I’ve just been to a talent show at my daughter’s new school. I use the word advisedly. Like any teacher to have taught through the heyday of the TV talent show, I’ve sat through my fair share of primary school homages to the genre, always as part of my designated duties. Now I was crowding into the school hall on the hottest evening of the year and paying for the privilege.

The room was humid and exuded an ambiance peculiar to all school halls: a heady aroma of boiled vegetables and hot dust with top notes of floor polish and sweaty feet.

At the front, the judges sat in state on their yellow plastic chairs while the performers wriggled excitedly on PE mats by the stage. I noticed with relief that some far-sighted PTA member had set up a bar in the corner.

With excitement at peak levels, the show began.

The talent on display was much the same as in any school show: a succession of small girls singing inappropriate lyrics in faux American accents interspersed with the odd scraping violin and some little boys scuttling around the stage on hands and feet in the name of breakdancing.

Sadly, I had to leave before the end (to remove the youngest child when the heat increased and the Haribos ran out), so I didn’t get to see the medals given out or hear a seven-year-old sing the lyrics “you PMS like a bitch” at the middle-class parents (Mr Brighouse’s personal highlight of the evening).

But for all the naffness and painful pop-star parodies, there is a touching innocence about primary-aged children getting up to perform. It elevates such events into something wondrously joyful. Maybe it’s because the children are genuinely put in charge and centre stage. This is no pushy stage-mum product - it is completely child-led and gloriously unpolished.

My daughter took part because one of her friends chose a song and recruited a band of fellow five- and six-year-olds. Between them they rehearsed, auditioned and sourced costumes, all without adult intervention. Which meant that, on the night, the glory was entirely theirs.

However stumbling or off-key the act, the crowd cheered and applauded, clapped along and waved their arms with enthusiasm. Not one child froze in fear or fled the stage in fright, and all left it flushed with success and beaming with pride.

Even the content of the acts wasn’t really a problem in the grand scheme of things. I might wince when I watch the Year 3 girls practise their twerking at breaktime, but when I was that age, we were bringing in our first holy communion rosary beads, so we could strut around the playground belting out Like a Virgin, and we turned out OK.

So let’s hear it for the school talent show: cradle of ambition; booster of confidence; protector of children’s right to “do it for themselves”.

Just so long as everyone realises that once a year is quite enough.

Jo Brighouse is a pseudonym for a primary school teacher in the Midlands. She tweets @jo_brighouse