What I’m really thinking: the school-trip teacher

When you wave off your child on her week away, don’t wish me a nice holiday. I’ve been planning every detail of this trip for months, with a mixture of dread and resignation. For the week, I’ll be your child’s parent. I’ll carry forms detailing what she can and can’t eat, her medical history, her travel sickness pills and her EpiPen in my backpack every minute of every day. In my head I’ll carry my worries and hopes for your child. Will she sleep or wake me at night, feeling homesick? How will she cope with sharing a room with others? Will she have that allergic reaction? Will I be able to keep her safe?

I’ll lie awake at night thinking through strategies to keep her happy and engaged. I need to make sure I tweet a picture of her, so you see her looking happy while abseiling, or cooking, or something that proves the value of the trip you’ve paid for.

I’ll do that for her, and for each child on the trip. Every meal eaten, every road crossed, every interaction will be considered, planned, observed and evaluated.

She’ll tell me about you in her words and behaviour. Has she learned to say thank you? Is she honest, caring, empathic? It’s a window into her life with you, your values and attitudes.

Sometimes I think I have performed a kind of miracle, being a parent to so many, bringing them new experiences and then delivering them home safely.

So when we return home, please remember to thank me. And maybe show that you understand the awesome responsibility I have undertaken by helping to get her bags off the coach.