Thank God it's Friday
TUESDAY I'm woken up by the phone. It's Mum. Can I see her handbag? I can't find it but I do discover her glasses in the bathroom. I crawl back to bed. The phone rings again. Not to worry - the handbag has turned up in the cupboard at school where she used to hide it, even though she never puts it there now. But she can't seem to find her glasses.
WEDNESDAY The phone rings at 10am. Mum again. One of the dinner ladies is off sick - can I possibly cover for her in my lunch break? I'll be in the infant playground and it's pound;4.50 an hour. I must be mad. All those screaming children asking if I've got a boyfriend and am I really the head's daughter? I go back to bed. I'll have a rest before I set off at 11.45am.
THURSDAY The phone beats m alarm again. "No, sorry, he's at work today." I tell the nice lady which days my stepdad is working as a supply teacher. The best time to ring in future? Preferably when I'm awake. The postman's been. I collect two educational publications, the phone bill, and a university interview date for me.
FRIDAY Mum leaves me a note and pound;10. Please can I do the ironing, hoover downstairs and wash my sheets. The phone rings. Can I help at the infant disco tonight? What, on a Friday night? You must be joking.
Next week is activities week at her school. At some point I seem to have volunteered to help. Today I am presented with an itinerary and a list of duties.
Teaching is a tradition in our family, but I won't be following in the footsteps of my mum, dad, stepdad, stepmum, uncle, godmother, step-grandmother and godchild's mother. I'd rather have a life - if my mother will let me.
Kate Bindotti is a student in Bristol. Her mother is a primary head