Since I started this blog, in June 2014, I have stated, probably over-stated, my case against school as we know it.  Change does happen slowly, but at the moment the system is heading speedily in the wrong direction.
I have repeated myself too many times, and as such, I have decided to give the blog a rest for a while.  I would rather add a post when I feel inspired to do so, rather than adding a post 'religiously' every Sunday.
I could extend the scope of my blog, which I may well do and soon.  Any feedback about this would be welcome.
In the meantime, for all those interested in real education, I recommend that you read the following:
Ivan Illich, John Holt, Bruno Bettelheim, Bertrand Russell, Homer Lane, A.S.Neill, Sir Kenneth Robinson, and John Taylor Gatto.  These wise minds have been largely ignored by governments and cultures around the world.  So what's new?  Whenever have great minds been heeded and acted upon by history?  All too rarely.

After last week's post , I was confronted with the usual, and understandable, challenge to John Gatto's plea to abolish all schools:
"But that would mean chaos!"
Gatto doesn't believe that there wouldn't be chaos, for a while, but unlike the majority, he doesn't have the 'original sin' view of humanity.  As he put it:
"Let them manage themselves".


History has shown us that, whether in politics, religion, or education, most people believe that we are incapable of behaving in a good, positive way unless we are told what to do - by a tiny minority, who claim to have all the answers. Unless we are guided and commanded by our 'leaders', we would be lost souls.  So goes the evil concept of 'original sin', the biggest con trick in human history.  I say 'evil', because of the immense damage such a view can inflict.


In  the film 'Life of Brian', the character of Brian sums up the mistake of being led when he says to the crowd:
"You don't need to follow me.  You don't need to follow anybody!". 
Although large numbers of people still consider the film immoral, Brian's statement of reality is deeply moral, and at the heart of the story.
The same applies to school.  Most believe that the only place we can learn is in school, and be taught only by professional teachers.  Well, most learning takes place outside the classroom, and every single person in the world is a teacher - of whatever skills and knowledge they possess.

Today I wish to continue broadcasting John Gatto and his views on education, and the best way to do this is to quote 3 of his most insightful observations:


"Children learn what they live.  Put kids in a class and they will live out their lives in an invisible cage, isolated from their chance at community; interrupt kids with bells and horns all the time and they will learn that nothing is important or worth finishing; ridicule them and they will retreat from human association; shame them and they will find a hundred ways to get even.  The habits taught in large-scale organizations are deadly." 


"I've concluded that genius is as common as dirt.  We suppress genius because we haven't yet figured out how to manage a population of educated men and women.  The solution, I think, is simple and glorious.  Let them manage themselves."


"I don't think we'll get rid of schools any time soon, certainly not in my lifetime, but if we're going to change what's rapidly becoming a disaster of ignorance, we need to realize that the institution 'schools' very well, but it does not 'educate'; that's inherent in the design of the thing.  It's not the fault of bad teachers or too little  money spent.  It's just impossible for education and schooling to be the same thing."

John Taylor Gatto is such an interesting thinker on education that I intend to devote two posts to him.
He was an American teacher for 30 years and won 4 awards as 'Teacher of the Year' in New York City and State.
Like John Holt, the more he experienced the world of the modern school, the more he became convinced that the mere construct of school was anti-educational.
He is best known for his classic book Dumbing Us Down: the Hidden Curriculum of Compulsory Schooling.  Wade A. Carpenter, associate professor of education at Berry College, called Gatto's work 'scathing' and 'hyperbolic' but not 'inaccurate'.  Despite his criticism, the professor says that he is in agreement with Gatto.
JTG lectured for years on the benefits of homeschooling, unschooling and open source learning.


I cannot resist supplying a quotation from Gatto's book on dumbing down.  More next week.
I have noticed a fascinating phenomenon in my thirty years of teaching: schools and schooling are increasingly irrelevant to the great enterprises of the planet.  No one believes anymore that scientists are trained in science classes or politicians in civics classes or poets in English classes.  The truth is that schools really don't teach anything except how to obey orders.  This is a great mystery to me because thousands of humane, caring people work in schools as teachers and aides and administrators, but the abstract logic of the institution overwhelms their individual contributions. Although teachers do care and do work very, very hard, the institution is psychopathic - it has no conscience.  It rings a bell and the young man in the middle of writing a poem must close his notebook and move to a different cell where he must memorize that humans and monkeys derive from a common ancestor.

John Holt was one of America's most perceptive teachers and authors on the subject of school and education.  The more he observed children in school, the more he believed that school was actually a hindrance to education.  He wrote his findings in two excellent books, entitled 'How Children Fail' and 'How Children Learn'.  He questioned how an entire system could 'turn a torrent into a trickle' when it came to human potential.
Eventually, he became an advocate for home-schooling, a movement that now includes millions of children in the USA and thousands in the UK.  The issue of home-schooling is a hot one.  Its critics voice two main objections:
 1. It can create unsociable young people.
 2.  It can be used as a means of indoctrinating a child into a political or religious creed.


Of the few cases I have personally known, the children did not become unsociable and all had a circle of friends, most of whom were deeply envious of the home-schooler.
The second objection is a serious one.  I would guess that in some cases, home-inculcation occurs.  But if parents are hell-bent on indoctrinating their child, then they will do so, irrespective of school.
Millions of home-schooled children have done very well, in exams and in life.

I would like to end by quoting a review of Holt's 'How Children Learn'.  It puts into words, better than I could, John Holt's view of 'education':
"Left to themselves, young children are capable of grasping new ideas faster than most adults give them credit for.  But they have their own ways of understanding, of working things out; and in most cases this fresh, natural style of thinking is destroyed when the child goes to school and encounters formal methods of learning".

When I suggested, in my post of 27th September, that I hoped that one day school would be no more, I roused the ire of several friends and commentators.  For that reason, I plan to spend two or three posts on this subject, to explain more fully my statement and to convince some people that I haven't lost my mind.


When I suggest that no school is better than any school, the reaction is either laughter or disbelief, as if I concocted such an idea one night while imbibing a bottle of gin.
There are three teachers/authors I wish to write about, since all three saw clearly how school is the enemy of education.
The first is Ivan Illich, who wrote a brilliant book in the 1960s, entitled Deschooling Society.  He describes how learning can be integrated into society, so that 'school' as we know it would become superfluous.  Illich saw our system of education as deeply anti-educational.  Given enough resources, he believed that children would become much better educated without the hidden curriculum of school. "Universal education through schooling is not feasible", he maintained.  When people reacted to his idea, calling it 'mad', he would reply that sending children into a building to learn what they are not interested in, and yet must obey rules set down by others, is truly mad.


Time is against me today, so I shall leave until next week my post on John Holt and John Taylor Gatto, both worth looking up online.  They were forceful opponents of school.  Such a pity that the powers that be continue to trudge along the same, wrong path, deaf to such wise, experienced voices.

As an English teacher, I frequently emphasised the importance of 'subtext' - which in today's vernacular sounds like a hidden or underwater text message.
Subtext is vital in understanding literature, grasping the real meaning under the surface of the story.
I have found the same applies in life.  What lies behind an action is far more significant than the action itself.  A furious argument between two people can look like contempt and anger, but is really an expression of their interest in each other, if not mutual attraction.


A friend of mine's son, when he was 15 years old, complained to me that his mother was too worried about him all the time.  This used to bother me when I was his age, and I'm sure that it still irritates thousands of adolescents.  It took me quite a while to see that the opposite of concern is neglect.  Kids whose parents couldn't care less what they do, are sending the child a terrible message, one that will reverberate throughout their lives.
In an extreme example of this, a serial killer once said:
"When I was young, nobody cared at all about me, so I grew up not caring about anybody else."
This is not a simplistic excuse for his actions, but is perhaps the beginning of an understanding of why such people exist.
A parent's concern might be annoying and seemingly restrictive to a child, but the subtext of concern is a caring and loving attitude - and that goes for all our close relationships in life.

Whenever I point to the success of people who hardly ever, or never went to school (e.g. William Blake,  Mark Twain and Buster Keaton), I get the same reply:
"But they were exceptional people.  Others would fail."
It hardly ever occurs to anyone that they were successful because of their lack of traditional schooling, not in spite of.
John Taylor Gatto observed:
"As a teacher, I found that genius is as common as dirt."
The model of traditional schooling that most nations slavishly follow is becoming more and more anti-educational, more fixated on the academic side, and long ago became huge factories for producing tomorrow's workforce.
As I have said before, children are naturally curious and, largely left to their own devices, will learn far more than in school.  And they would, most importantly, love learning instead of loathing it.
The basic tools of learning are literacy and numeracy.  Once they are accomplished, the world is yours.  Like the keyboard of a piano, once you learn the keys and scales, you can compose anything.  Once you have learned how to drive, you can go anywhere.
Yet, even with literacy and numeracy, schools are failing terribly.  For children not to be able to read and write by the age of 10, reveals what poor teaching they have experienced.  I exclude children with certain conditions and learning difficulties.
With any luck, in the distant future I fear, school will be a thing of the past.

Recently, I found a photo, from the Western Daily Press in Bristol, in April, 1975.  It is, as you can plainly see, one of myself as a tiger in a children's theatre company show, and Oliver (aged 4), sitting on my leg.

The story of Oliver is a sad one, or at least was when we met him after one of our morning shows.  His mother, Anne Gubbay, was in tears as she explained to us how Oliver had never smiled or laughed in his life.  She had dressed him in a cowboy outfit and brought him to our show, in the hope that he would find something to chuckle at.

But alas, Oliver kept his stern face throughout.
We showed him the impressive puppets and clowned around as actors, but to no avail.  When he sat on my leg, I talked 'tiger-talk', which was no more than nonsense about cowboys and tigers.  Still, not a flicker.

Looking back on it now, I am sure that Oliver was on the autistic spectrum, especially since he hardly spoke to us.  It was beyond shyness.  But I sincerely hope that Oliver, who would now be about 36, has matured with a sense of humour.  I would love to know.

Of course, I felt a failure that day, but I don't know what else I could have done, or any of the theatre troupe.  It was the mum's distress which was so upsetting.


I apologise to my readers about this post two days ago. I had difficulty transferring the photo to the post and so I ended it abruptly and without the photo.
I'll come better prepared next Sunday.

At the risk of turning this blog into one on dogs, I would like to repeat a story, and in the process, ask if anyone of my readers has a copy of the programme. The possibility is remote, but hope springs eternal!

Some years ago, perhaps 7 or 8 years ago, Channel 4 broadcast a programme about two teenage boys, both young offenders, with histories of brutality at home and crime in public.

Separately, the boys were given a dog each, a pup, but not newborn.  They were monitored over the weeks that passed.  They had to feed the dog, walk the dog, wash the dog, and watch out for any reason to seek a vet's advice. 

In one case, the boy was overwhelmed by a creature that was always happy to see him, never judged him, and gave him unconditional love, all of which had been denied him in his life.  A dog was able to give him what his family did not!  After a while, the boy snapped.  He broke down completely, the first step in his recovery and his search for human love.

Unfortunately, the other boy did not respond much at all.  He took care of the dog, but the dog's adoration of him did not shatter his suffering, so damaged was he.  I remember thinking:

 "I hope, one day, his wounds will heal."

Dogs have saved lives, and not just physically.  They are, to quote a modern cliché, wonderful 'anti-stress machines'.  They just love to be loved.

Next week, back on track, whatever that means!

Reading aloud in class is a pleasure for some pupils but an agonizing, humiliating experience for many.  Of course, those who enjoy it are already good readers, but for those struggling to become literate, it can cause them to abandon their efforts, if mortified in front of their peers regularly.
Even one to one, kids can feel constantly judged and made to feel stupid when learning how to read fluently, no matter how patient and sensitive the teacher is.

There was a television news report some months ago, about a scheme that was tested in some primary schools in the north of England.  This scheme involved getting poor readers in school to read to dogs, i.e.one dog to one reader, and adults out of sight.  Naturally, the dogs chosen for this experiment had docile dispositions and were trained to sit or lie and listen to the reader - i.e. look at the reader, and 'listen' to the story.

What happened ?  Surprise! Surprise!  All the children involved improved their reading ability, in some cases substantially.  What sounded like a crazy idea works, and for a good reason - the readers do not feel judged by a dog and they don't fear being corrected all the time.  Most young children believe that the dog is actually listening to the story and enjoying it, so they want to read more.

One little boy said: "I looked up all the interesting things about dogs in the Guinness Book of Records, and told Murphy them.  I think he was very interested, at least he looked as if he was."

I recommend that all primary schools adopt this scheme, depending on the availability of dogs, because there is no shortage of children who need such a scheme.

Families with a dog, or a perhaps with a neighbour's dog, should try this out on their young ones if they are losing their confidence as readers.

Nicknames can be hilarious, savage, apt or devastating.

Whenever a pupil is referred to by a nickname, I always ask the pupil if they like being called Snowy, or Babyface, or whatever.  Since nicknames are almost always chosen by others, it is best to check with the bearer of this sobriquet if they are happy with it or not.

Young people are particularly good at hitting their target when it comes to bestowing a nickname on a teacher.  I was taught at secondary school by a maths' teacher who was called Neuter Gender by the boys.  When this curiously colourless, straight-laced man heard his nickname, he had a breakdown.
Conversely, some teachers relish their nicknames, as much as Margaret Thatcher did when she heard that she'd been called The Iron Lady.  Again, I had a teacher we called Ming the Merciless (after the grim villain in Flash Gordon comics). He referred to himself in class as Ming. We were both amused by this and also annoyed that he knew and delighted in his nickname.

Some nicknames can be therapeutic.  As I have mentioned in a previous post, when I discovered that the pupils called me Volcano, it was a warning to calm down.  And the more I relaxed, the better a teacher I became and lessons became more enjoyable.

Sometimes nicknames virtually become the person's name.  I have a friend I call Snake, and to this day I don't know his real name.  I might have known, a long time ago, but now he will forever be Snake.

The funniest thing about last week's post was that it was unfunny, especially since the topic was humour.

So this week, I intend to repeat a few short examples of humour that I experienced in schools.
I recall that my Latin teacher, in 1960, was asked: "Sir, what was Julius Caesar like at parties?" 

A sneer from the teacher was followed by a detention for the boy who asked the question.  Kids have been using this cheeky device for a long time.  One of my pupils once asked me: "What did Richard III say to you about school uniform?" 

I was tempted to reply that he believed that cheeky boys should be smothered in their sleep, but it sounded too awful if you were unaware of the story of 'the princes in the Tower'.  Besides, Richard III has been maligned enough.  Instead I replied, coolly: "He'd never heard of such things and therefore had no comment to make."

Non-sequiturs, usually uttered naively, can be amusing as well as surreal.  In the middle of a fairly intense English lesson, when the students were so involved about the novel we were studying that their questions reached a high level of enquiry, one boy put his hand up and asked: "Sir, where did you buy that shirt?"

At the time I didn't find his diversionary question funny, but I did laugh afterwards.  Then I read that the comedian Greg Davies, during a brilliant drama lesson, when he was a teacher, was asked, out of nowhere: "Can you do the lambada?"  He said it took him ages to stop laughing.

I once asked a primary school boy what Florence Nightingale's moniker was, expecting him to say: "The Lady with the Lamp." Instead of which I got: "The woman with the light," as if she had been a cigarette-girl at the Balaclava Cinema.

One of the best 'howlers' I have ever heard of came from a P.E. teacher I knew in Sydney.  During basketball practice, a boy was severely winded when the ball hit him in the stomach.  The teacher explained to the lad that that he'd been hit in the solar plexus.  The next day, the boy's mother appeared at the school and demanded to know why a teacher told her son that he'd been hit in the sexual polar!

Enough of the heavy stuff!  After the serious blasts of the last two weeks, I thought that I should lighten the mood and talk about humour in school, especially in the classroom.
From my experience, too many teachers see cheek and banter as a disrespectful attempt to undermine their authority, and sometimes it is, but often it's not.  Personal jibes should be dealt with, but I have derived huge amounts of pleasure from humour as a teacher.
When I started life as a teacher, in my early 20s, I discovered that within a short while, my nickname, bestowed by the pupils of course, was 'volcano'.  This upset me quite a bit, and gave me a message to calm down.  I found, over the course of my teaching life, that the more I relaxed, the better the lessons were and the better the communication between the pupils and me.  And humour became a useful tool for both learning and defusing tense situations.


Advice given in staffrooms at the beginning of the new school year, especially to new, young teachers, is often: "Don't smile until Christmas!"  Many teachers feel that if they drop their teacher's demeanour, or smile, or, heaven forbid, laugh, the students will lose all respect for them and then riot.
Such a notion is unfounded, in fact, the opposite is true.  The more you show yourself as a real, fallible person, the more respect you will get.  A recently retired teacher said:
"I never really showed myself to a class, fearful they would rebel.  Now that I know that they never would rebel, I am sorry I never showed them the real me".  Sad, but quite common.


I shall never forget the late Brian Glover, the actor, famous for his role as the sadistic sports' teacher in the film Kes, being interviewed on television many years ago.  He revealed that he had actually been a teacher, before he went into acting.  He reassured the audience that he was nothing like the character he portrayed so brilliantly in Kes.  The interviewer then asked if he missed teaching and he replied:
"Oh yes, heaps!  It was the best job in the world."
"Why?" asked the interviewer.
"Because it was so funny, often hilarious.  Kids are the best audience and the funniest people in the world". 
You can see why I remembered that interview.

Trying to tackle an issue as huge as 'power' was not wise, especially for a short, powerless blog.  However, I feel I must clarify certain points I made in last week's post and respond to several comments.
"With power comes responsibility".  I wholeheartedly agree.  When  children are given power, it should be explained to them that the consequences of their decisions cannot be blamed on anyone except themselves, if the decision was a wrong one.  As I said, the freedom to make mistakes teaches us the real meaning of responsibility, and this should be a vital part of every child's life. But if you are not permitted power you will not learn what responsibility means.
As Adlai Stevenson said "Power corrupts, but powerlessness corrupts absolutely".  Children who have no power, give up caring and seek power wherever they can find it, whether that means killing insects with glee or joining a gang.  This goes to the heart of why gangs exist.  They give power to young people who have little or none.  Of course, this kind of power is an illusion, and a dangerous one at that, but it is understandable why so many are attracted to gang-life - it makes them feel powerful. 
There is nothing for parents and teachers to give up on, except the child as a human being.  All they have to do is give children the power to change their lives, learning along the way how to handle power sensibly.
Many schools have school councils, which is window-dressing on a huge scale.  Most councils have no right to change anything in the school except perhaps the colour of the pupils' toilets.  Neill of Summerhill and Lane of The Little Commonwealth found that many of the most balanced and insightful opinions and decisions were often made at school meetings by the children, sometimes by 9 and 10 year olds.
On the subject of kids' rights and responsibilities, I often encountered this at the last secondary school I was in.  In fact, none of the pupils really knew their actual, legal rights.  They blurted out these comments to stir teachers, something I never responded to, except to indulge in a bit of banter and occasionally to tell them what their rights were.
It is very difficult to set the standard of power with responsibility, when all around are glaring examples of the opposite. Far too many leaders and institutions of our societies have indulged in power without responsibility.  Powerful companies such as Distillers (the Thalidomide case) and Union Carbide (the Bhopal disaster), plus mass-killers, such as Henry Kissinger and George W. Bush literally get away with murder, taking no responsibility for their actions.  So it is not easy to teach a child ethics in a world of hypocrisy, with greedy bankers stealing as a profession and avoiding justice.  So too with politicians who make decisions that are damaging to society and yet never admit to making a wrong decision or apologising to the public.
I could go on, but I won't.  Not for this week anyway.

Most children, even with wonderful parents, have no real power.  They live in an adult-dominated world and are told what to do and what not to do.  Of course, when we are very young, the parents must protect and guide the child.  But as the child grows older, power is denied them, until they leave school and home.
John Holt raised this issue when he detailed how people can give children power.  A child should be free to choose what their room should look like - if they are lucky enough to have one. If the child shares it with a sibling, it is a golden opportunity to teach a child the meaning of compromise and peaceful co-existence.  The child should also be free to choose their clothes, haircut, and even school.
The child should be part of family decisions when possible and not dismissed as too young and too silly.  Ownership of one's private possessions is very important to children, since they have so few compared to adults.  When I saw Anne Frank's actual diary in Amsterdam, I wept at how small, how precious it looked.  Even Karl Marx conceded that private possessions are one's own, not the state's.


If all this sounds as if I always favour children above parents, I would ask you to look at the real damage done by not giving children power.  It is amazing that we allow children almost no power and then expect them to use power as an adult in a balanced and wise way. The more you give children power to govern their own lives and make their own choices, the better they will handle it later on.  They should be given the freedom to make choices, make mistakes, and learn from them.  People who were severely repressed as children tend to grow up ego-centric and undisciplined, living out their rebellion throughout their troubled lives, abusing their power when they can. The more extreme cases of this often earn a place in the history books as psychopathic mass murderers.
Abraham Lincoln, the most reluctant president the United States of America ever had, said of power:
"The real use of power is in its non-use".

The vast majority of parents in the UK swallow the usual nonsense about school being education, without the slightest questioning of the system at all.  Even worse are parents who see private boarding-schools as the 'gold standard of education', completely ignoring the wishes of their children, the vast majority of whom hate the idea of school, let alone living in one, sometimes very far from home and friends.  What continues to stagger me is that even the most intelligent, caring parents still cling to the propaganda and myths above the real wishes of their child.  This, to me, is bad parenting.
I have known only three pupils who relished being at boarding-school, and viewed it as some kind of cross between a leisure park and a place for free academic and sporting facilities.  Only three.  The rest of the people I have known or met who spent time at boarding-school, sometimes from the age of six, have told stories of misery, cruelty and loathing. 
It is illegal in the UK to abandon your children - unless you abandon them to a carpeted prison run by many dubious people.  Then abandonment is seen as a thoughtful and caring action.  This reveals how twisted thinking can be.  On top of being exiled to a place they don't want to be, most graduates of boarding-school I have spoken to, felt abandoned by the people who ostensibly loved them.
One friend of mine told me the story of his first day at boarding-school, at the age of 12.   I have met his parents and they are fine people and generally good parents.  However, they decided to send their son to boarding-school, a school only forty miles away from their home.  There was a local day school, which seemingly produced well-rounded and successful graduates, and where most of my friend's friends attended.  Incredibly, the parents bowed to pressure from family and friends, who fervently, but stupidly, believed that boarding-schools were better for 'educating' than any other type of school.
My friend told me how he sobbed all the way to the school, begging his parents not to consign him to the place.  All of them in tears, and deaf to his pleas, his mother and father said their unnecessary 'goodbyes' and drove off.  He said he felt as if he'd done something wrong to deserve this punishment.  Worse still, my friend kept begging his parents, over five 'horrible' years he was at the school, all to no avail.  Deaf to reality and submission to fantasy!  Very bad parenting!
Since the very rationale for board-schools has evaporated, it is time to abolish these anachronistic institutions once and for all.

The other day, Fred came to mind.  I'm not sure why, but it has prompted this post about him, one of the most admirable people I have known.


In my young, naïve days, I took up a position as English/History teacher at a small boarding school in Kent.  I was greeted in the driveway by a plump, jolly Dutchman called Fred.  I was soon to learn that Fred was on the bottom rung of the levels of importance in the school, the pupils being the ground on which the ladder stood!
Fred was about 50, married, with grown-up children.  He lived locally and was employed to clean the boys' shoes, heave heavy trunks up and down staircases, and as a general dogsbody for jobs nobody else wanted to do.  He was always cheerful, smiling and joking.  Whenever I asked him how he was, he'd reply, in a mock Yorkshire accent:
"Mustn't grumble!"
At night, Fred would dress very smartly and go for a couple of pints at his favourite pub.  It was considered by the school staff  'not correct' to associate with Fred in the pub, a place where several teachers drank, but never with Fred.
Because of his uncompromising position in the school, the boys felt free to jibe him, joke with him, and, more importantly, know that there was a shoulder to cry on, someone who would listen sympathetically as they poured out their private misery.
Fred really loved the kids and they loved him.
Years after I left the school, I met up with an ex-pupil, now 28.  During our conversation, Fred's name cropped up.  Charles regaled me with stories of Fred's kindness, patience and wisdom.  He then added:
"Fred was the lowliest in the school, but he was loved more than anyone else in the school.  If I hadn't had Fred to lean on, I think I'd have gone mad!"
The gratitude the boys felt for this wonderful man will last throughout their lives, and for much longer than their teachers' influence.

Two years ago, I had a small skin cancer removed from my scalp.  It was not life-threatening, as many melanoma conditions are.  The doctor who operated told me that I had most probably got the cancer about 40-50 years ago, when I was living in Australia.  It had taken that long to 'mature'.  Of course, in Australia in the 1950s and 60s, it was common for people to lie on the beach half the day, doing what Australians correctly call 'sun-baking'.  I avoided that but wore no hats.  My mother died of melanoma cancer.
Recently, my brother, who lives in Sydney, raised the issue of ignorant Australians roasting themselves in their own sweat without any protection, and how it is continuing.


I used to present a story called Kid In A Bin to my English class of 12-13 year olds. It is a curious story with a strong message.  The author left the story unfinished, so that the pupils could end it themselves.
The story is about a boy who lives in a garbage bin in a branch of McDonald's.  He hides in the bin all day and emerges at night to make himself a meal in the kitchen.  We come to see that he has paper-clippings in the bin with him, newspaper articles that reveal that his father and sister have been searching for him since he left home, immediately after his mother died.  She had died of melanoma, and, sadly, the little boy overheard a doctor say to another doctor:
"When will people learn that the sun can kill you?"
So the boy decided to stay out of the sun - permanently!  And the best place he could think of to hide was in one of the McDonald's bins.
One night, as he is creeping to the kitchen , he sees his father and sister staring through the window at him.  He has no option but to let them in.  At this point the story stops - for the pupils' ending.
Most wrote that his father explained to him that a little sun is good for you, but a lot of sun is bad.  Reassured, the boy returns home with his father and sister.
One pupil I recall vividly, a natural lateral-thinker, wrote as his finale:
"When the boy had finished explaining to his father and sister why he had hidden in a bin, they agreed that it was the best place to be, and so all three now live in a bin in McDonald's."

"Soap and education are not as sudden as massacre, but they are more deadly in the long run".
When I first read these words of Mark Twain, when I was young, I laughed at the apparent nonsense of such an idea, as well as the juxtaposition of something as tangible as soap with something as abstract as education.
Over my adult life, I have come to believe that Twain uttered something very profound.
'Soap' symbolises hygiene and cleanliness, and 'education' knowledge and conscious thought.
So what's wrong with  being clean and knowledgeable?  On the surface, nothing, but soap and education have come to dominate and near destroy many of our human qualities over millennia.
Of course we are all glad that we live in a generally cleaner society than in the past.  Unfortunately, it has made just about everyone neurotically concerned about germs and disorder.
Education is more complicated.  Since the message of my blog is that school is anti-educational and that a real education springs from curiosity and the willingness to live and learn from life's experiences, I should baulk at Twain's cynicism.  But I think he's referring to something deeper than knowledge or thought.  He is referring to the conscious mind and its awareness, as opposed to the subconscious, the real driver of our lives.  Our society over-values knowledge and awareness to a level where the cerebral overtakes our lives.
I know this is a huge issue and one open to debate.  I welcome other interpretations.
I rarely quote the Bible these days, but there is a great truth in the Book of Ecclesiastes, Chapter I, Verse 18:
"For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth  knowledge increaseth sorrow".

During my years as a teacher, I never ceased to be amazed at the pupils' imagination, wit, and exemplary behaviour.
One of the most astonishing reversals of behaviour, in myself and a pupil, occurred some years ago when I was class tutor for 4 years.  This entailed checking the attendance, before and after school, for 10-15 minutes, and to be there for the pupils if they had any home or school issues they wished to discuss.
One girl in the class, Ayesha, was highly intelligent and seriously arrogant.  From years 8-11 she took little notice of me, and would frequently visit her friends in other classes during registration.  She was never openly rude to me, but she carried on as if I wasn't there.  I did have discussions with her and the head of year, but little dented her wilful disposition, not even detentions or talking with her parents.
Towards the end of their last school term, Ayesha asked me if she could be excused during registration to visit her friend who was upset after a row with another friend.
I turned to her and slipped out of character in terms of what I said, replying in a calm way, concealing my inner rage:
"Why are you bothering to ask my permission to leave the room?  You never have before, in fact you haven't taken the slightest notice of me in 4 years.  You just do as you please, regardless of what I say.  So, since you obviously have no respect for me, I now have no respect for you.  Don't ask permission, just do as you've always done - do what you like.". 
Ayesha looked stunned as I turned to deal with another pupil.  Ayesha went back to her desk and sat down. We barely spoke during the last 2 weeks.
At the final assembly for year 11, a representative from each class spoke for the class, reviewing their years at the school and then saying 'Thank you' to the form tutor.  I was surprised when Ayesha stepped up to the microphone.  I half-expected her to assassinate my character and tell the school how I murdered her self-confidence by telling her I had no respect for her, which, in the cold light of the assembly hall, would sound like an atrocious thing for a teacher to say to a pupil.
She talked about her experiences at the school in an engaging way.  Then she turned to me.  She just looked at me for what seemed an age.  She told the story of how she had treated me for years and repeated what I said to her 2 weeks ago.  She added:
"I want to thank you, Mr.Nance, for putting up with me for so long.  What you said to me 2 weeks ago was the best thing you could have said.  It made me realise how arrogant and disrespectful I have been, especially to you.  So thank you for being such a tolerant tutor, such a good guy!"
Only shock prevented me from crying.
I am pleased to say that over the next few years, Ayesha used to occasionally visit the school, just to say 'Hi!'

This week, my post will be as current as a blog is supposed to be.
It was announced, on Friday 19th June, that about 1,400 Ofsted inspectors have been dismissed because they are not up to standard - much like the schools and colleges they have already rated as sub-standard!
Ofsted, the government's education inspectorate, has always been a refuge for failed teachers.  I have witnessed three Ofsted inspectors giving 'model' lessons, and they were all as inspiring as a crematorium.  The inspectors ticked all the boxes but were disgracefully tedious teachers.
Who inspects the inspector?  Teaching is usually referred to as a profession.  Would doctors and lawyers tolerate being inspected, let alone by lesser talented people?
The whole notion of an inspectorate is unknown in other countries.  Belgium and The Netherlands have no school inspectors at all.  As the Dutch Education Minister said:
"Schools are transparent places.  We don't need an inspector to tell us where we can improve. Each school deals with its own problems, which are obvious to all in the school."
Ofsted is an insult to both teachers and students.  Worse still is the political agenda behind Ofsted's grading of schools.  I have personally known of three schools and one college that went from the highest grade - 'outstanding' - to the lowest grade - 'special measures' -  in the space of a year, when almost nothing had changed in the schools or the college.   Many teachers I have spoken to agree that too often, Ofsted inspectors enter a school, having already decided what grade the school will get.  Of course, they never reveal this openly, but one can tell when an inspector is out to find the maximum faults rather than best practice.
My other gripe with Ofsted is that their judgements are based mainly on the academic success of its students, when, as any sentient soul knows, the curriculum is as narrow, cerebral and inconsequential as you can get.
The most impressive story I have heard about an Ofsted inspector, was of an occasion when the inspectors swooped on Summerhill School, where lessons are non-compulsory.  At the end of the three day inspection, one of the inspectors asked Zoe Neill, the head, if she could join the staff of the school, so impressed was she with the whole ethos of the place. A rare exception. 

"Behave yourself!"  This cliché is so commonly used that most don't actually examine it.  From the moment we wake until the instant we fall asleep, we all 'behave' - all the time.  What constitutes good or bad behaviour is entirely a matter of personal judgement.


John Holt analyses, in one of his insightful books, the issue of authority/discipline/behaviour.  I say issue because all three are aspects of the same thing.  He divided authority into 3 distinct types:
1.  Natural:  When young, most children will try to fly, by jumping off a low wall or roof.  When a cut knee is the only result, they realise that we have our limitations, that nature won't let us fly like birds.  There is no option but to accept such authority.


2.  Social:  Again, when young, children will, at some point, be taken to a theatre, or cinema or concert.  If they start talking, the audience will soon tell them to be quiet or leave.  So they understand that they should not behave like that, that doing as you wish also means not disturbing or harming others, especially if they are in the majority.  This is not mindless conformity, but a necessary social discipline.


3.  Status:  This type of authority is the 'might is right' kind, i.e. "I'm bigger and stronger than you, so do as I say or face punishment!"  Unfortunately, this is the most common type of authority, powerful status being the driver, especially in schools and homes.  In other words, tyranny!
The smokescreen that hides this last type of authority is encapsulated perfectly by a sign in a farmer's field:
IT IS FORBIDDEN TO THROW STONES AT THIS NOTICE

"Children love to learn, but hate to be taught", said Edward Blishen, in his wonderful book The School That I'd Like.  A truth that schools largely ignore.
Most people I have met do not appreciate the nature of compulsion in education.  They can't accept that you cannot compel anyone to learn anything.  The interest must come from the learner - all learning comes from the learner.  No adult would tolerate being forced to learn stuff that they had no interest in, so why do we imagine that children, bright, eager children should endure it - for 12 years or more? Besides, most learning about life is done outside the classroom.  What little learning that takes place in school is usually by accident, hardly ever by design.
As Oscar Wilde said:
"Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time, that nothing worth knowing can be taught".
As a teacher, I used many methods of engaging my pupils with the lesson.  These included wrapping up the point I was making in a story; using humour when possible; introducing critical thinking and eliciting their opinions of the work, not just the content; competitions and games related to the lesson; illustrating a point with a video clip or photos; praising achievements, no matter how small, and basically using a variety to stimulate interest and activity.  Naturally, I didn't always succeed, but when I witnessed some other teachers' styles, I felt somewhat vindicated.
George Bernard Shaw put it brilliantly when he said:
"What we want to see is the child in pursuit of knowledge, and not knowledge in pursuit of the child".
Alas, most modern mass schooling is the latter.
If you look beyond the clever word-play to its meaning, Dorothy Parker's play on the word 'horticulture' is profound:
"You can lead a whore to culture, but you can't make her think."

Feeling 'philosophical' this week, I have been ruminating on the subject of optimists and pessimists.
Someone described an optimist as 'a person looking for lodgings, with a violin under one arm and a trombone under the other'.
James Cabell put it better when he said
"The optimists proclaim that we live in the best of all possible worlds, and the pessimists fear that this is true."
Schopenhauer observed that so much of human unhappiness was due to our unrealistic expectations.
As Alexander Pope said:
"Blessed is he who expects nothing, for he will never be disappointed".
I have heard people say:
 "I was really looking forward to that party, but it was such a let-down.  The next day I was dragged, unwillingly, by a friend to a party and it was great!"
I think, to a greater or lesser degree, we are all a bit optimistic and a bit pessimistic.  'Fear cannot exist without hope, nor hope without fear'.
There is one meaningful joke on this issue that is worth repeating:


A young man, travelling on foot in a rural area, sees a farmer in a field.  He asks the farmer where he is and the farmer replies "Smallovia".
"Do you have a government ?" the traveller asks.
"Yes, we have a two party system - the Optimists and the Pessimists," the farmer says.
"What are their policies?"
"Well, the Optimists believe that in ten years' time we're all going to be eating shit."
"Then what do the Pessimists believe?"
"They believe that there's not going to be enough to go round."

This is my 52nd post on my blog and therefore a first birthday.
My readers will have gathered by now that everything that I have written has been the result of many years experience as a teacher, and by studying the ideas and insights of some of the most perceptive and thought-provoking minds in the fields of education and psychology.  People like Homer Lane, A.S.Neill, Bertrand Russell, Paul Goodman, Elena Belotti, John Holt, Bruno Bettelheim, John Gatto - all worth reading and pondering on.
I am aware that very few people follow my blog.  Conventionally, a blog is an up-to-date diary, whereas mine is merely a platform for my views.  From feedback I know that most of my readers prefer an anecdote to a rant about school being the enemy of education.  I can't promise that the next year will be any different.  I welcome comments.
Thank you for reading my blog - whoever you are!

Considering that public speaking heads the list of all phobias, the reasons people register for a course is usually out of necessity, i.e. they have been promoted at work and now have to chair meetings and deliver speeches, or they might just wish to improve their self-confidence in public, which is, after all, the purpose of such courses.
One student at a night school, in Sydney, revealed in the first lesson of a 6 week course that he was to be married in two months' time, and he didn't want to disappoint his bride and the wedding guests by delivering a poor groom's speech.  He also said that he felt obliged to deliver a funny speech despite the fact that he wasn't a funny man.  My advice to him, as usual, was to forget being funny and to speak from the heart.  He spent every lesson perfecting his speech.
In the last lesson he delivered the speech he intended to give two weeks later.  His opening remark was quite funny:
"I looked up books of quotations on marriage, but I couldn't find any that were in favour of it!"
The rest of his speech was deeply touching and earned him a standing ovation from the class.
I said to him after the class:
"You really must tell your bride about doing this course."
He insisted that she must 'never know', to which I said:
"I can't think of a more thoughtful compliment to pay a bride than her nervous husband-to-be attending a public speaking course, to give him the confidence not to disappoint her at the reception."
He shook his head, but I urged him to tell her, if not on their honeymoon, then in the near future.

"The only questions asked in school should be by the pupils", some wise person said.
Testing and exams reveal almost nothing about intelligence, merely memory.
We had so much testing at one school I taught at, that a teacher remarked, in a staff meeting:
"Do you pull up a flower every week to see how it's growing?"
Of course, his comment was ignored by management, all of whom were scrupulously  following the government's instructions on window-dressing.
Schools should be places where an insatiable curiosity about everything in life is the natural ethos.
Instead, our schools are busy ramming home the cerebral syllabuses of a very narrow range of subjects.  It is anti-educational.
"How is it that American education turns a torrent into a trickle?" John Holt asked decades ago.
Schools are becoming more and more anti-educational all the time.
Most people refuse or are too lazy to think for themselves.  'Received wisdom' is often exposed as a sham in many cases.  The nonsense so many believe is the only way covers a range of issues, education being one of them.  I laugh out loud when I hear someone say that British education is the finest in the world.  Wrong on so many levels.
Intelligent employers tend to place CVs, qualifications etc. further down the scale than careful questioning in an interview and reading the prospective employee's body language.
One last quotation, linked very much to the opening quotation:
"To give children answers to questions that they have not asked, is to make profound cynics of them."

This week I would like to pay tribute to one of the finest teachers and human beings it has been my good fortune to know.
Harold Glasby was one of my history teachers at my secondary school in Sydney in the 1960s.  He was also the deputy head of the school.
He was, as history teachers should be - very knowledgeable and a passionate storyteller.  His rendition of the French National Assembly after the revolution is still vivid in my memory.
In my last year, an incident occurred which said a lot about him.  A teacher had accused and punished a boy in our year, for writing insults about the teacher on a classroom board, without a shred of evidence that the boy was guilty.  This particular teacher was well known for having his favourites and his pet hates. 
So we, as a year (150 or so boys), decided one breaktime to go on strike and refuse to attend lessons until the teacher in question apologised to the boy and to us as a body of students.  At the end of break we all sat on the grassy embankment at the East side of the school.
It didn't take long for windows to be flung open and then hundreds of pupils, yelling, cheering, whistling their approval while their class teachers tried in vain to continue the lesson.
After ten minutes or so, Harold Glasby suddenly appeared from nowhere, brandishing two canes in his hands as he shouted:
"Get to class NOW!"
We didn't actually fear Harold Glasby, but such was our respect and liking for him, we rose as one and made our way to our classrooms.
Near the end of the lesson, Harold Glasby arrived and wanted to know why we had gone on strike.  We told him our grievance and the very next day, after thoroughly examining the evidence, the teacher our grievance was against apologised to the boy he had wrongfully accused and punished.  He then apologised to us as a year.  So good for Harry!
His speech to our farewell dinner was a masterpiece of hilarity and wisdom, earning him a standing ovation from us.
I had cause to speak to him a few years later, when he was head of The Conscientious Objectors' Committee against the Vietnam War and conscription.  A brave stance to take for a civil servant, but then he was a State civil servant, not a Federal one, which would have put him at odds with the Australian Government's shameful policy on the war, making it impossible for him to be a teacher.
I count myself very lucky to have known such a man.

With a general election imminent, I was reminded the other day of one of the United States of America's most brilliant and humane politicians, Adlai Stevenson, the type of politician who wouldn't get far today.




Born in1900, Stevenson challenged Eisenhower twice for the presidency, but lost out both times.  After losing in 1952, he remarked in his speech conceding defeat:
"I'm too old to cry and it hurts too much to laugh."
After failing again in 1956, he said:
"I think the American public suspect any politician who has a sense of humour".


He became a well respected man in Washington, and a great admirer of Eleanor Roosevelt, of whom he said:
"She prefers to light candles than curse the darkness."


He was one of the few reasonable voices in Kennedy's Cuban missile crisis, urging restraint when all the hawks were busy promoting military force.  How right Stevenson was.


He made many comments about society, two of which are my favourites - both profoundly true, in my opinion:
"My definition of a free society is a society where it is safe to be unpopular."
"Power corrupts, but lack of power corrupts absolutely."

Last week, I wrote about being human.  But that was looking at mostly positive aspects of our nature, as my friend Kent reminded me in an email.


The issue of whether we are born good or evil is a huge one, which has puzzled the minds of many.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau and others claim the former, i.e. we are born naturally good and it's only conditioning and  repression that warp our natures and create evil.
The Christian religion claims the opposite, that we are born with 'original sin', i.e. evil, and that only parents, teachers and priests can set us on the path of goodness. 
"But what about serial killers, child murderers, rapists, Hitler, Saddam Hussein ?  Surely they are proof that our human nature is evil?" 
"But what about Martin Luther King Jnr., Gandhi and most people?  They're good people."


If you examine the childhoods of serious criminals, Hitler, Saddam, and other monsters of history, you will find childhoods of immense cruelty, hate and neglect.  But if you study the childhoods of basically good people, you will find loads of love, support and freedom.  As a teacher, I have seen living proof of this - all the children I taught reflected their parents and upbringing, from the best to the worst.


I don't believe that there has ever been a 'born criminal'.  For good or evil, our childhoods are vital in establishing who we are for the rest of our lives.  Which is the best argument I can think of for giving new life the best chance possible in life.

Recently, I was involved in a discussion about what it means to be 'human', and it got me thinking about the subject.
The human race likes to think of itself as superior to other species and therefore the strongest.  Yes, we have developed sophisticated languages, are self-reflective, appreciate humour, build cities.  But the word 'human' is a synonym for 'weak' in most contexts, e.g.
"I know I shouldn't have eaten those chocolates, but I'm only human!"


The OED defines human as "showing the better qualities of humankind, such as sensitivity".
Human also means compassionate when used in the sense of reminding others why we should feel for a persecuted and unpopular person:
 "Because he's a human being!"


Diversity in the human race is vast, but we are still all connected through the experiences of human loss, joy, pain, love etc.  Unfortunately, many people look for the differences between groups of humans rather than the similarities.


We are all an extension of the animal race, but, as Toynbee pointed out, that tiny biological difference makes for a huge leap into another species.  Which is why the law of the jungle - 'survival of the fittest' - applies itself mercilessly in the jungle, but should not be applied in human society.  We are too human to revert to animal when it suits us. 
Bertrand Russell said of a good human society:
"Competition belongs solely on the sports' field".  It's worth contemplating the consequences of such a world.

A while back I wrote about Miss Enid Campbell, the mad but colourful head of my infants' school in the 1950s.
On the day before we broke up for the Easter holidays, Miss Campbell contrived a scenario that drove us wild with excitement.
The school had a broad front, with tall doors of wood from the floor to halfway up, and then glass panels to the ceiling.  At playtime, Miss Campbell would lock all these doors.  She had already enlisted some boys from the last year of the primary school, hoping that by the age of 11 or 12 they had learned the truth about the Easter Bunny.  Inside the school, one boy would hold up two giant, furry ears on sticks, visible through the glass and bouncing up and down like a giant rabbit.  The other boys would place an Easter egg in each of our desks.
At the end of playtime, Miss Campbell would rush into the playground, shouting:
"Children! Children!  I can't get into the school.  Someone has locked all the doors.  But who?"
Of course, we would all look towards the doors, see the bouncing ears, and shout:
"It's the Easter Bunny!"
Hysteria ensued, all of us convinced that the Easter Bunny was in our school.
Then Miss Campbell would say:
"My purse is inside.  Do you think he'll take it?"
Of course, we would answer as one:
"No! He's a good rabbit!"
When all the eggs were distributed, the doors were unlocked and the ears disappeared.
We would enter our classrooms, delighted to receive a chocolate egg each, and extra delighted that it had been given to us personally by the Easter Bunny.
Such an imaginative, generous act was typical of the extraordinary Miss Enid Campbell.

The word 'respect' is bandied about thoughtlessly today.  The Oxford English Dictionary defines 'respect' as 'due regard for the feelings and rights of others', but often the words 'respect' and 'fear' become synonymous in people's minds.  It's not only gangsters who equate the two, but also authoritarian parents, too many teachers, and for those in many places of employment.
In reality, respect and fear are opposites.  You can't truly respect someone you fear.  You might envy their power but fear permits no 'due regard for the feelings and rights of others'.


A common cry today is:
"Kids have no respect for teachers anymore!", as if respect for a teacher is a given, but not necessarily for the pupils.  I respect everyone, unless they earn my disrespect with their words or actions.  However, I don't automatically respect particular positions in society.  I never expected my pupils to respect me more than I respected them.
In good schools, mutual respect is endemic.  In bad schools, respect is demanded for some but not others.


The issue of respect is a huge one.  I might return to the topic when the subject of self-respect arises.
The playwright Henrik Ibsen said:
"You cannot properly respect others until you respect yourself"
But that's for another day.

"Sex education in the UK".  What a joke it would be if it weren't so tragic.  Still too many parents do not inform their children well enough and honestly enough when it comes to sex.  It is reprehensible for a parent to say, as many do:
"I feel too embarrassed to talk about sex."


All parents have a duty to answer their children's questions about sex in an honest and unemotional way.  Giving children truthful answers to their questions will often have no impact on a child who is old enough to be inquisitive but not old enough to understand the answer.  However, when they reach an age when your answer does make sense, at least they can say:
"My parents didn't lie to me when I asked that question years ago."


Many parents imagine that giving information about sex will lead to sexual indulgence and promiscuity.  Quite the reverse is true.  Dutch children are very well informed about sex from a young age and the levels of unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases are very low in The Netherlands. Whereas the UK is amongst the highest levels.  Ignorance leads to all kinds of disasters.


As for sex education in schools in the UK, it is beyond a joke.  In an ideal world, questions about sex (or for that matter, anything) could be answered by any adult in any school at any time.
The UK could go towards that by placing sex education firmly on the curriculum, so that, like Maths and English, it is compulsory for all pupils in all schools.  It could then be taught and dealt with openly and thoroughly, including vital information on STDs.


On a lighter note, I recall the story of a boy who returned from school one afternoon and said to his mother:
"We had a sex education lesson today.  Unfortunately, it was only the theory!"

Last week, the results of a major, 35 year study by Cambridge University have revealed children who flourish best as adults are those who have had 'families that provide love, security and support', regardless of the family structure.  In other words, whether the family is the conventional mum and dad, or a single parent, or a same sex couple etc., is immaterial when it comes to people's happiness and success.


Of course, the findings have attracted criticism from those who still, erroneously, believe that the traditional family is the gold standard.  My own experience confirms the Cambridge results.  I have known many different types of families, and, fortunately, most were loving and supportive, and the children happy.  Besides, let us not forget that Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Mao Tse Tung and most monsters of history came from traditional families.


What matters, in terms of the adults' communication in a family, is their relationships with each other.  Children thrive when they know they are loved, but even more so when they are witness to and surrounded by loving relationships. Role models and their impact matter vitally, often subliminally.

I must apologise to my readers for missing my 'Sunday sermon'.  Technical hitches with the blog site left me frustrated and unable to write a new post.  Thanks to my blog mentor, I have recovered my blog site.


Some very wise person said:
"Madness is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results."
Yet we are all victims of this.  It's a kind of stupidity, mixed with stubbornness, fear of change and lack of imagination.
When I see a parent shouting, yet again, at their child who is crying, yet again, I do want to ask the parent if it has ever occurred to them that their methods of dealing with their child's behaviour are not working and have they ever thought of trying a different approach.  When it comes to children, it is worse than madness to persist with unworkable methods.  It is positively harmful over a long period of time.


One of the best mothers I ever knew used to forestall saying 'No' to her children all the time by initiating enjoyable activities for them.  She didn't wait to scold them for licking out the bowl after making icing, she would hand them spoons and say "I want that bowl cleaned out!"  This had the effect of making her children restrained in their behaviour, and as such, delightful kids. It's a shame that there are not more parents like her.

In my blog, I occasionally mention that I have been a teacher of public speaking.  Going from teaching children to adults was, as a teaching friend put it:
"From conscripts to volunteers."
As the courses rolled on, I became more and more fascinated with the psychological and human aspects of public speaking.  In frequent global polls on phobias, public speaking consistently tops the list.  People fear spiders, snakes, even death less than speaking in public - which logically means that if you are delivering a eulogy at a funeral, you would prefer to be in the coffin!


The usual reasons given for people's fear of public speaking are:
"I'm shy."   Or
"I'm afraid of being humiliated."
These reasons sound perfectly human and understandable, but if we look closer, the underlying message is "I'm vain."
Being shy and being afraid of making a fool of oneself are excuses.  Public speakers are, in a supreme sense, messengers.  They are there to deliver a message, be it informative or persuasive.  Of course, it's natural to check one's appearance before speaking, but after that it is the speech and not the speaker that is important.
If a speaker drops his notes, or even falls off the podium, it is human and forgivable. Audiences often warm to a speaker if a blunder is dealt with in good humour.  The one thing that audiences cannot tolerate is when a speaker wastes their time, usually by the tedium of the content and delivery, or by telling an audience things they already know.


An amusing speaker once said:
"I don't mind if members of the audience look at their watches while I'm speaking, but I do mind if they tap them to see if they're still working!"

When I became a teacher I had to learn a lot, and fast.  Teachers' College was useless when it came to helping us deal with the actual classroom and day-to-day situations. We spent two years on educational theory and other academic abstractions, unconnected, as usual, to reality.


Being a fairly opinionated and outspoken person, I decided very early on, that it would be wrong of me to use the classroom as a platform for my views.  I am pleased to say that I never did preach to my pupils, on any issue.  Yes, I questioned their views and played "devil's advocate" on many occasions, but I did not state my beliefs.  Expressing enthusiasm for one's interests is a far cry from stating an opinion on political or religious issues.


This was very important when I came to teach public speaking to adults, for if the students knew my opinion on a particular subject, they would be less likely to speak against my view, fearing, unnecessarily, that I would be subjective in my judgement of them.  For a start, I was more interested in how they spoke than the content of their speeches.  I used to say to classes, at the outset:
"If you have an unpopular viewpoint, by all means express it, as long as you can support it with evidence."
I wanted no censorship and by not expressing my personal outlook on any issue, the students felt free to state their opinion on any issue.


One regret I do have about my teaching life is that I talked too much, a failing, I think, of many teachers.  But unlike many teachers, I didn't use my talking as a means of disseminating my beliefs.
Too many teachers I have known or heard of, abuse their power by preaching to classes.  By all means question, but don't attempt to indoctrinate.  That is not what teaching is all about, no matter how committed the teacher is to their cause.

This week I wish to post a wonderful poem by Kahlil Gibran.  It is mainly addressed to parents, but its truth is universal:


Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.


You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot
visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.


You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
...
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness

My experiences as a teacher, especially as a teacher of public speaking, have revealed how vital self-confidence is to all achievements.
Self-confidence and ego are different things.  Self-confidence simply recognises one's abilities, potential and limitations, whereas ego is so insecure it must prove itself regularly, with displays of strength, knowledge, power.


I taught a teenage boy years ago who was never arrogant because he was so self-confident.  When he spoke to his peers, they listened.  When he joked with a teacher, he knew exactly how far to go. His self-confidence made him well liked and respected. He had his vulnerable side, but it was not large.
Building confidence in one's students is, I believe, an important part of a teacher's job.  I have found that a little bit of praise goes a lot further than a heap of criticism.


A story on this issue that comes to mind is one from Summerhill School.  Neill, the head, was concerned about a new arrival at the school, a boy of about 12.  He lacked confidence so much he became quickly anti-social and didn't attend any lessons.  One day, as Neill was looking out the window of his office, he saw this boy spit a tremendous distance.  So the next day, Neill announced that at 1pm there would be a spitting contest.  Needless to say, the boy won and soon afterwards began attending lessons and mixing happily with the other pupils.
By finding the boy's one 'strength' and boosting it, he had also helped boost his self-confidence.  Unusual though the method was, it worked.
When I repeated this tale to a headteacher years ago, he snorted:
"A spitting contest!" - missing the point of the story completely.

The anthropologist Malinowski discovered many interesting aspects of the society of the Trobriands, part of the Solomon Islands of Melanesia.


One of the most curious customs was how children are brought up.   The parents remain their children's playmates throughout the early years and beyond.  All authority, all boundaries are set by the uncles, aunts and cousins of the children.  This notion runs counter to modern Western thinking, where parents are both the playmates and authority, and reject vehemently any outside criticism or interference in their parenting.  This creates a problem for the children.  One moment they are being hugged and told how much they are loved, and the next moment they are being shouted at by the same person, and told they are bad for transgressing a parental rule.  This 'angel/devil' approach helps create a psychological schism and can lead to all kinds of mental conflicts later on.


If the people who are your first guardians bring you up with unconditional love, while others impose the necessary discipline, these conflicting images of parents and oneself would not exist.
Some say that this creates two sets of people for the child - parents who are loved, and others who are hated.  But if restrictions on behaviour are administered with sense and sensitivity, the child will accept these boundaries more willingly than if they are enforced with threats and punishments.


The Trobriands are a much happier people than most of us Westerners are.  I believe it's all in the upbringing.

Why is it that two of the most important jobs in the world require no experience, training or qualifications?  Politics and parenting.
This century, we have seen the rise of the 'professional politician', i.e. people who have worked only in the political sphere, be it in PR or political internships.  Some of the best teachers I have known had a hinterland, a background of differing occupations and interests.  So too with politicians - the best, the most in touch with their public are usually the ones who have worked in areas of employment dissociated from the political world, seasoned by their experience.  In any case, the expression 'professional politician' is a misnomer.  Skills such as smooth public speaking, the ability to deceive and conceal, and the willingness to sell your scruples to obtain power and prominence will see almost anyone ambitious enough into parliament.


As for parenting, it is true that there are parenting classes now, but the usual response to my original question is that parenting is 'natural and instinctive'.  To some degree this is true, but far too may simply repeat the pattern of their own childhoods, whether good or bad.  Future and present parents should question the way they were brought up.  For most people, much of it will be replete with sensible and pleasant memories, though there is always a danger of sentimentalising a troubled childhood.  But the most important aspect of this questioning is to reflect on those attitudes and actions which you recall as cruel or just plain wrong.  The worse the childhood, the more important it is to 'break the chain', to overturn the past and treat your own children in a supportive and loving way.  Some manage to do this, but far too many still won't look back in order to go forward.

This year I intend to broaden my blog beyond the School v Education theme.  Both school and education will be recurring themes, but the scope of the blog content will be wider.


In a previous post, I mentioned Homer Lane, the American 'educator', and his tremendous success with young offenders. His book Talks to Parents and Teachers might sound uninspiring, but really it is a masterpiece of sheer insight into human nature and human behaviour.
Lane was an enigmatic person who employed methods that were at complete odds with Victorian and Edwardian thinking on the subject of 'juvenile delinquents'. Methods that were revolutionary then and are still revolutionary, 100 years later.  In the homes he ran for young offenders, the recidivist rate was close to zero, whereas today, 60-70% return to crime, once released. That our authorities have learned nothing from Lane is despicable.
Lane was so engaging and so thought-provoking that he attracted a wide variety of people, including Christopher Isherwood, W.H. Auden, The Bishop of Liverpool, and the Viceroy of India, Lord Lytton.  Lytton's tribute to Homer lane, after Lane's death at 50, is one of the most beautiful, touching, perceptive eulogies I have ever read or heard.


In 1978, it was my pleasure and privilege to meet Lane's biographer, David W. Wills.  At his suggestion, I visited one of the many homes Wills and the Homer Lane Trust had established - homes for seriously abused children, from neglect to violence, all emotionally damaged.  During my 5 day visit I met some deeply scarred kids, but had to keep my distance.  Each child had bonded with a particular adult, and in any case, an attachment between myself and a child was not advisable with such a short stay.  But it was difficult not to respond when a little girl held out her arms to me and cried "Love me!"
The home was a place of genuine healing, since the entire culture was based on patience, tolerance and love, with the total absence of punishment, something they had had too much of already.
Curiously, the most interesting part of the week was when I was driven, by the head's secretary, to Gloucester Station to return to London.  She was a local woman who had worked at the home for 2 years.  She said that when she began work there, she was taken aback by the atmosphere and ethos of the place - not in any moral sense, but because the approach made her revalue the way she was bringing up her own children.  She then added that the home was 'deeply curative' and that she had been won over to Homer Lane and his 'great faith in human nature'.

There have been many stories told about teachers, both real and imaginary.  Two contrasting stories, both fictional, highlight very different types of teacher - Terence Rattigan's play and film The Browning Version and Muriel Spark's book and film The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie.

The Browning Version tells the tale of a teacher who is near retirement, the kind of teacher most of us have experienced in our school life, a humourless, very strict man, dedicated to teaching, but as remote from his pupils as you can get.  One day, a pupil he has taught, presents him with a farewell gift, Robert Browning's translation of Homer's The Illiad.  This boy, like so many young people, sees beyond his teacher's austere demeanour.  The effect of this kind act devastates the teacher and makes him realise that his nickname, 'Himmler' is well earned but something, right at the end of his career, that he bitterly regrets.  At the final assembly, he apologies profoundly to the pupils for his severe approach over the years.

The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie is a cautionary tale about charismatic teachers.  Jean Brodie is almost the opposite of the teacher in Rattigan's story, a woman so involved with her pupils that she is resented by most of her colleagues, and especially by the headmistress.  Miss Brodie is one of those teachers whose charisma overwhelms most of her pupils - to the extent that one of them dies as a result of her teacher's misguided enthusiasm.  Eventually Miss Brodie is reported by one of her pupils.  The girl rightly says to her:
"You're not good for people".

I once heard a teacher say:
"Heaven save us from charismatic headteachers."
The problem of such heads is that though they might improve schools during their tenure, when they leave, the schools decline.  If the culture of a school is good, then the head will not have to be either charismatic or uninspiring.

"Imagination is more important than knowledge".  Even out of its scientific context, Einstein's observation is true.
The word 'imagination' to most people means the ability to invent stories, or create paintings or compose music and therefore is the domain of a small minority of people.


When people say "I have no imagination", they are in denial.  We all have imagination.
Children live in their imagination, mainly to escape life in the giant shadow of the adult world. A child will turn a stick into a sword, an overgrown garden into a magic forest.


As adults, we live far more in the realm of the imagination than we care to admit.  We get involved in the plots and characters in novels, short stories, films, television drama and comedy, and theatre.  So it's not just inventors who use their imagination, but all readers, viewers, listeners.
Who doesn't fantasise occasionally about being in a better place, or being a happier person?  We imagine some future occasion we are looking forward to, or outwitting an enemy, or making love.  Eugene O'Neill said:
"A life of illusions is a tragic life, but a life devoid of illusions would be intolerable".


Great leaps in science, as well as the arts, in mathematics, in the perception and understanding of life, have all come from the human imagination.


The best use of the imagination I believe is the ability to imagine what someone else feels, to empathise with them.  The 'golden rule' Do unto others as you would have them do unto you' is based on this very ability, or lack of.


Our school systems are based on acquiring knowledge, with very little room for the imagination.  There should be room for both.  Exercising and developing the imagination can be employed in all subjects and makes those subjects come alive.  When will politicians stop sacrificing children's imagination on the altar of knowledge, because until they do stop, they are all culpable criminals?