THEN AND NOW

Parent-teacher relations then and now – Goolbai Gunasekara

As a former principal, I have a great deal of experience in dealing with parents. There are so many types that it’s difficult to categorise or even place them in any recognisable order.

My mother was principal of several girls’ schools – and she rarely sent me to schools she headed. When I was at school abroad, my mother’s relationship with my principal was naturally distant. But her relationships with principals of different schools I attended in Sri Lanka were close and not always to my liking.

I knew she maintained cordial ties with them both professionally and personally. In fact, she met my Principal at Bishop’s College far too often for my comfort.

It wasn’t always easy having a mother who was in constant touch with one’s principal on a professional basis. Colombo’s principals in the 1940s and ’50s were more concerned with applying Sri Lanka’s Sinhala Only and Free Education policies, as well as sports programmes and other problems they all shared.

If ever I swam into the discussions my mother had with my principal, it was usually in passing. I liked it that way. So did my mother. In fact, so did most other parents.

Rarely did a parent ask for an interview with a principal unless there was some weighty problem involving higher studies or serious misconduct. Principals of today wish that such parental reticence was still operative.

Parents of the 1950s wouldn’t dream of asking questions such as what follows…

‘Why isn’t my child in the National Day march past?’

‘And why isn’t my child ever made class monitor?’

‘The form teacher punishes for minor infractions. Why?’

‘My child is so good at sports (a parent’s opinion). I want to know why his/her name isn’t included in any team…’

‘Why isn’t my child a prefect?’

‘And why did the all-round prize go to another child when mine is clearly a better choice?’

The list is endless and I have named only the most common complaints that every principal deals with these days. I’m speaking only about private and international schools – as of course, principals of government schools seem to be answerable only to the Department of Education and not parents.

Parents are shown to the door if they dare voice criticism of the government school their child attends. They can’t take their child out and place him or her in any other government school since the area rule applies.

Ergo, government school principals are saved a lot of hassle at the hands of ambitious parents.

Principals of yore were not called upon to justify every little matter involving a child. Parents trusted them to do the right thing.

The parents of my contemporaries, as well as my own, would have been most embarrassed to question any decision involving the inclusion of their child in sports teams or appointment as prefects. They told their offspring to grin and bear the disappointment.

‘Your principal knows best,’ they would say, dismissively.

Now that’s a sentence one doesn’t hear today. Principals spend hours trying to explain to parents that actually, there are other children who may be better than their own. Teachers come in for the same flak and parents’ day can sometimes be an argumentative time, which benefits neither child nor parent.

I understand that if school fees are high, parents feel justified in asking questions; but I wish there was some sort of criteria about their quality.

There’s no doubt whatsoever that most principals want to do the best for each child in their care; but they must not be expected to pander to the vanity or competitiveness of parents. Of course, I am talking of the exceptions.

Most parents in private schools these days are charming and cooperative. There are many jokes told about parents who ask silly questions. To wit…

“How many children are studying in your school at the moment?” asked one nosey parent of a rival school.

“About half,” was the witty reply.

Sister Gabriel, my elegant and dignified Bishop’s College Principal, had nabbed my roommates and me in the middle of a midnight feast. While my mother would have regarded it lightly in her own school, Sister was not going to do so at Bishop’s. We were suspended from the next class outing.

Mother told me many years later that she felt the punishment didn’t match the crime; but she backed Sister to the hilt.

I once suspended an O-Level student for three days for cutting his maths class the whole term. But I have no idea how he evaded detection. His airy explanation was that he had tuition at home and didn’t need class instruction.

“Well, since you obviously prefer home tutoring, you can stay at home for three days,” I told him, sternly. His angry father sent him to another school.

So principals, get used to brickbats but the bouquets that come our way make up for them hundredfold.