The hardest hour of my week has given me a new appreciation for teachers

When I was a kid, having my mum or dad come into my school to help out was a spectacular treat. I hadn’t reached the age where my parents were embarrassing; on the contrary, I thought they were rock-star level cool.

When mum or dad came into school, whether it be to play guitar during singing time or help supervise arts and crafts, it made my day.

It was this memory, plus the incessant pleading of my youngest daughter that made me volunteer to help with a weekly kindy computer class. I felt noble and virtuous. I may have deliberately avoided every P&C meeting to date – but I was still doing my bit.

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