It's been a while... right now I'm sat in the home of the family who've put me up so I could move to my new place of work, surrounded by the washing I failed to do over the weekend and which now urgently needs to dry before I leave for Italy in two days. In the oven downstairs are my chocolate and ginger cupcakes. In a flat across town is a table full of half-addressed envelopes and wedding invitations. In the office a few miles away is an incomplete draft of a PR article that I've been having a complete mental blank about. In Lincolnshire is my great grandmother, who this evening warned me not to go anywhere in Italy by myself, because "you never can be sure in these foreign countries". In my head is the thought that she could be a casual racist, but then again she is in her eighties and maybe Italy wasn't so safe last time she went there.
These are the strings of my life for the moment, or at least those most immediately memorable. In the background, buzzing like a fly I can't bring myself to swat, is the thought that the abandonment of this blog over the last few months has been more than just distraction. Maybe I've lost some of the urge to engage politically since I "settled" into a "regular work routine". And actually, I never intended to be a bludgeoning maniac here anyway. Brown may have called me a bigot if he'd met me, but I like to think it would only be because I was right, and not because I was obnoxious. There's more to politics than the 'big P'.
So I've been thinking a little about intentions and declarations this week. In the light of the Lib Dems' complete turnaround on tuition fees, it seems appropriate to consider the compromises we make. Admittedly mine have less national consequence than the government's... ladening the next generation of degree-holders with even greater debt is hardly comparable to my occasionally failing to wash my hair because I stayed up too late watching Strictly on iPlayer. On the other hand, if I were more disciplined and determined, especially in other more significant areas of my life, perhaps I would have a greater positive impact on those around me.
Politics, whether national or personal, never comes down to positive thinking or crowd-pleasing, whatever we might think. In the end a compromise has to be made one way or the other - do you stick with what you believe to be right, or do you bend with the most favourable wind? The reason so many people my age are not interested in what our government does except to whine about it is probably this exact problem - a lack of consistency. Don't the decision-makers think we can see through their bluffs? Inconsistent politics, and inconsistent living, put people off and make them cynical. Yes, somebody needs to pay for the cost of higher education, and if it's not feasible to make it free or subsidise it anymore then we have to come up with a plan. But I do wish people wouldn't make promises they cannot, or will not, keep.
On a lighter note, my cupcakes are done, and I'm going to ice them. I intend to bring some 'positive impact' to the workplace tomorrow... :)
Watch this space for "Vive le Nomad: summer reminiscence" in a week or two...
Monday 18 October 2010
Monday 10 May 2010
Ring It Up
Four days, forty-five minutes on... Here we are my friends, on the brink of, well, nobody knows. Three days, eight hours ago it was officially almost definitely certainly a hung parliament. Three days ago, that was about all that was definitely certain. Two days ago, it was a Labour/Lib Dem will they, won't they. This morning, the Mirror went with this fantastic headline:
"CON DEM
NATION"
You've gotta love the red-tops. If you go to their website there's an even better treat - you can read about Gordon Brown's pending resignation as Labour leader alongside such articles as "Kerry Katona's Tongue" and "Guiness Guzzler". Wow, the news really is a revelation.
But I'm forgetting myself: the big revelation for the day is surely the aforementioned political announcement: that the Labour Party Conference in September will now be the campaign-ground (sorry to use such a tired phrase) for whoever wants Brown's job. And as, unlike last time, I don't think anyone has called dibs, it could be interesting. In fact, 'could be' is putting it mildly; it's looking increasingly likely that said position will also have "PM" tagged onto it.
I have to say, it's a clever tactical move. Crow if you want to, all you haters of Brown, but he's not going just yet - and he's not promising that his party will, either. Oh no. Labour is in it for a fight. It's not for nothing that Clegg has been labelled 'the king-maker' - the fate of this nation lies in his hands. And before you accuse me of melodrama, the facts speak for themselves: Brown can potentially negotiate a Labour-Lib Dem deal as a result of this decision alone, which is nothing to do with the policies which the parties fought so hard over, and on the strength of which we (presumably) elected our MPs. If a change of personality at the top is all it takes, then we should have genuine concern for the good of our nation at the hands of those who may be bargaining more for power than for policy. It remains to be seen whether or not Clegg will cave at this point; it will be a test of both his character and his political morals.
For those of us who see politics combining pleasure and business, watching the reactions of voters in the fallout of Thursday's results has been interesting to say the least. I was there, huddled on a leather couch into the wee and then positively breakfast-time hours of Friday morning, staking out the college bar with a group of die-hard first-time voters. We "ooh-ed" and "ah-ed" as the hopes of a series of candidates were dashed or elevated, and the Green Party enthusiast on the couch beside me stopped just short of physical violence as the screen showed more and more blue - he finally went to bed when Brighton got its Green MP, leaving his pepsi cans behind him. I would not have wanted to be the person clearing up that bar the following day, nor would I have wanted to be a boss trying to coax work out of shattered employees on Friday morning.
The thing is, even with the mess and excruciating drawn-out-ness of the whole thing, it was incredibly satisfying in a way that the lack of conclusive result should negate. As long as I've known what the word 'politics' means, I've had a fascination with how it works. Maybe it came from family get-together which turned into heated debates over foreign policy. Maybe it's the imposing tome of Margaret Thatcher's Statecraft in my parents' bookshelf, which, though I have never attempted to read it, exudes a steady sense of its own significance in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it's the local politics that made me accost a TV reporter outside my primary school at the ripe age of seven or eight, to give him a piece of my mind. Whatever it is, on Thursday I finally had the immense privilege of officially participating in a system which, whatever it's flaws, is the mainstay of modern democracy in our nation. And as the result came in for my constituency, I saw how much my vote had mattered.
Obviously there are problems with the way democracy is outworked in Britain. We hear it every four years when people start making noise about an archaic electoral system. We hear it when devolved bodies are not given the powers they were expecting. We hear it when a promised referendum is persistently denied us. And I, for one, am not content to sit and put up with that which is in clear need of change. But I am glad that we have the opportunity to voice our opinions at all, and I am encouraged that so many young voters recognised the significance of their voices last week. It may take time to iron out, and we can be sure that the result will not be to everyone's liking, but if there's one thing I've learnt from this election, it's that Britain hasn't sunk into apathy just yet. And if those of us cutting our teeth can join those measuring up their walking canes, there's no reason why we can't preserve that freedom, and take steps to improve and safeguard it. As long as we are able to hold our leaders and representatives accountable, then Britain isn't down the proverbial toilet. If it looks like it's going that way, then let's stop complaining and make something happen.
Vive la revolution!
"CON DEM
NATION"
You've gotta love the red-tops. If you go to their website there's an even better treat - you can read about Gordon Brown's pending resignation as Labour leader alongside such articles as "Kerry Katona's Tongue" and "Guiness Guzzler". Wow, the news really is a revelation.
But I'm forgetting myself: the big revelation for the day is surely the aforementioned political announcement: that the Labour Party Conference in September will now be the campaign-ground (sorry to use such a tired phrase) for whoever wants Brown's job. And as, unlike last time, I don't think anyone has called dibs, it could be interesting. In fact, 'could be' is putting it mildly; it's looking increasingly likely that said position will also have "PM" tagged onto it.
I have to say, it's a clever tactical move. Crow if you want to, all you haters of Brown, but he's not going just yet - and he's not promising that his party will, either. Oh no. Labour is in it for a fight. It's not for nothing that Clegg has been labelled 'the king-maker' - the fate of this nation lies in his hands. And before you accuse me of melodrama, the facts speak for themselves: Brown can potentially negotiate a Labour-Lib Dem deal as a result of this decision alone, which is nothing to do with the policies which the parties fought so hard over, and on the strength of which we (presumably) elected our MPs. If a change of personality at the top is all it takes, then we should have genuine concern for the good of our nation at the hands of those who may be bargaining more for power than for policy. It remains to be seen whether or not Clegg will cave at this point; it will be a test of both his character and his political morals.
For those of us who see politics combining pleasure and business, watching the reactions of voters in the fallout of Thursday's results has been interesting to say the least. I was there, huddled on a leather couch into the wee and then positively breakfast-time hours of Friday morning, staking out the college bar with a group of die-hard first-time voters. We "ooh-ed" and "ah-ed" as the hopes of a series of candidates were dashed or elevated, and the Green Party enthusiast on the couch beside me stopped just short of physical violence as the screen showed more and more blue - he finally went to bed when Brighton got its Green MP, leaving his pepsi cans behind him. I would not have wanted to be the person clearing up that bar the following day, nor would I have wanted to be a boss trying to coax work out of shattered employees on Friday morning.
The thing is, even with the mess and excruciating drawn-out-ness of the whole thing, it was incredibly satisfying in a way that the lack of conclusive result should negate. As long as I've known what the word 'politics' means, I've had a fascination with how it works. Maybe it came from family get-together which turned into heated debates over foreign policy. Maybe it's the imposing tome of Margaret Thatcher's Statecraft in my parents' bookshelf, which, though I have never attempted to read it, exudes a steady sense of its own significance in the grand scheme of things. Maybe it's the local politics that made me accost a TV reporter outside my primary school at the ripe age of seven or eight, to give him a piece of my mind. Whatever it is, on Thursday I finally had the immense privilege of officially participating in a system which, whatever it's flaws, is the mainstay of modern democracy in our nation. And as the result came in for my constituency, I saw how much my vote had mattered.
Obviously there are problems with the way democracy is outworked in Britain. We hear it every four years when people start making noise about an archaic electoral system. We hear it when devolved bodies are not given the powers they were expecting. We hear it when a promised referendum is persistently denied us. And I, for one, am not content to sit and put up with that which is in clear need of change. But I am glad that we have the opportunity to voice our opinions at all, and I am encouraged that so many young voters recognised the significance of their voices last week. It may take time to iron out, and we can be sure that the result will not be to everyone's liking, but if there's one thing I've learnt from this election, it's that Britain hasn't sunk into apathy just yet. And if those of us cutting our teeth can join those measuring up their walking canes, there's no reason why we can't preserve that freedom, and take steps to improve and safeguard it. As long as we are able to hold our leaders and representatives accountable, then Britain isn't down the proverbial toilet. If it looks like it's going that way, then let's stop complaining and make something happen.
Vive la revolution!
Thursday 22 April 2010
A Parliamentary Game of Slaps
I don't know about you, but I love a bit of PMQT (that's Prime Minister's Question Time, for the uninitiated). There's nothing more entertaining than a group of men in suits having a full-on slanging match across a strip of spring green carpet, appearing to all intents and purposes to be re-living the liptastic world of the playgrounds (or dayrooms) that they grew up in. And I'm sorry to all the feminists out there who've noticed my exclusive gender reference, but I can honestly say I have yet to witness a female MP with quite the same propensity to spout verbal effluence at her fellow Honourable Members.
This whole political slag-off tactic thing is a time-honoured tradition, famously championed by the irrepressible Winston Churchill whose favourite targets included former PMs Clement Atlee - 'a modest man, who has much to be modest about' - and Neville Chamberlain, who was apparently looking at foreign affairs through 'the wrong end of a municipal drainpipe'. We love a bit of dirty politics, if we're honest, but after a while it all becomes a bit tired. At least Churchill was witty. And honestly, did anyone feel sorry for UKIP's Nigel Farage when he was taken out by Hislop and co on Have I Got News For You a few weeks ago, for insulting EU President Herman Van Rompuy?
"You have the charisma of a damp rag, and the appearance of a low grade bank clerk. "
If that wasn't funny enough, he then went on to claim, "I've never heard of you, nobody in Europe has ever heard of you." Really? You'd think an MP would have scored a bit higher in the Political General Knowledge round. Even I have some vague idea who he is, and I'm the Politics class member who took a knife to the Houses of Parliament (more on that at a later date). For ten points, Mr Farage, can you name the current Prime Minister? No? Okay, we'll come back to you...
Seriously though - funny, yes. I know I shouldn't admit it, but it was funny - not because I think Herman Van Rompuy resembles a 'low grade bank clerk' (incidentally, I think all bank clerks out there ought to register a rightful indignation with Mr Farage), but because Farage actually thought he was being 'quite moderate and reasonable.' For real. And would he think it was reasonable if someone got up and told him, for example, that he was in serious need of dental work and looked like he dressed himself from a bin bag? All of which is fairly irrelevant, really - and that's the point. What someone looks like isn't the issue in politics; what they do and what they believe in, is. I know it sounds corny, but if we can't get over the snipes and jibes of contemporary political banter then we won't have a decent government at all - just a parliamentary game of slaps, with a bit of legislation thrown in for good measure.
Which is why I'll heartily join Ian Hislop in telling Mr Moderate and Reasonable, 'you mustn't assume that the general population is as ignorant as you are.' Ouch! But he has a point. For better or worse, Farage and the other 645 MPs represent us: our values, our priorities, our opinions. No, they can't get it right all of the time, and no, we'll never realistically have a system that equalises every view, because nothing would ever get done. But we have a right to hold our representatives to account - which is kind of hard when they're intent on slagging each other off instead of taking their jobs seriously.
I recently had a flier through my door from my local MP, who is a Lib Dem. I have nothing personal against the guy, but I was shocked and disappointed at the way he treated his Tory opposition. He didn't even bother to name him, choosing to refer to him as 'the Conservative Candidate from Cornwall' (a clear alienation tactic for a Somerset constituency), and made all kinds of unsubstantiated accusations rather than bothering to detail his own, presumably-excellent-because-he-wants-us-to-vote-for-him, plans. What kind of a politics is that? I don't vote on the basis of who can dish the most dirt; I want to be able to trust my MP.
I know politics is a lot about advertising, and fair enough, you've got to have some tactics. Pointing out genuine problems in your rivals' schemes is legitimate, but unnecessary bad-mouthing is just unprofessional. In fact, I can't think of another field of employment in which someone would get away with it, apart from stand-up comedy. Of course the British people are not ignorant; why should we allow ourselves to be played by those politicians who fail to demonstrate substance because they think we'll fall for their froth? We deserve a better class of politicians - men and women who value professionalism and integrity over cheap jibes.
My advice this General Election, for what it's worth, is to evaluate prospective MPs based on their conduct as well as their policies, and to cut through the witty banter to the issues that are really important. And if you'd like to watch Nigel Farage embarrassing himself, be my guest:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkhqyoZkXy4&feature=related
I'll be back after the weekend for a look at the inner machinations of Parliament - and don't worry, it will be more upbeat. I might even include the knife story...
This whole political slag-off tactic thing is a time-honoured tradition, famously championed by the irrepressible Winston Churchill whose favourite targets included former PMs Clement Atlee - 'a modest man, who has much to be modest about' - and Neville Chamberlain, who was apparently looking at foreign affairs through 'the wrong end of a municipal drainpipe'. We love a bit of dirty politics, if we're honest, but after a while it all becomes a bit tired. At least Churchill was witty. And honestly, did anyone feel sorry for UKIP's Nigel Farage when he was taken out by Hislop and co on Have I Got News For You a few weeks ago, for insulting EU President Herman Van Rompuy?
"You have the charisma of a damp rag, and the appearance of a low grade bank clerk. "
If that wasn't funny enough, he then went on to claim, "I've never heard of you, nobody in Europe has ever heard of you." Really? You'd think an MP would have scored a bit higher in the Political General Knowledge round. Even I have some vague idea who he is, and I'm the Politics class member who took a knife to the Houses of Parliament (more on that at a later date). For ten points, Mr Farage, can you name the current Prime Minister? No? Okay, we'll come back to you...
Seriously though - funny, yes. I know I shouldn't admit it, but it was funny - not because I think Herman Van Rompuy resembles a 'low grade bank clerk' (incidentally, I think all bank clerks out there ought to register a rightful indignation with Mr Farage), but because Farage actually thought he was being 'quite moderate and reasonable.' For real. And would he think it was reasonable if someone got up and told him, for example, that he was in serious need of dental work and looked like he dressed himself from a bin bag? All of which is fairly irrelevant, really - and that's the point. What someone looks like isn't the issue in politics; what they do and what they believe in, is. I know it sounds corny, but if we can't get over the snipes and jibes of contemporary political banter then we won't have a decent government at all - just a parliamentary game of slaps, with a bit of legislation thrown in for good measure.
Which is why I'll heartily join Ian Hislop in telling Mr Moderate and Reasonable, 'you mustn't assume that the general population is as ignorant as you are.' Ouch! But he has a point. For better or worse, Farage and the other 645 MPs represent us: our values, our priorities, our opinions. No, they can't get it right all of the time, and no, we'll never realistically have a system that equalises every view, because nothing would ever get done. But we have a right to hold our representatives to account - which is kind of hard when they're intent on slagging each other off instead of taking their jobs seriously.
I recently had a flier through my door from my local MP, who is a Lib Dem. I have nothing personal against the guy, but I was shocked and disappointed at the way he treated his Tory opposition. He didn't even bother to name him, choosing to refer to him as 'the Conservative Candidate from Cornwall' (a clear alienation tactic for a Somerset constituency), and made all kinds of unsubstantiated accusations rather than bothering to detail his own, presumably-excellent-because-he-wants-us-to-vote-for-him, plans. What kind of a politics is that? I don't vote on the basis of who can dish the most dirt; I want to be able to trust my MP.
I know politics is a lot about advertising, and fair enough, you've got to have some tactics. Pointing out genuine problems in your rivals' schemes is legitimate, but unnecessary bad-mouthing is just unprofessional. In fact, I can't think of another field of employment in which someone would get away with it, apart from stand-up comedy. Of course the British people are not ignorant; why should we allow ourselves to be played by those politicians who fail to demonstrate substance because they think we'll fall for their froth? We deserve a better class of politicians - men and women who value professionalism and integrity over cheap jibes.
My advice this General Election, for what it's worth, is to evaluate prospective MPs based on their conduct as well as their policies, and to cut through the witty banter to the issues that are really important. And if you'd like to watch Nigel Farage embarrassing himself, be my guest:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkhqyoZkXy4&feature=related
I'll be back after the weekend for a look at the inner machinations of Parliament - and don't worry, it will be more upbeat. I might even include the knife story...
Tuesday 13 April 2010
Brick Walls and State Schools
I was born in 1988, the year the National Curriculum was born. Conservative government, privatising principles, nationalising education. "Greater control and direction = better results" was the basic formula. Of course, results then didn't mean quite what they do now; the phrase 'school results' today brings to mind GCSE and A Level grade percentages, league tables, report cards. 22 years ago they meant success in the National Curriculum's aim: children should be 'equipped with the knowledge, skills and understanding that they need for adult life and employment.' And if you're a boff who wants more info, try here: http://www.educationengland.org.uk/articles/07ncteacher.html
Personally I've had a good range of educative experience: I spent my primary years in a tiny village C of E school, with weekly story times from the local vicar, and weekly trips to the swimming pool, during which misbehaving boys would be sent to change in the girls' locker rooms as punishment. Unlikely to be legal these days, but that's how it worked. There were about 75 pupils, most of us knew everyone else's names, and we scraped our knees on gravel playground, sat on heat-absorbent tarpaulins on sweltering sports days, and got to climb the church tower before we left.
I then spent a 'prep year' at a local private school, full of terrifyingly tall sixth-formers and impressive buildings. A geeky type, I probably deserved some of the ribbing I got for writing "I LOVE SCHOOL!" all over my stationery, but even at the tender age of ten I could perceive a certain favouritism among the teachers, the effortless way in which wealthier children seemed to get into less trouble, and I certainly wasn't ready for the snubs I earned from my peers for being a second-hand blazer-wearing, goody two-shoes, council house kid. Having thrown in the goody-two-shoes towel and taken to rampant swearing and petty theft, I wasn't any happier and jumped at the chance to be taken out of school - to be taught at home.
Home education is a whole other world, but not, as many seem to think, an isolated, mind-numbingly insufficient educative world of extended play times and group meditation. I found myself part of an entirely different community, one made up of a surprisingly high number of ex-teachers, intelligent and educated men and women, the occasional hippy (also intelligent and educated, lest I be accused of discrimination), all of whom had decided that for whatever reason, the national curriculum wasn't delivering and they wanted the freedom to help their unique children with their unique strengths and weaknesses.
Fast-forward six years and I was plunged back into the private sector, suited and booted for sixth form in a large Methodist school, with leisurely summer afternoons watching the First Cricket team, wind-surfing lessons, and politics trips to Westminster (involving The Embarrassing Incident of the Knife, details of which will be divulged at a later date).
Now I'm winding up a degree at Oxford University, and I can't help thinking that, even though I didn't experience every form and aspect of education (I was never in a city school, for example, and I never had to sit GCSEs), I've had a fairly rounded run. I'm glad that my parents had the guts to go against the grain and find what was best for each of their five children. I'm glad I had the privelege of schools which, whatever their faults, had dedicated and motivated staff. I'm aware that this isn't everyone's experience, but I know it's what governments and political parties have been working toward - isn't it?
Having waffled away about Me, I'm now turning to Us: because the future of British education won't affect us so much as our children, if and when we have any, and the experience of British education over the past decade or so is going to make a drastic difference to our political, social, and economic future as a nation. Doing the maths (and that's with an 's' because I'm not American), the 18-year-olds about to vote for the first time are Labour Babies, educationally speaking. They went into school in 1997 or thereabouts, and they've had 13 years of Labour-directed educative development.
In the 1960s through to the 1980s, the general situation of education remained fundamentally as it had been at the turn of the century: teachers had control of 'the secret garden', because education was understood to be about the needs of the individual child, and teachers were the best equipped to address such needs. They knew how to develop curriculum because they had classroom experience; schools took responsibility for curriculum development because their reputation rested solely on their self-determination. Local Education Authorities existed, as did an examination system, and along with parental involvement these helped to give shape to curriculum to ensure that it wasn't entirely teacher-driven.
The National Curriculum has brought various benefits, and this isn't going to be a debate over whether or not it should exist - a complete moot point, under the circumstances. What we need to know is how it has developed, and where it's going, and who wants to do what with it.
SO - documented evidence gives us:
An expansive curriculum: addition of new subjects like 'PSHE (Personal Social Health and Economic Education)/ General Studies (this for me during 6th form entailed five lessons on how much debt university would put me in, and five lessons which I never had due to timetable foul-ups, on sexual health, condom-and-banana style. I'm sure other schools did better.)
In 2007 a body of experts attacked the proposed National Curriculum for under-fives, which would apply to 25,000+ private and public nurseries as well as professional childminders. Dr House, a leading child psychologist, expressed concerns that 'The central State is defining what child development is. It means that a pre-school would have to pursue the Government's defined view of healthy child development, even if it contradicts with their own view.'
A measured curriculum: year in, year out, the GCSE and A Level results cause a national discussion in the media for a few weeks on the supposed dumbing-down of exams in order to raise national grade averages, and put schools in a better place on the dreaded league tables. Initially intended to enable educative authorities to pin-point and help schools with struggling children, league tables have become the bane of many a teacher's life, and the stress is apparently being passed down to students - I don't know if a national student poll has been taken to verify this, but if it was I didn't hear about it. It is true that there is a drop in students choosing 'harder', knowledge-based as opposed to analysis-based subjects at exam level. And I have plenty of perfectly capable friends who were denied the supposed free choice to pursue four A levels, being told instead to focus on the three they would do best in.
A centralised curriculum: fair access, pretty much absolutely... to state schools, if you're in the catchment area, if there's room for you (a frequent problem with schools high on the league tables), if the quality, ability and resources for teachers are equal across the board, if class numbers are reasonable enough for the teacher to give one-to-one help to each pupil as it's needed...etc. The ideal is wonderful, but obviously our current curriculum alone cannot achieve all of this. So should changes to the curriculum really be the priority right now, if current standards are not being met uniformly?
OKAY, ENOUGH! HERE ARE THE IMPORTANT BITS: PARTY POLICY
Labour:
Extra catch-up lessons in maths, reading and writing for those who fall behind.
'Every parent will have the power to get a better school for their child' says their video: unspecific as to method.
All school-leavers will have guaranteed sixth form, college, or apprenticeship places.
Conservatives:
All state schools will be able to offer the international exams offered by private schools.
20,000 more young apprenticeships to be created.
Parents given power to save threatened schools from closing (also unspecific as to method, but you're a clever cookie, you can look it up).
More frequent inspections for failing schools.
Liberal Democrats:
Cut class sizes.
Enable teachers to have more classroom time (how?)
Provide schools with money for evening classes and one-to-one tuition.
Six-stage timetable for scrapping university tuition fees for first-time undergraduates.
So there you go, much waffling later. Feel free to go find out more. I'll see you next time for a discussion of political tactics, or Why Do Politicians Think We'll Vote For Them Just Because They Slag Each Other Off...
Personally I've had a good range of educative experience: I spent my primary years in a tiny village C of E school, with weekly story times from the local vicar, and weekly trips to the swimming pool, during which misbehaving boys would be sent to change in the girls' locker rooms as punishment. Unlikely to be legal these days, but that's how it worked. There were about 75 pupils, most of us knew everyone else's names, and we scraped our knees on gravel playground, sat on heat-absorbent tarpaulins on sweltering sports days, and got to climb the church tower before we left.
I then spent a 'prep year' at a local private school, full of terrifyingly tall sixth-formers and impressive buildings. A geeky type, I probably deserved some of the ribbing I got for writing "I LOVE SCHOOL!" all over my stationery, but even at the tender age of ten I could perceive a certain favouritism among the teachers, the effortless way in which wealthier children seemed to get into less trouble, and I certainly wasn't ready for the snubs I earned from my peers for being a second-hand blazer-wearing, goody two-shoes, council house kid. Having thrown in the goody-two-shoes towel and taken to rampant swearing and petty theft, I wasn't any happier and jumped at the chance to be taken out of school - to be taught at home.
Home education is a whole other world, but not, as many seem to think, an isolated, mind-numbingly insufficient educative world of extended play times and group meditation. I found myself part of an entirely different community, one made up of a surprisingly high number of ex-teachers, intelligent and educated men and women, the occasional hippy (also intelligent and educated, lest I be accused of discrimination), all of whom had decided that for whatever reason, the national curriculum wasn't delivering and they wanted the freedom to help their unique children with their unique strengths and weaknesses.
Fast-forward six years and I was plunged back into the private sector, suited and booted for sixth form in a large Methodist school, with leisurely summer afternoons watching the First Cricket team, wind-surfing lessons, and politics trips to Westminster (involving The Embarrassing Incident of the Knife, details of which will be divulged at a later date).
Now I'm winding up a degree at Oxford University, and I can't help thinking that, even though I didn't experience every form and aspect of education (I was never in a city school, for example, and I never had to sit GCSEs), I've had a fairly rounded run. I'm glad that my parents had the guts to go against the grain and find what was best for each of their five children. I'm glad I had the privelege of schools which, whatever their faults, had dedicated and motivated staff. I'm aware that this isn't everyone's experience, but I know it's what governments and political parties have been working toward - isn't it?
Having waffled away about Me, I'm now turning to Us: because the future of British education won't affect us so much as our children, if and when we have any, and the experience of British education over the past decade or so is going to make a drastic difference to our political, social, and economic future as a nation. Doing the maths (and that's with an 's' because I'm not American), the 18-year-olds about to vote for the first time are Labour Babies, educationally speaking. They went into school in 1997 or thereabouts, and they've had 13 years of Labour-directed educative development.
In the 1960s through to the 1980s, the general situation of education remained fundamentally as it had been at the turn of the century: teachers had control of 'the secret garden', because education was understood to be about the needs of the individual child, and teachers were the best equipped to address such needs. They knew how to develop curriculum because they had classroom experience; schools took responsibility for curriculum development because their reputation rested solely on their self-determination. Local Education Authorities existed, as did an examination system, and along with parental involvement these helped to give shape to curriculum to ensure that it wasn't entirely teacher-driven.
The National Curriculum has brought various benefits, and this isn't going to be a debate over whether or not it should exist - a complete moot point, under the circumstances. What we need to know is how it has developed, and where it's going, and who wants to do what with it.
SO - documented evidence gives us:
An expansive curriculum: addition of new subjects like 'PSHE (Personal Social Health and Economic Education)/ General Studies (this for me during 6th form entailed five lessons on how much debt university would put me in, and five lessons which I never had due to timetable foul-ups, on sexual health, condom-and-banana style. I'm sure other schools did better.)
In 2007 a body of experts attacked the proposed National Curriculum for under-fives, which would apply to 25,000+ private and public nurseries as well as professional childminders. Dr House, a leading child psychologist, expressed concerns that 'The central State is defining what child development is. It means that a pre-school would have to pursue the Government's defined view of healthy child development, even if it contradicts with their own view.'
A measured curriculum: year in, year out, the GCSE and A Level results cause a national discussion in the media for a few weeks on the supposed dumbing-down of exams in order to raise national grade averages, and put schools in a better place on the dreaded league tables. Initially intended to enable educative authorities to pin-point and help schools with struggling children, league tables have become the bane of many a teacher's life, and the stress is apparently being passed down to students - I don't know if a national student poll has been taken to verify this, but if it was I didn't hear about it. It is true that there is a drop in students choosing 'harder', knowledge-based as opposed to analysis-based subjects at exam level. And I have plenty of perfectly capable friends who were denied the supposed free choice to pursue four A levels, being told instead to focus on the three they would do best in.
A centralised curriculum: fair access, pretty much absolutely... to state schools, if you're in the catchment area, if there's room for you (a frequent problem with schools high on the league tables), if the quality, ability and resources for teachers are equal across the board, if class numbers are reasonable enough for the teacher to give one-to-one help to each pupil as it's needed...etc. The ideal is wonderful, but obviously our current curriculum alone cannot achieve all of this. So should changes to the curriculum really be the priority right now, if current standards are not being met uniformly?
OKAY, ENOUGH! HERE ARE THE IMPORTANT BITS: PARTY POLICY
Labour:
Extra catch-up lessons in maths, reading and writing for those who fall behind.
'Every parent will have the power to get a better school for their child' says their video: unspecific as to method.
All school-leavers will have guaranteed sixth form, college, or apprenticeship places.
Conservatives:
All state schools will be able to offer the international exams offered by private schools.
20,000 more young apprenticeships to be created.
Parents given power to save threatened schools from closing (also unspecific as to method, but you're a clever cookie, you can look it up).
More frequent inspections for failing schools.
Liberal Democrats:
Cut class sizes.
Enable teachers to have more classroom time (how?)
Provide schools with money for evening classes and one-to-one tuition.
Six-stage timetable for scrapping university tuition fees for first-time undergraduates.
So there you go, much waffling later. Feel free to go find out more. I'll see you next time for a discussion of political tactics, or Why Do Politicians Think We'll Vote For Them Just Because They Slag Each Other Off...
Friday 9 April 2010
Riding Through the Glen
Green tights and bows and arrows? Try masks and petitions...with tights as an optional extra.
The great count-down has begun, and for the next 26 days we are at the mercy of every political agent that can get us to spare five minutes of our time. Your mail will suddenly become colour-coded blue red yellow green, the local newspaper will be full of vying prospective MPs visiting primary schools, and Ian Hislop will continue to use Have I Got News For You as a soap box (I won't begrudge him the opportunity as it's highly entertaining, but don't expect me to concede the political neutrality of the BBC).
Now I'm one of the kids who lost out by a few weeks last election (June babies), but that doesn't mean I'm going to join several million 18-21-year-olds in going in blind. Did you know that voter turnout last time was only 61%? That it was only 59% the time before that? In 2005, more eligible people opted not to vote at all than voted for Labour. Their percentage of votes (36) was the smallest percentage that any government has been elected on in UK history.
My point isn't to question the legitimacy of their government or to propagate my own political views (which, while fixed on some issues, are as much in flux as anyone's in the current climate). But there has to be a reason for the apathy - and to be honest, I think we're all just a bit confused and fed up with spin.
So for the next 26 days, this blog will be dedicated to exploring the issues surrounding May's election, in the hope that a few more people (including myself!) will be able to make an informed decision come May 6th.
All well and good, I hear, but what's with the tights reference? Thank you for your patience, good reader - I will explain. Ever heard of Robin Hood? So have these guys:
http://robinhoodtax.org.uk/
The Idea: tax banks and hedge funds a tiny percentage (0.005-0.05%) on their major transactions, and use the money for work on poverty and climate change in the UK and abroad.
The People Behind The Idea: A group of charities, campaigning groups and other organisations that focus on reducing poverty and tackling climate change - there's a huge list, from Care International and the YWCA to Unicef and Tearfund.
The Proposed Method: Levy a very small tax on transactions over a certain size within banking and other large financial institutions: the tax is not meant to be applied to customer transactions but to share deals, currency exchanges and other such trading that these organisations carry out.
The Money: The scheme can only be implemented on a national level, for obvious reasons, but the funds raised are intended to be used for international work as well as home-front projects. At the moment, no straight answers for who exactly would control the funds are being given on the website, but the 'best practice' standard according to economist Professor Jeffrey Sachs 'will surely engage civil society in very practical, programmatic ways in the use of the funds'. Idealism is rife among the Robin Hoodies (I really wish I'd coined that but sadly it's theirs) - they want to set a global standard for all kinds of funds from healthcare to education.
The Holes: The campaigners have done their best to reassure us that the cost of such a tax wouldn't be passed on to the general public, and based on past evidence and the minute percentage proposed, it doesn't seem likely that the average householder will be affected, unless that householder is a billionaire hedge-funder. BUT - short of very complex statutory regulations if this goes to Parliament, there's no guarantee.
Who's In: If you want to go through the Robin Hoodies' bibliography, you'll find a nice big list of names that I probably can't pronounce, but failing that, some people you might have heard of are Gordon Brown, Angela Merkel and Nicolas Sarkozy. You can also go to this page:
http://robinhoodtax.org.uk/homepage/the-robin-hood-tax-campaign-responds-to-the-budget/
to see Alistair Darling photo-edited into a Sheriff-of-Nottingham beard. They didn't bother to doctor his eyebrows.
The Campaign: this is the fun bit, for those of you who are keen - anywhere near London tomorrow? Fancy dressing up as Robin Hood and going to Speaker's Corner? Public demonstration hasn't been this entertaining since Fathers 4 Justice (yes, that's how they spelt it) in their hero outfits. I wonder how many capes there'll be this time. Hopefully anyone turning up with a REAL bow and arrow will be sent packing rapidly - arrests for weapon possession might not help the cause...
For those without the guts, means or legs to pull off the tights 'n' shorts look, facebook may just be the answer - uploading a photo of yourself in a green eye mask is supposed to be helpful. But don't make the mistake I did at my primary school World Book Day - face paint is very uncomfortable when it melts down your face in the sun.
Alternatively, you could take the banks' side and form a Sheriff group, grow a pointy beard and turn up to Speaker's Corner wielding a spoon. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSUGp9Yz1sk)
So, that's my opening gambit done and dusted. My brain awash with informed-ness (I may have done some of my research while writing), I'm off to revise the delightfully lurid comedy of the 1720s and resist the urge to eat an Easter Egg instead. Join me over the weekend for a humorous trip back to school...
The great count-down has begun, and for the next 26 days we are at the mercy of every political agent that can get us to spare five minutes of our time. Your mail will suddenly become colour-coded blue red yellow green, the local newspaper will be full of vying prospective MPs visiting primary schools, and Ian Hislop will continue to use Have I Got News For You as a soap box (I won't begrudge him the opportunity as it's highly entertaining, but don't expect me to concede the political neutrality of the BBC).
Now I'm one of the kids who lost out by a few weeks last election (June babies), but that doesn't mean I'm going to join several million 18-21-year-olds in going in blind. Did you know that voter turnout last time was only 61%? That it was only 59% the time before that? In 2005, more eligible people opted not to vote at all than voted for Labour. Their percentage of votes (36) was the smallest percentage that any government has been elected on in UK history.
My point isn't to question the legitimacy of their government or to propagate my own political views (which, while fixed on some issues, are as much in flux as anyone's in the current climate). But there has to be a reason for the apathy - and to be honest, I think we're all just a bit confused and fed up with spin.
So for the next 26 days, this blog will be dedicated to exploring the issues surrounding May's election, in the hope that a few more people (including myself!) will be able to make an informed decision come May 6th.
All well and good, I hear, but what's with the tights reference? Thank you for your patience, good reader - I will explain. Ever heard of Robin Hood? So have these guys:
http://robinhoodtax.org.uk/
The Idea: tax banks and hedge funds a tiny percentage (0.005-0.05%) on their major transactions, and use the money for work on poverty and climate change in the UK and abroad.
The People Behind The Idea: A group of charities, campaigning groups and other organisations that focus on reducing poverty and tackling climate change - there's a huge list, from Care International and the YWCA to Unicef and Tearfund.
The Proposed Method: Levy a very small tax on transactions over a certain size within banking and other large financial institutions: the tax is not meant to be applied to customer transactions but to share deals, currency exchanges and other such trading that these organisations carry out.
The Money: The scheme can only be implemented on a national level, for obvious reasons, but the funds raised are intended to be used for international work as well as home-front projects. At the moment, no straight answers for who exactly would control the funds are being given on the website, but the 'best practice' standard according to economist Professor Jeffrey Sachs 'will surely engage civil society in very practical, programmatic ways in the use of the funds'. Idealism is rife among the Robin Hoodies (I really wish I'd coined that but sadly it's theirs) - they want to set a global standard for all kinds of funds from healthcare to education.
The Holes: The campaigners have done their best to reassure us that the cost of such a tax wouldn't be passed on to the general public, and based on past evidence and the minute percentage proposed, it doesn't seem likely that the average householder will be affected, unless that householder is a billionaire hedge-funder. BUT - short of very complex statutory regulations if this goes to Parliament, there's no guarantee.
Who's In: If you want to go through the Robin Hoodies' bibliography, you'll find a nice big list of names that I probably can't pronounce, but failing that, some people you might have heard of are Gordon Brown, Angela Merkel and Nicolas Sarkozy. You can also go to this page:
http://robinhoodtax.org.uk/homepage/the-robin-hood-tax-campaign-responds-to-the-budget/
to see Alistair Darling photo-edited into a Sheriff-of-Nottingham beard. They didn't bother to doctor his eyebrows.
The Campaign: this is the fun bit, for those of you who are keen - anywhere near London tomorrow? Fancy dressing up as Robin Hood and going to Speaker's Corner? Public demonstration hasn't been this entertaining since Fathers 4 Justice (yes, that's how they spelt it) in their hero outfits. I wonder how many capes there'll be this time. Hopefully anyone turning up with a REAL bow and arrow will be sent packing rapidly - arrests for weapon possession might not help the cause...
For those without the guts, means or legs to pull off the tights 'n' shorts look, facebook may just be the answer - uploading a photo of yourself in a green eye mask is supposed to be helpful. But don't make the mistake I did at my primary school World Book Day - face paint is very uncomfortable when it melts down your face in the sun.
Alternatively, you could take the banks' side and form a Sheriff group, grow a pointy beard and turn up to Speaker's Corner wielding a spoon. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSUGp9Yz1sk)
So, that's my opening gambit done and dusted. My brain awash with informed-ness (I may have done some of my research while writing), I'm off to revise the delightfully lurid comedy of the 1720s and resist the urge to eat an Easter Egg instead. Join me over the weekend for a humorous trip back to school...
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