SATs

SATs.

It's one little word (OK it's an acronym - standardised assessment tasks). And yet it can strike fear into lots people.

The young. Especially UK children in Key Stage 1 (7 ish) & Key Stage 2 (11 ish).

And adults. Teachers. Head teachers. TA's. And parents.

<Sighs>

Team Parent (yay!)

Have the questionable good fortune or having both Boy10 and Miss7 sitting there SATs pretty much at the same.

Different schools and all that. Different Key stages blah blah.

But both around the same time.

(OK Vegeta you've made your point...

<Is charging power levels>

Elegant as it is, now hear my rebuttal...

Kame-HAME-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

<Orders new black board>)

There's very little stress around Miss7's.

They're call them quizzes not exams/tests. No one says the S word around them. They were told they are VIPs so that if they need a wee an adults comes with them, like celebrities.

Sweet huh.

Then they have a big play afterwards and do something special with the children.

Good for them. Good for the school. Good for the teachers.

That makes me glad. It feels a shame to be testing seven year old's so young in their academic careers.

But if they must, they must...

Come on! Off the computer!

Boy10: 'Two minutes more?'

No, now!

Boy10: 'But I need to do this...'

Not need, you mean want. You want to do something in the game.

Whereas I am telling you not to, and asking you nicely to ... OH NO! GET THAT GUY! YEAH HIM!

SHOOT SHOOT! NO! UP-UP!!! MOVE OVER!

<We spend some lovely father son time together... killing stuff>

I'm not entirely sure Miss7 knows.

She is sitting SATs at all. She may. But it's not worth the conversation to find out if she is.

I don't remember my SATs. BigBrother#2 says that is because I never sat them. Which is probably right.

It was an awful long time ago. Paleolithic at least.

Yet I do remember some variety of government run tests that we all sat. In class. In silence. When I was about seven.

But who cares. It's in the past. It doesn't matter!

<Hits you over the head with a staff>

And at the time I do remember not caring whatsoever, as they said we would never see the results.

So why worry?

However for Boy10.

It's a totally different game. It's the difference between touch rugby at school, and over twenty one's local drunken rugby.

One is kind and caring and respectful about each player on the pitch, and just wants the best for all in involved.

The other... well we all expect injuries.

And Boy10 may well be one of those that gets mullered to the floor and has studded boots applied to his face in the name of national testing.

Quite a picture I'm painting I know...

Are you done yet? <Is sat as a still life (fully clothed) model, with cuppa>

Miss7: 'Nearly' <Is painting>

It's been ages... I've a numb bum... <Sips on tea>

Miss7: 'DON'T MOVE!'

<Sips and gives Miss7 a look>

Miss7: 'Just be cool... .I am nearly finished...' <Huge enthusiastic brush strokes going on>

Miss7: '... nearly...' <Paint spraying everywhere>

Miss7: 'And done!'

Really? <Goes to get up, falls of chair> Ow.

<Gets up> Let's have a look then?

Miss7: 'TADA!' <Reveals her masterpiece>

Oh... You've painted a rainbow... A brilliant rainbow! It's brilliant!

Miss7: <Is proud>

...

One question though...

How long after you asked me to pose for you, did you give up on that and just paint a rainbow?

Miss7: 'Almost instantly'

I see...

<Limps off grumbling>

It's complex.

Why I think this may muller Boy10. It's to do with him as a person, how he reacts to things. What his personal values are. And his particular skills.

There's three key parts to his SATs: reading; Grammar, Punctuation and Spelling; and Mathematics.

And one of those he is rocking at. There is no worries at all.

The other two... er... well there's a difference.

And in many ways that's fine.

Except.

For Boy10 that is not fine. He likes being good at stuff. It's important to him.

I blame myself. That's very much how I am wired. It has benefits and pitfalls. Like most things.

So for Boy10, all of a sudden, he's being tested and the results are not expected. By him. By Team Parent (yay!) and his teachers.

And whilst all us adults think about what to do. What he could practice, how to move him forward.

Boy10's confidence in his skills is taking a knocking.

Quite a wallop actually.

Which isn't good.

I find it pretty frustrating.

Because I think these tests and results count for naff all to do with Boy10.

Whatever results he gets will be fed back to the teachers, the heads, the guv. And they will record the values and check the school is working as expected. Which all sounds quite reasonable.

Except that at some point Boy10 will given the results.

Or we'll be given the results and can decide for him. Which isn't much solution either. Hiding them sends the same negative message.

Does he really need to know?

In September.

When Boy10 starts secondary school. He will sit more tests. This time set by the school to find where he is in his learning. So the new school can put him into the right skills groups. Fair enough.

Apparently they will ignore the SATs results for everything (except the maths results which they will use).

So why test them twice? Tests are not fun.

<Looks at you quizzically>

I know.

There's good reasons why. Well I hope there are. I'm sure there are... <Isn’t all that sure>

But right now, for Team Parent (yay!), it's not quite adding up.

I'm sure they know what they are doing. I know for sure the teachers have his best interests in mind.

And weirdly knocks like this can sometimes make you stronger, and chase off demons.

So it may be a blessing in disguise.

But right now we've a Boy10 with anxiety.

And that's not good.

(Back foul demon BACK!

<Throws holly water>

It’s not working… OH NO! He's smiling!!!

RUUUUUUUUN!!!!!)

Anyhoo...

Team Parent (yay!) have a plan.

We discussed. We decided. And made a plan of how best to support him.

We didn't totally agree on this. Which is fine. Mixed opinions can be best sometimes.

But we're going with loving support and huge encouragement. Which is hard to argue against as an approach.

Who doesn't want that?

I reckon we use the Convincing Hammer?

Mrs. Amazing: 'No. Love and support'

Coercion Pliers?

Mrs. Amazing: 'No! Love etc...'

Behaviour Altering Rake?

Mrs. Amazing: <Sighs> 'I'm going to bed, come up when you're done with the great jokes...'

Mind Manipulating Mallet? <Calls after Mrs. Amazing>

Screwdriver of Submission?

[Hours pass]

... er... Hole Punch of Practical Persuasion...

Knowing the plan is loving support.

I've done my best to talk to him about the SATs in a calm and supportive manner.

Never saying they matter for nothing, even if I think that, as that doesn't help. Boy10 still has to sit them.

I've done my best to remove failure as a result. Results are just results, you cannot fail.

We just want him to do his best.

(Baring in mind his best includes being prepared and ready for the tests, so he's had extra practice at home with Mrs. Amazing).

The other morning.

I asked him if his tests started today. He said yes.

Knowing it was my moment to lay the support, and love, on thick. I cooked him a warrior's breakfast: Bacon sarnie.

And generally pampered him. Laughed at his jokes, listened to endless computer game anecdotes. Basically flirted with him. Which is a weird thought.

And then just as he was about to leave for school I took my chance and went for the supportive pep talk.

I basically hugged / picked him up and told him I was proud of him. Talked him up a lot.

And did my utter best to be supportive of the SATs, for him.

A tough task for me in the morning.

Normally you just get grunts, or song.

Then Mrs. Amazing walked into the kitchen.

And pointed out the SATs didn't start for another week.

...

<Gives Boy10 a look>

Upon hearing this new information.

I rugby tackled Boy10 to the floor and squeezed a fair bit of air out of him.

There was much giggling from all.

Mrs. Amazing commented that the tackle would a better send off for his first day of SATs.

As it was tension breaking, fun, and close physical contact from his Dad.

Especially when you compared the positive benefits of a tackle, against my pep talk.

I concluded Mrs. Amazing had a point.

<Rubs hands ready to splat Boy10 properly next week>

In tribute for Boy10 who's just about to delve into the world of SATs.

I gave you a homeless man miming Queen and David Bowie's Under Pressure with not one, but two Kermit frogs. Yes I know, what a cliché tribute.

To me the lyrics seem apt and seem to speak to me directly, 'Mm ba ba de' and 'Um bum ba de'. <Pauses to let them sink in>

Wise words I think you'll agree.

And everyone needs to see this man with Kermit puppets being awesome.

You'll be fine Boy10.

<Whispers we believe in you>

Mrs. Amazing: 'Why're you whispering?'

For drama... <Does Jazz hands>

X

Take it away you puppeteering genius...

I Think You Are Strong...

I read a few blogs that talk about how to empower daughters. (A Mighty Girl is my fav). 

I read them because I don't ever want Miss4 to feel de-powered or weak.

And Miss4’s my daughter. So I read them

(Like this site on FB and get a daily Mighty Girl story to read...

Better than the normal male centric media bile... )

I hope Miss4 is going to feel strong in her life.

I want her to feel as strong as I do in this world. Which is definitely possible, but something tells me it’s not going to be easy, and it will take a lot of effort and new thinking from me, and of course Team Parents (yay!).

Obviously Mrs. Amazing needs to do her part.

And of course as strong empowered role models go, I can think of no better. I know she will.

But how her main male role model, me, interacts with Miss4 is going to set up her expectations and her empowerment levels on the bloke front. Basically everything I do she will be watching and taking notes. Shiiiiit

How I treat her, Mrs. Amazing, Boy8, BabyBoy1 and weirdly myself. All is being watched and recorded. Sure I know that’s the same for Boy8 and BabyBoy1.

But I feel for Miss4 it’s even more important.

Miss4: ‘Dad? Do all men like Frozen as much as you do?’

Er… <Straightens out purple cape so it flies right>

Yeah sure… Probably… Can we just start?

‘Coz my friend said her Dad doesn't even know the words to Let It Go’?

Well that just dumb

Maybe he was pretending

Right, less talk… You ready?

‘Yep!’ <Takes centre stage, arms aloft>

Go

<Both sing and run> ‘A storm blows…’

I hope Miss turns out strong.

And empowered and not scared of men in her life. Real life Metaphorically speaking I would much rather be sat there, tea in hand, cheering Miss4 on as she throws a rubbish man out of her life herself. Than I do it for her. I’ll would happily do it of course, and enjoy it.

But it would be better if she could do it herself. I'm a bit lazy.

Miss4: ‘What the hell is this?’

Becoming Ex-BoyF: ‘Look. I'm sorry… I wasn't thinking’

‘Damn right you weren't’

‘Did you think I wouldn't find out?’

<Stirs tea, grinning>

‘A bloody Bieber track on your phone?’

<Beats Now Ex-BoyF over the head with phone>

<And pushes him out of the house>

'Don't come back!'

<Wipes proud tear from eye>

OK fine.

I might worrying about stuff that will not happen for a very long time, I hope. But I like to be prepared, and if Miss4 is going to be able to handle her own trash, I need to start her down that path now.

I think.

And this morning I think I did something to help her down that road.

Path. Road. Whatever, I’ll chop and change as we go on, it’ll maybe be a path sometimes, a road, a journey. Just go with it. It’ll be cool, don’t worry

Be cool.

So I think I helped her take her first step towards her destiny (be cool).

I attacked her with two wooden swords, and then let her beat the crap out of me

I think what I did might have made a huge difference to Miss4.

I showed her how to get up to chocolate cupboard, using a broom

I showed her to annoy Boy8 in five seconds

Something I am proud of myself for doing.

Something I want to share with you, because I think I did good.

I told Miss4 I thought she was strong.

Which doesn't sound like much I know.

I know, because I told Mrs. Amazing and she cared as much as when I managed eat all the chocolate, cakes, and pies in house within a day. (I was helping with her diet).

She cared not.

But think it through with me.

I'm Miss4’s Dad. I have proof, she loves Dangermouse. Miss4’s big strong Dad (me).

Yes really me. Big strong. She’s tiny.

Even I can be pretty impressive to a four year old girl.

I lift the heavy stuff in the house. I go out in stupid no matter the weather. I build, I smash, I shout the loudest, dance the hardest, eat the heartiest, and get drunk the drunkerest.

There is strength in this Dad carefully hidden under padding.

So to Miss4, I believe, I am her strength role model.

Mind blowing I know. <Bang> <Ow> <Cries>

And frankly that’s what I think Dad’s are meant to be.

Strong.

AND… kind, sweet, soft, cuddly, funny, emotional, loads of other stuff that you can’t brag to your mates about, loads, and paradoxically not strong at the same time (WTF!). I think the new modern Dad skills need to be applied like a second coat to the original Dad design.

Dad v2 if you like.

Anyway, back to guiding Miss4 on her travels across the seas of life (be cool).

I’ll explain myself better with a very real and not made up at all, example…

(Made up).

Han Frickin' Solo Sir. Ford: So... You had something to show me?

Mr.SoloWouldItBeOkIfMaybeOneDay,IfYouDon'tMindTooMuch,IfItWouldBePossible,ForYouToMaybe… <breathes> ... ToLookOverMyStory,IfYouGetTheChance,PleaseSir <Bows>

<Bows again>

Sir Ford: Sure kid

<Stumbles slightly as nearly faints>

Sir Ford: <Reads first chapter> That's great kid! but don't get cocky

<Flashes dreamboat smile>

<Actually faints and falls embarrassingly onto Sir. Ford>

<Is then pounced on by body guards>

#BestMomentEver

(You 'd like to meet Mrs. Amazing? No... Just no...)

See, nothing beats a good example.

I bet that's all clear now. Job done.

<Dusts off hands>

What? You've no idea what I meant? What has my man crush on Harrison Ford got to do with empowering Miss4? I am only human.

My point was this.

If someone you look up-to, such as Sir. Ford, for a particular trait (Awesomeness), says you are good at something. Well those are kind of comments that can change you. They can resonate within you with far greater power than if they came from say… someone… from any of OneDirection talking about lyrical quality. You know, someone in which you have absolutely no respect for. At all. 
<Grins>

1D Munchkin: ‘I think your song is great, you're voice is nice, I love the lyrics, very clever’

Get. Out. Of. My. House.

<Draws and cocks Nerf guns>

Now...

<Boy8, Miss4, BabyBoy1 appear fully armed as well>

Release the hounds!

<Cat walks by>

So... 

Me and Miss4 were running late for school and trying to get out of the door.

Not that rare an occurrence to be honest. I was talking as always.

I was nicely explaining why she needed to wear a cardigan, a fleece and a big water proof coat over the top.

Don't be a twonk it's bloody cold outside

You have no padding on you

You have to wear a vest, t-shirt, cardy, fleece, hat, gloves, and a coat and that’s for starters...

'I can hardly move!' <Waddles crossly about in star pose>

Hmmm... Good point....

<Thinks>

We can probably squeeze another scarf on then...

The thing is when Miss4 was two, and again <Sighs>, at three, she spent time in hospital with crackles (snot fluid) on her lungs.

Basically she had a cough which went bad. She didn't cough strong enough to clear the gunk out of her little lungs, so it built up. The doctors and nurses (Miss4's saint like saviours and angels, #NHSLove) called them crackles. It is something she will grow out of, has grown out of, thank steak pie. But she needed to be on oxygen in the hospital for a few days. It sucked big time. She is now fine.

And to make sure it never EVER happens again, I wrap her up extremely warm before she leaves the house. ALWAYS!

<Shakes fist>

Which is why Miss4 has to wear so much winter clothes.

It also why the conversation between us, as we were trying to get out of the door, was about how she needed to wear so many tops and stuff, and about how she had got crackles on her lungs. I wasn't really thinking about what I was saying, or where I was going with the conversation. Which is always very dangerous.

Let rhyme! Start with brother clucking runt...

I just wanted her to dress warm.

It wasn't going well.

Miss4 was a bit cross. So my entire goal in talking was to calm the grumpy Miss4 down, and one good way to do that, is just to talk stuff at her...

... and you ended up in hospital...

<Nods, instead of putting on shoes>

... because your little lungs were not strong enough ...

<Nods, instead of putting on coat>

... you got crackles, because your cough was so weak...

<Nods, instead of putting on scarf>

'yeah I'm weak coz I'm so little'

...

<Stops self>

<Stops and brings attention fully onto Miss4, her words echoing in my head>

...

<FINALLY Realises the huge mistake he is making>

No!

<Grabs Miss4 by both shoulders to looks her right in the eye>

NO darling!

You used to be little, but you're big now...

<Has no clear plan> <Is winging it> <Has adopted superman prose for emphasis>

... You've gotten tough...

<Silently curses dodgy grammar>

Err... <Winging it wings falling apart> … Er…

But you're bigger now, you're a tough cookie…

<Brainzilla saves the day and throws up the perfect thing to say>

I think YOU ARE STRONG!

And that was it.

I didn't plan that, I doubt I could do that again either. That was mainly dumb luck.

But telling Miss4 that she was strong, that I thought she was strong, I think had a big effect on her. Well... I say big, in fact it was tiny, it would have been easy to miss it to be honest.

But I saw it.

Her eyes flashed.

Yep. Her eyes. Flashed.

Have you ever watched someone's eyes when they see something amazing, or exciting, or brilliant? When something grabs their insides and pulls them tight. Like when you jump off something high. Like when your first love kisses you. Like when Han Solo passes the light sabre to Ray and says 'You're going to need this'. <Melts>

Like when you lift the biscuit tray up, and underneath there's another full tray.

When stuff like that happens, my eyes, Miss4's eyes and everyone else's eyes, rapidly dilate and expand as though you are pulling that moment into your head through your eyes.

Miss4 did that when I told her she was strong.

BOOM 'king POW!

And that’s how, I feel, I helped guide Miss4 on her quest (and... needing to be cool done) to being strong and empowered..

And more importantly, I meant it.

(How creeped out would be seeing this in your home... That hair!)

Epilogue:

[Mrs. Amazing finds me laying on the sofa at 9:30am]

'Aren't you going to work today'?

I don't have to, my work for today is done <Waves hand dismissively>

'What? Why?'

Did you not hear the Miss4 strong story? <Rhetoric smugness>

'Yeah... I'm just not sure work will agree?'

I think we both know <Pauses> that they will <Smiles and nods>

<Lays down to sleep as work done for the today>

'You know I've got friends coming over?'

Zzz

'You can't sleep there, I'm going to hoover'

Zzz
<Gets hoovered>