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.
