"I'm going insane right now ... Elizabeth Barrett Browning is a lunatic!"

That was my son, Oli, throwing curses and quotes from Browning and F. Scott Fitzgerald wildly across the lounge room the night before advanced English. Not even 19th century poets escape the wrath of a teenager dealing with HSC stress. 

"Worse, she's a loveless lunatic!"

Actually there might be at least one thing worse than that: being the parent of a HSC student at exam time. There are no study guides to prepare you and no websites to help you understand your child's emotions as they get ready for the most stressful thing they have done in their short lives.

We have now survived the first week. For Oli, that's two exams down, five to go. His tallest hurdles are still to come - especially Wednesday's maths paper, for which his parents are no help at all. For us, this time is about being patient, showing tolerance now his bedroom is a bombsite, listening carefully to his dietary needs and just "winging it" ... oh, and being able to make a cup of tea, just the way he likes it.

Oli is our second child to sit the exams in three years. Thankfully, he's also our last. The pressure to perform doesn't just sit on the shoulders of the stress monkeys sitting the exams. Parents, siblings and pets all discover that this is a time when a family's focus shifts entirely to the freaked-out adolescent, who may not revel in the attention.

Oli's brother, Henry, dealt with the pressure by shutting everyone out. Everyone, particularly his parents. As the exams loomed, our words of advice or comfort were met with scowls and demands for isolation and silence.

Perhaps he was in "the zone" - that zen-like place athletes go when they are operating at the top of their game. More likely he was like thousands of other students who don't feel prepared to do battle with the examiners, only armed with a pen, an uncertain study plan and four hours of cramming. The best we could do for Henry was just "be there", push his dinner under the bedroom door and treat the screaming matches as his form of stress therapy.  

In contrast, and despite his rant against a defenceless poet, Oli has been calm, measured and communicative. He has told us about his daily work plans and explained the concept of business sequencing and scheduling. And when he hasn't been talking to us, he has been chatting to his modern history schoolmates on Skype. It's possible that at some point they talked about the rising tensions before World War II.

Of course, there is always that natural parental tendency to think our children couldn't be working hard enough, as if the only sure-fire route to a band six is via 22 hours a day of study one week out from a three-hour exam. As if. The truth is that we have encouraged Oli to be as "normal" as possible, even if we have occasionally felt the urge to complain that he is spending more time with his guitar and Facebook than his legal studies textbook.

So when he's not studying or sleeping - and that lad could sleep for Australia - we have encouraged him to leave the house. We were thinking he should go for a walk to get some sun and a bit of fresh air. He was thinking we meant going to the gym, cinema and pub. In truth, we have encouraged these worthwhile distractions, even if it gives him another excuse to spend our money.   

So what should a HSC parent do? Let your child know they are loved, put on a stupid smile when they say they will "get Brecht" and count down the days until the exams are over and they can declare "HS ... C you later!" Then you can start worrying about the lunatics at schoolies.

smh.com.au