You know the scene, every disaster movie has one.  Just before the hurricane hits, just before the giant meteor strikes the Earth or the aliens invade, there’s a sun-drenched slow motion shot of laughing children happily playing in a park. Hold that thought, you are about to enter Year Six – SATs Year.

Now, at the risk of sounding like Al Murray, if we were living in France we’d be out in the street protesting about the injustice of it all and demanding that our 10 / 11 year olds be left alone. In reality Year Six generates temper tantrums ‘extraordinaire’, neurosis, competiveness, urgent chewing of cuffs, (sometimes down to the elbow), recurrence of eczema, disturbed sleep patterns due to nightmares; and that’s just the parents and teachers!!!!

And  me? This Hampshiremum opted out, abandoned all things studious around Easter time, chanting the mantra “No more revision”.  I saw Star I turn back into the happy, relaxed and confident child he once was, there’s enough stress in life when you’re an adult who needs it when you’re ten? Anyway once they’ve entered the hallowed halls of senior school SATs are simply tossed aside with not so much as an ‘am I bovvered?’ from the staff, only to be replaced by CATs, the results of which are utilized to predict the outcome of the GCSE results some five years hence!  No pressure there then………

As they’re logic tests I reckon some serious study on ‘Big Brain Academy’ one and two should sort it.

Fortunately, aside from the initial foaming at the mouth, our school adopted a laid back approach to the whole sorry affair and confidently predict that all of Year Six will reach ‘the target’.

Oh except one, left sitting in the corner sad and lonely with the dunce’s hat on…….. Ah that will be little Master Government then.