There aren’t many times I look at the teaching profession wistfully, I’ve spent too many hours as a helper in the back of primary school classes impatiently listening to children read or trying to control a class of five year olds in a talk about being a dentist. I enjoy the company of children as much as anyone but the thought of spending all day attempting to engage and educate so many different characters sends a very slight shiver down my spine.

That is of course, until the time of year when the teachers get their biggest perk – the six-week summer holiday.

Having grown up with a mother who was a teacher and a sister who has followed in her footsteps, I understand how hard teachers work.

There is surely no faster way to wind up an entire profession than to mention their short working day and their 12 weeks of annual holiday.

Only the fool-hardy would not realise that teachers spend the other 39 weeks of the year slogging away and being generally under-appreciated whilst striving for government targets and managing an army of pushy parents.

My sympathy for the teachers’ plight runs dry somewhere around July as they begin a summer of relaxation whilst a vast majority of the working population begin the logistical juggling act more commonly known as being a working parent during the summer holidays.

Working parents are a recognisable breed at the best of times. We’re generally extremely time efficient; capable of organising a children’s birthday party in a five-minute coffee break.

Juggling a job and children is never an easy task but it becomes a million times harder during the six-week summer holiday.

Sadly, I am not from the breed of parents that are so well organised there is a full itinerary of childcare and summer activities by mid March.

As children get older, better house trained and with manners improved to a level that they wouldn’t cause too much embarrassment when exposed to other adults, it’s easier to send them off to friends’ houses and on a couple of occasions our lovely friends have stepped in and saved the day.

This childcare comes at a price though... it may not be a monetary price but does involve reciprocal favours on the precious days away from work.

Sports camps have always been a fail safe option for holiday care. Sending them off to a local school for the day with a packed lunch for a day of sports with names like crash mat cricket and catch the flag has been a life saver.

Until our eldest son announced in June that he now hated these camps; was too old for them and had no intention of engaging in the idea.

And so, here we are, four weeks into the six week break and we have muddled through with a variety of childcare options – some involving near strangers – but we’ve survived so far.

Each morning has been a bit of a military operation and despite late nights and bedtimes that have lapsed beyond all recognition, we’ve been on early starts to get everyone to where they need to be before starting the hour commute to Oxford via the roadworks which I will be facing until December – what a joy. There have been a couple of days where it looked like our only option was to bring all three children into work with me.

Thankfully, we’ve had 11th hour reprieves from three boys having to spend a day sitting inside listening to the faint strains of a dental drill.

Summer holiday childcare is never going to get any easier. We just need to face the fact it’s expensive, and never an easy option. For holiday clubs to be useful for us, they need to start at 7.30am and finish at 6.30pm. Thank goodness I’m only working part time or the kids would need a holiday to get over the holidays as well as me.

My other option is to retrain as a teacher. But I’ve made my choice between a class of 30 seven year olds or drilling and filling. I may not get the long holiday but it’s a relatively small price to pay.

Teachers, you have my respect. Enjoy the benefit of your profession.

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