact that I have no idea of the rules or protocols associated with such discussions.
If a parent asks me how Maisie is going at school am I meant to give a short “good” or go into a detailed description of the ways in which I see Maisie responding to her new peer structure (emotionally, physically, academically and socially)? Or do as I normally do and just laugh awkwardly, shrug my shoulders, look at my shoes and mumble ‘I don’t know’?
And I can’t escape the feeling that every time I answer a question, it’s being entered into some parental database that, like Dexter from Perfect Match, will spit out a compatibility rating that will let everyone at the school know how good or bad I am as a parent. My default position, therefore, had been to hide behind a tree in the hope that nobody would engage me in conversation. But having been dragged out of this self-imposed isolation I’ve noticed that parenting is a competitive business.
The other day I was waiting for school assembly to start when I was joined by Maisie’s good friend Molly and her mum, Jude. Molly was carry a gaudily decorated shoe-box which I knew from experience was the show-and-tell box. “What have you got for show-and-tell?” I asked Molly. “It’s a piece of Aboriginal artwork” answered Jude. Molly didn’t look too interested. “And how do they make the painting?” Jude leadingly asked Molly.
More disinterest from Molly.
“I’ve been teaching her about this artwork all morning. She wanted to bring in a Barbie” Jude informed me before reciting the origin of the painting, the significance of the painting and any other details that she hoped Molly would repeat for the benefit of her prep class. I suddenly thought of Maisie’s show-and-tell box which contained a mobile we made from chop sticks and a princess picture book, tucked neatly next to a rubber ball Maisie found on the nature strip. Maisie would not fare well out of a show-and-tell comparison. Mercifully, Jude did not ask me what Maisie was bringing in.
But all of this has made me wonder if all parents feel the same way? Is the politics of the playground a necessary evil that parents learn to negotiate or is it an invention of socially awkward dads who would prefer to hide behind trees? Comment on Joseph Kelly's blog.
