This morning:
“Tomorrow you will never see me again if I get a bad result” says the teen.
I say nothing.
“I mean it”.
Later:
“What kind of results are you expecting?” she queries. I tread carefully, knowing the wrong answer could spark florid accusations of ‘insensitivity’.
“Erm, passes?”
Even later:
“If I fail them all will you be disappointed?”
“Of course not” I lie.
Tonight, by the Aga:
“I’ve got to decide what to wear tomorrow” The teen declares with an air of great import.
I laugh.
“Don’t laugh, everybody is discussing it. The main thing is, not to do what Sarah did last year and come fully made up, in heels, really dressed up.”
“Why does anyone get dressed up?”
“You haven’t seen anybody for weeks, since the end of term.” She rolls her eyes. The eye equivalent of ‘Der’. The teen is a specialist at eye work.
She continues: “Anyway five minutes later Sarah got really bad results for her GCSE’s and was crying her eyes out. All her make up ran down her cheeks. I don’t want to make that same mistake, look wise.”
“Hmm. So you are aiming for a sober but glamorous look ideally?”
“Yes. Black jeans I think. A tailored jacket. NOT heels.”She draws breath, fiddles with her hair, looks serious.“Glasses perhaps?”
I join in: “Quite preppy? A bit, I’ve already got into university?”
“Yes” she says thoughtfully.
“Will you be upset if I don’t get all As?” she asks again, after a pause.
“School doesn’t matter” I say. “Everybody knows you are clever. You did my accounts last year. You learnt Excel at 16”.
“Tomorrow you will never see me again if I get a bad result” says the teen.
I say nothing.
“I mean it”.
Later:
“What kind of results are you expecting?” she queries. I tread carefully, knowing the wrong answer could spark florid accusations of ‘insensitivity’.
“Erm, passes?”
Even later:
“If I fail them all will you be disappointed?”
“Of course not” I lie.
Tonight, by the Aga:
“I’ve got to decide what to wear tomorrow” The teen declares with an air of great import.
I laugh.
“Don’t laugh, everybody is discussing it. The main thing is, not to do what Sarah did last year and come fully made up, in heels, really dressed up.”
“Why does anyone get dressed up?”
“You haven’t seen anybody for weeks, since the end of term.” She rolls her eyes. The eye equivalent of ‘Der’. The teen is a specialist at eye work.
She continues: “Anyway five minutes later Sarah got really bad results for her GCSE’s and was crying her eyes out. All her make up ran down her cheeks. I don’t want to make that same mistake, look wise.”
“Hmm. So you are aiming for a sober but glamorous look ideally?”
“Yes. Black jeans I think. A tailored jacket. NOT heels.”She draws breath, fiddles with her hair, looks serious.“Glasses perhaps?”
I join in: “Quite preppy? A bit, I’ve already got into university?”
“Yes” she says thoughtfully.
“Will you be upset if I don’t get all As?” she asks again, after a pause.
“School doesn’t matter” I say. “Everybody knows you are clever. You did my accounts last year. You learnt Excel at 16”.
Update: She got 4 A’s and a B.
Hi, MsMarmitelover, that was a very sweet post about your teen. You showed a lot of mommy wisdom in the way you dealt with her, keeping silent when she really did not want a reply to her questions.
Teens have such a way of testing you, and any imagined hint of criticism would have set her off. I'm afraid I fell for it when my two girls were teens.
Thank God, they turned out well, like I presume your daughter did. You must be so proud of her. And Kudos to yourself.
Joanna Moran.