A headteacher once wrote in Dame Judi Dench’s school report: “Judi would be a very good pupil if she lived in this world.” Meanwhile, Sir Stephen Fry fared worse: “He has glaring faults and they have certainly glared at us this term.”

And it seems this level of brutal honesty is sorely missed among some of those teachers penning today’s school reports.

In an eye-opening r/TeachingUK post, one educator shared that “every year it quite annoys me how we aren’t allowed to just flat out tell the truth about a child in the report, everything has to be reworded as a positive as not to offend anyone”.

“For example, the child in my Y4 class who throws chairs and calls me a stupid c*** every day is now being described as ‘working towards making more positive choices in the school day’,” they noted.

“I remember getting my school report back (I was mostly a good kid) which explained how I spent most of the time chatting and not listening, and my mum went mad, best believe I sat and listened as to not get another report like that.”

While they caveated that some school reports in the 1990s did go “a bit far”, the teacher suggested “everything has to be worded positively” in modern-day school reports. And many seemed to be in agreement.

“Yeah it’s gone too far the other way,” said one commenter. “There’s a difference between saying a kid is rude and cruel vs saying they have been acting rude and cruel, and we should be able to say the latter.”

Another chimed in: “It’s daft. I think there’s a lot of reasons honesty should be allowed in reports. One of them being that we are seeing many cases of undiagnosed SEN [special educational needs] such as ADHD, ASD etc where school reports can be a vital piece of info.”

Some suggested that because reports used to be handwritten, teachers “got to be brief, and absolutely brutal”.

“I’ve seen ones that boiled down to ‘John has no aptitude for science and should not continue’. That was it; no euphemisms, no niceties, just absolute honesty,” shared a teacher.

“We were discussing today that we should be allowed to rank the child in parental discussions about behaviour. If that child is the number 1 problem in class you should absolutely be able to call them out on it and make it crystal clear to parents that their child is the worst; not this ‘well other kids in the class…’, ‘boys will be boys…’ excuse-making you get, the cold hard reality that your child is the worst kid in the class.”

But there were a handful of respondents who disagreed that school reports decades ago were not so different to those of today.

“Nah, I’ve read my old school reports from the 90s and they were full of the same old banalities that we use today,” said one educator.

“There’s this false nostalgia for the days of honest school reports, whatever that means. The biggest difference between the reports I received as a child and the reports I write now as a teacher is that the former were handwritten! Can you imagine going back to that?”

Another teacher said that there’s more contact between schools and parents nowadays, meaning serious issues are usually raised before report season, “whereas for some in the 90s, the report and parents evening were nearly the only contact they had with school”.

They ended: “In my view, the long, detailed school report itself is a bit of an anachronism now because of this change in the home-school dynamic.”

There’s been growing discontent with school reports for some time, both from teachers and parents. Back in 2015, The Guardian reported how both parties were increasingly unhappy with “robotic” school reports.

At the time, a deputy headteacher revealed in an op-ed how “many teachers no longer feel that they can tell parents what they really think about their children”.

We’ve written before at HuffPost UK about the fact that cloves and capers are both technically flower buds, while figs are technically inverted flowers.

(Don’t even get me started on their horrific historic relationship with wasps).

So, what about vanilla, which comes in a pod? I’ve never quite been sure whether it counts as a fruit, a vegetable, bean, or something else – never mind how it’s actually grown.

Vanilla beans are not actually beans – they’re really the unripe fruit of an orchid. So, vanilla itself is a fruit.

The pods grow on the climbing plant of the flower’s vine. This long, thin fruit can grow up to 20cm long and can take up to nine months to mature.

They aren’t harvested when they’re fully ripe, though; vanilla is usually picked when its base turns golden-green.

These fruits barely have any smell when they’re picked. The famous vanilla scent comes from enzymatic reactions in the fruit as it’s cured.

Traditionally, the pods were steamed and cured in the sun for about 10 days before five to six months of drying. This process leads to tiny crystals called vanillin – responsible for that sweet smell and taste – forming on the surface of some pods.

The higher the grade of vanilla, the more of these crystals it may have.

Something similar happens to capers; when they’re cured and/or salted, they release mustard oil and rutin. That leads to their signature tang and the little white spots you sometimes see on their skin.

The vanilla orchid is hand-pollinated, even to this day.

While they can be pollinated by insects, too, only one tiny species of bee is designed for the task. These don’t live in all the countries that produce vanilla, either.

And it’s not like the bees (or hand-pollinators) have got a huge window to do their jobs, either. Vanilla flowers tend to stay open for just six to eight hours at a time and usually only do so once a year.

Hand pollination is “an extremely tricky process done with a slim toothpick,” Kew Gardens explained.

After that’s done, you have to wait almost a year for a usable fruit.

The long curing process, along with “the practice of manual pollination, makes vanilla one of the most expensive spices (after saffron),” spice and extract company McCormick’s Science Institute said.

Yes, lots of it. In fact, I’m now convinced I’ve never eaten real vanilla in my life.

Imitation vanilla is a far cheaper, though arguably less delicious, version of the flavour made from manufactured extracts.

Less than 1% of the world’s vanilla flavour (vanillin) comes from vanilla orchids, Scientific American said.

Other ways to achieve a similar taste involve guaiacol, a fragrant liquid made by distilling wood-tar creosote or tree resin. That’s responsible for about 85% of the world’s vanilla flavour.

And manufacturers use lignin for the rest, a substance found in things like cow manure and wood pulp.

So, Kew Gardens explained, “much of the ‘vanilla essence’ commonly used today is actually made from wood pulp or coal tar”.

When our daughter was preschool-aged, Princess Ariel dolls littered every room. Our once tranquil interior – a blend of coastal and cottage design – looked like an ill-kept aquarium full of plastic ornaments but no actual fish.

Our child dressed the part, too: Whether headed for the playground or grocery store, her tiny toes poked out beneath a sparkling green fishtail.

As a former clinical social worker, I knew imaginative play served an important role in child development, but I worried about the degree of fantasy we were helping her cultivate. I was also exhausted. While she twirled in a red wig, I was miscast in the role of Prince Eric. My throat ached from forcing a deep voice each day.

One evening, I found rose petals scattered around plastic doll furniture and knew a wedding ceremony was imminent, but I couldn’t bear another moment of make-believe. I begged my husband, Tomer, to take over.

“No way,” our daughter said. “Daddy’s no good at dolls. Mommy’s the best.”

It was a contest I wanted to lose, but never did. Tomer insisted he lacked creativity, but I suspected he was feigning incompetence to gain more personal time. When would I reclaim an adult life? His career was thriving, but I’d traded mine for full-time parenting.

Tomer tried to help out, but when left alone with our kid, he took her shopping for more toys. It was a strategy he employed to avoid actual playtime.

“I can’t sit on the floor,” he said. “It hurts my back.”

One morning, I found scissors beside a life-size styling head and followed a trail of synthetic hair into the bathroom, where red clumps clogged the toilet.

As I plunged the bowl, guilt churned my stomach. After all, I depended on their shopping sprees to catch a break. Determined to change course, I insisted Tomer try something new – maybe an art project – while seated comfortably at the table.

Later that afternoon, laughter echoed from the dining room. Were they crafting? Yes. It seemed a miracle until I looked up and saw toilet paper, probably three rolls of it, dangling from the chandelier.

“It’s a coral reef,” they explained.

Tomer winked. “I did the parts she couldn’t reach.”

Our daughter jumped around. “I did the rest all by myself.”

The “rest” amounted to stacked paper cups and piled pillows. A roll of alluminum foil covered our wood flooring to achieve water’s reflective quality. In the middle of the table was a silver-plated fork.

She beamed. “That’s Ariel’s hairbrush.”

I frowned. “That’s fancy cutlery.”

“That we never used,” Tomer said.

What could I say? The man had done as I’d asked. I went to bed feeling a mix of hope and dread.

By morning, the coral reef had grown. Paper cups climbed the stairs; alluminum foil lined the banister. I could’ve cleaned up or made them do it, but I lacked energy, so the reef kept expanding.

Whatever our daughter didn’t own, she created from found materials. For a mermaid carnival, she sprinkled sugar on lint gathered from the clothes dryer and called it cotton candy. I couldn’t help but feel proud of her resourcefulness; moreover, since the mess was homemade, I thought things were improving.

Then, Disney released a new movie. Tomer took our daughter to see it, and when they returned, she ran straight to the chandelier and ripped off the toilet paper. As Scott Tissue drifted down, our kid shouted, “Let it snow!”

By nightfall, a new cast of characters moved in. For every Queen Elsa, there was also a Princess Anna. A single snowman named Olaf seemed to reproduce despite having no mate. Ariel’s ocean turned to ice, but our daughter still invited mermaids to every “Frozen”-themed event.

When I complained about the new purchases, Tomer pushed back. “It makes me happy to see her happy, and nothing makes her happier than another doll.”

But there was one night that Tomer seemed to share my concern. He came home hungry, peered into the refrigerator, and found nothing but dolls, apple juice and faux food.

“Olaf is hosting an ice cream social,” I explained.

“This is out of control,” he said.

“But look at her creativity.” I pointed at the bottom shelf, where she’d placed a sea monster molded from Play-Doh and green Jell-O.

Tomer sighed and ordered a pizza.

Our marriage dynamic resembled a seesaw. When one of us overindulged, the other would try and contain the madness. Then, we’d swap places all over again. Meanwhile, we never conquered the clutter, and I worried the mess amounted to worse than aesthetic harm.

“What if she ends up caring more about material possessions than human relationships?”

“She’s not going to care about toys forever,” Tomer said.

Time proved him right. In late 2019, our daughter stopped playing. It seemed sudden and felt sad. Then, the Covid-19 pandemic arrived, and we got stuck at home with all those abandoned toys. Like everyone else, we ran low on toilet paper, too. Oftentimes, I caught myself gazing at the chandelier, longing for the backup supply that had once draped down.

Another month into lockdown, I learned through Facebook that a local family’s home had caught fire. Everyone survived, but they’d lost all their possessions.

Our daughter made an announcement. “Those kids need toys, and my toys need kids. I want to give everything away.”

Together, we moved her playthings outside the front door. Our daughter used ribbon to tie makeshift masks over every miniature mouth. She hid lollipops and Post-it notes inside Queen Elsa’s ice castle. “Enjoy! Stay safe!” Tears leaked from my eyes as she kissed each Olaf goodbye.

We watched from the window as a truck pulled into the driveway. Out popped the parents and their three kids. They ran toward the mountain of toys, and what had seemed like too much for one child instantly transformed into the perfect amount to share.

Our daughter grinned. “Look. They’re so happy.”

Her empathy exposed my foolishness. I’d wasted precious years worried that our daughter’s attachment to toys amounted to selfishness, but our daughter had always demonstrated kindness in all of her imagined scenarios. No doll was ever bullied or left out. I’d been focused on the cluttered surface and missed the deeper level where our child had been developing interpersonal skills and moral character all along.

Regret overwhelmed me. I wanted to go back, but of course, time kept moving forward.

More recently, our daughter celebrated her Sweet 16. Before we started decorating, she insisted on removing the final traces of the coral reef: three plush mermaids were still hanging from the chandelier. They’d watched over our holiday meals for longer than a decade.

Today, the mermaid trio sits in my office. Maybe a future grandchild will spark generosity, but for now, they’re all mine. A source of inspiration whenever I’m facing a new challenge, I notice the pastel plushies decorating my bookshelf and am reminded to search for deeper meaning in whatever seems to be taking up too much time and space.

Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.

Veteran news presenter Jon Snow has disclosed that he has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.

The 78-year-old shared during a new interview with the Daily Mail that he was told he had the disease, which is the most common form of dementia, four years ago.

He explained that he wanted to go public with his condition to raise awareness around Alzheimer’s, saying: “If I don’t speak out, who will?”

Jon will dive deeper into living with Alzheimer’s in a new film, Jon Snow: A Last Big Story, which will air on Channel 4 on Saturday 20 June.

Having stepped down from Channel 4 News in 2021, after more than 30 years with the broadcaster, he came out of retirement for his latest project, which saw him investigating the aftermath of a mining disaster in Zambia.

In the film, Jon is heard saying: “At the beginning I wanted to hide [my diagnosis], there’s so much prejudice. Any sort of hint of mental decay, you’re sort of dead.

“There are moments when it pops up but it’s not an all day every day condition, and that’s what I cling onto.”

Jon’s wife, Dr Precious Lunga, said: “Life doesn’t end with an Alzheimer’s diagnosis, but it changes dramatically. You can have Alzheimer’s and still be a valuable member of society but you need support to navigate it.”

The Bafta Fellowship recipient began his career in journalism at LBC in the 1970s, before he moved to ITN, serving as its Washington correspondent and diplomatic editor.

In 1989, he then made the jump to Channel 4 News, where he remained until the early 2020s.

The CEO of Alzheimer’s Society, Michelle Dyson, said: “Jon’s decision to talk publicly about his dementia diagnosis is a real act of courage and his story will resonate with so many.

“His support for Alzheimer’s Society will help spark a national conversation about dementia that we so desperately need. Despite being the UK’s biggest killer, dementia is still not treated with the same urgency as other major health conditions like cancer.

“Alongside his wife Precious, Jon is shining a light on the need for faster, fairer access to diagnosis. An early diagnosis can unlock vital support, help families plan ahead and potentially open the door to participation in clinical trials.

“Yet too many people across the country are still waiting far too long for a diagnosis. We look forward to working with Jon, whose long-standing commitment to speaking out against injustice will help ensure the harsh realities of dementia cannot be ignored by the UK Government and the NHS.”

OnlyFans launched in 2016 as a social media platform designed to help influencers, musicians and other creators connect directly with their fans through paid subscriptions.

Adult content creators, in particular, flourished on the platform, with some earning six figures annually – and others bringing in that much in a single month.

While that kind of money may sound enticing in a “should-I-quit-my-day-job-and-give-it-a-shot?” kind of way, the work isn’t easy.

OnlyFans creators say that building a fan base, streamlining your workflow and maintaining a content calendar takes far more strategy and consistency than many people realise.

Plus, the platform itself can be unpredictable: in 2021, OnlyFans announced plans to ban sexually explicit content, only to reverse course days later following intense backlash.

What does it take to make bank on the site? What kind of explicit content are they offering, exactly?

Below, OnlyFans adult content creators who are making it work delve into that, and what they think of the recent controversial Euphoria storyline involving Sydney Sweeney’s character, Cassie, joining the site.

Responses have been edited and condensed for clarity.

“I got into OnlyFans while I was in dental school. My family was struggling with medical bills after Covid, and I wanted a way to help support them financially. At first, I saw it as a side hustle, but it quickly became my full-time career. The growth happened really fast. My first month was honestly mind-blowing, and by the second month, I realised this was something real that I needed to fully focus on. Eventually, everyone at my dental job found out, and I ended up getting fired.

When I first started on OnlyFans, I was only posting bikini and lingerie content. There was no nudity at all in the beginning. Over time, my content naturally evolved month by month into more suggestive content, and years later, I eventually released my first boy-girl video.

Across all my platforms, I have around 9 million social media followers total – 4.5 million on Instagram, over a million on TikTok, and another 1 million on Twitter. Building that audience has taken years of consistency and hard work. I’m making roughly over $1 million dollars a month right now, which still feels surreal to say out loud. But I’ve worked incredibly hard to build this business and make it successful.

One of the biggest misconceptions is that this job is somehow easier than a traditional 9-to-5. In reality, I work constantly – holidays, birthdays, weekends, all of it. When you run your own business and want to succeed at a high level, you’re always ‘on.’

Another misconception is that success on OnlyFans only comes from doing extreme or outrageous content. I completely disagree with that. I’m one of the top creators on the platform, and I’ve built my business by creating content I’m personally comfortable making. If your audience connects with what you create, you can absolutely be successful without constantly pushing boundaries.

As for Euphoria, I actually think it’s great publicity when mainstream shows reference OnlyFans because it opens the door for people to better understand how the platform works. Of course, some portrayals are exaggerated or unrealistic, but overall I think it helps normalise conversations around creators and online work.” ― Skylar Maye

“I was working in a strip club during Covid and we immediately shut down, so I had to pivot. Who knew that pivot would change my life forever? I started off more Playboy style: very clean and basic but sensual and sexy. Legs closed.

Then I have gotten more sexually comfortable with myself and exploring new things, so my levels have increased to toy play, but I keep things solo. I have 550,000 subscribers, and I make about $175,000 to $225,000 a month. A bit over $2 million a year.

Content creation is no joke, and it kind of sucks that it’s hard for normal people to understand that, but you go from 9-to-5 to 24/7. We never sleep. We never stop, and we are always hunting for the next creative idea, which can also be draining.

I think that people never understand the business side of it [and think] you can just do this for fun or quick money. That’s not how it works, and you will not succeed, and this will be all over the internet forever. You dive in headfirst, or don’t dive at all. It can be life-changing in both ways, good and bad.” ― Jessica Barton

“In 2018, I jumped straight in at the deep end and started filming content with my partner Josh. The majority of my content is filmed in a super amateur style, leaving in all of the awkward and funny moments. I don’t shy away from showing as much personality as possible, and I pride myself on my content feeling relatable and authentic.

Over the years, I’ve managed to curate a strong brand and build a loyal following, so now I have a steady income and a relatively chilled workflow, but it took a lot of hard work and consistency to get here. On OnlyFans alone, I tend to make anywhere between $10,000 to $40,000 per month. It varies a lot. There are also other platforms where I make a few thousand a month as well – it all adds up.

I’ve worked 9-to-5s where I’d come home and collapse out of exhaustion at the end of the day, so I know how hard it can be. But there are times where I actually miss that. And it can also be quite challenging knowing that your entire income could change overnight and be completely out of your control if an account gets deleted or if a rule changes. It was only a few years ago that OnlyFans themselves said they were banning adult content on their platform altogether. Scary times. Luckily, they quickly backtracked on that, but these are the kinds of life-changing decisions that are out of our control.

I’m not keen on the Euphoria plot line. Firstly – and this is a little selfish – but I like sex work feeling taboo. Before lockdown, when so many new people joined and it became more well-known, if someone asked what you did for a living and you said ‘OnlyFans’ or ‘amateur porn,’ people were shocked, curious and entertained. Nowadays, if you tell someone what you do, it’s more like, ‘Ah yeah, so does my aunt.’ It’s not a dirty little secret anymore – it’s mainstream – and as someone who got into the industry because they have a true love for the naughty things in life, that takes away a bit of the appeal.

Secondly, popular non-sex-worker-run shows tend to paint OnlyFans in a bad, or at least inaccurate, light. Wearing a diaper and dressing up as a baby, as Cassie does, is massively against the rules, for example. There are already so many negative opinions surrounding sex work – we don’t need shows like Euphoria creating new harmful stereotypes and damaging opinions of the industry even more.” ― Jade Vow

“I got into OnlyFans when I was about to be engaged but I didn’t know my partner had already exposed our home videos to the world. I decided not to be sad but just embrace it. When I decided to join, Covid had just hit and I was tired of working three jobs. I was working at a club bartending, working as a home aid and I was serving at a restaurant. In 2022 I finally decided to quit all my jobs and do OF full time. I make $200,000 to $400,000 per year, depending on the economy and my energy that year.

When I first started, I was only shooting solos and randomly dropping tapes that me and my ex had together. Once I decided to make it full-time, I started to explore more into women. I decided to finally live in my truth about the love I have for women. My content now is [broader] than it was when I first started.

After actually locking in with it, I felt more open and free. Sex work has taught me how to fully live in my truth. My fans honestly love my personality and humour. I have fans who ask me to do story times, and then I have fans who just want me to just exist. My favourite request I have ever gotten has to be the time I had to do a karaoke video. The fan knew I liked to sing, so he just wanted to see me happy. Sex work has helped me be able to finally feel liberated about my body. As someone who has dealt with sexual assault, it has helped me gain my feeling of power.

But I hate the way TV depicts sex workers, because they make it seem like we’re just girls who were fucked up and decided, ‘let me do porn.’ With Euphoria, I feel like some points in the show were valid, but it doesn’t depict the industry as a whole. I am a Black woman in this industry, so I get treated a different way than others. On the show, Cassie was praised by the internet and people love her, but I don’t get that love fully. I get mainly hate, with a few dashes of love. I’m labeled as a whore, whereas if you’re white, it’s labelled as liberating. ” ― Majesty Nasty

“I started OnlyFans in the summer of 2021 after my husband passed away. I was trying to support three kids on a middle-income salary while working in HR hiring nurses, and I was drowning in medical bills my husband had acquired before he passed. I also wanted to be present for my kids and be there when they got home from school. One day I was sitting on the couch watching TV when I saw a news segment about another OnlyFans model. The media highlighted how much money she was making, and she was around my age. I thought, ‘That could be me.’ At the time, I didn’t even know what OnlyFans was, but I immediately started researching, building social media accounts, creating a business plan, and launched a few months later.

My first month was good, and within a few months, things were going so well that I quit my job. With content, I started slow. At first, it was more Playboy-style content and tease videos, but over time, it evolved into full adult content. That transition was more about business strategy than comfort. During my first year, I was making over $50,000 a month, and by the next year, I had reached seven figures. This was not luck. It was hard work. And I was excommunicated from the Mormon church, which I grew up in, after I was outed as an OnlyFans creator. But you couldn’t pay me any amount of money to go back to working for someone else.

Today I have over 4 million followers across multiple social media platforms, and it took about two years to build that audience. That growth came from consistency and work ethic. I posted four times a day across platforms, constantly created content, engaged with followers, studied algorithms and built relationships online. Most people think the money comes from OnlyFans itself, but the reality is that the majority of the work happens outside the platform through marketing, social media strategy, content creation, editing, messaging and behind-the-scenes admin work. I regularly work 80-hour weeks.” ― Holly Johnston

“In early 2022, I was unable to really pay my bills at the time working as a personal trainer and going to school, so I made an OnlyFans to make ends meet. I have now left the traditional job market to do OnlyFans exclusively, although I did choose to finish my degrees.

I started off immediately making vanilla content. It was really just me masturbating and interacting with my audience and with the camera. I was really good at talking, so I did a lot of JOIs [jerk off instructions] and just really worked on interfacing and creating this rapport with my audience, so it was a lot of talking, a lot of storytelling, that kind of thing. My content has evolved, it now includes other people, although I’ve maintained that theme of storytelling and trying to really talk and establish some intimacy with the audience, but nowadays I offer girl-girl, boy-girl, fantasy, funny stuff, role playing, like all kinds of different things.

I make anywhere between $250,000 to $360,000 a month, depending on the month, and I have made that for the last six months or so. Doing this is definitely easier for me than a standard job, but it’s… I wouldn’t say that it would be easier for most people. I have really bad ADHD, so this kind of job allows me to hyperfixate, but then back off a little bit. It’s constantly changing, constantly evolving, and that fits in with my brain and how my brain works.

But I think that, like, for most normal people, they’d find it very stressful and they would find it very difficult to establish any kind of rhythm or consistency. If it was so easy, more people would be doing it and the average girl on OnlyFans wouldn’t be making like $200 a month. If it were so easy, everybody on OnlyFans would be making thousands and thousands of dollars, but that’s just not the case. I’ve met girls who are grinding, grinding, grinding and not necessarily making very much money.” ― Kit Barrus