A school bathed in sunshine is a direct taunt to the teachers within.
When the sun shines in early November the taunt becomes even more direct and personal. The brightness lights the way towards escape, while the reality of everyday work continues behind the shutters which keep the “unnatural” light at bay. At least it is not warm enough to swim in the sea; that would be unbearable trapped so far from the watery element!
The readjustment in the time of the day means that travel to work is now in daylight which is enough to lighten the soul before the dead weight of work clamps feeling!
Surprise, surprise we are now building up to yet another set of examinations! Who would have thought it! We have barely planted the new trees to take the place of the forest destroyed to produce the last lot of examination papers when we busily set about the next slaughter!
Everything in this place comes down to a mark out of ten. If it cannot be given a mark it is not valued. I can’t help feeling that this approach on a daily basis must have some debilitating and lasting effect on the pupils we teach. No matter how numinous the concepts or how aesthetic the motivation, they have to be reduced to something which can be given a mark, however artificial such a process might be.
It is the “dark side” to the “liberal” attitude which has “informed” much of the educational “development” in Britain for the last umpteen years. And I think I could have used even more sets of inverted commas if I had wanted to. Education is beset by more people with more ideologies with more fervour with less cause than almost any other element of public concern.
Everyone has been to school so everyone has “expert” knowledge which fuels assertive, dogmatic and evangelical pronouncements which luckily do not need the input of the hapless people involved in the teaching profession to give reality to their thoughts. Or perhaps I demonstrate a tinge of insider angst by saying such things. Who knows! Well, the people I have been talking about obviously.
The trip to the UK is increasing in complexity so that I can pick up The Birthday Present.
I will now be staying on the Saturday night in High Wycombe so that I can reclaim my laptop from the Pauls and perchance watch British TV in Spain with the program installed therein. What appeared to be merely a “good idea” some time ago has now grown to be a project involving a new Ariel in the Pauls’ house; a new digibox and numerous people attempting to get the system set up. I have absolute faith that it will work eventually and I will be secure in the arms of the BBC.