Stop asking people when they’re going to have children

Trigger warning: this post discusses miscarriages and infertility

If you’re in a long term relationship or married, but without children, the chances are you’ve been asked “so, when are you having children?” For many couples, it can be par for the course and is usually well intentioned or good natured banter from family and friends. But if having children isn’t on the horizon, or if not having children isn’t for want of trying, having to bat away such questions can be received with a range of emotions from mild annoyance and frustration to pain and distress.

Before I became a dad, it’s a question my wife and I would often hear. Typically said in jest (or perhaps truth in jest from our respective parents), and not a subject that I was worried or anxious about it, it wasn’t something that affected me. Not to mention, no one around us really harped on about it to the extent that it became an annoyance. Though for many couples, it can be a different story.

Feet by green_kermit is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

I’m at an age where many of my peers, but certainly not all, now have children. For some of those that don’t, that’s a choice and one that should be respected. Having children isn’t for everyone and for some it just isn’t a feature that they seek to be a part of their lives or their relationship. There shouldn’t be any judgement for that stance whatsoever. For others, it may just not be the right time for them, especially as people are generally having children later in a reflection of contemporary lifestyles. If having children is a decision you’re nearing to but not quite there yet, why should you feel pressured to hasten that decision to satisfy others?

Despite modern society increasingly distancing itself from archaic and arbitrary measures of what constitutes success, there still remains a fixation upon what we’re supposed to do in life and those expectations remain in our most personal spheres. We’re supposed to be in a relationship. And if we’re not, we can expect to be questioned why, and worse still, shamed for it. And if we’re of a certain age where many of our peers may be having children, and within a relationship, then obviously we should be too, right? Wrong.

It’s therefore little wonder that marriage and having children can sometimes be for the wrong reasons, such as an attempted solution to a broken relationship or merely buckling under the pressure of societal expectations. If the question of when children were coming disappeared, a layer of that unwarranted pressure to have children would likely disappear with it.

No one should be made to feel guilty or that they’re an anomaly for a decision that’s theirs to take in not having children. Yet many will be made to feel just that. Furthermore, the decision and commitment to have a child isn’t one that should be taken lightly. So shouldn’t we laud those who don’t conform and decline to have children if it isn’t an experience they desire?

For others, not having children may not be a choice they’ve made. Conception and pregnancy are not an exact science and for many who don’t have children, that hasn’t been for want of trying. Conception for some couples can take years of trying, sometimes to no avail before alternative routes such as IVF or adoption are explored. And even then, the process is not only not guaranteed but is also lengthy and emotionally draining.

For some couples, experiencing a miscarriage, or even recurrent pregnancy loss, can be a painful reality. Imagine the distress caused in both scenarios, compounded by seeing the babies of family, friends and even strangers as a reminder that parenthood remains elusive. It’s made worse by having to handle the insensitivity of people asking when you’re going to have children; when unbeknownst to them, the recipient of their question wants nothing more than to be a parent.

So how has such an insensitive line of questioning come to be so commonplace? Much of it can be traced back to expectation but it’s also reinforced by the older generation.

Becoming a grandparent is a wish held by many parents with adult children. Indeed, if I gave them the green light, my parents and in-laws would proudly parade my son all day, everyday.

Said parents see their own peers becoming grandparents and many want that for themselves. Although where it goes too far is when social conditioning starts creeping in again and becoming a grandparent becomes something that is supposed to happen. Some even see not becoming a grandparent as a disappointment and will ignorantly articulate this, nonchalant to the fact that there might be a reason why grandchildren haven’t been forthcoming.

It’s a view that’s particularly prevalent in ethnic minority communities where the significance of family makes becoming a grandparent almost a necessary rite of passage and something some will feel entitled to. That deeply misplaced sense of entitlement can be extended to ‘uncles’ and ‘aunties’ in the community, that you might not even know, telling you that it’s about time you had children. It’s well meaning but for someone who knows they perhaps can’t have children or is having trouble conceiving, it’s also incredibly insensitive.

There needs to be more awareness, sensitivity and empathy for those who can’t have children or are having difficulty conceiving or becoming parents. Especially with social media, we need to be mindful of excessively flaunting our parenthood to an audience that will likely include at least someone for whom we’re projecting an experience they’ve been unable to have for themselves. That doesn’t mean refraining from celebrating our own children but simply being a bit more thoughtful in our exchanges and what we share. And above all, not asking when children might be forthcoming unless it’s a conversation they’re happy to have.

We need to remember and respect that having children is a choice some choose not to make. Likewise, difficulty in having children, biologically or otherwise, is a reality for some who would like nothing more than a baby. When and if someone is going to have children can be a sensitive subject and more people need to be mindful of that.

30 +1

For anyone who's a teacher, referring to your students as “my kids”, particularly for a younger cohort, is fairly typical. Just as a parent does with their own children, as a teacher, you build a rapport with your students and become emotionally invested in them. That's not only in their academic attainment and progress but their well-being and emotional welfare. Even seeing your students mature evokes a feeling akin to observing the development of your own children.

The same goes for the students who often see their teachers in a maternal or paternal role. I’ve been accidentally referred to as “Daddy” or “Dad” on countless occasions. It's unsurprising as given the duration of the school day, and the contact you’ll have with your students, as a teacher you spend more waking hours with your students than their parents do.

As every parent would probably attest, nothing really prepares you for parenthood. Nevertheless, becoming a parent when you're a teacher is probably the closest preparation you can get from a job. Where I had 30 children in my class, becoming a parent meant I now had an extra child to consider and this time I really was “Daddy”. But working in a profession that includes some features of parenting, albeit not to the same extent, would that mean teaching would be compatible with my new job as a dad?



Some might assume that teaching is a profession that gets the challenges of parenting and having a family. Your holidays usually coincide with your children's (headteachers do now have flexibility on scheduling holiday dates which makes it less common than it used to be) and schools finish at roughly the same time. Though the school day for students bears little resemblance to the working day for teachers. You’ll be at work long before and after students and working in the evenings and at the weekend is typically required. The myth of teachers working from 9 to 3:30 is one that teachers everywhere frustratingly, annoyingly and consistently dispel.

The holidays certainly help and compared to other dads, I get more blocks of time to spend with my son. Although it's not as clear cut as it would seem and most teachers spend at least a portion of their holiday working. Not to mention, while those who don't work in schools might not be able to empathise, it takes time at the beginning of every holiday to emotionally and mentally decompress from the relentless pressures of term time; not dissimilar to any other stressful profession.

That does erode your quality time with your family but it can't be denied that having a generous holiday allowance is a hugely family-friendly advantage of teaching. It also reduces the need for childcare outside of term time to an extent that most professions just don't afford.

Within term time, it's another story; one that sees many teachers experiencing a dichotomy between being a teacher and a parent. You unquestionably want to do the very best for your own child and the children in your classroom. Nonetheless, managing the task of the personal and professional competing pressures isn't easy.

Being a working parent, regardless of your job, is always going to present challenges. Being knackered from the working day, while wanting to spend time with your child in the evenings, is a fixture of most parents’ lives. Though with many jobs, at least there's the weekend. Yet for teachers, evenings and weekends are often consumed by work. There's also an emotional and mental drain in teaching that compounds any post work fatigue and an experience that only teachers and those in similar roles will really understand.

Teaching is a job with no respite - not dissimilar to being a parent - so your mind is constantly in overdrive with the endless tasks you have in addition to actually teaching and being responsible for your students. Think of the physical, mental and emotional exhaustion, and the unrivaled reward, of being a parent. Then imagine also experiencing that during the working day, but with 30 children.

Consequently, the balancing act of teacher vs parent can sometimes seem near impossible.

Excessive and unmanageable workload in teaching is generally acknowledged and well documented, and it can be overwhelming regardless, let alone once you become a parent. So what gives? No teacher wants to let down their students by doing a half baked job and no parent wants to feel they’ve neglected their children because they've been a slave to their job. It's a professional vs personal dilemma that no one should be faced with but one that is a reality for most teachers who are parents.

I understand the value of my time but acutely so now that I’m a dad. That means recognising the importance of spending time with my son. I allocate a finite amount of time for working in the evening and at weekends and ensure I leave work so that I'm home for bath time and putting my son to bed; recognising that failing to do so means reneging on my duty to play a meaningful role in my son's day and his routine. While my wife is on maternity leave, it’s also a small redress in the balance of the respective contribution we currently play in raising our son.

While at work, I work smarter but with a stubborn attitude in refusing to renege on any responsibilities as a teacher, arguably to the detriment of my well-being. Furthermore, at the back of my mind ever since my son was born, I’ve had the concern that I didn't want to give anyone the opportunity to suggest I wasn’t doing a good job now that I was a parent. Whereas had I been struggling, and in a profession where the key stakeholders are children and parents themselves, shouldn't I have envisaged that scenario being met with support and empathy, within reason, as I got to grips with being a dad?

Teaching isn't void of that empathy for parents and experiences will differ between schools and it can also be different for mums and dads. On a recent keeping in touch day, my wife (who's also a teacher) was asked by her headteacher how she felt about her return to work in the context of her new role as a mother. Conversely, there's been no similar discussion or enquiry at my school surrounding my well-being and state of mind in managing being a teacher and now also a dad. And it's been a near consistent experience for most dads I know who are also teachers. Is it because it's believed dads won't be doing much on the parenting front and it's therefore deemed an unnecessary conversation? Or is it an indication of the extent to which schools are attuned to modern parenting?

There's much progress to be made in teaching with regard to the well-being of staff in what is a highly pressured job. As a result, many teachers have been institutionalised to feel that needing support is a sign of weakness or not performing appropriately. Add a dose of toxic masculinity into the mix and I fear that this underlying attitude has also contributed to the instances where the challenge of being a dad and a teacher is ignored by schools and teacher dads themselves.

Unlike teaching of yesteryear, where senior teachers had simply paid their dues with lengthy service, school senior leadership teams now increasingly include fiercely career driven teachers. Many throw themselves wholeheartedly into their careers and eschew having a family or even a partner, a choice that should be respected as their own. But if senior leadership teams are becoming less reflective, and potentially less empathetic, of the experience of family life, how will this will pan out for teachers who do decide to become parents?

The lack of flexible working arrangements in teaching is indicative of this. It's certainly not unheard of but particularly in primary schools, where routine and consistency for the students is so important, some headteachers will be opposed to it. Although these are some of the necessary approaches if teaching is to truly become a family-friendly profession. I know of teachers that have been granted flexible working arrangements upon their return from maternity leave, which sets a great precedent for the direction teaching needs to go in. Conversely, I know of many teachers who have had their request for flexible working, to support being a parent, denied.

Teaching and becoming a dad are undoubtedly the most worthwhile roles I’ve ever had. So why should they at times seem mutually exclusive? They don't need to be, nor do parents who are teachers want an easy ride on account of being a parent. However, in roles that are generally considered as altruistic and relentless, the challenge of assuming both needs to be one that we're more aware of.

The forgotten narrative of a new dad

When my son was born, I had two weeks of paternity leave before I had to return to work. That’s it. Two weeks. In contrast to some countries, that might be quite generous but in comparison with up to a year of statutory maternity leave in the UK for women, it’s incredibly meagre. More significantly, it denies new fathers a reasonable amount of time to bond with their newborn child, not to mention being able to support their partners with the challenge of parenthood before returning to work.

During our pregnancy, society’s lack of regard for me as a dad-to-be (in contrast to that of my wife) was distinctly apparent. And when my son was born, that continued. As a new dad, my narrative as a parent is one that is unfairly relegated, further diminishing the role of fathers in society.

My return to work after paternity leave was complete with getting up early and returning home late, just as I had done before fatherhood. Although, long working days, and the pressures and workload of my role, were now accompanied by a new layer of responsibility in being a dad; a responsibility that trumps the former without exception.

That responsibility is often exclusively associated with mums as fathers continue to struggle in shaking the stereotype of fathers of yesteryear, some of whom exercised their paternal role at arm’s length and left it to mums. Whereas today, most dads are involved and supportive of their children and their partners.

Just as I was unable to fully empathise with my wife in her experience of being pregnant, I can’t fully relate with what it’s been like in becoming a new mum and everything that comes with it. Nevertheless, I have enormous respect for her and I acknowledge the efforts she makes as a mum that probably exceeds what I would be capable of managing in her position. While I’m arguably biased, she’s a brilliant mum with a natural maternal instinct that never fails to meet what’s best for our son.

We’re fortunate that her parents and extended family are very supportive and they’ll eagerly welcome any opportunity to help when she might need some respite. However, I also recognise how my return to work brought an opportunity for the onset of loneliness.

Being a mum at home during maternity leave or otherwise isn’t easy and it can place a strain on the emotional well-being of new mums. It can undoubtedly represent an emotional and lonely journey (that can manifest itself as postnatal depression) exacerbated by varying support that not everyone is afforded. Yet with those challenges come the reward and fulfilment of being able to enjoy witnessing the development of your child. The smiles, cackles and the many ‘firsts’ mums get to see all make it worthwhile.

For all the dealing with poonamis, when you could really do with someone to tag team with on the clean up and changing operation, or frustratingly spending the bulk of your day with your child on your breast, unable to get even the most minor task completed, the reward of being a mum is so much greater. Much of that reward is what as dads we sadly miss out on sharing.

There’s a distinct lack of empathy for dads. Our return to work is viewed as respite from parenthood. Complete with adult company and structure to our day that isn’t at the whim of breastfeeding on demand or similar, our role is considered a walk in the park. What do we have to complain about when we’re actually afforded time to ourselves without a baby in tow regardless of what we do? Sadly, that’s how the narrative of a dad is routinely, erroneously and unfairly perceived.

During the week, I feel almost like an absent father. I usually do a nappy change just before I leave for work and I’m home for bathtime and bedtime. But I’m knackered in the evening and any quality time with my son and indeed my wife is compromised by my fatigue, though that doesn’t mean I shirk my role and responsibilities as a dad. It becomes increasingly apparent that I miss out on much. I might see my son do something new and I’ll rush to share it with my wife; only to find out it’s not so new after all. I was just at work when he first did it.

I’ve never attended any parent and baby classes with my son (notably more commonly known as mother and baby classes) while my wife has. Even doctor’s appointments preclude me from attending because they’re scheduled throughout the working day. Weekends are too short as it is and they’re punctuated by life admin and work.

A few weekends ago, I took my son for a walk to see the geese and ducks near the local lake. It was an effort to give my wife some respite while being an opportunity to spend time with my son. However, when I messaged my wife to let her know where we had gone, she was slightly annoyed that I hadn’t waited for her to make it a walk we could have gone on as a family.

Innocently, she was unable to empathise that I craved spending time with my son, and wanted to give her a break, hence us going for a walk where she wasn’t accompanying us. Even with an involved dad for a partner, addressing the lack of time I get to spend with my son wasn’t a driver for her rationale in understanding my decision.

The lack of understanding of what a dad experiences in missing out on time with their child is far reaching and worrying but a shift in thinking doesn’t appear to be forthcoming. My hour to the lake with my son was insignificant compared to the entire week my wife spends with him; for many, that’s not a perspective that’s even considered when thinking of the emotional challenges for new dads.

Escape from the Job by Stefano Corso is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Personally, there’s a further frustration with the forgotten experience of dads and that’s as a black dad. Negative and racist stereotypes have left many seeing a black, involved dad as somewhat paradoxical. Being out with my son, I’ll sometimes receive odd glances while pushing his pushchair as if it’s a mirage to see a black dad, let alone a dad period, behind the handlebar. Black dads exist and we’re involved.

Elliott Rae, founder of Music Football Fatherhood, wrote of his experience that I, and many other black dads, share. Consider how dads are already perceived as the lesser of two parents. That’s compounded for black dads who are subject to the unfair stereotype of being occasional fathers that are only involved on an ad hoc and unreliable basis.

While my wife is exclusively breastfeeding and on demand, that remains a role I can’t fulfil. But as far as everything else goes, I’m on deck. If I hear my son crying at night while my wife is asleep, I’ll dash to the nursery to soothe him back to sleep before she wakes up. I do everything associated with being a parent and to support my wife in what society acknowledges can be a tough role in being a mum. We just need to acknowledge that albeit differently, being a dad isn’t easy either and our experience deserves to be included in the narrative of being a parent.

Mums rightly come first during pregnancy but let’s not forget about dads-to-be

No matter how much empathy one can offer, being pregnant is an experience that no man can fully understand. Pregnancy presents both an onus and a privilege for the mum-to-be in carrying a child. Indeed, when you consider the favourable aspects of pregnancy, there’s much of the experience to be celebrated such as the bond you’re able to establish with your unborn child and the fundamental role you play in their life before they’re even born. However, for most women, pregnancy can also present challenges as they approach the birth of the baby.

During pregnancy, your body changing means you aren’t yourself. Simple tasks such as bending down or quickening your pace become frustratingly impossible. Not to mention the effect changes in your body may have on your mental health and self esteem (particularly if you’re struggling to mentally link it to the pregnancy). There’s also the discomfort, irritableness, mood swings and anxiety, the latter being an obvious experience for most first time parents.



As much as society rightly celebrates pregnancy, for mums-to-be it isn’t always easy. Consequently, pregnant women typically receive the kudos, compassion and support they deserve for undertaking such an important role. Yet what about dads-to-be? Sure, our bodies aren’t changing therefore we aren’t experiencing the by-products of that either. Conversely, the regard for the role of men as impending parents, and their wellbeing, is given little if any weighting. Mums rightly come first during pregnancy but we shouldn’t be forgetting about the role and wellbeing of dads-to-be too.

Society has a tendency to diminish the role of fathers. Even during pregnancy, the message from society is that fathers are secondary to the mother. I’d be inclined to agree that during pregnancy a woman’s wellbeing and needs are greater than that of a man’s but that doesn’t mean they should be ignored. Although sadly that’s the message that’s being disseminated to those about to embark on fatherhood.

In the UK, women can take up to a year of statutory maternity leave; a generous allowance compared to countries like the US where the lack of universal healthcare provision clearly indicates how they regard motherhood. For the stress pregnancy places on a woman’s body, it’s only fair and provides an invaluable opportunity to bond with your baby before returning to work. It’s also hugely important for a woman’s mental health in allowing her to mentally recalibrate from the emotional experience of pregnancy, childbirth and becoming a parent. Alas, that’s in shocking contrast to the paltry two weeks of paternity leave available. Two weeks. It is possible to share parental leave but as the default, the perception of a mother’s value greatly outweighs that of a father.

What’s not realised is that the same mental recalibration and regard for mental health is necessary for fathers too yet it isn’t given any credibility.

Mentally, emotionally and physically, pregnancy can take its toll on a woman. Physically, that isn’t the case for man. Though mentally and emotionally pregnancy presents its own demands for dads-to-be. The anxiety that comes with being a first time dad especially is expected. Just as for mothers, it presents a huge shift from the status quo as you embark on parenthood. Will you be a good enough dad? Will you know what to do with the baby? Will you be able to manage the imminent change to your lives?

Then there’s managing the manifestation of your partner’s emotions. The mood swings and irritability are par for the course during pregnancy and the dad-to-be is likely to be a prime target whenever it’s articulated. Nevertheless, that too can be an emotionally draining experience in itself as you take it on the chin and put said utterances down to hormones, not allowing it to affect how supportive you need to be.

There’s also a frustrating helplessness in knowing that while your partner is experiencing the physical demands of pregnancy and childbirth, all you can do is offer support and encouragement. That support is undoubtedly valuable and appreciated but it’s hardly a substitute for being able to give birth yourself.

It’s only right that men step up their game during pregnancy and provide all the support that their partners should be able to expect. The wellbeing of mums-to-be needs to come first but amidst that stance, we’ve neglected to consider and support the wellbeing of fathers too. Instead, men are told in jest or otherwise that we don’t get a say in voicing any anxieties or frustrations because we aren’t carrying the child. All that does is lessen the role of being a father.

In some ways, perhaps men of yesteryear have caused this. Previously, men probably had less to be anxious about during pregnancy in a time when gender roles were much more rigid and the mental and emotional health of mothers was dismissed as a non-entity. Tending to the emotional needs of their partners wasn’t the consideration it is today and men themselves were more detached from the journey of pregnancy.

In contrast, men today are much more involved in attending antenatal appointments and classes, providing massages on tap, cooking whatever their partner’s cravings demand and generally doing anything their partner wants or needs. Not to mention picking up the slack on anything the mum-to-be is no longer able to do with the same ease as their pre-pregnant self. It might be to varying levels but modern men are much more involved than men of previous generations which is undoubtedly a positive.

That involvement requires the wellbeing of both parents to be acknowledged. Society has progressed for that to be the the case for women but it’s still not the reality for men.

Good mental health for both parents makes for better parents. If the wellbeing of mothers isn’t in tandem with the wellbeing of fathers, it continues to diminish the role of the latter in a disturbing message that has managed to permeate society throughout successive generations. If dads-to-be are supporting the wellbeing of mums, it begs the question who’s making sure they’re ok too?

We shouldn’t pretend that men have the same experience during pregnancy as women do. It’s a reality that the overall needs and changes that a pregnant woman is subject to will outweigh those of a man. But when it comes to mental and emotional health, there are bound to be some parallels. We might not be able to carry a baby but we do carry the emotions that come with becoming a parent. If we want to see mothers and fathers as equal entities within parenthood, we need to have the same regard and attitudes in ensuring that the wellbeing of both parents is supported to achieve that.

Diminishing parental responsibility is damaging our schools and our children's futures

The following was a phone conversation between a teacher and a parent of a child who should have been attending a workshop that had been organised but the child had failed to attend.

Teacher: Good morning, this is Ms Riley from Westchester School. Rashid is supposed to be attending a workshop that’s been organised for the students in his Geography class but he isn’t present.
Parent: Oh (said nonchalantly). Does he need to be there?
Teacher: Yes. Rashid’s signed up for the workshop and letters were sent home to parents advising them that students would need to attend today.
Parent: I didn’t get a letter. Couldn’t you have sent a text message? Rashid said the rest of his group weren’t going so he didn’t need to be there.
Teacher: No, he needs to be there…

And this was a conversation between a teacher and a parent at parents’ evening.

Teacher: Derek’s comprehension and his ability to engage with other children and contribute in class has become a concern. His understanding of basic instructions and information is very limited, even when spoken to in his home language, and it’s affecting his interaction with other children and his progress. Does he talk much at home?
Parent: Yeah, he talks at home.
Teacher: OK… that’s good. We need to encourage him to talk, and it’s fine if he’s talking to you in his home language, as that’ll help him with his confidence and his comprehension. Ask him questions about his day, about books he’s read…
Parent: (sighs and rolls eyes) Boss, I don’t have time to talk to my kid…

In both instances, all names and personal details have been changed. Nonetheless, these are based on real and recent examples with real parents and real teachers and they aren’t isolated instances. Instead, they are a sign of the lack of engagement and diminished parental responsibility that is increasingly present in some of today’s parents.

The shift of a parent’s responsibility being pushed onto schools and teachers, the acceptance and nonchalance towards a child’s lack of responsibility (because handing a letter to your parent is so arduous that teachers should instead send a text message) and the unwillingness to communicate with your child (one of the biggest determinants in younger children acquiring knowledge and broadening their vocabulary) all feature in sections of today’s parents. And it’s damaging our children’s futures and their attainment in school.

Firstly, it’s important to acknowledge that being a parent is not easy. For those who are parents in today’s society, the distractions upon children, and the demands upon parents, exacerbate that task in a way that yesteryear’s parents would not have had to deal with. The altering in the traditional balance of influence and control from parents to children also makes modern parenting a challenge. Essentially, society has impeded some parents from effectively parenting their children in this skewed change in dynamic.

Secondly, for anyone reading this and assuming that poor parenting and a lack of importance placed upon education is exclusively a feature of parents from lower socio-economic groups, you’d be wrong.

Poorer students and their families, particularly those that are from immigrant communities, are often much more appreciative of education because of the opportunities they know it affords them in life. As a result, education, teachers and their efforts are revered by these students and their families (this was certainly the case for my peers and I). Therefore, I don’t seek to make any sweeping judgements or reinforce erroneous stereotypes here. To do so would be folly, impossible and wrong. Rather, both the parents who fulfil their responsibility, and those who don’t, come from a range of backgrounds and not respective homogeneous groups.

The success of a school, and of its students, depends on a number of factors. Furthermore, achieving that success and how it’s measured is becoming increasingly difficult (and well-discussed on iamalaw). However, in the truest sense of success (of nurturing and encouraging the social, emotional and academic progress of students in an environment that never loses sight of their well-being), government policy, teachers and school leadership would be the typical responses to who or what can make or break this. Yet what about parents?

Parents bridge the gap between school and home. Just as teachers build upon the successes of a child’s home life, parents are positioned at the other end of this reciprocal relationship of building upon the successes at school. It seems obvious but it’s a given that’s lost on some parents and indeed some schools in their efforts to engage parents.

If at home a young child is read to and listened to reading daily, and conversed with in constant exposure to language, their orthographic store (our long term memory from which we retrieve all the words that we’ve learned to date), comprehension, knowledge and proficiency as a reader will progress far more rapidly than a child who is only exposed to these experiences at school. Similarly, this gives a child an appetite and positive attitude for learning that will put them in good stead for life. Sadly, an astounding number of parents feel that they need not play any role in supporting their children in such crucial early stages of their education let alone subsequently.

For these parents, sending their children to school is the extent of their required effort. They’ve fulfilled their end of the bargain and now it’s down to the school to teach their child everything they need to know without any input at home. That isn’t to say parents should undertake the role of a teacher but encouraging their child and instilling an attitude for learning and value for education is part of being a parent.

For some parents, it gets worse and school is ultimately a childminding service. An opportunity to be free of their children in an environment where they’re absolved of all responsibility. Again, I’m sure some might read this and with Daily Mail tinted glasses envision it to refer to ‘working class parents of broken Britain’. Wrong. Many middle class parents do exactly the same as school enables them to get on with their other priorities in life that clearly supersede their children. Indeed, they often go further as they have the means to extend that via clubs and endless tutors that maximise the time their children aren’t in their presence and minimise the responsibility they feel they need to assume.

There are of course many good parents who despite the never-ending duties of a parent, ensure that their child is on the right path. They foster the right attitude and behaviour within their child from young and support their child in whatever way they can while equally supporting the school. That includes supporting schools in their behaviour policies when a child has been been issued a sanction.

With older children, it can merely be ensuring homework is completed, words of encouragement and direction and support of the school within a home environment where education is valued. Conversely, the absence of that can make all the difference to a child’s attitude to education and their life opportunities because of it. These measures don’t cost anything and aren’t demanding on parents’ time either. Nevertheless, they can make a significant difference to a child’s attainment and the success of a school.

It isn’t just all about academic progress either. A child’s mental, social and emotional growth and well-being is arguably more important and depends as much on their parents as their teachers. If a parent is disinterested in their child’s life, that growth and well-being is going to find itself limited.

Parental engagement in schools can make the difference between a bad school and a good school and a good school and great school. Plenty of research supports the notion that parental engagement has a huge impact on attainment and behaviour. This isn’t just the attending of parents’ evenings and school performances and functions. It’s also being invested in your child’s learning and progress and sharing that goal with the school.

If you take two schools with similar cohorts in communities of similar socio-economic and even ethnic composition, both could be doing exactly the same in the way of teaching and additional programmes and support for students. Although if they have different outcomes in attainment and perception within their respective communities, it’s going to be down to the impact of parental engagement. And the school that has further engagement will yield improved results.

While I feel there are a lot of question marks over free schools, parental engagement is an asset that those set up by community groups driven by parents have from the start. The schools aren’t necessarily doing anything different from other school operating within the local education authority but they’ve embedded a culture that other school aren’t always afforded (though their supporters won’t concede that it’s that simple). The same goes for academies that have started schools from scratch or taken over schools where ensuring parental engagement is a priority.

Schools too need to do better in engaging parents. Most parents want to be involved and supportive in their child’s school life and their education. But if they aren’t given the opportunity, and where applicable the guidance to do so, then they can’t. School’s can’t lament the lack of engagement from parents if they aren’t providing the direction to achieve it.

The lack of parental responsibility that exists in today’s parents is a worrying trend that doesn’t bode well for children’s futures and is impeding attainment in schools. It’s also at risk of creating adults that project the same attitude which in turn becomes perpetual in subsequent generations.

To the large number of parents that provide the positive influence and direction required for their children, they deserve huge kudos for raising the bar in an already tough job of parenting. And for those who aren’t even aspiring to that, they’re letting themselves and their children down in an easily avoidable manner but with woeful consequences for their children's futures.

Stop denigrating fathers

Depending on your social network or forum of choice, Father’s Day usually sees a mixed response to the intended celebration of fathers. On one hand, there are the complimentary posts lauding fathers for the part they play in their child’s life. Indeed, this isn’t dissimilar to Mother’s Day when such sentiments are echoed with reverence and without exception – and rightly so. However, on Father’s Day, such remarks are punctuated with negativity and disdain for fathers with comments like “happy sperm donor day” being bandied about. It’s disappointing to read and hugely disrespectful and unfair to the majority of good fathers that exist. Furthermore, it’s indicative of the often negative view of fathers that manifests itself within society and needs to stop.

Personally, I’m not too enthused by celebrations such as Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. I’m not averse to them per se, but I question the need for an annual ‘special’ (not to mention commercial) day when I am a good son and grandson all year round. Nonetheless, it’s nice to observe such days to honour a parent, grandparent or special person who has fulfilled such a role in your life. Therefore, when it comes to Father’s Day, why would anyone want to detract from that with disparaging comments?

As a man, I can certainly concede that there are some of my gender that are bad fathers. Whether that be because they’re absent from their child’s lives, don’t provide support (financial or otherwise) or mistreat their children, bad fathers exist. And by the same token, so do bad mothers. Unfortunately, regardless of their sex, bad parents exist and there isn’t any merit in merely highlighting the parental transgressions of just one gender. All it serves to do is take away from the good parenting of fathers who exercise fatherhood with great responsibility and pride.

The perception of gender roles in society has come to devalue the role of a father and erroneously suggest fathers are secondary to mothers. Biologically, a mother’s role is incomparable to that of a father. Though when it comes to nurture, guidance and support in raising a child, both parents play an equally important part. Mothers and fathers bring respective attributes to parenting and neither should be seen to supersede the other by default. Yet often, fathers are portrayed almost as second class parents and that’s mirrored in society.

Single fathers receive nowhere near the same kudos as single mothers do; they often get overlooked as even existing. And up until 2011, paternity leave in the UK was two weeks in contrast to up to a year for maternity leave. What kind of a signal does that send to society about the value of fathers in contrast to mothers?

Where a couple has separated, fathers are much more likely to encounter difficulties in obtaining reasonable custody if no longer on amicable terms with the mother of their child. Some would argue that bad fathers have set a precedent upon which to support the rationale for the status quo. And to an extent, they have. But what about the good fathers who exist? They shouldn’t be denied access to their children for the mistakes made by bad fathers before them. Despite mixed views on organisations like Fathers 4 Justice, it cannot be argued against that at the crux of their campaign is fairer and equal custody of children between couples who have separated or divorced. That’s a far cry from the proposition that fathers are more likely to be nonchalant toward and shirk their parental duties.

The assumption and unequal weighting of the value placed upon a mother and a father was dramatised in the custody battle in Kramer vs. Kramer. The film also challenged the way motherhood and fatherhood was seen and since its release, outlooks on parenting and gender roles have modernised. Although many of the attitudes in the film are still apparent in modern society.

Those who continue to denigrate fathers in suggesting their parental responsibilities are more often than not reneged upon, should reconsider their views. Yes, bad fathers exist and they don’t deserve to carry the label or honour of being a father. Nonetheless, that doesn’t mean other fathers should be tarred with the same brush, and certainly not on a day when fatherhood is being celebrated. Furthermore, the proponents of such views should examine why most of the fathers they know and interact with seem to fit the ‘sperm donor’ tag. Surely said individuals represent a common denominator amongst such men? Perhaps they need to also look at themselves before making such generalisations.

Fatherhood should be seen on par with motherhood and attitudes in society shouldn’t reflect the contrary. Good parenting, regardless of it being paternal or maternal, should be acknowledged and celebrated, not diminished by the negative actions of others. Sadly, there will probably always be bad fathers. But they do not represent all fathers and they shouldn’t be allowed to become the poster child for fatherhood. Needless to say, there are more than enough good fathers for that to not be the case and some people could do with remembering that.