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Is your child school ready?

What really matters as a child develops
A teacher looks on as a young child concentrates on writing.
Department for Education.

In the coming weeks, those little critters will start to emerge, easily identified by their autumn plumage of coloured sweatshirts and oversized backpacks. Anxious parents and caregivers can be spotted, shepherding their young along paths and pavements, casting worried glances left and right at the pelican crossings. Listen carefully and you may hear the squeak of uncomfortable new shoes and juveniles complaining about the wearing of a coat, as adults of the species re-establish social bonds with cries of, “Back to school already, I can’t believe how fast it’s gone!”   

As they congregate upon the tarmac staging ground, some will be taking part in this ritual for the very first time. Neophytes who have maintained social bonds throughout the pre-school years might be seen to greet their fellows cordially, “Did you have a good summer? Can Flo make it to Izzy’s party?” Others will stand alone, scanning the playground for a half-remembered face from the bygone days of antenatal classes. That was only five years ago, but it feels like a millennium. The faces are changed; everyone looks more…tired. 

The world has been turned upside down in those past five years. It’s been said so often that it is almost trite, but nonetheless true: nothing prepares you for becoming a parent. In the UK, new parents increasingly raise their children without the immediate support of extended family, coupled with the tyrannous expectation that one will retain one’s employment rank and contribution to the labour market alongside this new and 24/7 full time job of looking after baby. The Key Performance Indicators of parenting are ambitious. Deliverables for the first five years include toilet training, instilling speech and language skills, establishing basic recognition of 26 alphabetical characters (including the child’s ability to recognise the alphabetical sequence that spells their own name) and ensuring the recognition of and (ideally) ability to correctly sequence numbers 1 to 20.  If your child can do all of this by the age of 5, whilst also learning not to punch, kick or bite other children, not to eat food off the ground, and not to stick rocks up their nose, then congratulations! Your child is school ready

It may comfort some readers to know that very few 5-year-olds manage to hit absolutely all of these milestones. As the education secretary, Bridget Phillipson, commented recently – parenting is too hard. She is working to establish a new iteration of Labour’s ‘Sure Start’ programme (rebranded as ‘Family Hubs’) to offer parents more support in the community. As part of her rationale she states, “When one in four children are leaving primary school without having reached a good level of reading, then something’s gone seriously wrong in those early years that has to go beyond the school gate.”  

Whilst I’m keen to see more support for new families – I’m intrigued by this particular rationale for it. Ability to read well by a certain age seems an unlikely metric by which to measure whether a child has had a positive experience of childhood; it appears indicative of what autism-researcher Anne McGuire calls “The normative time of childhood,” in which the success is measured against an imagined future of economically productive years. By this metric, if a child learns to read at a prodigiously young age this is taken as an indicator that they will enter the workforce with greater velocity than their peers, essentially that they will have “more future-yet-to-be-realized” than those around them. McGuire writes, “In a neoliberal regime where ‘time is money’, the child is figured as ‘time-rich’ and so represents a good investment opportunity indeed.”  

McGuire’s analysis is piercingly accurate of how we often talk about our children, despite knowing all too well that it represents a fallacy. There are multitudinous stories of adults who have gone on to make staggering contributions to human flourishing, despite being placed (literally or figuratively) under the dunce’s cap at school. But even without focusing on those who go on to excel, those who attract fame, fortune, or both, we don’t have to look far to find cause to re-evaluate what it means for a child to be school ready.  

My son’s year group recently finished their own primary school journey, and a quick glance through some of the leavers’ books reveals that children are very good at valuing each other for what is here in the present, without recourse to an imagined economic future. As children wrote goodbye messages for each other they said things like,

“Thank you for always having such good ideas for games to play.”

“You helped me on my first day when I got lost.”

“You’re a great house captain and you always help the teacher.”

No one was particularly keen to predict fame and fortune for the future of their friends, and there was an understandable indifference towards academic milestones. As a literary corpus, the leavers’ books were testament to the old adage that people will not remember you for what you say or do but will remember you for how you make them feel.  

One the subject of childhood, Jesus once said something that defies easy explanation. He was out, teaching in the open air, surrounded by crowds of adults including important religious leaders and wealthy individuals who wanted to ask complex and deep theological questions, but in the midst of it all there were parents bringing their children, elbowing their way to the front of the crowd to ask Jesus to pray for their little ones. When some of Jesus’ followers tried to usher the children away, Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” The precise meaning of this utterance has eluded thinkers and theologians for centuries – what exactly is it about childhood that Jesus was alluding to?  

I wonder if it is something about the capacity of children to live in the immediate, and therefore to value what really matters – justice, kindness and friendship. In primary school, yes it helps in some ways for children to arrive aged 5 with a certain command of the alphabet and the ability to finish the day wearing the same set of underwear that they arrived in. But perhaps what matters more is children arriving ready to enter the fray of friendships – being kind, being helpers, having the self-confidence to know that they have something to give to the learning community that they are joining, whatever their learning speed might be. Such things are gloriously untethered to economic potential or a future-yet-to-be-realized, but they are closely tethered to a child’s understanding of themselves as a valuable and important person. If Labour’s intention to offer new parents more help in the community goes some way towards communicating to our pre-school children that they have that have – and will always have – value, regardless of what they will or won’t attain to academically or economically, then it will help many more children reach the milestone of being school ready.  

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Character
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Daunted by dad-hood, encouraged by dad

Imminent parenthood pushes Nick Brewer to pause and consider what sort of Dad he needs to be.

Nick Brewer is a critically acclaimed rapper and recording artist. He is a patron of Anxiety UK, and runs Talk About It - helping young people explore creative writing. 

A dad hovers with open arms ready to catch a baby taking first steps
Peter Dlhy on Unsplash

I’m about to become a father for the first time.  

While there is excitement and joy as my wife and I prepare to start this new chapter of life, I’m not sure that I feel qualified to be a dad. As someone with an anxious disposition, I like to be as prepared as possible for any task ahead. However, just six weeks from the due date, I could quite easily do with another nine months to get ready for the new arrival.  

I’ve been reading books about parenting, listening to podcasts, attending classes with my wife, all to try and equip myself with the necessary skills. I’ve also tried to do as much DIY as my limited skillset allows me, to make the house ‘baby ready’.  

Yet, I can’t get away from this nagging feeling that I might not have what it takes to be a good dad. Watching my wife flourish over these last few months, building a strong connection with the baby and preparing for motherhood, is quite astounding. Honestly, I can’t say I have that same feeling of connection with the baby. 

What do I say to a bump? I’m rarely at a loss for words in life, but I was stumped. 

This lack of connection became clearest to me when my wife first suggested that I speak to the bump, so that the baby could get to know my voice. As I hesitantly stooped down and got in position to talk, my mind went completely blank. What do I say to a bump? I’m rarely at a loss for words in life, but I was stumped.  An awkward ‘hello’ and ‘how are you?’ wasn’t cutting it.  

Suddenly, I had an idea to sing a song. My song of choice was ‘All My Loving’ by The Beatles. This isn’t a song that I’ve listened to in at least ten years, and my wife had never even heard it. So, why did this song come to mind at that moment? Some sort of distant memory had crept in, of my own father singing this to me as a child, most nights before I went to sleep. As this memory came back to me, I started to think, what can I learn about the role of a father from the example set by my own father? 

Can I reach the incredibly high bar that my dad has set for parenting? I’m not so sure, but I’ve got no excuse not to, as I’ve had a near perfect example in him. 

My dad is a very different character to me. While I often overthink and worry about everything, my dad just seems to have an ability to get on with life, regardless of what he might be going through. He’s not the most outwardly emotional man. It would be rare for him to answer the question ‘how are you?’ with anything other than ‘fine’.  

He’s much more of a ‘man’s man’ than me; one of those guys that just seems generally good at most handy things. He’s the type of guy that you would want to help install laminate flooring or rewire a lamp. He’s reliable, having been with the same employer for nearly 40 years, and he gives great financial advice. He is not hypermasculine in any way, but he’s solid. Dependable. He would do anything to help anyone, no matter what it may cost him.  

He has a lot of qualities that a good father needs, and as his son I’ve reaped many rewards from having a dad like this. I’ve grown up feeling safe and reassured. And while I’ve picked up some of my dad’s traits, I’m not sure how similar we are. I’m a lot more emotionally wired than he is. I worry about things that I imagine have never crossed his mind. I’ve spent a lot of time chasing creative pursuits and sought work opportunities that I believed would fulfil me. I’ve spent countless hours trying to figure out my ‘purpose’. I’m extremely unskilled when it comes to DIY. I worry that I’m just a lot more selfish than he is. Can I reach the incredibly high bar that my dad has set for parenting? I’m not so sure, but I’ve got no excuse not to, as I’ve had a near perfect example in him. 

While I could go on about my dad’s various qualities, when I think of the ways in which he has impacted me most, one of the most important things he did was create a safe environment for me to grow up and develop in.  

Through his willingness to patiently let me become myself, with the parental guidance that was required of him of course, he demonstrated love. 

From a young age, I just had this feeling that I could express anything to my dad. Over the years I’ve asked countless questions, expressed numerous fears, and explored several different interests with him. Looking back as an adult, I imagine that I’ve frustrated my dad on several occasions; pondering and worrying about things that he knew I didn’t need to. But he didn’t shut me down, he created space for me to express those things.  

There’s a piece of advice from James, one of the leaders of the early Christians, way back 1,900 years ago. He encouraged his reader to be ‘quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to get angry’. That’s what my dad exhibited to me. He didn’t bat away my worrisome thoughts or ignore my silly questions. He didn’t show frustration, although I’m sure at times he might’ve wanted to. The way that he interacted with me communicated that I was safe and loved. I’m sure he didn’t get everything right, and I imagine if I asked him, he would be able to detail all the things he did wrong. But through his willingness to patiently let me become myself, with the parental guidance that was required of him of course, he demonstrated love.  

For me, the love my father showed me is a picture of God’s love for his children. As I spend these last few weeks to prepare in whatever way I can to become a dad, I rest assured that, even though I am guaranteed to get things wrong, I will have ample opportunity to love my child. St Paul described love as, among other things, patient, kind, the opposite of self-seeking, and always protective.  

As I embark on a journey where I will try and fail and try again to be a good father, I know that I don’t need to be perfect, I just need to show love in tangible ways. My favourite line of ‘All My Loving’ by The Beatles is: 

‘All my loving, I will send to you.’  

I can’t wait to get the opportunity to do that with my unborn child.