Last minute deals

This time of the year is a curious mix of the phlegmatic, the complacent and the panicky. Most will have no idea why, but anyone with a child at school in their 11th or 13th year will know exactly. In a little over a week, 'A' level results will be published, bringing terror, panic, euphoria or resignation to the 18 year old recipients. This is the day when it all comes together - or falls apart, as the case may be.

The UK's system of announcing results means that large numbers of youngsters will be scouring the web, attempting to confirm their places in University, or attempting to find one that will take them if their results are not quite what they'd hoped for, all within the same couple of hours.

The timing of all this is also quite interesting. Just when many are trying to hop a flight to Majorca on a last-minute, all-in, sand-'n-sun deal, and Ospreys are hoping for a few quiet months on the sun-kissed equatorial plains, the parents of year 11 and 13 offspring are discovering that there is such a thing as hell. In exactly the same way that almost from the moment the long school holidays started when we were children, the shops would erect their cheery 'Back to School!' signs, igniting such loathing and fury from us eleven-year-olds that we spent hours consciously re-designing ancient but highly effective mediaeval torture appliances to be used on the management of such places, the publication dates of the examinations as they near, pry apart the previously intact blasé façades of confidence and coolness of the students, gradually and persistently reducing them to neurotic, nervous wrecks, a transformation that adds such a lot to any family holiday.

This year we're going to make some predictions. First - results will be better - albeit only slightly better - than last.

Second - the media will run countless stories alleging a decline in examination standards, numerous 'experts' will be wheeled out from each camp to refute or confirm these allegations and the students themselves won't give a damn.

Third, most students will get into a university - somewhere. The hard-working, lucky and bright sparks will get their first choice. The unlucky, less well-organised and perhaps not quite so bright will combine to bring the telephone network almost to a standstill and the internet crashing down as they desperately scrabble for a place studying something, somewhere.

The curious thing is that amid all this panic, thrashing about and euphoric catalepsy, very little thought will have been given to the teachers themselves. And good teachers are the ones always responsible for that magic that can make the difference to any year 11 or 13 student's chances. When the envelopes are opened, let's remember the people involved in getting those results.