As I tentatively, after a number of years away, poke my toes back into the shark-infested waters of the teaching world and start some private tuition next week, I’m surrounded by what feels like hundreds of documents from the new national curriculum – it focuses on a more ‘traditional’ approach apparently. As I update myself on the latest advice and wade through end of year expectations, performance descriptors and the new assessment procedures, I’m reminded why I do not want to return to the classroom. I still want to teach, yes. But I really dislike the ‘one size fits all’ approach. I hope by working on a 1:1 level with students I can get to know each of them individually and ensure that their learning is engaging and enjoyable.
Though that still leaves me wondering about those children in mainstream classrooms that, however hard they try, they just can’t quite fit in to the rigid school environment. Square pegs in round holes. The ones, like my grandfather, that have an innate ability to play around with language, yet their creativity is being stifled by the need for neat handwriting and correctly punctuated work. Or those that struggle to even put pen to paper while at the same time being incredibly intelligent. Are they failures by the time they are eleven because they are unable to reach the age appropriate requirements? Surely not.
I think I feel so passionately about this subject because my own experience of school, as a whole, was pretty negative and has affected how I view myself, even as an adult. I struggled academically and had very poor co-ordination so had to work exceptionally hard. Luckily, I am very stubborn and tenacious and eventually caught up and progressed relatively well. Though, looking back, if I had the chance to take certain exams a year or two later I may have got higher grades and achieved more. My parents did their best to support me, however, I’ve always felt like the ‘dummy’ of the family, especially in comparison to my very clever older brother.
So when, thirty or so years later I saw my own son Charlie becoming disengaged and unhappy at school, I felt quite sick – was history repeating itself? The school had called me in to discuss all the problems he was having. He couldn’t hold his pencil correctly, use scissors to cut neatly and he was taking too long to get changed for PE. They also told me that he was painstakingly shy and never put his hand up. Oh yes, and, even though he could read fluently, they told me he wasn’t able to comprehend what he was reading. I was desperately upset, as this was not the Charlie we knew and, to be honest, they were talking complete rubbish. An educational psychologist was called in and, as it turned out, he concluded that Charlie had a very high IQ and was just thoroughly bored.
We eventually moved Charlie to another school and though not perfect, (nowhere ever will be I suspect), it’s much better. They treat him as an individual and recognise his strengths. He’s happy and he’s thriving. Work is at a higher level and his co-ordination difficulties are being addressed.
Charlie
I know I often talk about my son and I apologise if it’s already getting a little tedious. It’s just, you see, through Charlie, I understand my grandfather. It’s clear he was disengaged at school – bunking off, disrupting classes, disrespecting teachers – and then pretty much failing all his exams. It’s no coincidence in my mind that he suddenly exploded with ideas and poetry flowed out of him around and about the time he left school. He had the freedom to do what he wanted, and needed, to do. His remarkable teenage notebooks are testament to how talented he was.
© West Glamorgan Archive Service – Swansea Grammar school
From the National Library of Wales exhibition.
But Dylan, like Charlie, had someone looking out for him. His father, an English master, was like a private tutor and fed his growing imagination with literature. Their house was full of books and Dylan himself said, “my proper education consisted of my liberty to read whatever I cared to. I read indiscriminately and all the time, with my eyes hanging out like stalks.” Without that early support, would Dylan Thomas have reached the heights he did? I’m not sure he would have done.
The thing is that not all children have assertive parents advocating for them. Many do not have regular access to books and the Internet. They are caught up in a system that doesn’t work for them and are slipping through the net. I ask the question, “Who’s looking out for them?”
Hannah Ellis – 19th September 2016.
Hannah is a teacher, writer and consultant. You can learn more about her by visiting the website – http://www.hannahellisconsultancy.com
Very interesting and thought-provoking, Hannah. Wishing you and Charlie all the best.
Thank you for your kind words Susan. Best wishes, Hannah
Interesting piece Hannah, especially the inherited aspects of how a young mind is influenced by nurture-nature which are relevant. You know it is one of my interests. The good aspect is being different creates characters. It wouldn’t do for us to all be the same. Let’s hope your Charlie is a ‘chip off the Dylan block.
Hi David, I found your book very interesting, especially your theory that Dylan had synesthesia and his sensitivities. Charlie is a sensitive boy, to the point that the house has to be silent as he works because he is so easily distracted. He’s aware of people’s emotions too – sometimes it’s as if he has read my mind. As I said in the blog, he helps me understand Dylan. My mum was a very sensitive person as well and struggled to find the correct medication to manage her condition as she reacted to them all. A small amount of codeine knocked her out for hours. It’s interesting how modern day knowledge and future generations of families can allow you to look at people from the past, and how they behaved, with far greater understanding. I feel another blog coming on… Best wishes, Hannah
If its of any interest and pleasure, my Grandmother, Dylan’s 3rd Cousin enjoyed his company at Alpha House, even if she said he could be very irattating and spoilt by the uncles 😉
Hi Rowan, I think he was rather spoilt by his aunts as well! The angelic blond curls and big eyes – as if butter wouldn’t melt. As far as I understand he was the youngest child (and only boy) in a large family. It’s lovely to hear from you and best wishes, Hannah
Wow, Hannah! As I read this I thought, My God, I could have written these very words. My life’s experience has been almost exactly the same – struggling in a second-rate private school with third-rate teachers who branded me ‘educationally sub-normal’ at the tender age of 8 years as an excuse for their own poor competence as teachers. My parents immediately removed me to a ‘good state school’ and by the time I was 19 I was possibly the best qualified student in town and have gobbled up any number of qualifications since. I know that they were not Bad People but goodness me did they fail me. It was not until I was myself teaching in my 40s that I understood that my report cards that read “Sean could do better” really ought to have read “Sean’s teachers could do better – sorry we let your son down”. Same with one of my sons. It was not until tertiary level did he have a teacher who was good enough to spot that he was dyslexic and had him assessed. My wife had said all along that he was really bright and I was just as guilty as his infant, primary and secondary teachers in accepting that he was not ever going to thrive in academia. He is now well into his third book (mind you none have been published yet…) Great article. I love Dylan’s works – so unique, witty and sharp. I will now have a look at your website.
I think it’s the best ‘story’ after reading, ‘essay’ before reading, ever I read over Internet…..
MARVELLOUS