by Michael Fletcher
As a zealous, overly-confident, but ultimately well-intentioned newly qualified teacher, I cherished the responsibility of attending parent’s evening, primarily due to the sense of significance it afforded me and ‘my work’. I would sit on my throne and hold court with a succession of acutely attentive parents who obsessed over my every word, affording me an importance that is seldom granted elsewhere in life.
The majority of the learners who attended the school I was working at were of Indian, Pakistani, or Bangladeshi heritage. I . . .
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