Parents

by Susan Heywood

Philip’s PTA evening is interesting (this really did happen to a friend)

“You OK son?”

“Yep”

“Ready for this?”

“Let’s go”

I was a sixth-former at Malcroft School. Every three months we had to endure an evening where parents could question the staff, while their embarrassed teenage children shuffled from one foot to the other within earshot.

We walked into the hall and stood waiting for the evening’s proceedings to begin. The head walked up onto the stage and everyone quietened down.
He droned on for about twenty minutes, as heads are inclined to do, and then we all politely applauded as he finally shut up.

We started mingling. We had an appointment with my maths teacher; I spotted him across the hall and steered Andrew over that way.

“Mr Abbott, this is Andrew.”

“Good evening Andrew. Are you Philip’s father?

“No, I’m his parent.”

“Philip is adopted?”

“No, I’m his parent.”

“Where are his mother and father? I understood that they would be here this evening.”

Andrew indicated my dad, who was standing next to his wife. “Geoffrey is his father. He’s here with his wife.”

“I don’t understand.”

Andrew put on one of his patient expressions, usually reserved for his university students when their light-bulb has just blown.

“I’m transsexual; Geoffrey is Philip’s father; I’m his mother.”

Mr Abbott turned a bright shade of purple, did a goldfish impression and promptly legged it towards his next appointment.

That was fun!

Finis