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Illustration by Beatriz Choi


Well, here in Prep School Land we can honestly say how super it is to see so many parents back on site. Honestly, it really is. Once again, we can enjoy the extremely early delivery of children right to the door of our classroom, leaving no time at all for that morning caffeine fix or loo stop; the pairs of Land Rovers stopping for a chat and a catchup right in the middle of the driveway, and the endless opportunities for no doubt well-intentioned flurries of pre-assembly questions concerning a lot of Very Important Things.

These might include, but are by no means limited to, things involving orthodontists, games kit and flutes. Or whether or not the climbing tree is safe. Or whether it might be better to do indoor Games today, what with the weather warning. Or if we wouldn't mind writing the class assembly sooner rather than later as it does take time for lines to go in. Or concerns about verrucas at the swimming gala next month. It's all valid, it really is, and we do very much want to reassure you that your child is going to have a lovely day. It's just, it's just... it is very early. And we're not entirely used to having them all loose again.

As you can no doubt imagine, having free range adults on a school site is infinitely more dangerous than having pupils. Children understand what school is for and how it works and as result, even though they are often a little hazy about why they need to be there, generally do something in the region of what they should be doing some of the time. Adults who are not teachers (teachers not counting as proper adults anyway) are a hazard on site because they think they understand what school is for and how it works. As a result, they are at real risk of wandering about the place and disrupting the finely tuned pedagogical eco-system.To curb the enthusiasm of relatives who appear on site trying to be helpful or asking too many questions, generations of headteachers the world over have implemented a near fool-proof seductive plan for parental containment: The Match Tea.

Yes, The Match Tea: a safe haven where parents may communicate solely with other parents within a controlled environment. A brief trudge from the pitch or court, the match tea is a comfortable social solace in a hall, foyer or dark corner over-laden with dusty trophies, curiously shaped pottery and baleful lost property eager to be noted and adopted.

Here, they will be offered a fanciful array of treats with which to while away the next half an hour or so while Little Precious performs a mini-version of this ritual with their sporty rivals over tepid fish fingers and weak lemon drink. The parents' delicacies will be accompanied by exceptionally strong tea (if you are served by Matron) or exceptionally flimsy coffee (if you are served by a Gap Year staff member).

But of course, what to choose, dear parent? Your choices are closely scrutinised by all and could very well have a significant impact on the number of dinner party invitations, “drop and go” playdates or opportunities to sit on the Friends' Association. Gluttony is vulgar and abstinence is joyless and you can afford neither! In short, one wrong move could leave you a social pariah for your remaining years as a parent at the school. Quelle horreur! But fear not, help is at hand with Prep Suzette’s crib notes on The Match Tea: do feel free to print, cut out and keep the handy table below in your wallet or clutched within your clammy, quivering hand.


Scones:
An ambitious selection! The scone is a top loaded choice of treat, leaving plenty of opportunity for down the front spillage, both outside and inside that lovely new top you’re wearing. To minimise the potential for collateral damage, they must be consumed in a maximum of two bites. Although one bite looks positively Cookie Monster. Unless you have the hand eye coordination of a US Open teen tennis sensation, you should treat scones with caution. Of course, the upside is that, in the event of an anxiety-ridden lull in the chat, you can employ that thrilling and hilarious debate about whether it’s jam and cream or cream and jam...sigh.

Sandwiches:
These are for sausage-fingered Dads who will roam through the selection like a Filofax, rummaging for the highest animal protein to salad ratio (coronation chicken, anyone?). The sizeable plate is always positioned at the end of the serving table where pre-school siblings of a certain age and height may finger them with hands fresh from the sand pit and cough over their majestic white and wholemeal peaks. Prep Suzette feels that there is better to be had further down the table.

Banana Bread:
Clearly you didn’t do any baking during either of the lockdowns. At all. Otherwise, you would be absolutely sick to the back teeth of banana bread. This Match Tea offering is a test of how interested you were in your children during the pandemic. Were you leaping about daily with Joe Wicks and consulting the Blue Peter website for wholesome ideas and recipes to fill your quality days together, or did you dare to try and juggle your business, family, health and sanity without a moment to take a browning banana and mush it with carbs to form a healthy treat? This choice will speak volumes about you. Avoid.

Cakes with vegetables where there should be fun:
This is Chef’s big moment to tantalise your tastebuds with their latest experimental offering (also known as a concept muffin). Prepare to be wowed with a fluffy mixture of courgette, beetroot and grated fennel when all you really wanted was something a bit sugary, stodgy and reassuring. You'll make all the right finger-licking noises in public, of course, but we all know you’ll be swinging into Londis on the way home for a double pack of Jaffa Cakes. We won’t judge.

Lemon Drizzle:
Congratulations! You have reached middle age and you are probably as boring as your children think you are. Quite possibly created in a Year 4 cooking lesson. Beware. Nul points.

Chocolate Brownies: Yes, they're gooey. Yes, they're more-ish. That's why the teachers are expecting you to leave these the heck alone so that they can enjoy a plate of them in the staffroom tomorrow morning. God forbid if a teacher walks past and sees you STEALING THEIR BROWNIES. Just not worth it.

Victoria Sponge:
There you go! Chef will have got everything about this classic just right. Nostalgia in a plump slice without challenge, surprise ingredients or guilt. Just sweet enough, no controversy in serving ritual and lovely with a cuppa. What it lacks in excitement, it makes up for in comfort eating and, let's face it, you deserve it. This parenting lark can be ever so tiring, and you need to get your energy up for that big list of questions you just wanted to ask Pumpkin's form tutor before you speed away home. Tuck in!