The final exam looms – and we've had years of practice to revise for it

The dining room has disappeared under a mountain of paper, text books, flash cards, hundreds of pens and pencils and empty coffee mugs. Oops, have fallen down on my maternal duty to be chief cook, bottle-washer, provider of tasty snacks and general emotional back-up.

The mess doesn't matter. The eight-foot table will re-emerge soon enough; order will be restored; this scene of mayhem probably won't ever be repeated, I suspect. The end of school is nigh, the last bout of exams almost upon us. Thirteen years of gearing up with ever-increasing regularity for a period when one's mental and emotional, if not physical, effort is akin to the Tour de France is nearly past.

It's been a year of "lasts" – the last parents' evening, last school concert, the final awards evening, and, more recently, the goodbye assembly for our second daughter's Upper 6th year group. This week has been the last half-term. We've all been institutionalised for the past 15 years, and for 13 of them we've had the regular pulse of looming national tests or exams. There was always something on the horizon to swot for, and like it or not, each set of exams was a group endeavour.

Can it really be so long ago that our older daughter took her first SAT tests in Year two at primary school? Suddenly, after what feels like an interval of about 10 minutes, she is finishing her second year at university and her younger sister is about to sit A-levels. We're facing the last battle of a long, long campaign... Only 19 late nights, a bucketful of angst, massive amounts of reassurance and a few tubs of ice-cream mark the three weeks between now and Liberation Day.

Looking back, a few exam-related memories stand out. How, for instance, the teacher in charge of our older child's class of seven-year-olds guided them calmly through Year two SATs as though it was just another day that included practice for the tests. No hype, no hysteria, no pressure, no stressful bandying-about of attainment levels.

Our second child's experience was altogether different, and the poor mite was made all too aware of how high she was expected to jump by her teacher. She wasn't sleeping in the run-up the tests ("What will Miss... say if I don't do as well as she says I should?"); other children were feeling sick and didn't want to go to school. A parents' consultation meeting prior to that year's Ofsted inspection almost turned nasty, as furious parents complained about the pressure.

The tests came and went, everyone got over it, but the overriding lesson learned was that school tests and exams are a shared family experience, and if your child is sick with nerves, you don't sleep either. By the time of Year six SATs for 10/11 year-olds, the kids were so over-rehearsed that they could have done them in their sleep and going to school lacked any kind of joy.

Doing well held only momentary glory, by the way, as the high school they moved on to didn't seem to trust the results and carried out its own tests.

Just too late for our children, year nine SATs for 14-year-olds were (rightly) abolished, then six years ago the relentless rolling

programme of early GCSEs/ GCSEs/AS levels and A2s (A-levels) kicked into motion. Some parents adopted an approach of taking holidays specifically to supervise revision. Were we bad parents that we didn't? One mother gave up her job during this stressful time. Oh double guilt.

We felt that, while our kids knew we supported them 100 per cent, and would do all we could at weekends and in the evening, they were old enough to fend for themselves when it came to being organised about study. They could shout for help, and it would come, but by and large this was the start of a lifetime of taking responsibility for themselves. It worked out okay, so long as we were amenable to being hijacked at 11pm on our way to bed, by: "Please will you test me...?"

Around GCSE time, first time around, stories were brought home about "incentives". Some parents were offering laptops, games consoles or trips to Disneyland in return for delivery of nine A*s. More well-heeled grandparents were also apparently offering 20 for each top grade. We laughed and carried on making the dinner. The offspring retreated, slightly disappointed but not too surprised. In our defence, we believe in recognising effort not results, so the end of exams has always been marked by a meal out and a couple of small treats.

All sorts of other anecdotes circulate the neighbourhood at this weird period of purdah. Like the one about the boy who was doing so little that his mother lost her rag and resorted to showing him a few bank statements. He apparently hit the books with a vengeance after seeing in black-and-white how much it cost to pay the mortgage and bills, run the car, buy food, and everything else considered necessary in a modest household. Pass your exams or you'll never have a home of your own, never mind a set of hot wheels was an argument we never had to employ, luckily.

It's the nature of the girl that she will come home at least once in the next three weeks distraught at how things went. Getting her to stop focusing on what's over and prepare for the next hurdle is, we've found, the most difficult task for us. That, and what to do when the chocolate brownie ice cream runs out at 1am.

We're in the home straight. Soon we can throw the revision notes on a bonfire, crack open something fizzy and celebrate the severing of the ties between home and school. Future exams will happen at arm's length, and our involvement will be comforting phone calls or emails, while we brazenly enjoy a holiday that's not tied to a school calendar.

There's a (slight) feeling of sadness about the last exams, because our girls' childhood is now behind them. But the overwhelming mood is one of elation that an exciting new chapter is opening. For all of us.

This much we know... about exams

n Nagging doesn't work and nor does imposed isolation... you might want to lock them in a room with only table, lamp and notes, but you can't make them work. Let them choose their corner, make their mess, play their music and whatever else helps them to burrow down into revision mode...

n Their style of learning in general and doing revision in particular may not be how you did it, but if it works for them... go with it.

n Food is really crucial... hardcore revision is hungry work, and stopping for regular calorie intake makes them surface for a breather as well as keeping energy levels topped up. Provision of late evening

cheese on toast/ice-cream is a parent's bounden duty.

n Exercise helps enormously, so encourage it every day. It's amazing how a half-hour jog, swim or short session in the garden with a skipping rope increases feelings of positivity and helps things to fall into place mentally.

n Getting too closely involved as a parent is not a good idea... offer to help in any way they'd like you to, but it's not good to hover and home in on them all the time, checking on their progress, ticking

boxes on their revision plan, or indeed showing off how much you know about Cold War Germany or calculus. Remember, it's not you sitting the exam.

n Maintain a serene, untroubled exterior, so that they are not infected by any external tension. When they get surly or hysterical, tell yourself "It's the stress talking", and don't respond.

n Practical back-up is always welcome – like tidying up and putting away books and notes as each exam is over, ensuring their "lucky" sweatshirt is clean and available for exam days, keeping a jug of water handy for them at all times, and making sure they have the pens, pencils, ruler, calculator, etc that they'll need for the day, ready in a transparent bag. Always have spares.

n Be available to them... make sure you and your partner alternate your socialising during this short period, so that one of you is always around in the evenings before and during exams, in case your child wants you to test them, talk through difficult topics, generally calm them down or distract them. Some just want to know you are there for a cuddle; others need you to go through to midnight, albeit retreading things you thought they knew five days ago.

n Make it clear to them that you are proud of how hard they've worked and know they've done their best. After the exams are over, it's good to underline to them – although hopefully they already know – that you will love them just the same whatever the results.