The head of my infants' school, in Sydney in the 1950s, was a formidable, eccentric woman called Miss Campbell. She scared the parents and pupils, but we loved her for her mad ideas and crazy schemes.
At the end of assemblies, she would inspire our imaginations by saying:
"Now, go to your classrooms as giants."
And we would walk on tiptoe, stretching as high as we could. The next day it might be:
".....as frogs" or ".....as elephants" or "....as trumpet players" etc.
She often performed Punch & Judy shows, with other puppet characters - in a genuine, striped, beach tent. These performances quite often interrupted lessons, just because she suddenly felt the urge to put on a show for us.
When she hauled me out of class to play Joseph in the Nativity Scene, I went whiter than the sheet she wrapped me in.
When the mothers gathered in the playground just before the end of the school day, Miss Campbell warned them to 'stay outside the gates until the last bell sounds'. Many mothers ignored this warning, and so Miss Campbell walked into the playground one afternoon, turned on the hose and soaked all those recalcitrant mothers. Today, that would no doubt cause an uproar, but back then, nothing happened - except that all the mothers remained outside the gates from then on.
My own mother had an altercation with Miss Campbell, with me as an onlooker, over the issue of school uniform. All I recall now is that my mother terminated the argument with the words:
"Miss Campbell! You educate Lindsay. I'll dress him!"
Incredibly enough, my brother met Miss Campbell in the 1990s, when she was in her 90s. She remembered our mother, John and me.
That kind of crazy but imaginative teacher is now in an ever-decreasing minority. I don't agree with drenching parents, but I do wish that there were more inspired teachers around.
OFSTED's 'ideal teacher' is the opposite of Miss Campbell - a box-ticking automaton.
May the new year see the demise of the OFSTED ideal.
Sunday 28 December 2014
Sunday 21 December 2014
The human rewards of teaching are supposed to offset the pressure, responsibility and relatively low pay of the job. Fortunately, they do, even within a rotten system.
Occasionally, a pupil will do or say something that makes the whole thing seem worthwhile. Teachers yearn for these moments.
When I taught English at secondary level, I was keen to improve the pupils' oral skills, so I implemented a 5 minute slot at the end of most lessons, devoted to impromptu speaking. Each pupil would select a card at random, on which was written a single word, e.g. Money, Television, Music, Food, Cars etc. They then had to speak on the topic for at least one minute, without pausing longer than five seconds. The more they practised speaking off the cuff, the easier it became and helped increase their self-confidence. The exercise was voluntary, some enjoyed performing, while others feared it.
One boy, Jacob, would attempt the exercise again and again, without much success. He usually dried up after half a minute. On one occasion, as he returned to his seat, he looked at me and said:
"I hate doing this, but I want to get better".
I gasped with delight. This is the kind of comment every teacher wants to hear - an expression of determination and self-motivation, the only worthwhile motivation in human existence. The 'carrot and stick' approach might be motivating, but it is self-motivation that is the gold key to learning.
I wish my readers a very Merry Christmas, and may 2015 be a splendid year for you all.
Occasionally, a pupil will do or say something that makes the whole thing seem worthwhile. Teachers yearn for these moments.
When I taught English at secondary level, I was keen to improve the pupils' oral skills, so I implemented a 5 minute slot at the end of most lessons, devoted to impromptu speaking. Each pupil would select a card at random, on which was written a single word, e.g. Money, Television, Music, Food, Cars etc. They then had to speak on the topic for at least one minute, without pausing longer than five seconds. The more they practised speaking off the cuff, the easier it became and helped increase their self-confidence. The exercise was voluntary, some enjoyed performing, while others feared it.
One boy, Jacob, would attempt the exercise again and again, without much success. He usually dried up after half a minute. On one occasion, as he returned to his seat, he looked at me and said:
"I hate doing this, but I want to get better".
I gasped with delight. This is the kind of comment every teacher wants to hear - an expression of determination and self-motivation, the only worthwhile motivation in human existence. The 'carrot and stick' approach might be motivating, but it is self-motivation that is the gold key to learning.
I wish my readers a very Merry Christmas, and may 2015 be a splendid year for you all.
Sunday 14 December 2014
As a teacher, I occasionally told the pupils the story of the remarkable Helen Keller.
Born in 1888, in Alabama in the USA, she went blind and deaf at 18 months, because of a virus, probably meningitis.
Fortunately her parents were wealthy enough to afford a teacher for their 7 year old daughter. Annie Sullivan was employed to care for and teach Helen. It didn't take long before Annie realised that this child was highly intelligent, and fiercely wilful.
Because of her condition, Helen's parents let her roam freely, take food from plates, and more or less let her do as she wished. Annie also realised that unless Helen could communicate with the world, she would never escape the darkness and silence she lived in.
Annie and Helen fought many battles, some quite violent, but the day came when Helen suddenly understood that the water she could feel from the tap was what Annie had been trying to spell on her hand. From the early recesses of Helen's memory, when she could see and hear, the word 'water' came to mind. From then on, Annie taught her to spell, to write, to read and even make speeches. Helen earned a university degree, wrote 12 books, and befriended such people as Mark Twain and Alexander Graham Bell. She learned to read Latin, Greek, German and French in braille.
Of course I told this story to emphasise the moral of the tale - if Helen Keller, blind and deaf, could achieve so much, then we, with all our senses, can achieve anything.
I even got the pupils to close their eyes in a very quiet room for 5 minutes, but most couldn't bear more than a minute, to which I'd say:
"Imagine 86 years like that".
However, there is a deeper dimension to the Helen Keller story. In her superb autobiography of her first 22 years, she says:
"Don't feel sorry for me. If anything, I feel sorry for you. Everything I touch, or smell, or taste is an adventure, whereas those who have all their senses tend to take everything for granted".
When I told this story, I would add that when Annie Sullivan died, having been with Helen for almost 50 years, Helen Keller was at her bedside, holding her hand. On one occasion, in mock self-pity, I asked the class:
"How many of you will be at my bedside when I'm dying, holding my hand?"
The boys sneered, but one girl looked at me and said, sincerely:
"I will".
To contain my emotions, I assured her that it would probably be the number 38 bus that flattened my future.
Born in 1888, in Alabama in the USA, she went blind and deaf at 18 months, because of a virus, probably meningitis.
Fortunately her parents were wealthy enough to afford a teacher for their 7 year old daughter. Annie Sullivan was employed to care for and teach Helen. It didn't take long before Annie realised that this child was highly intelligent, and fiercely wilful.
Because of her condition, Helen's parents let her roam freely, take food from plates, and more or less let her do as she wished. Annie also realised that unless Helen could communicate with the world, she would never escape the darkness and silence she lived in.
Annie and Helen fought many battles, some quite violent, but the day came when Helen suddenly understood that the water she could feel from the tap was what Annie had been trying to spell on her hand. From the early recesses of Helen's memory, when she could see and hear, the word 'water' came to mind. From then on, Annie taught her to spell, to write, to read and even make speeches. Helen earned a university degree, wrote 12 books, and befriended such people as Mark Twain and Alexander Graham Bell. She learned to read Latin, Greek, German and French in braille.
Of course I told this story to emphasise the moral of the tale - if Helen Keller, blind and deaf, could achieve so much, then we, with all our senses, can achieve anything.
I even got the pupils to close their eyes in a very quiet room for 5 minutes, but most couldn't bear more than a minute, to which I'd say:
"Imagine 86 years like that".
However, there is a deeper dimension to the Helen Keller story. In her superb autobiography of her first 22 years, she says:
"Don't feel sorry for me. If anything, I feel sorry for you. Everything I touch, or smell, or taste is an adventure, whereas those who have all their senses tend to take everything for granted".
When I told this story, I would add that when Annie Sullivan died, having been with Helen for almost 50 years, Helen Keller was at her bedside, holding her hand. On one occasion, in mock self-pity, I asked the class:
"How many of you will be at my bedside when I'm dying, holding my hand?"
The boys sneered, but one girl looked at me and said, sincerely:
"I will".
To contain my emotions, I assured her that it would probably be the number 38 bus that flattened my future.
Sunday 7 December 2014
I once heard a boy say to a teacher in a school corridor:
"I'm not lying, sir. I just have a vivid imagination".
This spin spurred the teacher's wrath to shouting point. That kind of lying is part of the games pupils play with teachers, to wind them up mercilessly.
However, when a child lies to a parent or teacher, the first question asked should be:
"Why is the child lying?"
The answer is more damning of the adult than the child:
"Because they are afraid to tell you the truth". To simply punish the act of lying is shifting the blame.
The best story I ever heard about lying and how to curb it, comes from the school Summerhill, in Suffolk.
The school had a 15 year old boy who was an inveterate liar. He lied needlessly about all sorts of things, and Neill, the head, was concerned about this habit.
One Friday morning, Neill received a phone call from the boy's father, asking Neill if he could accompany his son to Saxmundham Station that afternoon, for the train to London. He then reassured Neill that he would return his son on the Sunday evening, along with the fare for the return journey - £5. Neill agreed to this arrangement, went to the boy during lunch and repeated his father's wishes, handing the boy £5.
However, after a conversation with his wife, Neill realised that the phone call had been made from a local phone box, the boy impersonating his father to get a weekend in London.
Most heads would summon the boy, force him to confess and then punish him for lying.
Not Neill! He waited until after lunch and then took the boy aside and said:
"Your father just phoned back. He made a mistake with the fare. It's £6, not £5."
And he proceeded to give the boy an extra £1.
Neill walked back to his office. It took about 10 minutes before the boy appeared, slammed the £6 on Neill's desk and said:
"You're a better bloody actor than I am!".
As a sad footnote, I have to report the death of John Morris, the wonderful teacher I gave a birthday tribute to on this blog, on June 29th. I am honoured that his son has included my post on the tributes online.
Following on from last week's post about good teachers, if anyone wants to see just how effective an excellent teacher can be, please click on the following website:
http://www.johnsmorris.net/tributes.php#top
"I'm not lying, sir. I just have a vivid imagination".
This spin spurred the teacher's wrath to shouting point. That kind of lying is part of the games pupils play with teachers, to wind them up mercilessly.
However, when a child lies to a parent or teacher, the first question asked should be:
"Why is the child lying?"
The answer is more damning of the adult than the child:
"Because they are afraid to tell you the truth". To simply punish the act of lying is shifting the blame.
The best story I ever heard about lying and how to curb it, comes from the school Summerhill, in Suffolk.
The school had a 15 year old boy who was an inveterate liar. He lied needlessly about all sorts of things, and Neill, the head, was concerned about this habit.
One Friday morning, Neill received a phone call from the boy's father, asking Neill if he could accompany his son to Saxmundham Station that afternoon, for the train to London. He then reassured Neill that he would return his son on the Sunday evening, along with the fare for the return journey - £5. Neill agreed to this arrangement, went to the boy during lunch and repeated his father's wishes, handing the boy £5.
However, after a conversation with his wife, Neill realised that the phone call had been made from a local phone box, the boy impersonating his father to get a weekend in London.
Most heads would summon the boy, force him to confess and then punish him for lying.
Not Neill! He waited until after lunch and then took the boy aside and said:
"Your father just phoned back. He made a mistake with the fare. It's £6, not £5."
And he proceeded to give the boy an extra £1.
Neill walked back to his office. It took about 10 minutes before the boy appeared, slammed the £6 on Neill's desk and said:
"You're a better bloody actor than I am!".
As a sad footnote, I have to report the death of John Morris, the wonderful teacher I gave a birthday tribute to on this blog, on June 29th. I am honoured that his son has included my post on the tributes online.
Following on from last week's post about good teachers, if anyone wants to see just how effective an excellent teacher can be, please click on the following website:
http://www.johnsmorris.net/tributes.php#top
Sunday 30 November 2014
A question I have asked many people over the years is: "How many good teachers did you have at school?"
The usual answer is 'One' or 'Two'. This is not a good statistic, considering that most of us have about 30 to 40 teachers in our school-life.
So what makes a good teacher and why aren't there more?
The best teachers are not just passionate about their subject but are also vitally interested in their students, determined to inspire, inform and enrich them. They engage their students, not just talk at them as if they were an audience. Patience and a sense of humour, and the ability to draw out the best from the students are also virtues. This is a perfect paradigm, and even the best teachers have their 'off' days. They know that so much of class work is ploughing through a mostly tedious syllabus.
Too many people become teachers for the wrong reasons. Nobody becomes a teacher to become rich. It is entirely vocational, but even so, too many new teachers are unrealistic about the stresses and problems that schools entail, especially these days. They naively hope that they can constantly inspire and convey their enthusiasm to all the students. The present rate of young, new teachers leaving the profession is not just shocking, but also speaks volumes about what it's like to be a teacher in a school in the UK today. Even the most dedicated are quitting.
Again, too many become teachers for instant power. No other occupation places you immediately in charge of 30 or so people who must bend to your will. A teacher's power should be used judiciously, not arbitrarily and not often. Unfortunately, the abuse of teachers' power is frequent on a daily basis.
A few teachers have admitted that they joined the profession 'for the hours and the holidays'. They soon learned that the hours of 9 to 4 are always extended - marking work, preparing lessons, meetings, report-writing etc. As for the holidays - teachers need them in order to restore their energy supplies.
While mere academic success opens the door to teaching, we will continue to produce teachers who are mostly average, and that, educationally, is simply not good enough.
The usual answer is 'One' or 'Two'. This is not a good statistic, considering that most of us have about 30 to 40 teachers in our school-life.
So what makes a good teacher and why aren't there more?
The best teachers are not just passionate about their subject but are also vitally interested in their students, determined to inspire, inform and enrich them. They engage their students, not just talk at them as if they were an audience. Patience and a sense of humour, and the ability to draw out the best from the students are also virtues. This is a perfect paradigm, and even the best teachers have their 'off' days. They know that so much of class work is ploughing through a mostly tedious syllabus.Too many people become teachers for the wrong reasons. Nobody becomes a teacher to become rich. It is entirely vocational, but even so, too many new teachers are unrealistic about the stresses and problems that schools entail, especially these days. They naively hope that they can constantly inspire and convey their enthusiasm to all the students. The present rate of young, new teachers leaving the profession is not just shocking, but also speaks volumes about what it's like to be a teacher in a school in the UK today. Even the most dedicated are quitting.
Again, too many become teachers for instant power. No other occupation places you immediately in charge of 30 or so people who must bend to your will. A teacher's power should be used judiciously, not arbitrarily and not often. Unfortunately, the abuse of teachers' power is frequent on a daily basis.
A few teachers have admitted that they joined the profession 'for the hours and the holidays'. They soon learned that the hours of 9 to 4 are always extended - marking work, preparing lessons, meetings, report-writing etc. As for the holidays - teachers need them in order to restore their energy supplies.
While mere academic success opens the door to teaching, we will continue to produce teachers who are mostly average, and that, educationally, is simply not good enough.
Sunday 23 November 2014
Among the many illusions society clings to, 'school' is one of the most damaging. So ingrained is the sado-masochistic concept of school in the human psyche that people laugh and smile when a parent says: "She hates school." As if that is supposed to be the normal, natural reaction to a place of learning.
"We all hate school! School is boring!" Yet society expects high academic results by the end of our experience at this contemptible place.
If school held any interest for children, they would willingly attend, as they do in some countries. Unfortunately, the school systems in most countries are fiercely anti-educational, limiting learning to boxes called classrooms, instead of experiencing all aspects of life.
John Taylor Gatto identifies school years as a time when you 'grow older but never grow up'.
Or as the great John Holt put it: "School is where you go to learn how to be stupid."
The basis of our schooling is militaristic, conformist and ludicrously academic, and even though it causes harm, we are so inured to the damage that we consider it all worthwhile. Nothing much has changed for at least half a millennium, evidenced by two of the greatest minds England has produced, Shakespeare and Blake - both poorly schooled but highly educated. They have given us a glimpse of how school has remained unaltered and unchallenged for 400 years:
In As You Like It, Jaques observes:
"The whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school"
William Blake's poem The School Boy is equally damning:
"...to go to school in a summer morn,
O! it drives all joy away;
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.
Ah! then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour,
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning's bower,
Worn thro' with the dreary shower."
"We all hate school! School is boring!" Yet society expects high academic results by the end of our experience at this contemptible place.
If school held any interest for children, they would willingly attend, as they do in some countries. Unfortunately, the school systems in most countries are fiercely anti-educational, limiting learning to boxes called classrooms, instead of experiencing all aspects of life.
John Taylor Gatto identifies school years as a time when you 'grow older but never grow up'. Or as the great John Holt put it: "School is where you go to learn how to be stupid."
The basis of our schooling is militaristic, conformist and ludicrously academic, and even though it causes harm, we are so inured to the damage that we consider it all worthwhile. Nothing much has changed for at least half a millennium, evidenced by two of the greatest minds England has produced, Shakespeare and Blake - both poorly schooled but highly educated. They have given us a glimpse of how school has remained unaltered and unchallenged for 400 years:
In As You Like It, Jaques observes:
"The whining schoolboy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school"
William Blake's poem The School Boy is equally damning:
"...to go to school in a summer morn,
O! it drives all joy away;
Under a cruel eye outworn,
The little ones spend the day
In sighing and dismay.
Ah! then at times I drooping sit,
And spend many an anxious hour,
Nor in my book can I take delight,
Nor sit in learning's bower,
Worn thro' with the dreary shower."
Sunday 16 November 2014
Mass hysteria has broken out again over the issue of school uniform, school authorities hell bent on forcing parents and pupils to conform - the 'look alike, think alike' mentality.
Let's dispense with some of the usual myths peddled by non-thinkers on this subject:
1) It provides a level playing field and therefore makes everyone equal
Children are not fools and they know very quickly what type of background their peers come from. They are natural judges of how poor, rich, geeky, cool, trustworthy etc. someone is, regardless of clothing. Besides, once outside school they wear what they like, at home and in public.
No two pupils look identical in uniform. Pupils find ways of circumventing uniform, little ways of defying it, e.g. wearing earrings, jewellery, odd socks, hair colouring, ties ridiculously knotted so that the thin end is much more prominent than the wide end, etc., etc.
As Emma Jacobs pointed out in her splendid article in The Guardian on 7th November: "Teachers spend time and energy policing uniform when they could presumably be teaching us."
It is human nature to defy stupid policies and each pupil, in their own way, makes a statement of individuality, something anathema to authority. It is almost an amusing irony that private schools are the strictest when it comes to uniform, when almost all the pupils are from the same socio-economic strata. So who are they trying to fool?
2) Uniform fosters a pride in the school
If pupils are so proud of their school because of the uniform, why don't they wear their uniform outside school? I would guess, no pupil does. If you choose to join a club, you might be proud to be a member, but joining was your choice. Pride in a school uniform is yet again an adult idea foistered on pupils and therefore meaningless to them. If the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, then it runs parallel to the road of 'Adult ideas for children'. If pupils are proud of their school, it is always for reasons other than their uniform.
3) Pupils will compete to have the latest fashion if there is no uniform
They do anyway, outside school, which, after all, occupies most of their day. And besides, so what? Quite often, in non-uniform schools, pupils compete to see who can look the scruffiest or weirdest. I couldn't care less what pupils look like or what they wear. I was only ever interested in how interested they were in the lesson.
Teachers I have known who have worked in uniform and non-uniform schools have said the same thing - there is no real difference in behaviour between the two. When the last school I was in had non-uniform days, the general behaviour of the pupils was somewhat better than usual.
What you wear and learning have no connection. If they were connected, most university students would fail all the time. The notion that wearing a uniform is somehow related to academic success is illogical and therefore absurd. As Emma Jacobs succinctly puts it:
"Finland's schools top international league tables and don't have a school uniform, while the UK has the uniforms without the stunning results."
The concept of uniform is authoritarian and conformist. The message is clear - "Don't you dare behave as an individual!"
If a school is obsessed with uniformity, they have missed the point of education in a big way. Schools should be focused on learning, knowledge, diversity and creativity, not bloody uniform.
Let's dispense with some of the usual myths peddled by non-thinkers on this subject:
1) It provides a level playing field and therefore makes everyone equal
Children are not fools and they know very quickly what type of background their peers come from. They are natural judges of how poor, rich, geeky, cool, trustworthy etc. someone is, regardless of clothing. Besides, once outside school they wear what they like, at home and in public.
No two pupils look identical in uniform. Pupils find ways of circumventing uniform, little ways of defying it, e.g. wearing earrings, jewellery, odd socks, hair colouring, ties ridiculously knotted so that the thin end is much more prominent than the wide end, etc., etc.
As Emma Jacobs pointed out in her splendid article in The Guardian on 7th November: "Teachers spend time and energy policing uniform when they could presumably be teaching us."
It is human nature to defy stupid policies and each pupil, in their own way, makes a statement of individuality, something anathema to authority. It is almost an amusing irony that private schools are the strictest when it comes to uniform, when almost all the pupils are from the same socio-economic strata. So who are they trying to fool?
2) Uniform fosters a pride in the school
If pupils are so proud of their school because of the uniform, why don't they wear their uniform outside school? I would guess, no pupil does. If you choose to join a club, you might be proud to be a member, but joining was your choice. Pride in a school uniform is yet again an adult idea foistered on pupils and therefore meaningless to them. If the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, then it runs parallel to the road of 'Adult ideas for children'. If pupils are proud of their school, it is always for reasons other than their uniform.3) Pupils will compete to have the latest fashion if there is no uniform
They do anyway, outside school, which, after all, occupies most of their day. And besides, so what? Quite often, in non-uniform schools, pupils compete to see who can look the scruffiest or weirdest. I couldn't care less what pupils look like or what they wear. I was only ever interested in how interested they were in the lesson.
Teachers I have known who have worked in uniform and non-uniform schools have said the same thing - there is no real difference in behaviour between the two. When the last school I was in had non-uniform days, the general behaviour of the pupils was somewhat better than usual.
What you wear and learning have no connection. If they were connected, most university students would fail all the time. The notion that wearing a uniform is somehow related to academic success is illogical and therefore absurd. As Emma Jacobs succinctly puts it:
"Finland's schools top international league tables and don't have a school uniform, while the UK has the uniforms without the stunning results."
The concept of uniform is authoritarian and conformist. The message is clear - "Don't you dare behave as an individual!"
If a school is obsessed with uniformity, they have missed the point of education in a big way. Schools should be focused on learning, knowledge, diversity and creativity, not bloody uniform.
Sunday 9 November 2014
Working in the Special Needs Department of a secondary school in London humbled me, until I met Henry.
Reading the case histories of many children registered as having 'special needs' shocked and saddened me in equal measure. They ranged from congenital conditions, both mental and physical, to cases of children horribly brutalised, neglected, raped, and witness to atrocious violence at home.
This made me reflect on how I had spent so much time complaining about the negatives in my past, and brought to me a sense of shame and humility. Compared to most cases I read, I have had a relatively happy, free, healthy life. I was also amazed that so many kids with special needs behaved so well and were so resilient and optimistic.
Then a new pupil arrived at the school, a 12 year old named Henry. He was a boy with Down's syndrome. As the literacy instructor at the school, I was obliged, by law, to spend one hour a week with him, even though his condition meant that he would never read and write fluently. With all the praise and encouragement I could muster in those years I taught him, he didn't get past the letter J when reciting the alphabet. He adored Dr.Seuss books, mainly for their imaginative pictures. He also loved watching certain movies over and over.
It took about a month before my sympathy for him was replaced with a feeling of envy. I realised that Henry was the happiest person in the school, one of the happiest people I have ever met. He would laugh out loud, sing heartily along with his favourite songs in films, often dancing in an uninhibited way, devoid of any self-consciousness.
He could be stubborn, and he hated changes to his routine. He was no fool, he knew right from wrong, but his condition meant that he was untroubled by the anxieties of life that blight most people's lives. He had and would have no concept of society, education, religion, or any of the philosophical questions that most of us ask of ourselves and life on this planet. Ignorance can be a destructive thing, but for Henry it was truly a matter of bliss.
I envied Henry and loved watching his unbridled passion for things he not just loved, but got absorbed by completely.
Henry taught me a far more valuable lesson than I could ever teach him.
Reading the case histories of many children registered as having 'special needs' shocked and saddened me in equal measure. They ranged from congenital conditions, both mental and physical, to cases of children horribly brutalised, neglected, raped, and witness to atrocious violence at home.
This made me reflect on how I had spent so much time complaining about the negatives in my past, and brought to me a sense of shame and humility. Compared to most cases I read, I have had a relatively happy, free, healthy life. I was also amazed that so many kids with special needs behaved so well and were so resilient and optimistic.
Then a new pupil arrived at the school, a 12 year old named Henry. He was a boy with Down's syndrome. As the literacy instructor at the school, I was obliged, by law, to spend one hour a week with him, even though his condition meant that he would never read and write fluently. With all the praise and encouragement I could muster in those years I taught him, he didn't get past the letter J when reciting the alphabet. He adored Dr.Seuss books, mainly for their imaginative pictures. He also loved watching certain movies over and over.
It took about a month before my sympathy for him was replaced with a feeling of envy. I realised that Henry was the happiest person in the school, one of the happiest people I have ever met. He would laugh out loud, sing heartily along with his favourite songs in films, often dancing in an uninhibited way, devoid of any self-consciousness.
He could be stubborn, and he hated changes to his routine. He was no fool, he knew right from wrong, but his condition meant that he was untroubled by the anxieties of life that blight most people's lives. He had and would have no concept of society, education, religion, or any of the philosophical questions that most of us ask of ourselves and life on this planet. Ignorance can be a destructive thing, but for Henry it was truly a matter of bliss.
I envied Henry and loved watching his unbridled passion for things he not just loved, but got absorbed by completely.
Henry taught me a far more valuable lesson than I could ever teach him.
Sunday 2 November 2014
In 1957, when I was 9, I suffered, along with many others, at the hands of a sadistic teacher. This man, by name Ian Forbes, was the kind of man who should never have been allowed near children, let alone teach them. All he really taught us was to fear authority and punishment. However, he couldn't command respect and as a result got none.
He had a collection of about 10 bamboo canes and when he was feeling benevolent he would let us choose which stick we were to be thrashed with - always on the hands. He would hold the boy's wrist, to keep the hand horizontal. If you lowered your hand as the cane came down, in order to ride the blow, he would bring the cane up sharply under the hand, to raise it and to cane the knuckles.
He caned us almost all day, not for disobedience or insolence, but for maths' errors, spelling mistakes, and for literally blotting our copybooks. He was never really satisfied until the pupil was howling in pain, or until the blood dripped from his hands. On one occasion, he broke the skin on my right palm with a wooden stick. I still bear the scar.
One morning, during breakfast at home, I broke down in tears and implored my mother not to send me to school anymore. I poured out my terror and hatred for this man. So my mother went to visit him -'to have words with him'. That afternoon, he sat me down alone after school and quietly warned me that if my mother ever complained about him again, he would kill me - yes, 'kill' me.
Now my fear shifted - fear that if I showed my misery again at home, my mother would visit him again - and then he'd kill me. So I put on a brave face and pretended that everything at school was fine.
Even more sickening than the canings, were his actions after a caning. He would often sit next to a crying pupil, put his arm around him and say:
"Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."
He went as far as phoning one Saturday morning and asking my mother if he could take me to the cinema that afternoon. My mother was appalled and said "No!' of course". So he was not just a sadist but also a closet paedophile.
A month before the school year ended, I burst into tears at home again and my mother just looked at me and said:
"Mr.Forbes?"
I pleaded with her not to visit him again, convinced I would be dead by 6 o'clock.
I don't know what my mother said to him, but for the last weeks of school, he didn't touch me, he barely acknowledged my presence.
Years later, a story came through on the grapevine, that when Mr. Forbes was about to cane a boy on his infected hand, the lad snatched the cane out of Mr.Forbes's hand and slashed him over the face - before running off in sheer terror. That might sound like poetic justice, but in those benighted days, instead of Mr.Forbes being investigated and imprisoned, the boy was probably beaten again and no doubt expelled from the school.
Incidentally, Mr.Forbes's hobby was to go into the outback on a weekend and shoot as many kangaroos as he could. He would sometimes boast of his slaughter triumphantly to us.
To this day I can still see that bushy moustache, his grey smock, and those menacing, bloodshot eyes.
So searing was my experience all those years ago, that I could never humiliate and hurt the pupils I taught. My subconscious attitude in teaching was always
Do everything Mr.Forbes didn't, and don't do what he did.
In the 1960s, the late, great Leila Berg, was guiding an American teacher around a school in London.
He asked her if corporal punishment was prevalent in UK prisons. Her answer, calmly delivered, said it all:
"Oh no. You should understand that in Britain you are only allowed to hit someone if they are much smaller than you".
He had a collection of about 10 bamboo canes and when he was feeling benevolent he would let us choose which stick we were to be thrashed with - always on the hands. He would hold the boy's wrist, to keep the hand horizontal. If you lowered your hand as the cane came down, in order to ride the blow, he would bring the cane up sharply under the hand, to raise it and to cane the knuckles.
He caned us almost all day, not for disobedience or insolence, but for maths' errors, spelling mistakes, and for literally blotting our copybooks. He was never really satisfied until the pupil was howling in pain, or until the blood dripped from his hands. On one occasion, he broke the skin on my right palm with a wooden stick. I still bear the scar.
One morning, during breakfast at home, I broke down in tears and implored my mother not to send me to school anymore. I poured out my terror and hatred for this man. So my mother went to visit him -'to have words with him'. That afternoon, he sat me down alone after school and quietly warned me that if my mother ever complained about him again, he would kill me - yes, 'kill' me.
Now my fear shifted - fear that if I showed my misery again at home, my mother would visit him again - and then he'd kill me. So I put on a brave face and pretended that everything at school was fine.
Even more sickening than the canings, were his actions after a caning. He would often sit next to a crying pupil, put his arm around him and say:
"Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."
He went as far as phoning one Saturday morning and asking my mother if he could take me to the cinema that afternoon. My mother was appalled and said "No!' of course". So he was not just a sadist but also a closet paedophile.
A month before the school year ended, I burst into tears at home again and my mother just looked at me and said:
"Mr.Forbes?"
I pleaded with her not to visit him again, convinced I would be dead by 6 o'clock.
I don't know what my mother said to him, but for the last weeks of school, he didn't touch me, he barely acknowledged my presence.
Years later, a story came through on the grapevine, that when Mr. Forbes was about to cane a boy on his infected hand, the lad snatched the cane out of Mr.Forbes's hand and slashed him over the face - before running off in sheer terror. That might sound like poetic justice, but in those benighted days, instead of Mr.Forbes being investigated and imprisoned, the boy was probably beaten again and no doubt expelled from the school.
Incidentally, Mr.Forbes's hobby was to go into the outback on a weekend and shoot as many kangaroos as he could. He would sometimes boast of his slaughter triumphantly to us.
To this day I can still see that bushy moustache, his grey smock, and those menacing, bloodshot eyes.
So searing was my experience all those years ago, that I could never humiliate and hurt the pupils I taught. My subconscious attitude in teaching was always
Do everything Mr.Forbes didn't, and don't do what he did.
In the 1960s, the late, great Leila Berg, was guiding an American teacher around a school in London.
He asked her if corporal punishment was prevalent in UK prisons. Her answer, calmly delivered, said it all:
"Oh no. You should understand that in Britain you are only allowed to hit someone if they are much smaller than you".
Sunday 26 October 2014
One of the media's favourite targets is children. They relish telling us how bad and stupid they are, when, in my experience, most are far from this stereotype. Here is a story that shows just what they are capable of, and how they can help and heal in a way that adults can't.Years ago, I taught English to a class of 12-13 year olds. In the class was a boy named Ahmed and he was what was termed an 'elective mute', i.e. he had chosen not to speak since he was 5. At that age his father died and the shock silenced him, in public anyway.
Halfway through the year I set the class a short presentation, where each boy and girl had to give a 3 minute talk on their favourite place. I was well aware that Ahmed would not, could not perform the task and so I excused him from it.
On the day of the presentations, a boy named Rizwan stood up to speak - with Ahmed at his side.
Rizwan gave a lively talk about Spain, showing us pictures of the cities and countryside. He had been there the year before with his family and he obviously loved it. He ended his talk by urging us to visit Spain, with the words:
"And that's why you should all save up and go to......."
He paused and then gestured to Ahmed, who said: "Spain."
His first word in public for 7 years. The class applauded wildly while I held back my tears. After the lesson, I detained Rizwan and said to him: "What you did today with Ahmed was a beautiful thing to do. I couldn't have done that - only one of his peers, his friends could, and you did."
Rizwan smiled and replied: "It was ridiculous him not talking. He just needed a push!"
Little by little Ahmed began to talk to others, until he could confidently read aloud in class.
Children can be cruel and wounding, but, as my story illustrates, they can also be kind and healing.
Sunday 19 October 2014
Humour can play dual roles in a school - getting a point across without anger, and establishing good connections between pupils, between teachers and pupils, and between teachers.
However, humour in schools today is usually regarded with suspicion, as a weapon to undermine authority. When I asked a secondary school pupil recently what the 'atmosphere' was like at his school, he replied: "The Laughter Police are everywhere!"
Humour in school is far too huge a topic to cover properly in a blog, although I will write about it occasionally.
I heard a story years ago from an old soldier from the East End of London, a story that perfectly shows how a sharp piece of wit can also make a good point - and in this case, got the boy in question acquitted:
After World War II, many sites in London, especially the heavily bombed East End, were dangerous and it was forbidden to play on them. Of course, many kids roamed these sites and played football on the clear patches. The police warned them and in particular a boy (let's call him Leo) who consistently ignored the police warnings.
One day, a police officer saw Leo lining up a ball to kick into goal between two rocks. The officer saw red and arrested Leo for flouting the law.
In the magistrates' court the next day, the chief magistrate began by saying: "Yesterday, you were caught playing football on a prohibited site."
Leo interjected: "No, I wasn't playing football."
The magistrate continued: "According to the police officer's notes, you were going to play football - and going to play is as bad as playing, and you will be fined."
"Well," said Leo, "if going to play is as bad as playing, then I suppose that going to pay the fine is as good as paying."
However, humour in schools today is usually regarded with suspicion, as a weapon to undermine authority. When I asked a secondary school pupil recently what the 'atmosphere' was like at his school, he replied: "The Laughter Police are everywhere!"
Humour in school is far too huge a topic to cover properly in a blog, although I will write about it occasionally.
I heard a story years ago from an old soldier from the East End of London, a story that perfectly shows how a sharp piece of wit can also make a good point - and in this case, got the boy in question acquitted:
After World War II, many sites in London, especially the heavily bombed East End, were dangerous and it was forbidden to play on them. Of course, many kids roamed these sites and played football on the clear patches. The police warned them and in particular a boy (let's call him Leo) who consistently ignored the police warnings.
One day, a police officer saw Leo lining up a ball to kick into goal between two rocks. The officer saw red and arrested Leo for flouting the law.
In the magistrates' court the next day, the chief magistrate began by saying: "Yesterday, you were caught playing football on a prohibited site."
Leo interjected: "No, I wasn't playing football."
The magistrate continued: "According to the police officer's notes, you were going to play football - and going to play is as bad as playing, and you will be fined."
"Well," said Leo, "if going to play is as bad as playing, then I suppose that going to pay the fine is as good as paying."
Sunday 12 October 2014
Through clenched eyes I watched Brat Camp on Channel 4 last week. It was difficult to believe that it was a documentary and not a deliberately sickening drama concocted by a hateful mind.
When it comes to crime and punishment, American ideas and attitudes are at best idiotic and ineffective, and at worst sadistic and evil. To watch ten year olds being constantly bullied and belittled simply because they did not conform to their deplorable parents' concept of control, is to enrage my sense of justice let alone compassion.
What lies behind such barbaric behaviour is vengeance. It's a kind of scapegoating, where the punishers envy the 'rebels', but know that they are too spineless to rebel themselves - but of course are very brave in uniform beating the helpless. Hence the severe hostility towards non-conformists. They are obsessed with punishment alone and are not remotely interested in why people behave the way they do.
This year is the centenary of the establishment of The Little Commonwealth in Dorset, a 'reformatory' financed by the Earl of Sandwich and run by Homer Tyrrell Lane, one of the greatest educators who ever lived. Lane was an American who achieved a near zero recidivist rate among his 'young offenders'.
So in the last 100 years, the American authorities in education have not only not progressed in their attitudes and methods, but have gone backwards into medieval torture mentality.
The fact that the US state and federal governments permit these camps to exist is a crime in itself.
When it comes to crime and punishment, American ideas and attitudes are at best idiotic and ineffective, and at worst sadistic and evil. To watch ten year olds being constantly bullied and belittled simply because they did not conform to their deplorable parents' concept of control, is to enrage my sense of justice let alone compassion.
This year is the centenary of the establishment of The Little Commonwealth in Dorset, a 'reformatory' financed by the Earl of Sandwich and run by Homer Tyrrell Lane, one of the greatest educators who ever lived. Lane was an American who achieved a near zero recidivist rate among his 'young offenders'.
So in the last 100 years, the American authorities in education have not only not progressed in their attitudes and methods, but have gone backwards into medieval torture mentality.
The fact that the US state and federal governments permit these camps to exist is a crime in itself.
Sunday 5 October 2014
Truancy is a barometer of the quality of a country's school system. Scandinavian countries have had the lowest truancy rates (especially Finland) globally for ages, mostly because they have made their schools more humane, interesting and enjoyable - sensibly avoiding the ills of authoritarian systems.
The answer to truancy by governments in the UK has always been the equivalent of putting a plaster over a septic wound. It's either "Let's form a Truancy Police Force" or "Let's penalise the parents". The authorities seem incapable of understanding the real, the only solution to truancy is to deal with the bloodstream and not the unsightly skin eruption.
Quite often, the 'troublemakers' in schools are the most intelligent pupils, so bored and frustrated by school that they make a game of it, or else truant. Of course, there are many reasons for truancy, including escape for those who feel belittled or are bullied at school, as well as those who like the title 'rebel'. Whatever reason, schools would benefit if they shed their 'Us V Them' mentality and made them 'Us' places only.
I know that the following is anecdotal evidence, but I feel it sums up an entire attitude of pupils towards school and truancy:
I once bumped into a former pupil, a boy now 20 years old. He had truanted persistently in the last two years of his school life. I hasten to add that I taught this boy in Year 8 only.
I asked him why he had truanted so much. His answer was thought-provoking:
I realised in Year 10 that I was able to teach myself, that I could read all the books on the syllabus by myself, and not waste so much time at school doing useless things, being bored, and playing 'games' with the teachers. I only attended school when I had questions for the teachers.
He then told me he had passed his final exams with top grades - having spent 90% of the time truanting.
Quite often, the 'troublemakers' in schools are the most intelligent pupils, so bored and frustrated by school that they make a game of it, or else truant. Of course, there are many reasons for truancy, including escape for those who feel belittled or are bullied at school, as well as those who like the title 'rebel'. Whatever reason, schools would benefit if they shed their 'Us V Them' mentality and made them 'Us' places only.
I know that the following is anecdotal evidence, but I feel it sums up an entire attitude of pupils towards school and truancy:
I once bumped into a former pupil, a boy now 20 years old. He had truanted persistently in the last two years of his school life. I hasten to add that I taught this boy in Year 8 only.
I asked him why he had truanted so much. His answer was thought-provoking:
I realised in Year 10 that I was able to teach myself, that I could read all the books on the syllabus by myself, and not waste so much time at school doing useless things, being bored, and playing 'games' with the teachers. I only attended school when I had questions for the teachers.
He then told me he had passed his final exams with top grades - having spent 90% of the time truanting.
Sunday 28 September 2014
I was having a discussion recently with a secondary school pupil about the amount of homework he is given, averaging three hours a night. The following issues arose in our chat:
For a start, far too much homework is arbitrary, unrelated to the actual curriculum, yet insisted upon by the curriculum as a matter of course.
This boy didn't mind finishing work at home that was left undone in a lesson and could be finished by oneself. But for five different teachers to set half an hour's homework each day is burdensome and counter-productive.
Not only is homework a chore for most pupils, but also many parents are driven mad trying to assist, as well as having endless arguments over whether the homework has been done or not - not to mention time that could be spent on leisure.
So ingrained is the concept of homework that even boarding schools reserve a time each day for it, ludicrously called 'prep'.
The pupil I was talking with also said that, at a certain age, pupils realise how serious extra work is, but instead of being treated like intelligent people, they are set homework, most of which is redundant and time-wasting.
Homework is yet another invention of the sado-masochistic mind. School time is usually a big enough bore without extending it beyond the school day into home.
I had a teacher at primary school who would sometimes set 'silly' homework, e.g. "Tonight your homework is to dream about a circus when you're asleep".
When one boy asked: "What if I don't dream about a circus?" , Mr Hills replied: "Well, you better have a good excuse".
For a start, far too much homework is arbitrary, unrelated to the actual curriculum, yet insisted upon by the curriculum as a matter of course.
This boy didn't mind finishing work at home that was left undone in a lesson and could be finished by oneself. But for five different teachers to set half an hour's homework each day is burdensome and counter-productive.
Not only is homework a chore for most pupils, but also many parents are driven mad trying to assist, as well as having endless arguments over whether the homework has been done or not - not to mention time that could be spent on leisure.
So ingrained is the concept of homework that even boarding schools reserve a time each day for it, ludicrously called 'prep'.
The pupil I was talking with also said that, at a certain age, pupils realise how serious extra work is, but instead of being treated like intelligent people, they are set homework, most of which is redundant and time-wasting.
Homework is yet another invention of the sado-masochistic mind. School time is usually a big enough bore without extending it beyond the school day into home.
I had a teacher at primary school who would sometimes set 'silly' homework, e.g. "Tonight your homework is to dream about a circus when you're asleep".
When one boy asked: "What if I don't dream about a circus?" , Mr Hills replied: "Well, you better have a good excuse".
Sunday 21 September 2014
I hear and I forget
I see and I remember
I do and I understand
This Chinese proverb is at the heart of what education really means. Telling someone how to fish is fine, but it's not until that person actually fishes that they will appreciate fully what fishing entails. The same applies to most areas of life and learning.
In the best sense, teachers should be guides. Certain information has to be given, but then the whole point of education - learning to educate yourself - should be embraced as far as possible.
Many countries are quoted as having 'very high standards in education'. But if you examine most of these countries' school systems, you will note that they teach just about everything by rote, stifling creativity, motivation and any flicker of individual thought. 'Very high standards' refers entirely to academic grades. This kind of conformist system is best described by the American writer, Owen Jones, who said:
School is the development of the memory at the expense of the imagination.
I see and I remember
I do and I understand
This Chinese proverb is at the heart of what education really means. Telling someone how to fish is fine, but it's not until that person actually fishes that they will appreciate fully what fishing entails. The same applies to most areas of life and learning.
In the best sense, teachers should be guides. Certain information has to be given, but then the whole point of education - learning to educate yourself - should be embraced as far as possible.
Many countries are quoted as having 'very high standards in education'. But if you examine most of these countries' school systems, you will note that they teach just about everything by rote, stifling creativity, motivation and any flicker of individual thought. 'Very high standards' refers entirely to academic grades. This kind of conformist system is best described by the American writer, Owen Jones, who said:
School is the development of the memory at the expense of the imagination.
Sunday 14 September 2014
If any reader of my blog ever needed proof of my essential message - that school is a waste of time, energy and most of all potential - I recommend that you watch Educating the East End, a Channel 4 series currently showing.
At the suggestion of a friend, I watched last Thursday's episode and felt, at varying times, angry, amused, and bewildered.
We never saw any classroom interaction but merely a set of 'cat and mouse' games between the staff and the pupils over the breaking of petty rules, all made by the adults, the very people who would claim that they are producing self-confident graduates with a good sense of what democracy means. Yet schools are the most undemocratic, authoritarian regimes in society.
Teachers kept challenging one boy to be 'like a man'. But boys are not men and their behaviour needs to be looked upon as such. That's not to say that we should make excuses for anti-social behaviour in the young, but we should look into why such behaviour exists and how best to deal with it, rather than the usual I make the rules - you break them - punishment must ensue.
So long as we view children as a different species from adults, the present attitudes towards school will never really change. I am not optimistic.
At the suggestion of a friend, I watched last Thursday's episode and felt, at varying times, angry, amused, and bewildered.
We never saw any classroom interaction but merely a set of 'cat and mouse' games between the staff and the pupils over the breaking of petty rules, all made by the adults, the very people who would claim that they are producing self-confident graduates with a good sense of what democracy means. Yet schools are the most undemocratic, authoritarian regimes in society.
Teachers kept challenging one boy to be 'like a man'. But boys are not men and their behaviour needs to be looked upon as such. That's not to say that we should make excuses for anti-social behaviour in the young, but we should look into why such behaviour exists and how best to deal with it, rather than the usual I make the rules - you break them - punishment must ensue.
So long as we view children as a different species from adults, the present attitudes towards school will never really change. I am not optimistic.
Sunday 7 September 2014
"Children close their ears to advice and open their eyes to example" , some very wise person said.
It is galling enough for most pupils to be sent to a place they have little or no say in, a place invented and administered by adults - but then to be preached to about values and behaviour, turns them deaf to advice very quickly.
Added to this is the sheer hypocrisy of the adult world. Pupils must obey the rules, but the staff can bend or break the rules when they wish. Why should pupils listen and act on the advice of their teachers, who are seen, in this context, as hypocrites and autocrats?
I have sat through countless school assemblies, listening to teachers and heads preach the gospel of harmony and peace, to totally uninterested and cynical audiences. And then, once outside the hall, a fight breaks out!
Preaching, of any kind, is a waste of time and words. By all means state your values, but if you think that by simply telling someone to be 'good' will, in any way, touch the roots of why they are not 'good', think again!
The French writer, Joseph Joubert, summed it up well when he said:
"Children have more need of models than critics".
It is galling enough for most pupils to be sent to a place they have little or no say in, a place invented and administered by adults - but then to be preached to about values and behaviour, turns them deaf to advice very quickly.
Added to this is the sheer hypocrisy of the adult world. Pupils must obey the rules, but the staff can bend or break the rules when they wish. Why should pupils listen and act on the advice of their teachers, who are seen, in this context, as hypocrites and autocrats?
I have sat through countless school assemblies, listening to teachers and heads preach the gospel of harmony and peace, to totally uninterested and cynical audiences. And then, once outside the hall, a fight breaks out!
Preaching, of any kind, is a waste of time and words. By all means state your values, but if you think that by simply telling someone to be 'good' will, in any way, touch the roots of why they are not 'good', think again!
The French writer, Joseph Joubert, summed it up well when he said:
"Children have more need of models than critics".
Sunday 31 August 2014
"No books until twelve," Jean-Jacques Rousseau suggested in his seminal book Emile. This might sound extreme, but I appreciate his message - childhood, nature, play first; the intellect comes later.
Unfortunately, the prevailing, underlying message of today's 'education' is - books as soon as possible. Now Rousseau was not referring to children's story books, but to the foisting of abstract concepts and ideas on those too young to understand or appreciate such things.
Good examples of this are: the studying of algebra, which, to most children, is unrelated to anything real in their world. Until I was 25 I thought that quadratic equations were fiendish devices invented specifically to punish school pupils. Likewise, the study of plays like King Lear and Hamlet. To even begin to understand the issues in these plays takes quite a bit of living first.
Abstract ideas mostly confuse children and should be left for them to discover naturally or else introduced to when they reach adolescence and beyond.
All this is best illustrated by a story told to me in Australia by a man at a party.
This man had a daughter of 8, let's say Susan. One Sunday morning the doorbell rang. Normally this man or his wife would open the door, but on this occasion Susan got to the door first. This is the conversation he and his wife overheard:
Stranger: Hullo, little girl. Tell me, have you been saved?
Susan: Yes, last month I was saved by a lifesaver at Avalon Beach.
Stranger: No! No! I mean have you been saved by Jesus?
Susan: Which beach is he at?
Unfortunately, the prevailing, underlying message of today's 'education' is - books as soon as possible. Now Rousseau was not referring to children's story books, but to the foisting of abstract concepts and ideas on those too young to understand or appreciate such things.
Good examples of this are: the studying of algebra, which, to most children, is unrelated to anything real in their world. Until I was 25 I thought that quadratic equations were fiendish devices invented specifically to punish school pupils. Likewise, the study of plays like King Lear and Hamlet. To even begin to understand the issues in these plays takes quite a bit of living first.
Abstract ideas mostly confuse children and should be left for them to discover naturally or else introduced to when they reach adolescence and beyond.
All this is best illustrated by a story told to me in Australia by a man at a party.
This man had a daughter of 8, let's say Susan. One Sunday morning the doorbell rang. Normally this man or his wife would open the door, but on this occasion Susan got to the door first. This is the conversation he and his wife overheard:
Stranger: Hullo, little girl. Tell me, have you been saved?
Susan: Yes, last month I was saved by a lifesaver at Avalon Beach.
Stranger: No! No! I mean have you been saved by Jesus?
Susan: Which beach is he at?
Sunday 24 August 2014
Since it is a bank holiday weekend in England, I am using that as an excuse to stray from the path my blog has been trying to follow, and post a series of thoughts that occurred to me during a deep reverie on a long train journey today:
Ever since we fell out of the trees millions of years ago, we have been at war with the tree - and everything else in nature.
Instead of marvelling at nature's power, balance, and beauty, we talk proudly of 'conquering nature' (as if we could anyway), we invent moral codes that are at complete odds with our human nature, and, best of all, we try to imitate nature in many artistic forms. But, from our point of view, it is still a war on nature's 'perfection'. Nature just IS. It is we, the human race, who declared war.
As Nietzsche said: "It is time for the revaluation of all values". And that goes for 'education' especially.
I know this is brief , but it is a holiday!
Next week, back to 'ranting and raving', as a friend of mine describes my blog.
Ever since we fell out of the trees millions of years ago, we have been at war with the tree - and everything else in nature.
Instead of marvelling at nature's power, balance, and beauty, we talk proudly of 'conquering nature' (as if we could anyway), we invent moral codes that are at complete odds with our human nature, and, best of all, we try to imitate nature in many artistic forms. But, from our point of view, it is still a war on nature's 'perfection'. Nature just IS. It is we, the human race, who declared war.
As Nietzsche said: "It is time for the revaluation of all values". And that goes for 'education' especially.
I know this is brief , but it is a holiday!
Next week, back to 'ranting and raving', as a friend of mine describes my blog.
Sunday 17 August 2014
I was pleased to hear Sir Ken Robinson on radio, criticising the present, straight-jacket school system and urging a far more creative environment. Until we escape the 'another brick in the wall' mentality of the system, the status quo will remain, leading to greater illiteracy and conformity.
Unfortunately, politicians see 'education' as a hot potato - too hot to handle properly. Their fear of the press and parents means that successive governments merely tinker with a system that needs replacing.
Britain has an authority problem. It is ingrained in every aspect of life and has the stench of bullying about it.
If you have power, you abuse it by treating those under you with contempt. If you are the underling, you must become as obsequious as possible. This strain is no more clearly evident than in schools.
The hierarchy is thus: The governors, headteacher and senior management at the top, parents on the next layer down, then teachers, and finally the pupils - the majority of a school population, the lowest rung, whose thoughts and opinions matter not one jot in the running of the place. A feudal system.
So until the false authority of schools is eliminated and pupils given the major say in their own schooling, we cannot call schools 'education'.
Sir Ken described his vision of a creative, flexible, mobile environment in schools. Will the politicians listen? What do you think?
Unfortunately, politicians see 'education' as a hot potato - too hot to handle properly. Their fear of the press and parents means that successive governments merely tinker with a system that needs replacing.
Britain has an authority problem. It is ingrained in every aspect of life and has the stench of bullying about it.
If you have power, you abuse it by treating those under you with contempt. If you are the underling, you must become as obsequious as possible. This strain is no more clearly evident than in schools.
The hierarchy is thus: The governors, headteacher and senior management at the top, parents on the next layer down, then teachers, and finally the pupils - the majority of a school population, the lowest rung, whose thoughts and opinions matter not one jot in the running of the place. A feudal system.
So until the false authority of schools is eliminated and pupils given the major say in their own schooling, we cannot call schools 'education'.
Sir Ken described his vision of a creative, flexible, mobile environment in schools. Will the politicians listen? What do you think?
Sunday 10 August 2014
In the late 1940s, Kenyan Radio wrote to George Bernard Shaw, asking for his permission to broadcast some of his plays to schools. Shaw's reply was brief and to the point:
"No, you may not broadcast my plays to schools. They were not written as instruments of torture!"
Well said, GBS.
The same should apply to the study of Shakespeare's plays and poetry. Millions of people in the UK see Shakespeare as an 'enemy', having endured tedious and often incomprehensible lessons on his plays. If William could re-appear today, I can guarantee that he would not be flattered that his works are forcibly studied at school, but rightly horrified.
Of course 'Shakespeare' should be an optional subject, taught by enthusiasts, preferably actors, and the plays acted out by the students, with the gravity and joy they inspire. The study of the plays should be done in such a way that the students can see parallels in their own lives and in modern society, and in doing so, understand how truly timeless the themes of Shakespeare's works are.
Enforcing 'culture' on the young is the surest way to breed a philistine society.
As a footnote, I recall that dear Colonel Gaddafi once claimed that William Shakespeare was, in fact, an Arab, his real name being Sheik Spear. But then the Italians claim him as their own, as do quite a few nations. That would flatter WS, if he were around.
"No, you may not broadcast my plays to schools. They were not written as instruments of torture!"
Well said, GBS.
The same should apply to the study of Shakespeare's plays and poetry. Millions of people in the UK see Shakespeare as an 'enemy', having endured tedious and often incomprehensible lessons on his plays. If William could re-appear today, I can guarantee that he would not be flattered that his works are forcibly studied at school, but rightly horrified.
Of course 'Shakespeare' should be an optional subject, taught by enthusiasts, preferably actors, and the plays acted out by the students, with the gravity and joy they inspire. The study of the plays should be done in such a way that the students can see parallels in their own lives and in modern society, and in doing so, understand how truly timeless the themes of Shakespeare's works are.
Enforcing 'culture' on the young is the surest way to breed a philistine society.
As a footnote, I recall that dear Colonel Gaddafi once claimed that William Shakespeare was, in fact, an Arab, his real name being Sheik Spear. But then the Italians claim him as their own, as do quite a few nations. That would flatter WS, if he were around.
Sunday 3 August 2014
I was infuriated last week when a young man I know, aged 24, was labelled as 'autistic' - when he is anything but! It got me thinking about labelling, especially of children, e.g. bright, stupid, Asperger's, lazy etc.
Labels are a convenient way of categorising, reducing someone to a word. Labels give a certain sense of power to the person labelling, but are damaging to those who are labelled, often for life.
To some extent, we all use labels, but that doesn't mean they're a good thing. They are a form of generalising, and all prejudices have generalising in common.
A sad and enraging story came from a teacher I worked with years ago. One day, she was about to enter the tube station near the school, when she bumped into a boy she had taught at another school. He was now about 20. After greeting him, he said to the teacher:
"Miss, I'm not all bad!" To which she replied: "You're not bad at all!"
How disgraceful that teachers can label a boy 'bad' until even he believes it to be true.
Next week, more humour and less anger.
Labels are a convenient way of categorising, reducing someone to a word. Labels give a certain sense of power to the person labelling, but are damaging to those who are labelled, often for life.
To some extent, we all use labels, but that doesn't mean they're a good thing. They are a form of generalising, and all prejudices have generalising in common.
A sad and enraging story came from a teacher I worked with years ago. One day, she was about to enter the tube station near the school, when she bumped into a boy she had taught at another school. He was now about 20. After greeting him, he said to the teacher:
"Miss, I'm not all bad!" To which she replied: "You're not bad at all!"
How disgraceful that teachers can label a boy 'bad' until even he believes it to be true.
Next week, more humour and less anger.
Sunday 27 July 2014
The whole concept of school as we know it is obsolete - as if it were ever a realistic idea. But one particular type of school has now seen its day (and what a dysfunctional day it was!) and that is the boarding school. I hasten to add that there are government-sponsored boarding schools and other small private schools, as well as the famous 'public schools'.
Boarding schools were invented to inculcate the children of the rich and powerful while they were overseas seizing an empire for the mother country. The schools were into creating empire-builders in other words. But now there is no empire and no excuses left for packing your children off to live in a school miles away from family and friends. As if the idea of school isn't bad enough, to be sent to live in one now seems like cruelty mixed with indifference. Yet parents will try to justify why they send their children to such places. If they were at least honest and said "Because the name of the school will help them in their career", I would have a sliver of respect, but no, the usual answers trotted out are:
"Because he needs discipline" or "It's my old school and even though I went through purgatory it's changed and is much better" or "You get a first-rate education there away from the distractions of everyday life". Wrong on both counts.
It is always amazes me how people sentimentalise their schooldays, especially ex-boarders. It seems that no matter how much the father suffered at his boarding school, he will rationalise his decision to send his own children to the same place.
Boarding schools have been forced, over the last 50 years, to humanise their ethos, add girls to their population, ban corporal punishment, and seem as modern as you could get. But this is all window-dressing.
Granted, deluded parents are still queueing up to send their children to these archaic institutions, but those on the inside know that the day will come when boarding schools become an extinct species. The sooner the better, especially for children.
Boarding schools were invented to inculcate the children of the rich and powerful while they were overseas seizing an empire for the mother country. The schools were into creating empire-builders in other words. But now there is no empire and no excuses left for packing your children off to live in a school miles away from family and friends. As if the idea of school isn't bad enough, to be sent to live in one now seems like cruelty mixed with indifference. Yet parents will try to justify why they send their children to such places. If they were at least honest and said "Because the name of the school will help them in their career", I would have a sliver of respect, but no, the usual answers trotted out are:
"Because he needs discipline" or "It's my old school and even though I went through purgatory it's changed and is much better" or "You get a first-rate education there away from the distractions of everyday life". Wrong on both counts.
It is always amazes me how people sentimentalise their schooldays, especially ex-boarders. It seems that no matter how much the father suffered at his boarding school, he will rationalise his decision to send his own children to the same place.
Boarding schools have been forced, over the last 50 years, to humanise their ethos, add girls to their population, ban corporal punishment, and seem as modern as you could get. But this is all window-dressing.
Granted, deluded parents are still queueing up to send their children to these archaic institutions, but those on the inside know that the day will come when boarding schools become an extinct species. The sooner the better, especially for children.
Sunday 20 July 2014
"The point of education is to produce minds that are capable of critical thinking and inventive ideas".
These are the words of a public school headmaster in the 1960s. Would that the system lived up to those ideals. Unfortunately, today's school system is all about conformity and memorising.
Those who have the audacity to present their own ideas or theories are generally belittled. Many teachers loathe pupils who are smarter than they are and they see all 'original' thinking as dangerously undermining of their authority. Again, potential is wasted. Thinking for yourself should be actively encouraged. In my experience, young people are as inventive as anyone when given half the chance to show that side of themselves without mockery.
Socrates was forced to kill himself for 'corrupting the youth of Athens'. He had encouraged the youth to question everything - a cardinal sin then as it is now.
As far as the authority in school is concerned, to question might mean to question the status quo, the nature of school and how unjust the whole system is. Thus conformity rules the generations and change always comes from the minority on top rather than growing organically from the majority below, for whom school, after all, ostensibly exists.
Peter Ustinov told a true story about the time he re-visited his old school, Westminster. He was shown his housemaster's report book and the comment next to his name read:
'This boy displays great originality, which must be curbed at all costs!'
These are the words of a public school headmaster in the 1960s. Would that the system lived up to those ideals. Unfortunately, today's school system is all about conformity and memorising.
Those who have the audacity to present their own ideas or theories are generally belittled. Many teachers loathe pupils who are smarter than they are and they see all 'original' thinking as dangerously undermining of their authority. Again, potential is wasted. Thinking for yourself should be actively encouraged. In my experience, young people are as inventive as anyone when given half the chance to show that side of themselves without mockery.
Socrates was forced to kill himself for 'corrupting the youth of Athens'. He had encouraged the youth to question everything - a cardinal sin then as it is now.
As far as the authority in school is concerned, to question might mean to question the status quo, the nature of school and how unjust the whole system is. Thus conformity rules the generations and change always comes from the minority on top rather than growing organically from the majority below, for whom school, after all, ostensibly exists.
Peter Ustinov told a true story about the time he re-visited his old school, Westminster. He was shown his housemaster's report book and the comment next to his name read:
'This boy displays great originality, which must be curbed at all costs!'
Sunday 13 July 2014
The real waste of potential starts early on. Young children are naturally curious and ask endless questions in an attempt to make sense of the world into which they have been brought. Yet, at the age of five, or thereabouts, we send them to a building called school, where they are told "Don't ask questions about those things you are interested in, and instead be interested in these things". Curiosity is killed stone dead and replaced with a stream of information which is of little or no interest to the child and is usually conveyed in a tedious way.
Why don't we get real and feed off the children's initial curiosity? Make school far more flexible and so encouraging of their curiosity that learning becomes a pleasure not a grind.
A wise man once said "I can command your attention, but not your interest". Motivation is a room locked from the inside. One can create an environment in which you might be interested enough to open the door, but true motivation always comes from within you.
This is why the title 'compulsory education' is a contradiction in terms. No one can be compelled to learn anything.
I heard a story years ago of a boy who hardly ever went to school, truanting persistently. At the age of 15, he suddenly decided that he wanted to be an engineer. It was pointed out to him that he would have to study and excel in mathematics, physics etc. and then pass exams to enter university. That boy became an engineer - only one year later than he would have if he had followed the 'normal' school path. The point of the story is clear - if you are really driven, motivated to do something, you can achieve it in record time. Truancy is an issue I shall discuss in another post. Isn't that exciting?
Why don't we get real and feed off the children's initial curiosity? Make school far more flexible and so encouraging of their curiosity that learning becomes a pleasure not a grind.
A wise man once said "I can command your attention, but not your interest". Motivation is a room locked from the inside. One can create an environment in which you might be interested enough to open the door, but true motivation always comes from within you.
This is why the title 'compulsory education' is a contradiction in terms. No one can be compelled to learn anything.
I heard a story years ago of a boy who hardly ever went to school, truanting persistently. At the age of 15, he suddenly decided that he wanted to be an engineer. It was pointed out to him that he would have to study and excel in mathematics, physics etc. and then pass exams to enter university. That boy became an engineer - only one year later than he would have if he had followed the 'normal' school path. The point of the story is clear - if you are really driven, motivated to do something, you can achieve it in record time. Truancy is an issue I shall discuss in another post. Isn't that exciting?
Sunday 6 July 2014
I overheard part of a discussion in a pub last week - the kind of conversation I wished to join, but didn't, due to good manners on my part.
One person was saying that her son was made to feel stupid because his results in Maths were so poor. This single remark made me reflect on a major aspect of schooling, so major it is hardly ever challenged.
The curriculum is still far too academically biased. Why should we have to prove ourselves on paper? Testing is another issue in itself, but there are many different ways of testing. To judge someone on the basis of what they could remember at a particular time, and how they felt on that particular day, is bad enough, but to judge everyone on the basis of a written examination, is damnable. Countless millions have labelled themselves stupid because they couldn't handle written exams.
Some students are academically minded and that should be offered as well. But many are gifted with their hands, e.g. plumbers, builders etc. Many are gifted artistically, e.g. actors, composers, painters. Many are gifted with social skills, e.g. carers, hospitality workers etc.
.
As Elbert Hubbard said: "A school should not be a preparation for life. A school should be life".
Granted that resources are limited, but if the will was there the curriculum could be widened to include: how to build a car, how to administer CPR , how to dance, how to cook very well, how to speak a variety of languages, how to swim well etc. etc.
Vocational 'education' is now more recognized than in the past, but still too many feel inadequate if they can't do well on paper, and the likes of Oxford and Cambridge Universities still attract far too much adulation for being the 'brightest and the best'. Intelligence is more than memory.
A good friend in Canada, an ophthalmologist, once said to me: "Of what use is knowing the height of Mt.Everest when someone is having a heart attack in front of you and you don't know how to save them?"
One person was saying that her son was made to feel stupid because his results in Maths were so poor. This single remark made me reflect on a major aspect of schooling, so major it is hardly ever challenged.
The curriculum is still far too academically biased. Why should we have to prove ourselves on paper? Testing is another issue in itself, but there are many different ways of testing. To judge someone on the basis of what they could remember at a particular time, and how they felt on that particular day, is bad enough, but to judge everyone on the basis of a written examination, is damnable. Countless millions have labelled themselves stupid because they couldn't handle written exams.
Some students are academically minded and that should be offered as well. But many are gifted with their hands, e.g. plumbers, builders etc. Many are gifted artistically, e.g. actors, composers, painters. Many are gifted with social skills, e.g. carers, hospitality workers etc.
.
As Elbert Hubbard said: "A school should not be a preparation for life. A school should be life".
Granted that resources are limited, but if the will was there the curriculum could be widened to include: how to build a car, how to administer CPR , how to dance, how to cook very well, how to speak a variety of languages, how to swim well etc. etc.
Vocational 'education' is now more recognized than in the past, but still too many feel inadequate if they can't do well on paper, and the likes of Oxford and Cambridge Universities still attract far too much adulation for being the 'brightest and the best'. Intelligence is more than memory.
A good friend in Canada, an ophthalmologist, once said to me: "Of what use is knowing the height of Mt.Everest when someone is having a heart attack in front of you and you don't know how to save them?"
Sunday 29 June 2014
Today is the 91st birthday of the greatest teacher I have personally known. I was not a pupil of John Morris, but a colleague at a school in Sydney. I learned more about teaching from John than from any book or course.
So why was he so great as a teacher?
Firstly, he was an enthusiast and loved spreading knowledge. The way he spread knowledge was mostly by encapsulating a lesson and its aims within stories. Everyone loves a good story, and none more so than young people. If any teacher wants a class's full attention, just tell them a story that highlights your point. Granted, there are subjects where story-telling seems impossible to use, e.g. Maths and I.T., but these are rare exceptions when it comes to worthwhile subjects. 'History' is a gift to teachers of it, yet far too many history teachers manage to transform an already compelling story into something dull and meaningless.
Secondly, John told stories in a comic-dramatic way and knew how to create suspense. Pupils would not let him go to lunch until he had finished the tale.
Finally, he was so encouraging of his pupils, so interested in them as people, and made schoolwork such a pleasure, that his pupils shone and many still stay in touch with him.
John's effect on his pupils is best summed up by the mother of a boy he taught. I bumped into the boy's mother in a shop one day, many year after he had left the school, and asked her how her pleasant (but academically average son) was doing. She told me that he was running his own eye clinic in Sydney, having become a brilliant ophthalmologist. Then the mother said: "Before John Morris, there was nothing. After John Morris, everything!"
Happy Birthday, John !
 |
| John Morris, left, and this blogger |
So why was he so great as a teacher?
Firstly, he was an enthusiast and loved spreading knowledge. The way he spread knowledge was mostly by encapsulating a lesson and its aims within stories. Everyone loves a good story, and none more so than young people. If any teacher wants a class's full attention, just tell them a story that highlights your point. Granted, there are subjects where story-telling seems impossible to use, e.g. Maths and I.T., but these are rare exceptions when it comes to worthwhile subjects. 'History' is a gift to teachers of it, yet far too many history teachers manage to transform an already compelling story into something dull and meaningless.
Secondly, John told stories in a comic-dramatic way and knew how to create suspense. Pupils would not let him go to lunch until he had finished the tale.
Finally, he was so encouraging of his pupils, so interested in them as people, and made schoolwork such a pleasure, that his pupils shone and many still stay in touch with him.
John's effect on his pupils is best summed up by the mother of a boy he taught. I bumped into the boy's mother in a shop one day, many year after he had left the school, and asked her how her pleasant (but academically average son) was doing. She told me that he was running his own eye clinic in Sydney, having become a brilliant ophthalmologist. Then the mother said: "Before John Morris, there was nothing. After John Morris, everything!"
Happy Birthday, John !
Sunday 22 June 2014
'Private education is unfair', said Alan Bennett last week, stating the bleedin' obvious. England has a greater variety of school models than any country on earth. This is good for some, but not for most, and in that sense the system is unfair.
Private schools are often referred to as 'good' schools and state schools mainly 'bad'. In truth, they are all bad, and the real unfairness is that so much potential is squandered by them.
I must add that my argument is centred on schools in the West, especially on British schools.
When girls in Afghanistan demand to be educated, school and education then overlap considerably, if not become synonymous. But in the West, 'education' has become a class-ridden, divisive, anti-educational business.
There is now a condition called 'schoolphobia'. To me, this means the natural reaction of a healthy child to school. Too many pupils see school as a kind of boring prison. Indeed, in prison they would have far more rights.
At this point I feel it is worth repeating a story I heard years ago. Apocryphal or not, it speaks volumes:
Private schools are often referred to as 'good' schools and state schools mainly 'bad'. In truth, they are all bad, and the real unfairness is that so much potential is squandered by them.
I must add that my argument is centred on schools in the West, especially on British schools.
When girls in Afghanistan demand to be educated, school and education then overlap considerably, if not become synonymous. But in the West, 'education' has become a class-ridden, divisive, anti-educational business.
There is now a condition called 'schoolphobia'. To me, this means the natural reaction of a healthy child to school. Too many pupils see school as a kind of boring prison. Indeed, in prison they would have far more rights.
At this point I feel it is worth repeating a story I heard years ago. Apocryphal or not, it speaks volumes:
A British soldier, captured by the Japanese during World War II, was sent to a prisoner-of-war camp. One day, he saw an old school friend coming through the gates of the camp, and he yelled to him: 'Humphrey, come on in! This place is much better than Charterhouse!'I want to assure readers that gradually my blog will present positive ideas and alternatives, and not just be a weekly rant and rave - unless, of course, readers want that kind of stuff. Let me know.
Sunday 15 June 2014
'British Values according to the gospel of St.Michael Gove', a subject that stirs so many thoughts and comments that I shall resist studying that gospel, for the time being anyway.
Instilling values is always most effectively done by subliminal means. I would doubt that any private school pupils are told in plain terms that they are members of a powerful, superior elite. It is assumed that they take on that message by the very values that need not speak their names.
Ivan Illich talks about the 'hidden curriculum' of schools, in his brilliant little book Deschooling Society. He dismissed the idea that we go to school to learn subjects like Maths, Languages, Science etc. and maintained that we go to school to learn the values of obedience, conformity and subservience - all taught subliminally by the very system itself, put into place by authoritarians, mainly for the misuse of authority.
A friend of mine, an Englishman, once remarked that he believed that Hitler and Al Capone would probably be admitted to the exclusive clubs of St.James's, because they were well dressed, but that Gandhi and Jesus would be refused as a couple of scruffs! He's probably right, but what does that say about British values?
I am only interested in civic and human values - those of tolerance, equality of opportunity, and justice. Any society that practices those, I approve of, and those that don't, I despise. I'm sounding sanctimonious, so I'd better go. Speak to you next weekend.
Instilling values is always most effectively done by subliminal means. I would doubt that any private school pupils are told in plain terms that they are members of a powerful, superior elite. It is assumed that they take on that message by the very values that need not speak their names.
Ivan Illich talks about the 'hidden curriculum' of schools, in his brilliant little book Deschooling Society. He dismissed the idea that we go to school to learn subjects like Maths, Languages, Science etc. and maintained that we go to school to learn the values of obedience, conformity and subservience - all taught subliminally by the very system itself, put into place by authoritarians, mainly for the misuse of authority.
A friend of mine, an Englishman, once remarked that he believed that Hitler and Al Capone would probably be admitted to the exclusive clubs of St.James's, because they were well dressed, but that Gandhi and Jesus would be refused as a couple of scruffs! He's probably right, but what does that say about British values?
I am only interested in civic and human values - those of tolerance, equality of opportunity, and justice. Any society that practices those, I approve of, and those that don't, I despise. I'm sounding sanctimonious, so I'd better go. Speak to you next weekend.
Sunday 8 June 2014
"I never let my schooling interfere with my education", the brilliant Mark Twain said. I have decided, after a lifetime of teaching, that school is the antithesis of education - as you can guess from my blog name - and a lot of my blog will be putting my case forward - with a good deal of humour and anecdotes.
The derivation of the words school and education deserve to be re-visited. School derives from the ancient Greek word skhole, meaning 'leisure', and educate from the Latin 'to elicit or draw out'. How far we have come from their original meanings. Leonardo da Vinci said "You really cannot teach anyone anything; you can only draw out what is already there". What a shame he isn't alive today and Secretary of State for Education.
When teachers are asked "Why did you become a teacher?" they usually answer that they want to help young people learn, which is a noble ideal. I have to say that my motivation for teaching was both that and because I selfishly derived a huge amount of enjoyment from the job, almost always because of the students. I occasionally, after some hilarity, would say to a class: "Why should I pay for expensive West End shows when I get paid to come here and be entertained by you?" They were never sure whether that was a compliment or a patronizing insult.
They are my thoughts for today. Speak to you next weekend.
The derivation of the words school and education deserve to be re-visited. School derives from the ancient Greek word skhole, meaning 'leisure', and educate from the Latin 'to elicit or draw out'. How far we have come from their original meanings. Leonardo da Vinci said "You really cannot teach anyone anything; you can only draw out what is already there". What a shame he isn't alive today and Secretary of State for Education.
When teachers are asked "Why did you become a teacher?" they usually answer that they want to help young people learn, which is a noble ideal. I have to say that my motivation for teaching was both that and because I selfishly derived a huge amount of enjoyment from the job, almost always because of the students. I occasionally, after some hilarity, would say to a class: "Why should I pay for expensive West End shows when I get paid to come here and be entertained by you?" They were never sure whether that was a compliment or a patronizing insult.
They are my thoughts for today. Speak to you next weekend.
Sunday 1 June 2014
School v Education
Today I awoke with an urgent desire to start a blog. I kept a diary for years, until I started noting down the latest specials at Sainsburys. So why, twenty years later, should my diary be any more interesting than Grimsby bus timetables?
I can't guarantee that it will. But as a retired teacher, I have much to say about the present state of 'education'. My views will usually be supported by anecdotes.
There's always something in the news to trigger a weekly blog.
So today is by way of introducing myself and to express the hope that my readers will feel challenged and entertained by my weekend blog.
I can't guarantee that it will. But as a retired teacher, I have much to say about the present state of 'education'. My views will usually be supported by anecdotes.
There's always something in the news to trigger a weekly blog.
So today is by way of introducing myself and to express the hope that my readers will feel challenged and entertained by my weekend blog.
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