We've had Klapp – that school app – for two years now. And I don't miss a thing. I still remember how those thick C4 envelopes always signalled the end of the summer holidays. They'd be in the letterbox on the Wednesday before school started.
By the time I'd worked my way through the pile, it was usually autumn. But I also liked to get sidetracked during the rest of the year. Once, weeks later, I came across a note about head lice in the class. I'm sure they were already on to fractions by then – the children, that is.
Well, when you open it, it makes a quiet «ping». And this time, the letter about the new school year didn't arrive until Thursday, along with two enclosures: the timetable and the emergency contact form. Everything you need, just without the ladybird sticker on the envelope. I didn't really miss that either, to be honest.
It was only a little while ago that I realised something was still missing: «Hang on, who's Lena?» I blurted out when my son was telling me about school. «Are you serious?» he asked in reply. «She's been in my class for ages.»
I didn't miss the class register, but I did enjoy studying it. And in doing so, I mapped out the children's world a little.
I'd always thought I knew all about the children, their friends and everything else. And then this happened. In a panic, I scrolled up and down on Klapp. It was only when I couldn't find a class list that it dawned on me: they don't hand those out anymore. It's because of data protection, not because of Klapp, but I still thought the app was a bit daft. I'm sure I'd have noticed the list was missing much sooner if it'd been in a C4 envelope.
As I said, I didn't miss them, but I did enjoy studying them. And in doing so, I mapped out the world of children a little. Ah, Matteo from the Ineichens is joining your class! And oh, look, there are arrows here: we have to ring the Burris if anything happens. (Phone alerts! I thought it was lovely – until we spent an entire evening trying to get hold of anyone at the Burris’.) Once we even received a class list with photos. That was a good year.
Navigating children's social lives
Lena, Matteo, Burris, Ineichens: Of course, they're all called something else. Data protection – a good thing. And it's certainly not necessary for every parent to know the Müllers’ living arrangements or Mrs Meier's 077 number. So I just don't know what Noé's surname is, even though he's rummaging through our fridge for the third time.
And suddenly you find yourself navigating your children's social lives as if using Google Maps: keeping an eye on the route, but completely oblivious to your surroundings. But I don't print out Google Maps any more either. And that's despite the fact that I've just been on the landline trying to ring the Burris family.
So now I've gone through my digital transformation, I thought to myself, and yet I nearly got bogged down with Klapp of all things. I was, in fact, a hair's breadth away from overlooking the box on the emergency form that you can tick if you agree to a class register.
So if another one does turn up, I'll print it out and punch holes in it. I might even get it laminated. Until then, I'll have a flick through the folder containing old school letters, looking at lists I thought I'd long since thrown away. And I find Lena. On every single one, ever since nursery. It was just a momentary lapse. That's what I'm saying.
