A worthy band-wagon to jump on

My New Year's resolution this year was inspired by a good friend from my University days, Nina.  She posted on Facebook that her resolution was to reduce her household plastics consumption.  Over Christmas, I’d discussed this very issue with my parents and uncle and it seemed a no-brainer to follow Nina’s lead and adopt her resolution as my own.

Then I got thinking: Am I just jumping on a band-wagon and is it the right band-wagon to jump on? 

The brilliant ‘Blue Planet 2’ single-handedly raised the profile of the issue of plastic waste for half the country, it seemed.  I was fascinated by the fish with the see-through head, haunted by the ferocious bobbit worms, amazed by the tuna hunting teams of sea-lions and incredulous at the ingenuity of the hide-and-seek octopus, but it was the human pollution of the seas that had the most impact.  Who could not have been moved by the baby dolphin likely poisoned by microplastics, the baby albatross killed by a plastic toothpick and the mother pilot whale cradling her dead calf, possibly poisoned by its own mother’s contaminated milk?  And who could ignore Sir David’s slap across humanity’s wrist?

Since ‘Blue Planet’, I’ve read more about the issue of plastic waste.  The facts are staggering.  Nearly five billion tonnes of plastic waste had accumulated in landfill or the natural environment by 2015.  480 billion drinks bottles were sold globally in 2016 – a million per minute – and each one will take 450 years to biodegrade.  In 2017, the Marine Conservation Society found 718 pieces of litter for every 100 metres of beach surveyed in the Great British Beach Clean Up, including 225.3 plastic or polystyrene pieces, 42.3 packets, 32.9 caps and lids and 26.9 cotton bud sticks.  Once in the sea, something like a cotton bud is broken down by UV rays, oxidation and the waves, then plastic fragments enter the food chain because fish and marine life can not distinguish them from food.  Then we arrive at the shocking sights shared with us by Sir David and his ‘Blue Planet’ team.  And evidently, the effect on humans of eating contaminated fish is still largely unknown.

It’s not that this isn’t a worthy band-wagon to jump on and Nina’s resolution remains mine also.  What bothers me though is that this isn’t a new issue.  We’ve had some awareness of the problem of plastic for most of my lifetime yet still it is produced and consumed in enormous quantities, we don’t seem to have come far in a search for an alternative, and the amount of waste plastic in the environment still continues to accumulate.  I have great admiration for the ‘Blue Planet’ team for being so successful in raising awareness of this issue and inspiring Nina and me to make our New Year’s resolutions, but I wonder why it took Sir David’s appeals and a BBC programme for us to do something.  Why wasn’t this my resolution ten years ago?  Why wasn’t this a serious enough issue before?  And what other issues are we ignoring because they haven’t yet been the subject of a David Attenborough documentary?

I’m a teacher so I’m bound to reflect on my own role and the part education can play in addressing these sorts of issues.  How is it that even I – with my degree level education and such little interest in celebrity – probably knew more about the latest celebrity gossip than I did about the dire consequences of my own plastic waste?  Why is it that so many people are apathetic toward or even ignorant of issues that it turns out really matter but know all there is to know about bland trivia?  Why for many young people has it become embarrassing and shameful to admit they have knowledge and original thought whilst ignorance has become a badge of honour?

I’m endlessly frustrated by our education system – in more ways than one!  It seems to me that the quality of the education we give children should be judged not just by their test results, the grades they get and the proportions going on to University – as important as all those things are.  We should reflect upon whether or not the children we are teaching are growing up to be independent thinkers, adults who want to know more about their world, seek information and question it, and responsible citizens who seek solutions to real problems and are proactive in improving their world.  Will they be the sorts of adults who will not just flick through the gossip pages of newspapers, magazines and the Internet, but search for news that matters, engage with it, find out more and even act to make a difference?  Will they write meaningful news stories themselves and even make history?  Could they be a future generation of Sir David Attenboroughs?

I’ve decided to make a second New Year’s resolution: To be a better teacher.  I suppose that is something I am always striving to achieve.  Really, it is!  This year though, it has a different meaning and I have a new sense of purpose.  I’m going to tell my class about my New Year’s resolution; we’ll watch some of ‘Blue Planet 2’, discuss pollution and work together to find out more; perhaps we’ll decide there’s something we can do at school to reduce plastic consumption or there are letters to be written to our Member of Parliament or the big supermarkets.  Maybe the children will choose to make their own resolutions or try to reduce the use of plastics in their own homes.

I’m going to try to be more aware of issues in the news too and to share some of them with my class.  We won’t be able to do something about all of them but we’ll talk about them, share our thoughts about what matters to us and at least consider the possibilities.  Hopefully then, they will grow up to be the kinds of adults who take an interest in their wider world, are curious about issues that really matter, want and know how to find out more and feel empowered to pursue change themselves.

Who knows?  Maybe one day, I’ll watch one of them fronting a ground-breaking and inspirational television documentary.

A trip to the park

For my new class at my new school, each week ends with a community visit - to a local park, for example.  With my mainstream head on (I can’t quite shake it off!), I wondered about the point of this.  What was the purpose?  How should I phrase the learning objective?  What would the children get out of it?  Shouldn’t we be doing something more academic; some extra maths, perhaps?  Was this all just a bit of a jolly?!  I’ve quickly realised that I have a lot to learn about working in special education and the needs of the children in my class and I have an open mind, so I kept these wonderings to myself.

As my first week drew to a close, our first visit loomed and on Friday afternoon, we boarded the minibus and headed for a park by the estuary in a nearby town.  It was somewhere they had been before so from a new teacher’s point of view, it was a safe option.  The choice had gone down well with the children too, particularly one who - it turned out - lived close to the park and was excited to show us his scout hut and by the car dealerships we would be passing.  He’s something of a ringleader in the class too, so his excitement and approval proved infectious.

It’s a good, modern park with plenty of up-to-date equipment - no tired and rusting swings, seesaws and roundabouts, but a zip-wire and all sorts of climbing apparatus and swinging and spinning contraptions, designed to make a middle-aged teacher like me look ridiculous!  The kids were in their element.  

The effects and the opportunities were remarkable.  These are children who often find the classroom environment and the challenges of curriculum-learning difficult, for whom the pressures of the regular timetable have to be carefully and sensitively managed, whose stresses are frequently on show and whose relationships with each other can be strained.  In the park, they relaxed as they played.  Instinctively, they joined in with each other, supporting, encouraging and joking with each other, and they were happy to make fun of each other and smile and laugh together.  One charming boy smiles a great deal in the classroom but says very little - usually just one-word answers to questions, and often simply, ‘Don’t know’.  As he and I played together on the zip-wire, I noticed his nervousness of a gull perched on top of one of the struts and we joked about how the gull was waiting for his turn!  As we confronted the challenge of a strange standing seesaw, we were able to talk more than we had done before about his interests.

From the play-park, we ventured to the water’s edge where I watched as the children attempted to skim stones then poked and dug among the pebbles and mud to find a crab-claw, a live crab and various rocks that they claimed to be fossils.  It struck me that what they were doing was wonderfully childlike.  Then, as we prepared to return to school, our ringleader - who sometimes has a bit of a swagger and can disregard the more difficult of his classmates - turned to probably the most difficult and, with supreme humility and kindness, said something like, ‘If you walk with me, we can keep looking for another crab-claw.’  It was a really thoughtful and lovely moment.

Back in mainstream, in my previous school, we dealt on a daily basis with the effect on children of the pressures on them, whether from home, from their friendships, from learning difficulties or from the challenge and pace of the curriculum and impending tests.  The mental health of children has become a hot topic of debate in school staffrooms.  With their customary enthusiasm, school leaders and teachers are taking the initiative and trying out their various ideas whilst rightly pointing out that they are untrained to address this significant dimension of teaching and learning.  I remember a one-off, off-timetable day at my previous school when children were introduced to tai-chi and mindfulness activities as strategies to enhance their mental well-being.  The problem was (and is) that the next day, we were all back to the normal timetable with its challenges and pressure and before long, the good intentions and ideas of that great day of well-being were just about forgotten.  

Once they’ve got their heads around the risk assessment and accompanying paperwork, most teachers I know love a trip, whether it’s a one-day visit or a longer residential.  Commonly, we talk of the precious moments on those trips when we saw a different side to a child or got to know each other better and relationships were enhanced.  More common though are the really sad reflections at the end of another frenetic day in the classroom when we realise that there are children in our classes to whom we barely spoke all day.

The problem in mainstream schools is that these opportunities are too contrived and they are too few; above all, rules the academic curriculum, its accompanying regime of tests and the pressures it brings.  Anything else is an aside, to be squeezed in if possible.  The advantage for me and my class is that their well-being ranks alongside those other things - it has to because any academic learning and progress depends on it.  (Surely, the same could be said for children in mainstream schools.)  It isn’t as easy to take a visit like this in a mainstream school, not least because classes are bigger and supervision ratios are tighter.  These opportunities are important for children though and they ought to be given greater value in schools, even if it means using that trim-trail more often, being imaginative about how to use the school field, the outdoors classroom or that patch of woody scrubland, or walking the class down to the local rec., to the beach or into the woods.

The doubts I had about the importance of our community visit are gone.  The childlike scavenging in the waterside mud was the best example of mindfulness activity I have ever seen; the thoughtful kindness the boys showed each other was simply natural and it was wonderful; we all know each other better; and their playfulness was good for the soul - mine as much as theirs.  I’m looking forward to our next visit.  

Pause

‘Career pause’ is a phrase I read in an edition of the TES not long ago.  At least, I think it is!  It was something like that.  As far as I recall, it referred to teachers having some time out and the reasons for why they might need it.  It was a positive thing – an opportunity to reflect, to take stock.  It was an alternative to the burn-out or meltdown that too many teachers experience instead.

At the time of reading that feature, it didn’t register with me in any significant way.  I didn’t think it had, anyway.  I don’t remember too much of what I read in the TES though and that phrase somehow stuck with me when others don’t, so maybe – on some unconscious level – it meant more to me than I realised.  On the other hand, I may be misrepresenting whatever article it was that I read and just making this up to help justify what I’ve been doing!

When I left my previous school in July, it wasn’t to have a ‘career pause’; it was to get away from a place that had done me more harm than good.  I didn’t really know what I was going to do with myself.  I told people I would supply-teach for a while and look for another leadership role, ideally for January.  I wasn’t really convinced it was what I wanted or needed, but I think it reassured others who were anxious about what I would be doing and where the money was going to come from.

Briefly, I must digress and clarify that my last school wasn’t all harm; there was good.  I’m a positive and optimistic person so I can look back on my four years there and know with certainty that I got a lot out of my time there, I learnt a lot and I developed as a teacher and a school leader.  Sadly though, there was too much there that was wrong and I couldn’t do very much about it.  It grew harder for me to remain positive and optimistic and I was becoming unwell.  As I told the staff on my last day there, I couldn’t be myself so leaving was the right thing to do.

As always the summer holiday was wonderful, then September came around too quickly and my friends returned to their various schools whilst my summer holiday dragged on by another (annoyingly grey and rainy) week, and then another.  My ‘career pause’ had begun and I reveled in the opportunity to watch as much ‘Bargain Hunt’ as I wanted!

It wasn’t long before frustration crept in and I started to miss school.  I started to miss the business of simply working, I missed the hustle and bustle, I missed children – their brilliant, various and changing personalities –  and I missed the people.  Inevitably, an awareness – if not anxiety – about needing to earn money also began to grow.

Thankfully, my first stints as a supply teacher followed surprisingly quickly – in the third week of the new school year – and I grasped them eagerly.  It was money, it was stimulation and activity and I wasn’t sure what I could do other than teach or brave enough to explore other options.  Or maybe, in spite of everything I’ve been through in recent years, that teacherly spark that I sensed all those years ago that first took me into the profession still burns somewhere deep down inside of me and I can’t help but be drawn back to the classroom.  It occurred to me too that it might be interesting to see what is happening in other schools.  Demands on schools have grown and things have changed – big things like the curriculum, tests and assessment – so how are different schools responding to that?  It’s not something I had  been encouraged to consider or explore for a long time.  I was right: it was interesting.  And I enjoyed it.

Also quickly, came the suggestion that I do some regular, part-time work in special education.  I didn’t hesitate to say yes – more work, more money!  Again though, it soon occurred to me that it could be interesting experience; for a couple of terms, I’d covered as SENDCO, which had been interesting, and this could be an opportunity to build on that experience.  Moreover, wherever I decided to go next in my career, deeper understanding and experience of special education could surely only be valuable experience.

And so it has proved.  I spent one week effectively getting to know the school, covering teaching assistants in a couple of classes and learning the routines and expectations of the class I would be teaching.  In the second week and third week, I began teaching the class I briefly shared with another teacher.  By the fourth week, I was full-time, in readiness for taking over a different class on a full-time basis from after half term and for the rest of this school year.  It wasn’t what I had in mind when I began my ‘career pause’ and it still surprises me to find myself here; however, it has been endlessly fascinating and thoroughly enjoyable and I am excited about taking on my new class.  Even in these few weeks, there have been genuinely revelatory moments that will stick with me for the rest of my career.  It’s a while since I have felt that excitement and I am so glad for it.

I wonder now, does this really qualify as a ‘career pause’?  My spell away from the classroom – away from schools – was brief, but it was a pause nonetheless and it was sufficient for me to realise that I wanted to work and, most importantly, I wanted to continue working in schools.  Even though, I’m back at work and back in the classroom, this still feels like something of a pause.  I’ve stepped off the trajectory I was on – from teacher to Phase Leader to Deputy Head to Headteacher – and the seemed inevitability of my future has gone, and with it, the pressure to meet other people’s expectations.  I’ve stepped into a different and exciting field of education, which is stimulating, challenging and interesting.  It’s somewhere I didn’t expect to be and I don’t know where it will take me, so there’s something spontaneous and daring about it.  I’m relieved of the responsibilities and pressures I had, but looking forward to new ones and hopeful that this will rekindle my ambition.

Whether you call this a ‘career pause’ or not, it’s been a good thing and I have no regrets.  Perhaps I’ve been fortunate to have been presented with the opportunities that have come my way, or perhaps they were just out there, waiting for me to be in the right place to notice them. 

It’s an enormous sadness to me that too many good teachers and friends are miserable, fearful, stressed and close to burnout or melt-down and too many feel trapped in jobs that are doing them more harm than good and turning them off the profession for which they once had such hope, that has brought them such joy and to which they have dedicated their lives.  I have discovered that there is still hope – it’s not long since I doubted it – so, if you need it, whatever you call it and whatever you do with it, I certainly recommend some sort of ‘career pause’.  

Devastated. Beyond words.

Devastated.

Too much?  Too strong?  An over-reaction?

Actually, nowhere near strong enough.  And I couldn't find the words to describe how I felt at 6am this morning.

I haven't been able to find the words all day.  I've even surprised myself by how upset I've been, and I've been trying to work out why that is.

I think of myself as positive and optimistic and I don't think I've ever felt less optimistic.

And I've always been proud to be British.  Now, I don't understand what Britain stands for and I really don't like some of what I think it might stand for.  Suddenly and unexpectedly, I'm disappointed by Britain and I'm ashamed to be British.

All this in twenty-four hours!  It feels like I've been dispossessed of my country and I'm afraid I shall feel this way for the rest of my life.

It's made me incredibly sad.

Why I voted 'Remain'

My vote is cast - winging its way in two sealed envelopes to the local authority offices.  From Wednesday this week, I have the joy of a three-day jaunt to London with forty-odd ten year olds as part of our school Activities Week, so it was a postal vote for me.  Now it's something of a relief to know that my vote is cast and I can turn a deaf ear to the referendum hysteria of the next few days.  Not that I ever actually paid it much attention; instinct told me to vote 'Remain' from day one and the campaigns of the past few weeks have had little impact on me, other than to make me very frustrated and, at times, angry at the way they were conducted.

I recall in the first few days of the campaigns, a commentator saying that when it finally came to it, most people would probably go with their gut feeling.  At first, that didn't seem right; surely, we should ascertain the facts and make an informed decision, I thought.  What quickly became apparent, however, was that there are few hard'n'fast facts.  So-called facts were interpreted differently and spun in different ways and both sides inevitably speculated differently about what would come of the vote, whichever way it went.  Whilst this may have wound up others into a confused, frustrated, desperate hunt for truth, it seemed perfectly understandable to me; whoever thought that those on either side of the argument, with all their passions and deeply entrenched views, would ever agree on an interpretation of the facts?!  There were lies as well of course (£350 million per week going from the UK to Brussels, was it?) but don't get me started on those!  I largely gave up on fact and went with my gut.

I believe in a small world of peoples that work together in our common interest.  Even in my lifetime, our world has shrunk drastically and wonderfully.  For many people, we can travel with ease from country to country and to the other side of the world; technology enables us to know in an instant about events from almost anywhere and to communicate with just about anyone; we empathise with the victims of natural disaster, man-made calamity and war and we demand action on their behalf of our own government and others; trade on a scale someone like me can not comprehend defies borders; and a decision made in an office in another far-flung land can have consequences for us all.  How then can we shrink away from our neighbours, back to the shores of Blighty? 

I've heard others speak of being self-sufficient again and 'proudly standing on our own two feet once more', but that 'once more' is once upon a time - a fabled time of greatness and empire that is long past.  In the twenty-first century, the world moves to a different beat and an off-beat Britain striving for greater self-sufficiency would be a ruined Britain.  One thing I think Britain can be proud of is our fierce independence of spirit and opinion.  Neither membership of the EU nor any other affiliation or alliance dims that, and it's through that determined, resilient, bulldog spirit that we can still take pride in standing on our own two feet.

That shrunken global community to which we belong brings its challenges too: climate change, migration, extremism and terrorism among many.  Our best hope of dealing with each of them is through worldwide collaboration.  I know leaving the EU does not mean that Britain would cease collaboration with our European neighbours but it is what we have, it's a Nobel Peace Prize winning organisation, it promotes cooperation over conflict and I believe it helps assure peace on our continent.  We're not isolationists in Britain and we want to play our part on the global stage so it seems probable to me that we would, in time, seek once more some sort of mechanism for cooperation with our neighbours, so why not stick with the EU, as imperfect as it is, and even enhance it for the benefit of all Europe, simply by being there?  I fear for the agenda of some of those who would have us leave and I fear isolationism in Britain would give fodder to nationalists and the already-simmering far-right across Europe.  My vote is one of optimism and hope for a better Europe.

I believe the free movement of people is a fundamental human right.  I think our economy is strengthened by immigration and our society is enhanced by those who join it from abroad - by the skills, language, food, fashion and culture they bring.  Listening to the intermingling languages on the streets of Bournemouth makes me smile because, for all the challenges immigration might bring, I think those voices represent a coming future of multi-culturalism, greater integration, understanding, respect, harmony and opportunity and that is a future I want for my little niece and nephew and for the children I teach.  The alternative is a future of division, suspicion and fear and I want that for no-one.  Immigration on the scale we see it today does present challenges but the answer isn't to restrict human rights and back away from that brighter future; we should rise to those challenges; be proud that ours is a country to which people want to come, contribute and work in; accept that there is much, much more we can provide to the desperate in the world; promote the opportunities that free movement brings all of us; work with countries across the world to improve migration routes; and invest in building a better society for everyone that wants to be part of it.

I don't understand all the ins and outs of international trade and economics but I do worry that the effect of Brexit would be immensely damaging and I don't think it's worth risking recession in the UK while the economies of our competitors forge ahead.  On this, the pro-Remain views of so many respected traders, economists, industrialists and trade unionists are pretty compelling.  Of course, trade won't dry up as a result of a vote to leave the EU but I doubt it will be easier as Leave campaigners would have us believe.  I suspect too that the trade deals that will be required will take many years to negotiate and I think it is naive to believe that deals with the EU wouldn't be very largely on the terms of its member-countries; collectively, they are formidable and they will not compromise on principles like free movement to which they have dedicated themselves for half a century.

Democracy in the EU is the problem I have spent longest wrangling with; there ought to be more of it.  But I don't think there is enough democracy in the UK either!  It infuriates me that many of the same politicians who decry democracy in the EU campaigned against proportional representation in the UK, that their referendum campaigns have been so unrepresentative of women and young people and that time and again they have patronised voters and treated us with contempt.  I wonder too if they would have us leave all the other similarly undemocratic institutions of which we have membership - the IMF and the United Nations, perhaps.  And does it feel to you that your day-to-day life is hindered and constrained by all the undemocratic decisions that are apparently made by bureaucrats in Brussels, and that your life would suddenly be so much better without all those rules?  That's what many politicians, commentators, broadcasters and sensationalist newspaper editors would have us believe, but I just don't buy it.  It may feel and look that way for them as they pursue and analyse new legislation but they are as much a part of that establishment as are those bureaucrats in Brussels, and it seems to me that our membership of the EU is mainly a political distraction for them.  Our principles and its principles - democracy among them - should concern us, but we shouldn't be side-tracked by its political manoeuvrings and machinations.  Let them have their games!

Democracy ought to build from grassroots in local communities across the country, but our politicians show little interest in promoting and enhancing that.  Too often, their answer is just to have another vote; meanwhile, voter registration remains too low, apathy grows, turnout shrinks and our model of democracy, for which Britain is famous around the world, is diminished.  It's ironic, I think, that some of the momentum behind the Brexit campaign probably comes from an anti-establishment spirit, yet removing the checks and balances of the EU would only give greater power to the distrusted establishment of the UK.  Yes, there ought to be more democracy in our society but abandoning cooperation with our European neighbours and risking the rise of profoundly undemocratic extremism across the continent is not the answer.  We should start with recreating a model of British democracy that really works, that we can proud of once more and that can be a model for the rest of the world.

I've asked myself why I've written all this.  I'd like to think someone might read it and be persuaded to vote 'Remain', but it's probably too late for that, I haven't written anything that hasn't already been said and I doubt it's really that powerful!  I've written it for my niece and nephew and all the children I teach so that in years to come, they will know of the hope I have for the world in which they will grow up and that in casting my vote for 'Remain', I did what I could to bring that bright future closer for them.

Gran

I've been thinking a lot about the things I'll remember about Gran: her flapjack and bread and butter pudding; how – as a child – I loved to help her preparing dinner on our regular Wednesday evening visits; the armies of Father Christmas' and snowmen she knitted for the Women’s Institute; her pride in her garden and the way she'd occasionally come out with a little gem of a fact that she'd picked up somewhere (on the radio or in Readers’ Digest probably) - I'll always remember where I was at lunchtime on 7 August 1990 because she and Grampy had taken me and my brother for a picnic at Meldon Reservoir and as we ate lunch, Gran announced that it was 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,0 - 12.34 and 56 seconds on 7/8/90 - a once-in-a-century moment!

Fifteen years ago, I interviewed Gran for one of my University assignments.  We talked quite a lot about her childhood, family and about school in Chudleigh Knighton and Mamhead.  She recalled living in a farm cottage where she had to go out to the well to get water and how it was the children's job to chop up the kindling for the fire.  It was important, she remembered, because you couldn't have a cup of tea until you'd got the fire going.  At school, she remembered being good at needlework and enjoying oral arithmetic.

She told me about her time in domestic service, firstly at the Manor House in Torquay for Sir Francis Layland-Barrett.  She remembered her first Christmas there when there was a big Christmas party attended by the Emperor Haille Selassi, which must have been when he was in exile after the Italian invasion of Abyssinia.  Gran missed the party though - she was sent home with Housemaid's Knee!  She also remembered the arrival of refugees from Austria.  From there, she went to be a cooks-mate in a house at Haytor, before being called up during the Second World War to work in a factory in Salisbury making piston-rings for aircraft.  

The move on her own to Salisbury was hard after living in close-knit communities, whether at home on the farm and in small villages or in the households in which she worked.  Somewhat remarkably, she described her good fortune in being protected from the worst of the war at the same time as recalling an air-raid in Salisbury and returning from the shelters to find shrapnel that had fallen through the factory roof on to the bench beside where she had been sitting and German aircraft machine-gunning the seafront in Torquay as she and her sister met for a drink on one of the occasions she returned to Devon.

I've reflected many times over the years on my interview with Gran.  During the course of the interview, she referred to one thing or another as being good preparation or good training - domestic service, for example - so toward the end of the interview I asked her what it had been preparation and training for.  She answered that it was good training for housekeeping and running your own home, looking after yourself and looking after other people.

Growing up in a different era when the role of women in society had changed utterly, it was hard to understand - as a child - the role that someone like Gran had played.  Moreover, she was always a small, frail, reserved lady and it was too easy to see her as quite insignificant.  Interviewing her as I did shone a whole new light on the real significance of her life.  It was all about family.  She had grown up in a close-knit family and without doubt, her own mother was a role model for her.  She viewed domestic servitude as training for her own future as a mother and grandmother and eventually, things went full-circle and her life was completed with her own family.  She really had just one job in life, which was to care for all of us in her family.  As she said in her own words, 'That is most important: family - more important than anything, I think, is family togetherness.'  Her devotion to all of us was very deliberate.  It was a selfless job and one in which, I know, she took great joy.  I feel very blessed to have had such a remarkable woman as a grandmother.

Gran's legacy is easy to see: it's in all of us in her family, whether in the pride her own children take in their gardens or in my love of cooking, which I'm sure is largely thanks to helping Gran on Wednesday evenings.  For her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, it's in our own wonderful mothers.  Above all, it's in our family-togetherness, which was so valuable to her and, for someone like me who daily sees the consequences of fractured families, its value is beyond measure.

We – her family – are all so fortunate to have been so well loved by Gran.  She took great pride in us and I, for one, am very proud of her.

In vague memory of Margaret Thatcher (1925-2013)

   

Dancing in supposed celebration of the death of Baroness Thatcher is in bad taste but to watch young people doing so or to read their online posts either lamenting her time in power or remembering it with apparent fondness is, in many cases, also remarkable; they are obviously considerably younger than me, yet I myself was only thirteen years of age when she left office in 1990 and, despite being something of a geek, I remember almost nothing of her eleven years as Prime Minister.

Personally, I have no opinion of Lady Thatcher’s time in office; it did not affect me directly and I do not know enough about it – I don’t suppose I should opine only on the basis of having seen the film The Iron Lady!   The most I can acknowledge is that she was a towering political figure who had a massive impact in her time, that she obviously continues to have an impact and that she rightly has a place in history as Britain’s first female Prime Minister.  To me, she is historically interesting and that is all.

As a teacher, the reaction of the past few days to Lady Thatcher’s death – particularly from those younger people than me - emphasises one of the greatest long-term failings of our education system: it does not empower people to think for themselves.  Instead, far too many people too easily believe the limited amount they read in newspapers or on online social networks, see and hear on television or the radio or absorb from their parents, relatives and friends and they blindly follow one crowd or another.  They do not distinguish fact from opinion, they do not question and they do not analyse.   This is not only true of young people; it is tragically true of many of my parents’ generation too.  I have had discussions with both eleven year old children and fifty-odd year old grown-ups on issues ranging from immigration to welfare to school nativities in which they have vehemently espoused an argument, which – it has emerged – is based on nothing more than a newspaper headline.

This is especially relevant in the week in which consultation on the new National Curriculum draws to a close.  The proposed curriculum for History is of particular concern.  If adopted, children in key stage two (aged between seven and eleven) will learn some Roman, Greek and local history, as they always have, together with fourteen aspects of British history in sequence from the stone, bronze and iron ages to the Glorious Revolution (handily broken into over fifty bullet-points for teachers).  It is widely believed that this represents a particular agenda of the Secretary of State’s: his anachronistic and irrelevant belief that people do not know enough about the specific dates and basic facts of supposedly key events in British History (the Heptarchy and the plantation of Ireland among them).  Such a curriculum would do little more than prepare young people to win a pub quiz.

Moreover, it disregards the capacity of children to delve far more deeply into History.  History provides opportunities for children to explore decision-making and responsibility (you would think Mr Gove would like that!) and - more than in any other subject - to develop the skills to question and analyse and ultimately to think for themselves that too many people lack - which leads to their misguided reactions to current affairs.  Gove might claim his curriculum does not rule out that possibility, but the reality of such a content-heavy History curriculum alongside the other ten subjects of the National Curriculum is that there would be little time for children to learn any more than basic facts and dates.

As a country, we have long held the correct belief that education empowers individuals and communities and has the power to change society and the world.  This revision of the National Curriculum is an opportunity either to equip young people with the knowledge they need to win a pub quiz or with the skills and power they need to rationally and reasonably react to the events of their time and even to change the world.  Perhaps Mr Gove should reflect on what the late Baroness Thatcher would want for the young people of Great Britain.