The Christmas Play

 Stage one (choosing play and casting. Two weeks until performance)

Key stage two teachers sit around staff room table and choose all-singing, all-dancing Christmas performance. Play chosen has vague reference to Nativity, in as much as the setting is the stable. Main characters are the animals that live there, walk on parts go to Mary and Joseph and Baby Jesus. Main cast list:

A cow: Played by sassy Year Six girl (sure to remember lines and can dance)

A chicken: Played by sassy Year Six girl (sure to forget lines but can dance)

A sheep: Played by charismatic Year Six boy (sure to remember lines, talks too fast)

Two angels: Played by two rather cool Year Six boys. Re-casted at last minute as one angel is predictably suspended at end of term. Stand by angel proves to be brilliant.

Mary: Year Six girl. (will fluff lines due to hysterical reaction to being on stage, about as far from sweet natured angelic girl described in bible as possible)

Joseph: Played by last remaining boy in Year Six who can string a coherent sentence together and put right foot in front of left.

Jesus: Played by doll borrowed from Early Years Unit. (a dead cert for a good performance)

Wise Men: Played by all female cast of Year Four and Fives. (Asian, have nice oriental clothes to bring from home, saves on costume department)

A Camel: Boy who has own camel costume from last year.

Various other animals, shepherds and sheep: Children from all other years who will be sure to turn up on the night.

Chorus: Everyone else.

Stage Two: Learning the Songs.

Several singing assemblies carried out over a week where teacher with most musical talent is assigned task of getting the whole of Key Stage Two to learn the groovy and up-to-date musical numbers which pepper the play. Frustrating for all involved, but after three days the kids are all singing them in the playground very well indeed. Collective sigh of relief.

Stage Three: Learning lines and starting to act.

Rehearsals begin. Groups of children taken to hall by two teachers who start putting the whole thing together. Rest of children taken to classroom and have songs hammered into them by the talented teacher and another one with singing voice of a bullfrog in labour. Another teacher drafted in to choreograph dance routines. Children taught how to pelvic-thrust through the big numbers. Male teacher disgusted. Agnostic teacher starts to feel uncomfortable that the play is borderline blasphemous. Play starts coming together quite well by second day of second week, all teachers begin to sweat as Camel reveals that he’s being taken away on holiday early and will miss performance.

Stage Four: Final days of Rehearsal

Costumes suddenly produced by two veteran classroom assistants who have somehow produced an array of spectacular costumes and props, teachers very pleased indeed. Disaster as teacher remembers that Shepherd One is not allowed to perform in Christmas performances as parents have fundamentalist Islamic leanings and won’t even let their children make, or receive Christmas cards. Ecstatic Shepherd hands tea towel headgear to thrilled child promoted from Chorus and spends next two days in the computer room. Two other Muslim boys claim similar belief structure to escape. One is successful, the other isn’t. Fuming male teacher points out that a quarter of the main cast is Muslim whose parents are overjoyed to have their children in the play. Male teacher told to shut up and get off his soapbox. Soapbox grudgingly vacated. Angel one suspended for Assault and Battery. Year Four boy thrust into role. Girl playing Chicken finally realises her character is a chicken.

Stage Five: Key Stage Two perform dress rehearsal for Key Stage One.

Performance goes like clockwork. RSC would be proud. All the jokes go over the head of younger children but KS2 teachers all breathe sigh of relief. Children pleased with themselves, and justifiably so.

The Performance. (starts at 19.00 hrs sharp)

18:00: Children to arrive and change in preparation for performance.

18.30: Mary missing, phone calls made to parents.

18.35: Cast of Christmas performance reaching hysteria brought on by nervous excitement and a quart of blue fizzy drinks drunk at home apiece.

18.36: Teachers frantically trying to find a girl who knows Mary’s lines.

18.38: Substitute Mary found. She’s over the moon.

18.40: Hall starts to fill with parents and family members. Two families strategically placed as far apart as possible to avoid violent clash mid performance. Front two rows filled by excited Muslim and Hindu parents wearing festive clothing with tinsel accessories.

18.43: Mary arrives. Substitute Mary devastated.

18.46: Teacher loses it with majority of cast who are bouncing off the walls. Cast now sitting in silence in classrooms under un-festive glare of said teacher.

18.50: Teachers accept the grim reality that over half the chorus will not turn up because their parents aren’t happy about their lack of acting parts. Remaining chorus given outrageously optimistic pep-talk to get them to sing as loudly as possible. Teacher reminds children not to watch the action on stage but to face the audience. This is a futile gesture which is traditional at this stage.

18.55: Children told to walk quietly down to the hall. Children go to hall screaming like Genghis Kahn’s hordes.

19.00: Teachers and Classroom Assistants placed strategically around hall. One behind the stage to ensure children do not poke their heads up or attack each other, one at the back to wave arms frantically and dance around like a lunatic so the children can follow. Further teachers are dispersed amongst the Chorus to boost volume, cue lines and occasionally haul errant children over to sit next to them when they start to misbehave. (discretely of course).

19.01: Head Teacher gives welcoming speech, reminding parents that their children have worked very hard, to switch off their mobile phones and remove any infants during the performance if they start to scream or run amok.

19.03: Performance starts with fantastic opening dance and song.

19.05: Man in audience answers mobile phone and starts to talk.

19.06: Play progresses smoothly.

19.07: Two year old in audience runs amok. Child intercepted by male teacher and restrained for rest of performance. Teacher realises child has very soiled nappy. Hears comment from be-tattooed ladies that he’s really good with small children. Notices flat-faced woman looking at him with bovine lust. Tries to ignore her.

19.10: Play still going really well.

19.15: A dancing animal (stage school attendee) so busy waving to mother that she takes a crunching nose-dive off the back of the stage.

19.26: Chorus have given up singing and are enjoying (admittedly very good) performance on stage by peers.

19.28: Terrifying family group from vibrant travelling community realise their child has no further part to play so start conversing loudly. Parents in vicinity decide to let it go. Wisely.

19.35: Performance finishes with fantastic musical number to thunderous applause. Everyone present agrees it has been the smoothest and most successful performance to date.

19.38: Head Teacher (flushed with pride) thanks Children, staff and parents. Proposes all assembled finish the evening off with a rousing rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”. Song held together by Muslim and Hindu parents who know all the words, native Brits join in for chorus.

20.30: Final parents pushed out the door and teachers escape to home and stiff drinks with indecent haste.

Don’t know much words.

 Parents’ Evenings are always a bit of a nervous moment. Probably not helped by the fact that I wasn’t remotely academic when I was at school and so often feel like an utter fraud, waiting to be unmasked by an observant mum.

I’ve never had a bad Parents’ Evening though, we’ve all heard the horror stories of drunk and aggressive parents who try (and sometimes succeed) to kick the shit out of a terrified teacher for perceived wrongs against their offspring. Mostly parents seem to pleased to hear that their children are cruising along at expected levels, don’t get in trouble and aren’t nasty little bullies or falling in with a dubious crowd. Sometimes you have to break these little nuggets of bad news to the folks and on the whole it’s met with a sigh and a solid commitment to sort it all out. What I’m saying is, most parents are brilliant and help the evening go smoothly for everyone, and genuinely care about their child’s progress.

Some aren’t like that. Here are some of the negative stereotypes:

  • a) Parents who honestly believe that the little witch they’ve raised is incapable of being the backstabbing little bully she is.
  • b) The parent who think their child is a genius. It’s a good thing to have faith and believe in your child, I wish all parents did that. However you do struggle to diplomatically imply that not only is their child not a genius, but actually is a bit, well, thick. In fact, they’re achieving at the same level as a child two years younger. (this, naturally, is the teacher’s fault for not ‘leaning them’ properly)
  • c) The parent who constantly claims that their child is the victim of constant bullying, when in fact their child has no social skills, plays too rough, has the grace of a pig or is spiteful. The child isn’t bullied at all, it’s just that not many children like them or want to play with them. For pretty fair reasons.
  • d) Parents who do not understand that they have some responsibility for their child’s education. We have them for a few hours a day, for 39 weeks of the year. It’s amazing how much you learn during your childhood which doesn’t come from school. Here’s an example of parent type D…

I had a boy, going on nine years old, who was constantly achieving at the bottom end of ‘average’ in all subjects. That’s fine, some us are just average academically. When I was his age I was way below average. Anyway, I have ten minutes with his mum and dad. Mum’s a serial complainer. Every teacher who has taught her child has had her constant criticism over the years. Dad sits in silence, looking progressively more embarrassed as his wife becomes more thin lipped and flustered.

Mum: “You’re not giving him new reading books to bring home.”

Mr.C: “Well, he knows that when he finishes one reading book he’s to go and choose another from the collection of book boxes over there, they’re arranged by reading level.”

Mum: “But he don’t like reading, you have to make him take a new one.”

Mr.C: “It’s not that easy Mrs…., I don’t have time to go through twenty-odd book bags every day to check, the children do know it’s their responsibility. He’s in Year 4.”

Mum: (becoming more flustered) “Well if you don’t make him he ain’t gonna read at home is he?!”

Mr.C: “To be honest, once he’s at home there’s not much I can do, how often do you manage to read with him?”

Mum: “I don’t.”

Mr.C: “Oh. Why not?”

Mum: “He doesn’t like it and I don’t want the hassle.”

Mr.C: (getting annoyed). “To be fair Mrs…, if he won’t read for you at home when you’re standing over him he’s not going to read for me just because I told him to before he went home. Is he?”

Mum: “Well. I suppose. You don’t give him enough homework either!”

Mr.C: “I think reading and learning spellings is more of a priority for him at the moment.”

Mum: “Well it’s pathetic….he don’t even know much words!”

Mr.C: (stunned silence)

Dad: (finally having enough) “For god’s sake babe, he’s only eight!”

Don’t know much words. Don’t know much fucking words…no love, he doesn’t have a very good vocabulary. And I think I know why. This is a woman who doesn’t know the word ‘vocabulary’, will not read with her children at home and yet wants to know why her son is not top of the class. Jesus fucking wept.

I could hear mum and dad arguing down the hall, she was giving him a ton of shit. Good old dad eh.

I’ll be back next week, I have to go to the country. Shit.