Interestingly, while he has been learning the most beautiful things about ancient Rome and Egypt; crime fiction texts with femmes fatales and Humphrey Bogart; peace so exquisitely explained through the teachings of all religions; and 'journeys' - metaphorical and physical - in a person's life; and more, I have learnt a few things myself. Not so beautiful perhaps, but gee, nonetheless maybe useful!

I have found endless reserves of patience which I never knew were there. I've learnt to live with chronic jaw ache which comes from clenching my jaw while I contain my overwrought self and calmly suggest again, 'Perhaps you should be studying!' I have learnt to be silent when all inside me is hysterical. Because as an 'involved' mother I have been told by the teachers in the nicest way to 'Back off, do not put undue pressure on the boy!'. And I have learnt not to kill his father, his brother, his cousins, other parents and friends who say, in front of him, 'Year 12 doesn't really matter anyway. It's not your whole life!'.

I have organised his room daily, so he has a study haven, and learnt not to query the ridiculous amount of cotton buds he uses every morning for who knows what! I've mastered the best hot frothy Milo ever, a range of meals nearly to be proud of and yes, sneaking into McDonald's every so often for a snack! And I have learnt the stunning art of smiling insincerely but very convincingly with congratulations to those parents whose answer to my question 'And how did your child go?' is 'Oh, just okay, only 99.95 per cent out of 100. We weren't expecting it, of course!'. (And these good folk, dammit, are everywhere!) I have even learnt to write in rhyme, as my boss told me if the kids do their essays in rhyme they get better marks ... nah, just kidding, but I did think about it for a nanosecond!

And I have learnt to preach the best lessons in life like, 'Doing the task at hand well is what really matters, and the task just happens to be Year 12 right now, Gianni. It's the task, not the marks, that count', I lie! And I have learnt that it's okay to yell at him every so often, then put my arms around him and tell him I'm proud of him anyway. And I have secretly learnt to do cartwheels because if he manages to get in the 70s I will be over the moon. But if he gets in the 80s, it's cartwheel time. I'll let you know how he goes because this time next month it's over. And if you're going 'yep, yep, yep' to all of this, you've been here before or you're doing it right now. To you I say, congratulations for getting this far in the year. And I'd love to know how your young person went - except if they got in the 90s!