And That’s Another School Year

Last week. Last few days of Year 6 and Year 9. 

Our daughter’s in Paris right now, an eagerly anticipated school trip, and a wonderful end to Year 9 for her. 

Our son’s starting his final week at primary school, leavers hoodie on, leavers disco in a few days time and then that leavers assembly on Friday, designed to make every parent cry! 

It’s been quite the year.

Our girl has had great school reports throughout the year, and is about to embark on her GCSEs with predicted grades all at 7s,8s and 9s.

Her school report talked about a well motivated, organised, conscientious student who contributes and works well with her classmates.  

Our boy has been in SATs world for much of the year and we had his results last week – he absolutely smashed them all. We’d told him they didn’t matter at all, of course, but he still worked hard and got brilliant scores.

His school report spoke of a kind, patient, hard working, well mannered mature child, consistently delivering high quality work across all areas. 

Our kids have worked hard, they’ve been helpful, respectful and friendly, and their academic standards are high. 

Honestly, I’d be proud of this any time, any year, who wouldn’t be? But this year it does hit different.

At the start of the school year, I was right in the middle of my radiotherapy sessions. They started at the end of the summer holidays and ran right through into those first few days of term. 

This year my kids have had a different reality. This year they could have used stuff going on at home as a reason to not work as hard, to act out, to do things out of character for them. 

We’ve spoiled them more this year, I know we have, because we could, because I wanted to. They’ve had what they wanted, they’ve been to sporting events, concerts, the Eras tour, and we have California next month. 

I wanted to do all I could to keep their world’s spinning, to ensure that my reality was impacting as little as it possibly could on them. 

They knew what was happening, they knew about my diagnosis, my treatment, my results as they came in, my ongoing medication and checks. 

But they didn’t need to know more than that. The weight of the diagnosis, the changes it brings, the mental and physical impact. And I think, and I hope, that absolutely smashing this year at school shows that we got it right. 

I am super proud of them, not just because they do so well at school. They are growing up into who they are meant to be, they’re happy and good little people, and they are people I love spending time with. Roll on the summer break. 

 

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