Insensitive teachers

Saturday, December 6th, 2008

I guess school teachers are far more aware today about social differences and the need to encourage children. Not so in my day. Three recollections come to mind although if pressed maybe I could fill a book with them.

Green ink. When I was about 7, I spent my pocket money on a bottle of green ink. No special reason, I just fancied something different. So when in class the following week I used it for an arithmetic exercise. Books were handed in for marking and then I was loudly called to the front of the class. Can't really remember what she said but it was something like , What's this? Why are you using green ink?' She behaved like I had shit on God and told me to write it out again in blue ink. The really sad feature of all this is that my arithmetical performance was of no importance. My failing was that I had dared to be different.

And again at primary school, the first exercise you got to do after you returned from the holidays was to write some essay like 'What I did in the holidays.' Can you imagine a more insensitive and intrusive question to a bunch of kids whose circumstances ranged from tolerably better off to downright poor? Nobody went abroad in those days but some went to the seaside and stayed in holiday camps so they had something to write about. Same with Christmas presents and the like. Me, I just played in the fields. Ian Phillips, a mate of mine, used to write every term, 'Dug a hole and fell in it.' It never got him into trouble. Wish I'd done the same.

And then on to the VIth form, which for those of you that don't know, it is for 16-18 year olds ideally in preparation for university. I chose science courses as my main subjects but still had to do a bit of English Literature with our Nazi headmaster in charge. One time we read, one of C.S. Forrester's Hornblower books - the adventures of a young lad in the Royal Navy at the turn of the 18th/19th century. Book read, the Beak than asked for opinions and Geoff Harrison (for whom I was best man, probably because he could not think of anybody else) commenced analysing it as though it pretended to be a piece of great literature and then he pissed on it. So I stood up and asked something to the effect of, 'What are you talking about? It's schoolboy yarn, that's all.' Got a withering look from the Beak and sat down.

The problem with many teachers, at all levels, is that they cannot resist the supplementary insult. You know the sort of thing. Teacher asks, 'What is the capital of Venezuela?' and young Sally says 'Brighton.' Then she gets, 'Caracas, you stupid child, will you never learn?' Of course she won't, for next time she will keep her mouth shut and spare herself the indignity and pain.

Try reading John Holt's 'How children fail,' published in 1964; it's a very slim book. Kids fail when people make it easier for them not to try. Open your mouth and get it wrong and you get a bollocking. Keep your gob shut and in a class of thirty, it will probably go unnoticed.

Looking at schools today, they seem more vibrant and involving and the relationship between teacher and child seems better than in my day. I do hope that it is not skin deep and that we have put all the shit I endured behind us.