Isn’t it marvellous spending time at home with the family this week? Or perhaps you’re taking a short break in the sunshine before returning to work. What’s that? Back already?

Well, then forgive me indulging my few moments of smugness as I enjoy my second Whitsun week in return for my all-too-brief Easter holiday.

I’ll come to regret it, of course. Everyone knows that the second half of the summer term is both too long and too short. It’s always too long until the summer holidays are finally here, and yet somehow the final half term also manages to be too short to fit everything in. Suddenly, having felt for months that summer is a lifetime away, we soon find ourselves wondering where the weeks have gone and how we’ll ever get everything done that we need to do by the end of July.

It probably wouldn’t be so bad if so many of the things that need doing weren’t also so often exactly the things that bring grumbles and complaints in one form or another.

Summer term stress

First, there are the annual reports. A framework and deadlines set by someone who doesn’t actually have to write the things, and ample opportunities for parents to criticise or carp about why their child hasn’t been graded as outstanding for effort (take a guess) or why we’ve deigned to comment on their three-week term-time holiday.

Then the end-of-year production. In theory, a wonderful opportunity to showcase talents, bring out hidden confidence and share in the joy of the show. In practice, no doubt, quite likely to lead to another hastily-written missive asking why Abigail hasn’t been given the part she so clearly deserved, or why you’re not running a late-night performance to cater for families with pressing dinner engagements that evening.

Somewhere you’ll need to fit the sports day in. For some, a vibrant opportunity to demonstrate teamwork and sportsmanship, and yet, for some reason, others take it as yet another opportunity to snipe from the sidelines about why their child should be awarded more trophies, or someone else denied theirs. Or quite possibly they simply want to provide a critique of the organisation of the event, which evidently falls short of Olympic Committee standards.

You don’t even need a special event to bring out the serial moaners and Facebook whingers. A spell of fine weather? Somebody will be muttering on the playground about how mean you are for keeping the children in classrooms at all. But give them five extra minutes of playtime and someone else’s parent will be demanding to know why you’ve forced their child to burn in sweltering heat. No number of reminders in the school newsletter will serve to ensure that parents are responsible for sun cream for their child, apparently.

You’ll probably get something wrong when it comes to transition, too. One of the saving graces of leading a single-form entry school is that no one can complain about which class their child is put in - although doubtless there are stories out there that prove me wrong. For any school needing to match classes to teachers, or worse, needing to remix classes in preparation for the new year, this time is a minefield. And then you can guarantee that someone thinks you’ve told children too soon... or too late.

Mercifully, as so often, it’ll be the kids that make it a pleasure. If it’s your final weeks with a much-loved class then no amount of parental griping can detract from the fun of the final straight. And if it’s a group you’re glad to see the back of, then you’ve only a few weeks to go until freedom.

Michael Tidd is headteacher at Medmerry Primary School in West Sussex. He tweets @MichaelT1979