It’s A Crying Shame!

Did you make anyone cry today? Did you break their soul? Did you demean them? Did you send someone over the edge? Did you humiliate somebody? I hope you can answer no to all of these. I hope I can. The horrid reality is, I can’t answer accurately because I don’t know. You don’t know either!

Recall your day. Recall every second of every dialogue. Recall every facial expression. Mimic your body language. What have you said? How did you say it? Really, backtrack your whole week. Remember every single thing you did and said etc.

Can you not do this? If you are a teacher you have to learn to do this. More than learn, you simply have to do it! Examine all that you may have taught and said. Why? Because you are in the public arena. Not only in this brutal arena, you are on trial constantly. If the Romans saw school’s brutal systems today, my God they’d be impressed! They were amateurs! Teaching can be analogous to being a gladiator in the ring or an early Christian thrown to the lions.

We compose parental reports regularly but wouldn’t it be refreshing if we composed daily or weekly reports? Dear parent, your child has reduced me to tears three times this week. Your child has made me cry! Your child has disrupted every lesson and I have no power to do anything. Your child has prevented a lesson from flowing and thus taken away the right of other students and their right to an education. Your child has sworn at me. Your child has been downright rude and I phoned you and talked to you and you laughed and said you’d; “Have a word”. Your child has humiliated me at my place of work!

What did I do? I attempted to teach a lesson. I took all your childs needs into consideration. I spent my weekend planning this lesson. I researched it. I talked calmly and professionally. I did my utmost to model reasonable behaviour. Despite previous problems I put them aside and most of all I cared and still do and always will.

What you don’t know yet is that your child has complained about me. Complained because I have high standards and expectations? Complained because…….

Who have you hurt today? Who has your child hurt and you don’t yet know? It’s a crying shame, a shame on us all. A shame because as I spent almost a week crying I wonder how many other teachers are like me spending their weekend worrying and crying?

The content of some lessons in any subject could be considered controversial. Do we wrap children up in cotton wool or prepare them for the real world? Children get away with telling teachers to; “Fuck off”, but it seems to be acceptable.

It’s a crying shame that no one at the moment has the balls to stand up to anyone and shout out; “YOU ARE WRONG”.

False accusations are a very serious thing and I know that I for one will be pursuing this issue because it really is a crying shame people are treated as guilty in some institutions simply because it makes life easy or it makes us look good. We, as a society ignore the fact that some folk are sadly nasty, yet they are heard! That’s a crying shame!

You Will Not Kill Me!

Stress! Stress! We all say it, we all hear it, we all think we know what it is. The fact is, it is increasingly becoming a major killer. It’s not quite comparable to cancer but according to some statistics it’s arguably a close contender to that and other major fatal diseases!

Stress is, to put it bluntly, a bastard! It creeps and crawls around like a slug, gradually eating away at you and weakening your defences without you realising it. Until, until that time, that time you break down!

The breakdown can emerge out of the blue! You can go to sleep and feel in control, yet awake as an unrecognisable wreck. You can go to work in the morning and be dead by the afternoon.

I have seen both these things happen. After being brutally attacked, the stress gradually built up and I broke down and was a wreck. I talked to a friend a colleague one lunch time at work, ten minutes later he was dead! He literally dropped dead in front of his class. A very much-loved teacher. A lovely man in his forties.

As I reluctantly approach the age of 45 I become more and more determined to release myself from stress. I wish I’d had this mindset years ago. I wish I could go back in time to many incidents in my life and react in a different way. I wish those who are so close to me would stop causing me stress! I wish most of all they realised I’ve reached the end of the line and can and will cut off.

But now I am learning after many years to put that imaginary glass casing around myself. It’s a tough task to protect yourself from stress. It’s a relentless battle. But a time comes when one has to evaluate one’s own worth. A time when you have to take a gamble, when you have to let go of those who persist in hurting you, when you have to finally come to terms with the fact that even some of the closest people to you are the ones who are the cause of the most stress in your life.

I have so often said to students regarding homework; “Don’t stress over it”, when they have had valid reasons for not completing it. I have always been reasonable and very aware of stress. Never more so than at this stage in my life as I approach the age my colleague dropped dead.

Never more so when I hear the words of someone so close to me, echoing still in my broken heart; “I absolutely have no respect for you whatsoever”.

But this strengthens me. All the abuse from my job! The students who yell at me and call me all the names under the sun; you will not kill me! I have learnt to cut off. The friends who have failed me and who I have failed too, you will not kill me! I can cut off. To the men I have loved, you won’t kill me either. It’s over.

I will not be stressed ever again. I know what it can do. I know it can kill. Do you? When you speak nastily? When you ignore? When you judge so harshly? I am determined I won’t ever be the straw that breaks a camels back.

I sat on a town square some years ago having left a vets surgery after having a loving animal and friend put to sleep. I watched people go by. Some watched me. They had no idea I was devastated and broken-hearted and I didn’t know if any of them were either. I learnt from that.

Isn’t that tragic? We never know! But there is one thing I do know now, you, whoever you are, wherever you are, you will not kill me. I have cut myself off, released myself from stress and it’s a liberating thing to do. The world is a different place when you tell it; ‘You will not kill me’!

We are not all ‘Lefty’ rebel rousers!

Yes I’m a moaning old teacher! Yes I have bloody good reasons to moan! My political preferences have little bearing upon my views regarding the teaching profession! We still strike! So what? That’s a privilege of living in a democracy. We have unions. Again, so what? Another advantage of a democracy. We have rights. Ha, we do, we really do although it’s hard to believe at times when one is struggling in the classroom against appallingly poor management and atrociously feral behaviour from children! But we are just working folk who have a job to do. Granted, we are not the only workforce who are facing many difficulties but we do find ourselves vilified for the inadequacies of society as a whole!

We are expected to teach just about everything, from how not to get pregnant to how not to riot. In case you were wondering, teenage pregnancy is our fault along with last summers rioting. We are clearly evil people who should have our CRBs burned before our very eyes!

Somewhere in between all this ‘social’ teaching we are also expected to teach our subjects. You know, that academic stuff that kids sit exams for and get qualifications for and subsequently go to college and university or apply for jobs. From what I’ve seen in schools over recent years is far too much focus on reward systems. Let’s reward a child for opening a door for you. Let’s reward a child for handing in homework. Let’s reward a child for bloody well existing! What is going on here? Rewards for manners? Rewards for  behaving in a civilised manner as animals in the wild do? We are far from preparing these children for real life and the world of work. We are setting them up on little pedestals! Children on ‘naughty’ reports are rewarded for not being naughty! They’re on a report for Heaven’s sake! That should be a punishment not an alternative way to gain yet more rewards! Reward children for picking up litter? Really? Fine them like I’d be if I dropped litter on the street!

We reward children for attendance. The law of the land dictates they attend school! When children enter Secondary education they are aware of GCSEs and other vocational qualifications. That is the carrot on the stick. Gaining whatever they can is the reward. I do feel we dish out rewards far too much and for so little. This could turn into a little twist on a Winston Churchil Speech: ‘Never, have so many been rewarded, for doing so little, for so few’.

Rewards should be something special. I struggle with rewarding children for carrying out very basic courtesies. Now some folk may argue that some children aren’t taught these at home so therefore reinforcement is necessary in the school. But I dispute this, as social and adaptable creatures we immediately pick up what is deemed to be ‘normative’ behaviour in whatever environment we find ourselves in. Therefore we are all innately aware of the expected behaviours and social conventions expected form us and this cognition develops at a very young age.

My reward for slogging away each month is my wages. The teaching profession needs to act like a profession! We aren’t all ‘Lefties’, many of them cleared off in the eighties. National Curriculum may have had something to do with that. I wonder how many became OFSTED inspectors? Political traitors! Educational heresy and hypocrisy!

What this profession needs is strong headteachers who can lead staff and not simply placate parents and governors. Headteachers who can instruct their teachers to teach. Headteachers who will trust their teachers to get on with the job and totally ignore OFSTED. Imagine every school, academy, grammar school etc being put into ‘Special Measures?  Imagine every teacher in every school simply saying; “Sod off, we know how to do this, we know our children and this is how we’ll do it”? That would surely be better than striking? Would Mr Gove sack the whole teaching profession? All of us? Within a term?

We are not all ‘Lefty’ rebel rousers. We are professionals who are quite frankly at our wits end with poor behaviour, poor management by managers who have little or inadequate training at being managers. We are being increasingly belittled by society but yet expected to play a huge part in putting society back together! Within all this there are the additional contentious issues regarding our pensions, pay freeze and workload.

The most frightening thing I heard recently was the term ‘client’ used in reference to the students. Are teachers going to be forced into the ‘customer is always right’ culture? If so, teaching and education had died already.  All the colleagues I have worked with and still work with are conscientious, dedicated and passionate professionals, all being run down by too many changes for too little results.

My Granny the Teacher, never retired!

The Government in their wonderful wisdom increases the age of retirement.  I have no issues regarding people working and paying their way. I am concerned though that many of us are literally doomed to be worked to death! I am proud to be a teacher, despite the difficulties and in spite of the increasing workload and pressure. It is though a rough job and certainly no job for the faint hearted. However, I do question the ability of elderly folk to carry out certain jobs.

I cannot imagine being able to teach at the age of 68! It is not because I have an aversion to work. Indeed on the contrary; I have worked since I was 16 yrs old and have been brought up with a strong work ethic. Both my parents worked and all the family that I’m aware of have worked and those who have not retired continue to work.

However, contentious as this may seem, are there not some jobs that should have age restrictions? For instance, would we accept nearly 70 year olds on the battlefield? There are indeed many incredibly fit and healthy 70 year olds. But would it be ethical to send them to war? Would we be content and have faith in a 68-year-old policing the streets? Are you happy with a 68-year-old teaching your child?

It appears that the world is in a recession and clearly austerity measures have to be put in place. But some of these do border on the ridiculous and downright cruel. People will literally be worked to death and never actually have a retirement. There is already an increase in people dying ‘in service’.

So a scenario could entail this: I’m a nearly 45-year-old teacher. I have a dodgy knee and hip. I continue to work. I maybe develop dementia, cancer, alzheimers, ulcers etc. I am more likely as I reach my 60s to become more tired and maybe forgetful. Under Mr Gove’s further educational wisdom, a failing teacher can be dismissed much sooner. So in my early 60s it’s likely I would be got rid of. Now, this could either be due to poor teaching because I could be 67 and forgetful etc. and totally knackered or simply because I’m too old.

Another issue has to be the view people have in this country towards the elderly. If we are expected to work until nearly 70 years old, someone somehow is going to have to make drastic changes as to how ‘older’ folk are regarded. If Granny is going to be a teacher, a soldier, a nurse etc., Granny needs to have total assurance that the young folk and their parents are going to acknowledge Granny as a professional and not a Granny! The attitude in society must change anyway but if we are going to have to work into old age, children’s and parent’s attitudes and behaviour has to take a drastic and immediate turn! Who will enforce that?

It should also be considered the cost of sickness absence which I would hazard a guess would increase in workplaces where there were people nearing their 70s. It is frightening that successful professionals could be sacked within a term just before their 68th birthday and their career ruined. But lets face it, the odds are pretty high that a professional in this situation will die in service. Stress is one of the major killers and it seems we may be doomed to never have a retirement!

It breaks my heart that the reality my own not yet born grandchildren may have to face: My Granny the Teacher, never retired….she died….in her classroom!

Let’s OFSTED parents!

The issue regarding corporal punishment has reared its head again recently. The question being; should corporal punishment be brought back into schools? It’s a debate that fascinates me. I was born in 1967 and corporal punishment was administered. I never experienced this myself but recall my brother who is four years older than me telling me he; “Got the cane”. My mother has also recalled to me an incident in which she received the cane on her hands for screaming when a wasp stung her during a lesson. Both my brother and my mother have never held any malice towards the perpetrators of this punishment and they do not appear to be traumatised by it!

As a child I received the odd ‘clip round the ear ole’, and I maintain a perfectly loving and respectful relationship with my parents and always did. It never did me any harm. I was never beaten senseless and at the time and at this time, I knew it was fair.

I brought my own child up in very much the same manner as I was reared. A short sharp slap! I have discussed this over the years with my daughter and with various people who have represented an amalgam of views. I have argued that there is no room or time for discussion when a ten month has crawled to a plug socket and is about to stick its finger in it. A little tap on the said finger immediately followed by the simple word ‘no’, has always seemed quite reasonable to me. There are some things that simply do not need to be discussed with a child. My personal opinion is that we discuss far too much with children.

In the animal kingdom (It’s interesting we seem to separate ourselves from that), juveniles are disciplined by the whole pack or pride or whatever and this involves varying degrees of corporal punishment. They do not have huge riots, youngsters know their place and more beautifully, the elders are revered and respected. Is that an argument in favour of corporal punishment?

We have to distinguish between corporal punishment and domestic corporal punishment. The latter being when parents can physically punish their children. What I find most interesting is that the issue regarding poor pupil behaviour in schools is finally being acknowledged in the debating arena and people are actually suggesting backward steps which is what corporal punishment would be.

As a teacher, although I am appalled by poor behaviour I could never support or condone corporal punishment in schools. Neither now could I condone domestic corporal punishment. If I had a young child now I think I would be very reluctant to go for the short sharp slap tactic. Why? Because children seem to rule the world now and from what I see the hierarchy that is still strongly visible in other animal communities has sadly been demolished in our society. Political correctness, the suing culture and the very hazy area of ‘rights’ has totally diminished our senses!

There have been many debates regarding the ‘Nanny State‘ that some people claim is what we are increasingly living under in the UK. However, we all want problems sorted out but there is a reluctance to define roles. Who exactly should sort out an ill-mannered and ill-disciplined child? Teachers? The government? Dare I suggest parents do it? Is that unreasonable?

I feel that too many people do not see or realise what teachers experience on a daily basis. All the issues that you see on the news, read in articles etc. we are there dealing with all this under immense pressure. Ideally, teachers should not have to consider discipline! All children should come to school and understand how to behave. If they don’t it really is quite clear-cut as to why. Do I have to point out its inadequate parenting?

So, we can’t go back into the dark ages and give kids a good old slap! Schools and colleges and babysitters are accountable to OFSTED so how about parents suffer OFSTED?  This would cost millions. But, how about OFSTED scrutinises ALL parents first and leave the schools alone for a while so we can get on and teach. I know some areas where an OFSTED inspector would be eaten alive, but hey that would make it more entertaining! In fact, let’s go down that path and have all inspections filmed!

So the results could involve a family being graded as excellent through to being closed down! Social workers would have hell of an easier time too! Or put the family in Special Measures? Better still turn the family into an Academy and have some super parents or Jo Frost storm in, sack the parents and take over. It’s 21st century foster care but let’s give it a try because everything else is failing! More interesting still, how many people particularly those in power, would then object to such scrutiny and have more sympathy and indeed empathy for us teachers?

I told you so!

We have all probably at some point in our lives had the words, ‘I told you so’, thrown at us by someone who thought they knew better!  Some people take immense pleasure that borders on the sadistic, in telling us they told us so.  Others tell us so rather nonchalantly.  I have been told so in my life and fortunately it’s been in a caring manner. However, I haven’t been told so lots of times because when it comes to serious issues that perhaps a ‘I told you so’ warrants, I have sought advice in the first instance.

When I was pregnant, many years ago, as many young mums to be do, I daydreamed about how I would bring my child up.  How wonderful my child would be.  The places I would take her to.  The manners she would have. The books she would read.  The instruments she would play.  The perfect marriage she would have. I dreamed all this and I wished all this and I was determined all this would happen for my little girl.  I knew how to do it! I would be the best parent in the world.  The Virgin Mary herself would have close competition now I had conceived!

After nine months of constant sickness and feeling grim I was very fortunate to have a very quick and easy labour. I held my little baby girl and thought, ‘shit’!  What the heck and how the heck do I do it now! Whilst she was safely tucked up in my womb I had it all sussed out! I was a brilliant parent! In that nine month long daydream it was perfect and she turned out to be the main asset to the world! She sorted out terrorism, world poverty, diseases, you name it my perfect child did it. All due to, of course, my spectacular parenting skills. Oh yes!

My mum came to me very shortly after I’d given birth.  She appeared with an arm full of  terry nappies and assured me these were best. A little more bother but better for baby and more eco-friendly and cheaper.  I didn’t question her. She knew.  There are many more incidents over the years where my mother and father gave me advice and I took it without question.  Advice concerning my child.  A child isn’t a gamble. We can’t take wagers over anything that concerns a child.

I listened to them and I took their advice not only because they were older and wiser but because they have brought up children. They have spent many years working with children and are fully aware of the whole amalgam of issues regarding children.  As a parent, an Aunty, Godmother, Great Aunt and many years of being a teacher, I have gained a lot of knowledge.  Throughout my years as a young mum there were issues I had to address with my girl.  I always listened to people because my girl was and is far too important for pride to get in the way of what is best for her. When she went through some difficult phases (Goodness knows why) I listened to my parents, my cousins and her teachers.  I was never going to take the risk of anyone saying to me at a later time; “I told you so”.

Sadness is too weak a word to use when I speak to some parents and the words, ‘I told you so’ are on the tip of my tongue.  The parents who have fiercely defended their child in Year 7.  The parents who have been adamant that I pick on their child. The parents I have at times lost patience with and said; “You’re not doing her any favours defending her like this”. To which they have complained about me or have simply continued to support their child in this belief that I’m unreasonable.  I have a mixture of anger, despair and abject misery when these same parents speak to me a couple of Year groups later and ask for help. When they tell me how difficult the child is being at home. How uncooperative the child is in all lessons.  They defended their child from authority and it bites back.

Please God give all parents an innate capacity to listen to those who have seen and heard it all.  I can’t begin to count how many children I have taught over the years;  how many issues I have dealt with.  My own child didn’t turn out to be this wonderful Metahuman. Why? Because none of us are. I took advice even at times when I wasn’t totally convinced but I knew the people giving me advice had much knowledge and experience and she is doing just fine.

It is heartbreaking that as every September approaches, a new intake arrives and the same old cycle begins and teachers across the world know that the time will come again and our souls will be haunted with the words; ‘I told you so’.

 

I don’t do ‘personality clashes’.

There are probably too many things that irritate me.  Once irritated I do tend to turn into the archetypical grumpy old cow that society too easily mocks!  On the other hand, being irritated isn’t necessarily a negative feeling. Neither is it a useless emotion.  Sadly though, irritation over certain issues and one’s expression of irritation is largely perceived as ‘grumpiness’.

Rosa Parks was irritated having to give up her seat on a bus because she was a black woman! She was jolly well right to be irritated! Emmeline Pankhurst was irritated by the unfair treatment of women! Again, she had good reasons to be!  Many wonderful people have been irritated over the years and they have changed our world and our lives.

My irritations are so minor in comparison to the above and I can’t change the world but I can however be irritated and attempt to do my little bit!

What is a personality clash?  I have tried in all earnest to find a clear definition and have failed to elicit anything acceptable and coherent.  But I hear this phrase so often, more so in my professional life.  It irritates me!  It irritates me beyond belief!  When parents of students aren’t hurling accusations that I ”pick on”  their child, I am subjected to the ridiculous accusation that there is a, “personality clash”.

We are all individuals and we each possess our unique characteristics and personality traits.  Some of these are inherent, some learned behaviours and some are quite unexplainable.  As for ‘personality clashes’, I remain somewhat bemused.  Throughout my arguably foolish past, I have been in relationships that have broken down.  I never thought at the time that these breakdowns were due to personality clashes!  I thought then, as I do now that the reason was because the blokes concerned turned out to be twats!  Clearly I’m going to be biased about this! My two marriages have failed because……..

So what about my professional life?  I strongly question the reality of an adult having a personality clash with a child.  Let’s reiterate the obvious: an adult is a fully developed adult, admittedly there may be flaws, but nevertheless, the adult is an adult!  A child however, is an immature human, still in the developmental process.  If you struggle to believe this, take a closer look at a child.  Go and observe a puppy or a kitten and make comparisons.  It’s not as contentious as one might think.  We too easily forget we are animals.  We are no better and in many ways, worse than other animals and creatures that inhabit this planet. If you really feel the need for more information about child development, go read a degree in Psychology and study a bit of Piaget, who incidentally is still a major influence on our educational system!

Humans seem to have a pathetic way of complicating life.  As a teacher, a professional working with children, I do not have personality clashes!  I give reasonable instructions to children to facilitate their learning.  I give instructions that are very easy for them to follow!  I give advice that is clear and concise.  These are but some of the fundamentals of teaching and guiding.  If a child makes the immature choice to ignore this it isn’t due to a personality clash!  It is basically because the said child is being naughty!

Yet another controversy, the word ‘naughty’ isn’t trendy anymore.  Apparently it’s not politically correct!  Please hear this! Children are naughty!  Puppies are naughty! Kittens are too!  Baby anythings are! Young anythings are!  I was!  You were!  When I was naughty and chopped a tree down when I was about 10 years old and got told off by my dad, it wasn’t a personality clash, it was because I was being naughty! I shouldn’t have got the big axe out and chopped the tree down!

So realistically, when a child is persistently disruptive, I cannot and will not accept this personality clash nonsense!  Some children are persistently naughty! We also really have to accept that much of this naughtiness isn’t due to the increasing amalgam of ‘syndromes’.  It’s due to parents not standing up to their kids, teachers not being allowed to stand up to the kids and their parents and politicians whitewashing the whole issue!

I don’t do personality clashes! A personality clash could suggest a relationship with a person that fails due to various emotional issues.  This would be horrendous as a teacher! So, I reiterate, I don’t do personality clashes and neither does any teacher I know.  The expectation is, children make the correct choices, if they fail to do this it’s because they are being naughty!  They need to have sanctions and the behaviour should be corrected at school and equally importantly, at home! Simples!

So it’s not Bible bashing then?

I am sure there are many RE Teachers jumping for joy and some may even be ‘praising the Lord’ over the recent news that Eastbourne MP Stephen Lloyd is chairing a new parliamentary group in an attempt to safeguard the teaching of RE in schools.  This is a well overdue act and I personally will be praying for divine intervention too!

It is disappointing and somewhat shocking how RE has been downgraded in many schools and more tragically, completely belittled in others! RE, by its very nature is a contentious subject and quite rightly so.  Because of this it is imperative that schools embrace the subject and tackle it ‘full on’.

Whether we are religiously inclined or not, it has to be accepted that religion affects all of us at some point in our lives. From simple everyday phrases we use such as; ‘For God’s sake’, to the academic year that children and teachers work by and the religious holidays we are all more than happy to take; Christmas, Easter etc.  We are surrounded by religious architecture wherever we walk. But religion also dominates current affairs and the world around us.  Surely these are reasons enough for RE to be a vital and valuable subject to expose our children to?

I have taught RE in non-faith schools and in a Roman Catholic school.  There are differences.  As a practising Roman Catholic I did enjoy teaching in a Catholic school.  However, their weren’t the same challenges as there are in a non-faith school.  The children attended Mass, I was involved with the local Church and took part in Confirmation preparation with Year 9 students and it was perfectly ‘normal’ for myself and the students.  Whether or not they believed in God or not didn’t actually come into it. We were all Catholics and that was that. It was and is our way of life. Parents were naturally supportive and indeed very keen for their children to be confirmed.

However,  in non-denominational schools RE is vitally important and I have tremendously enjoyed the discussions with children and a different way of teaching.  These children don’t necessarily come from a religious background.  Some do, some don’t. Sadly some children have displayed a very negative attitude towards RE.  But why and where does an 11-year-old child learn this negativity?

I recall some years ago a father proclaiming to me that there’s no point in his son studying RE because; “He isn’t going to be a fucking priest and neither am I”.  I wish he was because I’d have loved to ‘confess’; “You’re a narrow-minded dick head !”. But alas, the Sacrament of Reconciliation should never be sullied in such a way. It’s not quite heresy but I’m sure I’d have a few dozen ‘Hail Mary’s’ to recite after that!

The point is, the negativity has largely emerged from parents and not the children.  Children are on the whole open-minded and receptive to knowledge. Another parent was amazed when I showed them a Scheme of Work and the topics and issues covered in RE lessons, such as abortion, war and animal rights, to name but a few.  The response from the parent was; “So it’s not Bible bashing then?”.  I couldn’t keep a straight face however hard I tried.  I reached for a Bible and banged it on the table to illustrate; “That’s Bible bashing sir and I don’t do that in lessons.“

This parent laughed but then proceeded to recount his RE lessons when he was at school.  This is what saddens me so much.  It also irritates me immensely. I hear so many stories about how dreadfully RE has been taught in the past.  My own experiences of RE lessons at school are pretty grim but I don’t hold a grudge over it.  I have always been fascinated by religions and as a very young child my parents took my brother, sister and myself to so many historical places hence my love and respect for churches and graveyards and castles etc.  I have always been as comfortable celebrating Shabbat with my Jewish friend up north on a Friday as I have the following evening going to Catholic Mass with my parents. I’m not totally sure what the Rabbi would have thought about Guinness in my Kiddush cup but hey, Shalom man!

So, MPs please sort the RE out.  Parents please shut up about RE when you were at school and stop telling your kids RE is rubbish! How can you make these judgements? You are teaching them a lesson more dreadful than those RE lessons you hated! You are teaching them to put the blinkers on and close their young minds before even attempting to see what RE offers now.  I reiterate, it’s not Bible bashing! I don’t care two hoots what you believe in or don’t believe in. I don’t care two hoots what your child believes in or doesn’t believe in unless of course they choose to discuss it with me. What I care about most and what I’m passionate about, is your child not having grim experiences with RE.  I care about your child being equipped with knowledge and understanding about religions and beliefs and consequently the world we live in!

Obviously I am biased towards my subject, but look at the world around you. Look at all the issues in our world.  Can you honestly say that there is no place for religious education in our schools?  I sometimes contemplate whether it should also be compulsory for adults, particularly those who have had such disappointing RE lessons in the past and clearly struggle to get over it!

My life in Borstal.

I often joke, but with pride, state, that I was born in a ‘Workhouse’.  The Barony Hospital in Nantwich used to be the ‘Workhouse’. Ha bloody ha! It’s not really funny is it? But quite ironic that in April 1967 I left the workhouse with my mother to begin my life with her and my father, brother and sister at the borstal.  Officially known as an ‘Approved School’.  It was a borstal basically.  A youth prison!  My parents were ‘House Parents’.  It was run by Roman Catholic brothers. Oh yes here we go……. I am fully aware of the horror stories of abuse in such establishments, but it doesn’t apply to them all.

I am proudly a practising Catholic from what in my openly biased view, a fantastic Roman Catholic family.  My formative years obviously were painted and not tainted by Catholicism.  I lived in a Catholic borstal so was surrounded by brothers, monks, priests, whatever you want to call them.

Sadly I have few memories of those early years. But happily my clever little brain and it’s wonderful little cognitive processes have gifted me with some very precious recollections.

Borstal! Really, seriously naughty boys were allowed to play with me.  I remember these boys holding my hand as I wobbled a bit on the lawns. These were naughty boys.  Did I see that?  No! I saw kind lads who had been taught by my mother, and trusted by her to take me for a little walk. I remember faces stooping down to me asking if I was alright.  I recall the smiles, the laughs, the kindness, the gentleness.  I was far too young to know what these boys had done to disgrace society to the extent they had to be sent away to borstals around the country.

I have since talked to my parents about these experiences.  My mother tells me how they coochied-coohed me at breakfast time when I was in my high chair.  She tells me how these naughty boys asked constantly who and when they could take little Rhiannon out to play.  It’s an absolute credit to my parents that they allowed this trust to these boys.  It’s a credit to these boys too!

The majority of these boys had committed some nasty crimes. But tragically being sent to this particular borstal was a blessing, in more ways than one, for them. In those days, the late sixties, early seventies, life was different.  Smacking children was ok, a clip round the ear ‘ole did no harm.  I wonder if it did? You know what, every person I speak to in my own generation tells me they had ‘A clout’ at some point and they further recall; “It never did me no harm”.

My father had to deal with some big and very rough lads. If they got out of hand he dealt with them.  Yet they all respected him. They told him their problems. He listened and he guided them. They loved him.  How do I know that? Well I know from living in a borstal that children thrive on discipline. I know that children thrive on consistency. I know that children thrive on clear boundaries.  I know that children thrive on play, real play, in the woods, imagining kind of play, not computer games to shut us up and keep us quiet.  I know that even the most naughtiest of children thrive on trust! How do I know that? I played with them! I did these things; with naughty boys. With young criminals!

My mother spent hours washing those boys hair and she single handedly cleared that borstal of head lice!  When those boys returned from their weekends at home, they rushed to her to have a hair wash.  They loved her, she fed them, she taught them how to lay tables, how to eat properly, how to feed me!  She taught them to read and write. She taught them ‘sums’. She was a mother to them all.

I loved my formative years in the borstal.  So much so that I was actually ill when my father got another job and we had to move away.  I didn’t want to move. I was poorly for some time.

The media publicise so many horror stories about those years and particularly the Catholic Church.  It’s not fair because there have been grown men who have thanked my parents for that life they had. Grateful for the family they were part of.  I too am grateful to my parents. What guts did it take to bring up three children in a borstal? What courage to expose us to that at such a young age? What love to expose those ‘naughty’ boys to us.  What faith to allow those naughty boys to take a four-year old out to play?

It could be argued my memories are tainted, not only by age but by what I’ve been ‘filled in’ by my parents.  But I would fiercely dispute that.  I know what I saw. I know what I felt.  It is because of this background that I feel discipline, yes discipline along with love and guidance is the way forward for our youth today.

Let’s not send them all off to a borstal, but let’s look at all the possibilities for our troubled young folk.  Lets look at not condemning them or their families but perhaps giving all concerned a break to show other ways.  America have a tradition of Summer Camp.  Could we pluck up the courage to install something similar to not only give troubled families, indeed all families, a break and collectively show our children other pathways?  Would this be considered a ‘Nanny State’?  We all rely on the state one way or another, so why not utilise the state?

In my experience and from my youthful observations, some aspects of the borstal, the borstal in its finest form, have something still to offer.  Not as a punishment, but as an enlightenment.

When I was in prison!

For those of you who have been the victims of crime, those of you who feel that prison is a satisfactory method of punishment and retribution and pay back to society for the wrongs people have done, spend some time in a prison.

Humans very quickly adapt to their surroundings. In an evolutionary sense it’s probably one of our greatest assets and abilities. We have the capacity to institutionalise ourselves as well as ‘be’ institutionalised and become institutionalised. In prison this is more prominent as it is more less forced upon people. They have to adapt eventually. We can all try to fight a system for so long but inevitably there comes a point when we have to submit or at the very least compromise.

When I was in prison I was surrounded by people whom society has deemed criminal and therefore need to be locked away! Prison can be a daunting and overwhelming place to find oneself in. The clanging of gates and locks rang through my ears. The atonality of this ringing taunting like crazed bell-ringers trying to create a peel on an old railing.

The huge gates as I entered the prison to be searched were enough to make me want to prostrate myself on the ground and apologise profusely for all the wrongs I have ever done in my whole life! There was a strange comfort once inside though. Surprisingly, I felt more at ease when I met other inmates. They knew the routine. They would show me round and tell me the truth about prison life.

I met the Head of Education who showed me around the classrooms. Lessons were quite different to those in a ‘normal’ school. I was intrigued. I took my seat and waited for the lesson to begin. A prison officer entered the room and just stood there! He didn’t say a word. He just stood watching us all. One inmate clearly showed no intention of sitting through this lesson and was removed very swiftly from the room. A couple of others laughed, I didn’t. I was nervous. A little scared even.

The next lesson I joined was a Design and Technology lesson. Some inmates there proudly showed me a wall they had built. They recounted how they’d learnt to build but they were going to have to knock their wall down. I asked them if they were sad about that and they replied in unison; “No, we’ll build another one even better”. They went on to tell me that they wanted to be builders when they got out. I knew that one of them wanted to talk some more but was hesitant until the other went off to continue with another task. Then this young heart opened up; “I’ll be out soon and I never want to come back here”. I smiled, that smile when you want to hug someone but know you can’t. That smile that you hope is positive and comforting and supportive. That simple smile because there are no words. I heard myself mutter; “Good for you love”; to which the response was; “Yeah I know”. I felt for a moment that this inmate was comforting and consoling me, as if I had any right to feel secure about the future ahead for this young person.

It was then time to be shown the ‘cells’. The bedrooms. Not bad little rooms, horrible doors, locked at night! I wondered how that felt. I didn’t really want to know. Some inmates had tried to personalise their rooms but with little success from my viewpoint.

I went back to talk to the Education Department. They do a fantastic job and maintain such admirable enthusiasm. I felt a little ashamed at the things I moan about as a teacher. These teachers, despite all the odd against them, teach and never give up on the youngsters that really are at rock bottom. These children make some progress but then are either released or moved on to an adult prison. What is their destiny then? I asked myself, ‘Why can’t they stay somewhere long-term and benefit from more education and training?’. Why give them a taste of success and achievement only to take it away again? What exactly was the point of this?

When I was in prison I had taken up the unique opportunity to spend a short time there as a visiting teacher. This was not long after my daughter and I had been brutally attacked so I admit, part of the reason I jumped at the chance was to see punishment being dished out! I suppose, if I’m brutally honest, I wanted to see suffering, hear them cry! Yet as I entered the prison my heart sunk. When I talked to these young men, these children, I didn’t want them to suffer at all.

What I did see was despite what some of the media portray, these prisoners were certainly not living a life of luxury. These youngsters told me they didn’t want to be there. They want to make something of their lives. They didn’t understand where things had gone wrong. So who does? Is it lack of discipline at an early age? Is it poor parenting? Is it peer pressure? Is it poverty? Is it inadequate diet? What is it? I want to know because there but for the grace of God, any one of these boys could have been my own child. They are all somebody’s sons!

I left prison asking myself whether we should be subjecting children to custodial sentences. We have to be realistic though; some of the young men I talked to had committed some pretty grim crimes and were very troubled youngsters and do pose a risk to others and to themselves. But as a teacher, it was the educational part of it that saddened me the most. A child has a right to an education but it seemed in prison, only  …. when it’s convenient, when it suits us.

I suspect one contributing factor to these children being in that place, is arguably, lack of consistency, whether that be home life issues or wider societal issues. But how do we define that and where do we draw the line of responsibility? I don’t want any child to go to prison but as of yet society hasn’t developed any alternatives appropriate for these young arbitrators of serious crimes. Society has a right to be protected. But my concern haunts me still; no one should be deprived of an education, whatever they have done and wherever they are.

The support systems I saw in that prison were amazing and every chance is offered but time is against everyone in prison; inmates, wardens and teachers. Time eh! That old bastard that won’t give any leeway!

But let me tell you one final thing! It’s not nice in prison!