I’ve been to Cannes. In my field of work, there is a yearly event where we compete in advertising (Cannes Lions, it's like the World Championship). At the same time, there are lots of interesting talks and seminars. And quite a lot of rosé wine.
Anyway. I came back home this afternoon and was met by a jubilant big brother who gave me a big hug and said: "Abbe is starting at my nursery school after the summer". Nah, I thought. Now he’s misunderstood everything. Abbe has got a place at a nursery school. But at an ordinary, municipal nursery school. We’ve even been there to visit. It seemed good, in every way, and I have started to get used to the thought of driving our children to two different places. Poor big brother, how will I explain to him? I thought he was ok with this.
But then I notice his mum and himself are looking at each other, knowingly … "What?" I say. "What’s up?" The Big Brother can barely keep from laughing and my wife has a big smile on her face. "Yes, the headmaster has had to go" she says. "A temporary headmaster rang us yesterday."
After having been tipped by a few other parents in the association, he started his post as a headmaster by checking out the intake on a gender basis. That’s when he called us.
– I think it’s very strange that Abbe has not been offered a place.
– So do we, said Abbe’s mum.
– Have you got any idea why?
My wife told him the story. She described all the details, all the talks, the support and surprise from the nursery school teachers when they learnt about the lost place and our frustration over the fact that the old headmaster didn’t seem to bother.
– This doesn’t seem right, said the new, and – as a godsend – acting headmaster.
– We can’t have it like this.
– Well, then I’d like to offer Abbe a place for this Autumn.
– Thank you.