Some Words on Literacy

Literacy is a subject that comes up every now and again, especially when educational standards are in the news or if a school is poorly graded. It is clear that levels of literacy vary enormously from one area to another and there are many factors that decide a person's ability to write, spell and express themselves effectively in words.
There is no doubt that instant messaging has encouraged its own diction to develop. There is a new language amongst those who text and use instant messaging frequently. Words are shortened and numbers are used in place of letters. This truncated form of writing has for the most part passed me by. I could never get on with text messaging. On the few occasions I felt it necessary to text, I would write in the same way I would compose an email message. To do otherwise just felt wrong.
I do know people for whom writing is a challenge. They tend not to use long words and punctuation is rarely if ever used. Sentences can be excessively long with no break making the making the process of reading very difficult and uncomfortable.
I do wonder if it is the fault of the individual or the education system. There is certainly evidence to suggest there is less emphasis today on good grammar and diction. Perhaps as teachers become younger and their own skills and knowledge begin to vary, then maybe their own grasp of spelling, punctuation and diction falls below what many would consider an acceptable standard.
I don't consider myself as gifted. I had no special education and paid less and less attention to my studies the nearer I got to being able to leave. I didn't want to further myself, I'd had enough and soon found work at a local supermarket. When I did leave school, I had the skills which enabled me to read and write. I knew the meaning of words and I could write a letter if I needed to. In fact I possessed many of these skills before I entered secondary education. When I try to think why this was the case, I can only really put it down to memories of lessons where we were taught to write. Of all the lessons I can remember, these are the most prominent. In these lessons, I was also taught to punctuate though this was certainly bolstered by certain schools and colleges TV programmes such as 'Look and Read', 'Words and Pictures' and 'Middle English'.
All this combined to give me the skills to write confidently and though I wasn't the world's best at spelling, I would always look up a word if I was unsure.
I those halcyon days, my mother was employed as a secretary at a local electrical contractor and I would like to think she corrected me whenever I went wrong.
I'm inclined to think we live in a world where there is less need for good literacy skills. We write less, emails are sent in preference to a written or typed letter. Messages can be sent instantly and a new type of shorthand has developed as a result. We do indeed live in the age of the instant message and never before has it been easier to communicate and express ourselves. This is of course progress but are we in danger of losing altogether the ability to use fully our wonderful language?

School Years - Memories of PE

I have been prompted to recollect my memories of physical education during my school years in the 1980's. There was an excellent piece on BBC Radio 5 Live this morning inviting people to call in to discuss their memories of being taught PE and how, in some cases, this has affected their outlook on physical exercise and sport in general. For some, it was a wonderful experience but for the majority, the experience was frankly horrific and has literally scarred them for life.
My own experience is one of being forced to do something I didn't want to do. I hated sport. I was always amongst the last to be chosen for teams and though I wasn't in any way overweight, it was my skills with a ball that were obviously lacking. I wasn't part of the 'gang' either so this relegated me to the lower ranks and if I was chosen it was more to do with making up numbers.
PE was a humiliating experience. We invariably ended up running round a freezing cold field or were forced to play football or rugby. I didn't understand how to play either nor did I have any interest in learning. If the ball did happen to pass my way, I would panic and hope that I was kicking it in the right direction. It was important to keep moving though as this was the only way to keep warm.
We would be made to do indoor PE if the weather was particularly bad. More often than not this would involve climbing ropes or jumping over padded boxes. I remember well the green rubber backed mats we would fall onto and the course surface that could easily remove skin. I remember the smell. I can smell it now as I type this. The equipment we used was standard school issue and found in any educational establishment at the time, no doubt descended from an army design. Used properly, they were fine. But make a mistake or land awkwardly and my goodness, they could do serious damage to a teenage body.
The changing room filled me with dread. There was no privacy and the benches were squashed and lacked any comfort. Keeping your clothes together was essential else you could spend the remainder of the day with just one sock or perhaps none at all. You needed your wits about you.
Showering was compulsory. Mr Jennings or Mr Matthews would herd us in one end and after a couple of minutes usher us out the other end. Avoiding the shower was done at your peril. If your hair was dry, you got dragged in. It wasn't very nice.
Staying dry was the main objective though this was made almost impossible by the person next to you dripping all over your clothes. Invariably I would leave the place wet, my school uniform covered in wet patches. But I was free, and that was the most important thing.
Before long, it would become normal to escape PE at any cost. I tried to get out of it every week and when I was diagnosed with an irregular heart beat at around the age of 14, this came as a Godsend. I now had a valid excuse to miss all PE sessions. It was wonderful. I remember well sitting out the period in the hall with a handful of others in this 'special group'. We would pretend to study or swat for tests. This was the norm for a very long time.
Bullying was rife. It always had been. The bullying wasn't just amongst the boys, it was also systemic amongst the teachers. They could be very nasty. One teacher got into trouble for it after a pupil made an official complaint. Another was sent to prison after being reported for paying 'innapropriate' attention to boys at the school. I had witnessed and been a victim of this during my time at school. Yet my parents, then as now, remain ignorant to what had been going on.
I remember a music lesson run by this particular teacher who for some reason insisted on all of stripping to our underwear and one by one walking up to him so he could check the see the label inside our pants. None of us at the time thought one moment to question what was happening or why he was doing this. It's only really now that I look back at the utter madness of the whole thing and wonder why nothing was done.
Did our parents have any idea of what things were like and what went on? No. They either didn't want to know or were completely ignorant, that's my conclusion.
Swimming lessons are another example of where things went badly wrong. I recall that I wasn't as fearful as others and I soon learnt it was better to show as little fear as possible. If you showed fear, you were picked on - by the instructor no less - and thrown into the water. No regard was given to whether or not you were able to swim, you were simply thrown it. I witnessed this and soon decided it was better for me to put my own head under the surface than to provoke the instructor to do it. I hated it, and to an extent it has had a long lasting effect on me and something I always revisit in my mind whenever we go swimming as a family.
Luckily, my PE 'horror' was relatively short lived, thanks to my medical 'excuse' and being signed-off all future sessions. But I did endure enough of it to turn me completely off sport of any kind. If things had been different, then maybe I may have warmed to it a little more. I will always associate sport with my experiences at school during the 1980's, and sadly I will always fear a little for my son. I am hopeful that things are different nowadays and that the mistakes made during my time at school simply cannot be repeated. My memories will never go away. If anything, they become clearer and thanks to this blog, more permanent than ever.

Big school

My son is excited. He's going to his new 'big school' this afternoon for a few hours. I on the other hand I am feeling quite nervous. I remember how I dreaded the prospect of leaving the safety and warmth of my infant school to embark on my journey into junior school. It all seemed new and strange, full of unknowns and people I hadn't met. The teachers were scary. Two in particular were known for their occasional bouts of rage. During lunch break, dinner ladies would patrol the playground. I recall there was no grass, just a very hard tarmac'd surface with strange lines and circles painted on it. Falling over would result in hideous bruises and bloody scrapes which would be treated with TCP and witch hazel. I always sought out the kindest dinner lady and soon befriended her. She had a new digital watch. I hadn't seen one before and it was amazing. I clung to her as much as I could. I felt safe with her and she protected me from the big boys.
I would hope against hope that the bell wouldn't ring and I wouldn't have to go back in to class. The route back took me up a flight of stairs unchanged from the day they were built at the turn of the last century. The brickwork was shiny and appeared to be sort of varnished.
Returning to class, I would take my seat once more unsure of what was in store for us. I had a good view of the clock. That was good, as I would have my eye on it a lot, willing the hands to move faster... but they never did.

School and duty of care

I was please with the open evening my wife and I attended the other night for our son's new school. All very professionally done. I do confess to feeling a little like a school kid myself. I might have had something to do with the tiny chairs we had to sit on and the classic classroom layout. The teachers there all see very friendly and passionate about what they do. I do always look for passion in people's work. It's all very well doing what you do to earn a living but when it comes to teaching and being responsible for vulnerable young children, then I look for something extra. I'm glad to say this was evident in what I saw and heard. The school is very small and therefore very focused on devoting as much time as possible to each and every pupil. It was pleasing to see the range of subjects he will be taught along with an impressive array of computers and audio-visual aids.  There are many after-school activities such as gardening club and games evening that I'm sure our son will want to get involved with. Every other Monday the school take the children swimming and there are regular trips to places of interest. Lunches are prepared by a well-known local catering company renowned for their excellent food. In fact it's so good, I may even join our son for lunch!
So we came away feeling quite confident about everything. It's a big thing when you leave your son and daughter in someone else's care and I confess to still feeling a twinge of sadness whenever he's away from us.
He starts attending reception days from 6th June until 20th June and will begin school properly in September.

Duty of care is an enormous responsibility and hugely important. Head of social services for any organisation carries with it the responsibility and accountability for your actions and the actions of your staff and all those who report to you. I therefore find it quite unbelievable that we are now being asked to feel sorry for Sharon Shoesmith and dismiss the death of 'Baby P'. It's all very well her saying she's 'not in the blame game', but I'm sorry, am I missing something? There has to be blame. A child you were paid a huge amount of money to ensure the safety of died needlessly. This is despite countless visits and knowing that the child was living in an 'at risk' environment. The attitude of this woman is simply unbelievable. What makes me so angry is the fact that she is now trying to be the person 'hard done by' and the victim of ill treatment. Excuse me but if anyone should be complaining it's 'Baby P' who has lost everything. He never had a chance to make his mark on the World.
You disgust me Sharon Shoesmith. How dare you absolve yourself of any blame. I hear the government object to the ruling of unfair dismissal. Good - I hope they find a way to bring you and your team to justice. Your job was to prevent harm to a vulnerable child. In my view, you failed in the worst way possible.  Surely that has to be wrong...?

OK, I'm glad I got that off my chest...