There will be an opportunity to consult staff about Lulabell’s progress at a parents’ evening to be held at the school.”

Sent one of these out recently? Parents’ evenings are the essential interface between the home and the school. So why is it everyone ends the evening tired, stressed and alienated by the process?

In primary schools the issues are simpler. Only one teacher to see and more opportunities for informal contact when parents pick their children up from school. But the time pressure can make the meeting meaningless. With 30 or more parents to get through, teachers are forced to restrict the conversation to the essentials.

In secondary schools, this can reach the level of farce. Parents arrive with a list of appointment times, often the first thing to go by the board as some teachers overrun, or others become unexpectedly available.

“Oh look, Mr Revell is free. Let’s dive in while we can.”

Teacher and parent may be locked in deep discussion about Darren’s habit of telling huge porkies to skive out of doing any work. But when the five minutes are up, that is it. Some schools even ring a bell.

“What we need really to address here is - Oh, sorry, Mrs Jones, we’ve run out of time.”

It’s like a Radio 4 interview. The difference is that James Naughtie doesn’t have the next interviewee waving and tapping his watch. Parents can interrupt an interview in mid-flow, insisting it’s their turn.

It usually takes place in the dining hall or gym - tables jammed together, with tantalising snatches of the next-door interview drifting over.

“Oh, is Crispin top again?” bellows the parent on the left. On the right there’s a whispered exchange about unlicensed experiments in science lessons.

Teachers roll home exhausted, after 30 interviews with no break. Some parents never come near the place again.

Schools wonder why the turn-out gets worse as children get older. A very few schools invite parents in during the day for an in-depth discussion with a personal tutor.

He can usually remember who the child is. But most don’t.

Phil Revell