My daughter had a reunion recently with a Currambena friend, who moved on to one of the other local schools at the end of last year. It was a beautiful sunny day and ever fearful of any juvenile disturbance to my pristine domestic environment (you know what it is like with three young
children in the house – all vaccumed carpets, well-made beds and healthy snacks lined up along the kitchen bench) we decided to make this an outside play and took the dog for a long walk around Blackman Park. I followed the two girls as they walked, half listening to their chatter as they renewed their acquaintance. I was fascinated as they began to compare their respective school days. Like any normal parent, I am always looking for clues that my decisions for my children are the right ones. Like any realistic parent, I kind of secretly know that I won’t get an answer until they are about 40 years old and have finished their therapy.
In the meantime, I piece together what scraps I can find. The girls compared notes on friends, on start times, on pick up routines, then moved on to the nitty gritty of the eternal education debate: school uniforms versus wear-what-you-like; school meetings as opposed to school assemblies, merit badges and point systems, compared to – ummm, well – no merit badges or points systems.
At the end of our second circling of the park, the dog was done in, but they were still chatting away, debating in a friendly and exploratory manner, until that is, they reached an enormous, incredibly muddy puddle.
Both girls knew what to do. They removed their shoes and socks and waded into the dark, murky water that even the Labrador had turned his nose up at. It was cold and wet, but helped settled the matter at least in my daughter’s mind. ‘Do you know?’ asked her friend, ‘at my school you have to wear socks all day’. ‘Wow’ said Chloe, ‘that must be exhausting!’. ‘Yes’, came the reply, ‘Yes, it is.’
The matter was settled. Chloe is happy where she is and she won’t move for anyone, not if it means wearing socks all day.
