Emotional Poverty, you don't know you've got it because you are too poor to realise it

I was at an inset yesterday as part of my job. Now don't get me wrong I find educational inset about as useful as a raincoat in Dubai, indeed most should be titled 'professional development in stating the bleedin obvious'. However yesterday was one that inspired me, made me think and also made me realise how lucky I am to have arrived at the place I now find myself in. The speaker was Sir John Jones and anybody who has not read his book called the magic weavers should. He told us that children who come from a family that has an income primarily made up of benefit payments have more chance of going to prison than going to University. Should we blame the children for this? Of course not they are born and taken from a hospital by a person they have never met before. They know nothing about that person and can only hope that the people who take them home will do good by them. Some children are lucky and live in rich and loving environments. Some are not so lucky and end up in poverty, abusive homes and when we see them as young kids we make judgements on their behaviour. Should we blame them? Should we blame their parents who are often part of the cycle of poverty in which there is no escape (and by poverty money is only a very small part) A child brought up by parents deemed to be middle class will hear in their first 10 years 800,000 positive statements aimed at them by parents and family and 60,000 negative ones. A child brought up on benefits will hear 60,000 positive words or statements and 120,000 negative ones. This is emotional poverty and there can be no doubt about it. The only chance these kids have will be the quality of schooling. The teachers (or the magic weavers) can give these kids the aspirations that are so sadly lacking at home. A good teacher will be remembered by a child as fondly as a good parent is. A man who had appreciated his teacher for many years because of the difference he had made really wanted to get in touch with him but thought 'he taught thousands how is he going to remember me'?. But after much umming and arring he found out the email address of his former teacher (who was 90 at the time) and said Mr Tavern I suppose you won't remember me, but I remember you, you are the reason Why I am successful today, you gave me aspirations when all I once had was excuses, you gave me light when once I couldn't see the way, you told me why I should rather than why I couldn't and even if you don't remember me I will always remember you. 3 Days later he got an answer from that teacher he said 'yes Smitty I do remember you and the cold trip to Clacton, you were the only one that didn't complain, I remember you said very little but what you did say was worth listening to, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for remembering an old man who thought he had been forgotten. 5 days later he recieved an email from the wife of that teacher to say he had sadly passed away but in the last few days all he talked about was that school trip and the school Smitty had attended. She said in her reply 'I thank you for what you did and feel so grateful you thanked him before it was too late'. That is what being a magic weaver is all about. A difference can be made and whilst there are excuses for society when it comes to economic poverty, there are no excuses as far as emotional poverty is concerned. If you are a teacher like the children that are hardest to like, and then you will make that difference and remember they will always be smart enough if you are good enough.

John

The School play is going well

Well we are 4 weeks away from the school play. I was going to adapt blood brothers but there was just too much nervousness on whether we could pull that one off. However I have adapted Charlie and the Chocolate factory, this was a good choice as I have created 28 different parts and better still my Jessica loves it and that is a good enough reason to do it in my opinion. Now there are advantages and disadvantages in working with 11 year old untrained actors. The main advantage is that bad habits are easy to iron out, they do as they are told and they bow down to your supposed knowledge on all things theatrical. The disadvantages is their need to go the toilet just as you are making progress, the volume control that is always up in class is lowered for some strange reason on the stage and finally unlike professional actors they are always being called up for catch up, 1-1 tuition and every child a reader initiatives. That said I am pleased with what I have seen so far. I have taken some well known songs and adapted them and the end results are quite amusing. The other lovely thing about plays and children is that you suddenly discover talents that had remained hidden for the best part of the year. It has been fun getting my Augustine Gloop to perfect her German accent (we couldn't get a boy and by the way I have no idea if Augustine is a girl's name) The accent is coming along although at times it is a mix betwen Adolf Hitler and Windsor Davies. My Veruca Salt is a diamond and even though I love acting I know that this girl at her age is a million miles ahead of me when I was 11. (hope she does not read this blog as I expect she'll get a big head) At the moment I am burying myself in my work and forgetting the less pleasant parts of my life (the recovery of a single man is like malt whisky,,,A slow process) So if you are in Thetford on the 19th of July and would like to see my latest offering just let me know, I will reserve you some VIP seats.

Yours in Luvvy

John

The problems with mornings

People often say 'ooh I'm not really a morning type of person'. Well in my experience those miserable gits aren't usually an any time of day person and enjoy drinking from their half empty cups. If you asked them to read the following 'funisnowhere' they would read fun is nowhere, yet I read it as fun is now here and as you know the devil is always in the detail. Anyway that put aside the morning does have a few deficiencies. Well the first major problem is that it always follows the night. Now I have never had alcohol in my life so I do not know the feeling of getting drunk the night before but I have seen it plenty enough during my time as a compere in holiday clubs. Well the next morning it does not look pretty I can assure you, and I believe that even after a shower in the morning the effects can stay with you for pretty much the rest of the day, however morning is always the worst. I do hope that Jessica takes after her dad in the drinking respect as there are much more interesting things to do with the money you earn. Also breakfast food is pretty dull if you compare it to meals at other times of the day. Yes a fry up is a tasty option, but reading the previous part of the blog I don't think many hair of the doggers would fancy that. So in the main it is a quick bowl of wood shavings (known as cornflakes to you and I) and a bit of toast. Now what makes this even more unsavoury is that it is often eaten on the run. Can you imagine doing yourself a lovely meal with a glass of red and running around packing papers and looking for shoes when eating, and then finishing it as you walk out the door? Of course not but this can be an outcome for many breakfasts. Also our moods are effected at breakfast time and I am sure there are more arguments at this time than say in the evening when the daily grind has ben completed. This is worse during the winter when it is dark when we leave, and hope escaped at about the same time as the last remanants of summer. Of course these negative descriptions only tend to apply to people with a job or a career, if you don't have to get up till 11 because you are lazy, rich, feckless, drunk (please delete as appropriate) then you will never have a clash with the pessimsm of morning. Myself I feel great this morning, so much so that I found the time to blog, and if I was to simply dismiss all the mornings of my life that would be 2 hours x 365 which would be 730 hours, times that by 45 and that would be
over 30,000 hours, around about 150 days which would be the equivalent of dismissing 5 years of my life, so I shall remain sober, hopeful and a person who avoids cornflakes at all costs.Now I know today that fun is now here, just need to find it.


Good Morning to you

John

Facebooted

Well if you want to keep reading my rivetting(sic) blog you will have to come directly to my blog as I have given up on facebook for a while. One of the main reasons is that a re-invention of self is difficult to achieve if you tell your 139 friends 'I am currently washing my hair' Number 1 it is a meaningless update and number 2 you should not be using an electrical appliance when pouring water over your head. Also when I am on facebook I have the annoying misfortune of finding things out that I did not want to know. You find out that the girl you quite liked is a Manchester United fan and then any desire to romance her has gone. I have been on a few dates this month (amazingly with the same person) and she does not use facebook so I thought it unfair to mention her on a social networking site that she does not frequent. Obviously mentioning it on here is only 1 tiny step better, but my intention was well meaning. I am sure I will be missed on facebook for my cutting wit and deep phrases that add meaning to everyone's day, however moving on can sometimes mean moving away from things that have become habit and not a particularly healthy one come to think of it. I would imagine that since I joined I have been on facebook for the equivalent time of 6months. That is a lot of time for innane nonsense. I am sure there will be a campaign to bring me back but my mind is totally made up. I shall miss being poked, friended, farmville requested etc but the time has come to be part of my own individuality again and not part of a network that relies upon the sheep like mentality to keep its founders the billionaires they crave to be. So bye bye FB it was good whilst it lasted but I now feel a verse of born free coming on.


John

Joined the tennis club

I have just started playing at the local tennis club. Now the three things you need to satisfy membership are 1) Being almost a 100 years old, 2) Stubbornly middle class and 3) being able to make up scores that do not exist, for example if you lead 40-15 you must say 40-5 or you will be the equivalent of an academic from Rochdale. So apart from number 1, I am struggling to meet the criteria. Another annoying thing was having to change my personality. I was playing against someone who I think had personal experience of the dinosaurs and his eyes were not as good as they once were. Well he called out most of my shots and I had to smile in a failed middle class sort of way. Anyone who has played any game with me will know that my desire to win goes through every pore in my body. But I was trying to make a good impression so I just smiled politely throughout. It was also really difficult as each of my playing partners were introduced to me but then I found out they had nicknames that only long standing club members knew. One guy had a nickname of boule (do not ask me why) however I referred to him as Boo and I don't think I will be partnering him again. My second partner played his backhand down the line on a deuce point whilst talking on his mobile. Shocked I turned to look at him on his mobile and then missed an easy overhead smash,well he was not impressed and such was his disgust he interrupted his phone conversation to tell me so. Anyway when they asked me my name I felt inadequate with only a name of John as I felt that I should have a nickname like thunder serve or something equally sad. I stuck to John but most of the time they referred to me as Don (well when they weren't talking on the phone) overall I played ok and at the end we all went off for drinks. This is not entirely accurate as they went back to Boo's house and I was sadly not invited, allegedly scouse tennis players and unsecure 5 bedroom detached houses don't offer a perfect mix. Maybe next time.

John

UK teaching system the pride of the globe?

I don't like to think of myself as a working boy, however I am aware of the uncomfortable juxtaposition between being a national marker and being a teacher. On the one hand I see close up how the stress of exams has a direct effect on childen, how those results can end up with an uncomfortable and unfair judgement being made on schools and how individuals can be scapegoated on the back of such results. We all know however that schools do not sing with one voice, the boycott of SATS last year was affirmed by mostly schools who were going to do poorly, and ignored by those schools who knew they were going to do well or had a strong parent delegation who believe in exams at all costs. Well as a national marker I must believe in the assessments? WEll apart from the fact it eeks out an extra 1400 quid income I think that I do. We need to be careful in this country that exams don't go down the same road as sports day. (everyone passes them as we reach out to the bottom and ignore the top) This state of affairs would not be tolerated in the best (or even moderate) international schools and these schools are filling up more of our Universities as the current system in the UK is producing, same, unmotivated and ordinary students. No greater example of this is evidenced when gifted and talented came out. (now able and gifted) at the time schools had to do a register of 25% and this was the G+T register. Sad thing was that the top 25% of children in one state school wouldn't make the top 90% of children at a top fee paying school. So what you had in essence was talented for a failing state school and almost special needs were the intake was more able. This whole system was bound for failure, it would be admitted as a failure, but in the dwindling state sector failure is still a word that we haven't yet come to terms with so we say it is developing. Yeah right I am developing my language in Mandarin, I can't speak a word but I haven't failed as I am simply developing. Anyway the system has been left behind by many nations and by the International sector. Our education system in the UK was once held up as a beacon for the rest of the world and is now an ancient relic and a reminder of what can happen when you park your big fat backside and rest on your laurels.

John Bell

Well I have been doing this for 20 years nearly and the punch line never changes

When I was 23 I decided to pack in my job as a compere/entertainer for holiday organisations across Europe. One of the reasons I decided to call it a day at such a young age was the worry that in 20 years I'd still be cracking mother in law jokes and leaning on a mic stand telling the same jokes I told 20 years ago. It was a brave decision as at the time I was earning a lot more money than most 23 year olds and I was being paid to see parts of the world my friends couldn't afford to visit. However with mind made up I decided to do a job that made a difference. A job that was going to challenge me in different ways and a job that I would enjoy all the time. Enter teaching. Well even if I say so myself I have always been a good teacher (the compere experience gave me supreme confidence in my own ability and I have carried this forward into teaching) I developed a unique style and success (relatively) has followed. Yet now I still feel like the old compere. The audience changes but the jokes remain the same. The challenges that were different everyday are no longer fun challenges. Beauracracy (sic) targets, SATS, ECM, APP, etc etc etbleedincetra. The individuality that I bought to teaching has been drained out of me, the risks I take when teaching whilst once applauded, are now challenged because they don 't conform to prescriptive nonsense that fits in with people who wouldn't know a good teacher if it landed on them riding a brontasaurus. I wonder if I should open my own free school, move abroad, become a writer of second rate plays or do a Stephen Fry and disappear. Life and many aspects of it have long been controlled by a style of governance that tells us what to think, when to think it and how to think it. For the masses of tabloid, non feeling, non thinking individuals (what a term, 'individual')this is fine. But I must think there is more to life than this. I may live 90 years and be dead 96 trillion years and counting. What might I say before the day of my lowering into the abyss? I finished my APP? I got the floor targets for SATS? Good lord it makes me want to run for the hills. There is more to life, it is for living, I have to work but alongside that I have to live. I will do just that and find the life that is worth living. It is out there somewhere, a suit of life armour that is a perfect fit for John Bell.

John