Exam Stress - a parent's story

It’s not all about you, you know !

The May sun streaming through the assembly hall windows, the cherry tree blossom still heavy on the trees, the smell of freshly mown grass, the sound of bees buzzing and birds singing.  It can only mean one thing.  Exam time!  But it’s not just the kids that are suffering.  It’s us!

I leave the house in dread, my two younger sons already skipping happily to school – exams a million miles away for them–  foolishly entrusting my alleged ‘better half’ to get our 16 year old up.  No amount of texts or helpful advice is going to get him started before noon.  “What I’m gonna do is have a shower, then have some breakfast - by the way have you been to the shops Mum?  Cos we’re like - out of everything.  Then I’ll check Facebook  and then I’ll get started”.  I bite my tongue.   There’s no such thing as a quick Facebook check.  I know – I’ve tried.

So now Eldest Son  is home alone (or as good as)  with only the fridge,  TV, PC, Wii and XFM for company.  Meanwhile somewhere amongst the dust and debris of his room lie his revision books.

’ve found a few tips like  “Try and work with your child and support them rather than policing them”. Easier said than done!

As I sit on the bus, phone in hand – still desperately resisting the urge to text – I despair at the thought that this is only the start of the exam season and that I’m already all wrung out to dry.  Being one of 12 siblings myself I’m in awe of my parents for surviving countless exam seasons.  I seek advice from my mum.  How on earth did she cope?  “Because you were all away during the week. We couldn’t keep an eye on you.  We just had to trust you.”  Of course! There was no policing. There was no nagging. We had independence and trust.    Instead of being confined to our bedrooms in the evening, supposedly to study, we had the so-called bright lights to distract us. There might have only been one shop open, but at least it was a sweet shop!  I had local friends to hang out with. I had money. What wasn’t to like?

Although there were times when my older brothers had parties - smoked-filled rooms and the obligatory Pink Floyd albums -  I wasn’t made to feel welcome.  I was ‘one of the wee ones’.  There was no TV.  Theoretically at least, there weren’t too many distractions.  But did I study?  Of course I didn’t.  Not surprisingly, I didn’t  fare too well with exams.  Even worse, when my older siblings left, my parents decided that what with my limited culinary and budgeting skills, I’d  be better off in digs with my younger sister.  Worse still, the digs weren’t in the centre of town.

You’d think I’d be able to understand Eldest Son and the lure of fridge/Facebook etc but I just can’t. You’d think that as neither myself or the alleged better half are any good at maths, the chances would be pretty high that Eldest Son might struggle too.  But no, I don’t and instead find myself droning on about how nowadays you can Google Pythagoras' theorem and that Bitesize has a great thing about  recognising quadratics and algebraic factorising or whatever.  I’m met with a blank stare and I realise, too late, that I’ve failed to employ another helpful tip I read somewhere “you may have to use your skills in diplomacy to keep your  peace”.

I look at my son, desperate to make a difference, I try being diplomatic hoping against hope that it might be the turning point. “Remember the ROSE Rule;  Revise and Recap – Organise time and work  - Sleep and rest - Eat healthily”.  His phone goes and he walks out of the room.  So much for Diplomacy.

There are many great things about being part of a massive family.  But one not so great thing is that, no matter how many times I tell myself that I shouldn’t – it’s almost impossible not to compare my children’s progress with that of their cousins –  about 30 at the last count!  How I long to join the club of those who sing the praises of Niece X and Nephew Y with their straight A’s.  Straight A’s?  Eldest son will be lucky to get straight C’s at this rate!  But the truth is, with 30 odd cousins – a large class size when you think about it - it’s inevitable that some are going to be high achievers and some aren’t.  Where does Eldest Son  fit into that class?  Probably somewhere in the middle.  Just like I did.

So why can’t I let it go and just follow all that helpful advice? like "be supportive, don’t police, encourage, cut them some slack and above all, don’t transfer your own nerves and stress onto them" etc etc.  On paper it all makes perfect sense.  But why is it so wrong to want the best for your child - sorry, young person – and to know that they’re only human and can easily be led into temptation?  Surely all they need is a (metaphorical) boot up the backside to help them on their way isn’t it?

I have also read  “bribery is not unknown” – now this is one which the alleged better half has actually tried as his part of The Revision Wars, at least he thinks he’s done his bit.  Bless.

The breakthrough finally came when Eldest Son actually asked me to mark an English Past Paper for him.  Okay so it wasn’t quite the invitation to become his study buddy, but it was as good as I was going to get.   I sharpened my pencil, found a quiet place and quickly discovered just how flipping hard it was!  Surely it wasn’t this hard back in the day was it?  Word choice?  Tone?   Imagery? Sentence structure and linking?  All for a measly 4 points?  I started to sympathise!

Why then do I have to let go?  Because Eldest Son has to make his own (bad) choices and (wrong) decisions in order to learn from them.  It’s hardly rocket science.   So, when I ask Eldest Son when exactly maths is going to figure in his (currently non-existent) study timetable - and he says he needs to focus on other subjects in order to get good grades, I’ll do my best to bite my tongue instead of offering well-meaning advice (whilst simultaneously calculating how much money’s been wasted on extra tuition).  And anyway, isn’t it true that  “Everyone resists advice these days”.  

So now, when Eldest Son is panicking, convinced he’s forgotten everything he’s tried to memorise,  I’ll make sure the fridge is full, that the younger siblings maintain a monastic silence and I am there with my top tips to minimise exam stress and anxiety. “Try taking six, long deep breaths, and massage the temples and behind your ears to increase blood flow to the brain.”  “The information will come positively flooding back!” I say, (desperately trying not to add “providing you actually revised it in the first place”.) 

“You may find you can only survive the panic by getting out of the house as much as possible.”  Whether that means him or me I’m not sure.  But as I head for the garden, glass of wine in one hand, magazine in the other, I do know one thing.  It’s going to be so different with the other two.

Fiona MacLellan – May 2010