“IT has been a long time since I was last in a classroom. Since I whiled away the hours dreamily leaning on my elbow while sending rolled up messages to my best friend and giggling.

I wasn’t the most attentive student but somehow emerged with a handful of half-decent (half dire) qualifications.

You hear people saying they wish they’d paid more attention in school. I’ve never felt that way – until now.

Now, although I’m not physically back in the classroom, I’m faced with having to mentally return to school every night of the week.

‘Work out the formula for the ‘nth’ triangular number: 1,3,6,10,15 etc…’ This maths question formed part of my 13-year-old daughter’s homework last week, which she – understandably in my opinion – found tricky.

I hate to see her struggling, but I can’t help her. My maths is below infant level and my brain frazzles when faced with expressions like ‘what is x when y is 6.719’.

Then there’s history: ‘Muuuuum, can you tell me what happened after the French Revolution?’ I couldn’t even tell her what happened during it, let alone before or after. All I remembered from school was that it happened in France.

And science. ‘How do you measure the rate of photosynthesis using elodea?’ All these things did, at one time, enter my brain, but somewhere along the way they’ve become dormant. Some things have stayed with me – mostly about the subjects I liked – English literature and geography. I can still recite some of Wilfred Owen’s poems and lines from Macbeth, I can hold conversations about rain forests and tectonic plates, and I’m still fascinated by meteorology. But the rest has gone.

I can’t believe how much stuff I’ve forgotten – and I’m obviously not alone. Having children re-educates parents. By the time they’re 16, I should be capable of passing a few GCSEs myself.”

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