The curse of comparison - A short tale of parents and school reports.

It is the time of year in England when parents are presented with end of year school reports and, for some, the dreaded Statutory Assessment Tests (SATs) results. I have found it is also when the curse of comparison is suddenly activated.

“What is it about getting things written down that suddenly changes how you feel about things?”

The mood of the school yard at pickup was visibly different. There was initially less conversation, and definitely more reading, as parents hurriedly dragged paperwork from the envelopes. Skim reading was completed before they had reached their car. I’m not judging. I was the same, only I hadn’t even left the yard by the time I'd devoured 'mine'.

I shared the report information with a few close family members, those who would expect to be informed, and then also the friend I have been taking the journey of motherhood alongside. She is my go to, along with my mother, for chats about my motherhood feelings. We met through our babies and have taken our first-time motherhood steps alongside each other. I needed to chat. I needed one of 'those' kind of chats.

I had spent an academic year being proud of my child and how hard she had been trying, how she had tackled all the challenges that school had brought, but I now had a confession that I wasn’t in the least bit proud of.

“It doesn’t tell me anything I don’t really already know, but I’ve suddenly switched from a whole year of just wanting her to be managing, getting along, not struggling, enjoying her school experience, face it just plain being happy, to suddenly wanting to compare her to her classmates. I suddenly want her to be better than the other kids. I feel like I might have let her down because she's just performing 'as expected'. What is that?”

WhatsApp parent groups fluttered in the evening, after the period to digest their own report had suddenly given way to curiosity about comparison. Lot’s of 'proud’ and 'happy’ words bounced backwards and forwards but no one was quite willing to take the step and ask the obvious questions burning. No one was willing to introduce the elephant in the room. In this group at least...

The following day I spoke to a friend who has a child in a different year, and different school, and we talked candidly about the effect that school reports have on how we see our children, even if briefly. How can one piece of paper create a sudden urge for comparison? I had known everyone was feeling it, it was palpable, but it had also been quite obvious that no one wanted to admit it.

“Wait a few years.” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “That’ll change. They get more blunt about it. We get ours today. I’ll get messages tonight directly asking me what her SATs score was. I don’t know what I’m going to answer. I don’t feel like it’s my place to tell them. It’s her personal information. They don’t need to know, but I don’t want to be rude either.” I was still nodding at the fact that she said 'ours'.

24 hours after the release of the reports and conversation between parents in the school yard at pickup was tentative - switching from cautious to honest, and back again, at a remarkable rate.

Gentle attempts were made to try and work out how their children’s peers had performed, without giving away too much of how their own child had been judged.

Then, as people realised that the averaged year results had been published in the weekly newsletter, you could see people making calculations in their heads - to work out how their child had performed in comparison. All those minds simultaneously trying to calculate how many were ‘better’ than their own child.

I know, because I did the same. For those few minutes I was lost in the curse of comparison.

Thankfully, I then talked to a lovely human. She was waiting alongside me and longing to get home for food, a sit down and, eventually, a glass of wine. I could empathise.

“I love that they said she gets on with everyone. That she’s happy. My eldest struggled at first and it was hard to really work with him to keep up because he just didn’t enjoy it. He did not want to go to school. It was hard to see him so unhappy. He’s doing fine now, he’s come in to his own lately... I just want them to enjoy coming to school, you know?

I did. From my very depths.

When we were home, I shared the comparator results with the same relatives and my motherhood journeying friend, and she asked the obvious question. “How do you feel about her report now?”

I relayed the story from the other mother in the yard. "She'd rather have an average kid who wants to go to school, enjoys it, and is happy, than an unhappy genius. Man that’s true.”

I was, once again, an unwavering exceptionally proud mother of someone who is kind, sparkling, and beginning to flourish. The little human that owns my heart is well behaved, works hard, tries her best and is performing to academic expectations.

Like I said, nothing I didn’t originally already know.

What that did that report really tell me? I need to be cautious, as I take this parenting journey - , particularly the academic one. I must not let myself get distracted by how other people are doing, in comparison. This was my first test and I feel like I failed briefly. I'm firmly in the ‘must do better next time’ category. I have spent all her years to date celebrating who she is as an individual. I have known she is an individual and that she finds her own place in her own time. Yet, at the first academic hurdle, I faltered a little. Briefly, but still.