An ode to the end of term... (with apologies to Tim Minchin)

When I break up
I will have time enough to read all of the
books I want and watch the DVDs you get to
watch when you're broken up.

And when I break up
I will be strong enough to carry all
the piles of books you need to check
and mark with care while you're broken up.

And when I break up
I can eat junk every day
watching football games and I
can go to bed late every night!

And I will wake up
when the sun comes up and I
will go for walks until my legs are dead

And I won't care 'cause I'll be broken up!

When I break up!

When I break up, when I break up
(When I break up)
I will be back at school to organise
the classroom and put up displays for next term’s learning journey of fun.    

And when I break up, when I break up
(When I break up)
I will be able now to see the friends that
always get forsaken during term
time when I’m not broken up!

And when I break up
(When I break up)
I will think hard every day.
And I'll play around with seating plans
that friends don't think are fun.

And I will go out
and silently I’ll fume
at all the wrong grammar I see in shops
but won’t complain 'cause I'll be broken up!

When I break up!

When I break up I will be free enough
to visit the pub and not have to look at
my watch worrying about when I’ll get up.
(When I break up)

Striking out

I love where I work. It is a simply incredible school with brilliant children, amazing colleagues and a wonderfully supportive management. In under three weeks time, I am moving to pastures new, which is very exciting but, after seven and a half happy years, will be tinged with sadness. I am keen to make the most of my time left, and the days that remain will soon be in single figures.

Despite this, I am not going in to school tomorrow. I am going to stand with my colleagues and stand up against what I believe is a deeply flawed way of governing education in this country.

The headlines say “Pay and Conditions”. We aren’t allowed to strike on any other terms.

For me, it has very little to do with pay. It has a lot to do with conditions.

The condition of some teachers, left at their wits end by a baffling series of over-complicated hoops to jump through, needless work to complete, that takes them away from their class for long periods, robbing their class of a qualified, enthusiastic and passionate practitioner.

The condition of our curriculum, stuffed full of antiquated, 1950s grammar school objectives, full of ‘knowledge’ and ‘facts’, but limited in skills and free thinking. An over-crammed Maths and English syllabus leaving less room for Art, Music and Drama. A pub quiz history curriculum full of dates, but lacking in evaluative critique of sources and deep discussion of reasons.

The condition of the English language, where grammar has to have ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ answers, when in fact there are several ways to express things. It is a beautiful and diverse language, full of creativity. It can’t be summarised by a tick or a cross. Where ‘good reading’ is how fast you read, not how much you understand or infer from a text. Where ‘good writing’ need not be imaginative, interesting or thought-provoking, so long as it is punctuated correctly, spelt perfectly and every letter is joined to the next one in the ‘right’ way.

The condition of schools who may be struggling for all kinds of reasons, forced into privatisation, where men in suits dictate their every move, with very little evidence this improves things. Where qualified teacher status is a preference, not a requirement and pay is no longer secure.

And most importantly, the condition of our children. Those amazingly creative, imaginative and hard-working young lives that we have the privilege of working with every day. Children as young as seven (7!) having sleepless nights about how many ‘fronted adverbials’ they used the previous day. As they grow older, the stakes increase, as does the stress and worry for them and all who care for them. Children being labelled as ‘failing’ all to make a political point.

A ‘minister’ is meant to serve. To listen carefully to those who they lead or are above. I see very little evidence of that. No doubt tomorrow will be arrogantly shrugged off as ‘whinging’ or worse criticised for ‘damaging children’s education’. They consistently refuse to listen to reason. Not standing up now is the same as saying ‘I am happy with how things are.’

For me, it isn’t really about pay. I am paid well, although I worry what the future holds in that regard. But yes, it is definitely all about conditions.

Time to learn to stop and look.

This week we took my class and the year below to see Matilda in London. They loved it, obviously. It is a show of exceptional quality in every detail. I was fascinated to find out what they particularly enjoyed. So this morning, I asked them to write a ‘review’, giving prompts such as acting, singing, dancing, script, props and set design and how it made them feel. What I got back was interesting as well as slightly disappointing.

Don’t get me wrong, they laughed at the funny bits were moved by the sad bits and excited by the surprising bits. But just look at this stage.

Incredible. What it doesn’t show is the desks that come out of the floor, gates and swings that appear, libraries and classrooms that materialise seamlessly. I loved the small details. The ‘shhh’ written in the bookcases of the library and ‘soot’ in the fireplace. Hidden words everywhere, references, jokes and hand-crafted detail.

Did any child comment on these things? Not one. They just didn’t seem to notice, well at least not enough to write about it with great enthusiasm.

I fear a wider problem. Children are not allowed time to stop. Stop and look at the view. Really look. Properly. An over-crammed curriculum, (both during and after school), combined with iPad-length attention span make it increasingly difficult for them to appreciate incredible art, architecture, music and design. They need to be free, to have time to explore, ask questions and discuss these things at length.

There are many teachers who would love to teach like this (myself included), but we can’t. A philosophy of ‘secondary-ready children’ where each must be ‘equipped’ with the same standard set of ‘knowledge’. Let’s ignore that children are all different, equipped with different strengths, weaknesses, interests and experiences. One single child will not become Bill Gates, Jane Austen, David Beckham, Richard Rogers, Beethoven and Archimedes. But one child might be a Bill Gates, another David Beckham, another could be a Beethoven… you get the idea.

I’m not advocating an abandonment of the basic arithmetic and literacy skills. By no means. I am a self-confessed, fully paid up member of the grammar police. (Please do not judge this rambled venting!) I hate that my local Supermarket has ’10 items or less’, and I fight the urge to write ‘fewer’ over the top of it in big red pen along with ‘see me’. However, we need to balance correctness and creativity.

Partly, parents need to facilitate some of this ‘looking’ more deeply. Many do, and I applaud and respect them. Many others have my sympathy, with a culture of ‘working all the hours God sends’.

Technology is great, it can be creative and exciting. But children need to be excited by a box of Meccano, K’nex or Lego. What can I make? How can I use my hands to build? Not just virtually, but in the real world. They must learn to love the smell of a book, not just an e-book. They must learn to evaluate what others create and welcome discussion of their own work.

 ‘Fewer things in greater depth’ we were promised. More things in greater depth is the reality. The greater the number of things, the less time we have to look in depth. Returning to Matilda, the draconian Trunchbull dictatorship acts as a coincidental metaphor for the public school agenda being forced on our children. Not anywhere near as cruel, obviously, but rigid, inflexible, and at times extremely unimaginative.

 Am I expecting too much of a 7-10 year old? I don’t think so. I hasten to add I am not attempting to force my own specific agenda, but simply the idea that we allow room for children to explore, question and think more deeply than our technology-dominated, high-speed curriculum allows. Let’s really get off that ladder, look at the detail, ask questions and let all of our imaginations run riot.