Before going to an open day for a sixth form college, I'd made a number of promises to my daughter, H, regarding how fundamentally embarrassing it is to go anywhere with me. I promised not to ask questions, avoid conversations, and especially not to interrogate any young people, despite their enticing name tags. My aim was to keep a low profile, but it didn't last long. That changed when I spotted a prominent figure in the maths corridor.
H’s non-verbal communication has always been strong, conveying her discomfort effectively. When I attempted to chase after Liz Truss, a highly visible figure at the event, H's disapproving look made it clear she was not on board with the idea. A teacher’s stern glance reinforced my sense of how inappropriate it would be to pursue this celebrity moment while damaging our bond.
Being alone in the further maths classroom felt strange, especially since no one else wanted to take that class due to its demanding nature. It became a humorous reflection on my unconventional situation. H had quickly vanished from view, leaving me to navigate this awkward scenario solo, with a past acquaintance from the political sphere present nearby.
I reminisced about my past encounters with Truss when the Conservatives were still engaging in bipartisan discussions. The thought of her potentially recalling those moments filled me with trepidation, highlighting the discomfort stemming from my history with her. Young people term such situations as 'super awks', which perfectly encapsulated my experience at the open day.
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