It is not unknown for pupils to get a crush on a teacher. It is not unknown for teachers to have relationships with parents. But perhaps it is relatively rare to be stalked by a parent - and that is what happened to me.
Now I'm not a Brad Pitt lookalike. In fact, I'm distinctly on the other end of the spectrum from the likes of Brad. But I possess one huge advantage over most men - I'm the only male teacher in the school; the only show in town.
Perhaps this is what attracted my stalker. The first sign was a Christmas card. Nothing wrong with that, but the snowman was rather "unusual" (was that a carrot?).
A couple of months later there was the Valentine's Day card - more of an invitation than a card. I began to get uncomfortable, particularly when the stream of emails duly arrived, along with the notes I found tucked behind my car windscreen wipers.
It was getting a bit worrying, especially as I had not got a clue who was responsible. How long would it be, I wondered, before she found out where I lived? Flattery had given way to fear - this was a deranged and chronically short-sighted individual.
I kept it quiet, but colleagues could tell that something was up. I eventually confided in the deputy head. She immediately knew who my tormentor was - and I was shocked to hear it: a straight-laced solemn mum from another year group.
A quiet word was spoken and it stopped immediately. I didn't miss it one bit. And yet the following Valentine's Day I woke up with a sense of unexplained anticipation. Perhaps any attention is better than none?
The writer is a primary teacher. Send your worst parent stories to firstname.lastname@example.org. Those published will receive #163;50 in MS vouchers.