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!'
Sunday 28 June 2015
Sunday 21 June 2015
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.
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.
Sunday 14 June 2015
"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
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
Sunday 7 June 2015
"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."
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."
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