The road to Blackberry Hill

Or, more accurately, out of school and back to college.

Something weird has happened, there’s been a sort of change of atmosphere around the whole PGCE thing. I don’t think it’s just me, I pick it up from my fellow aspiring teachers as well. It’s like it’s become a bit of a game.

I’m not sure why this is, but I think a couple of things have contributed to it. Firstly there was the absurd insistence that we do a bunch of work that no one will ever look at. It reminds me of psychology experiments we were taught when I was doing my first degree (yes, I can remember that far back, the Alzheimer’s has totally taken over yet), where people are stuck in rooms and told to do totally meaningless tasks like writing something and then tearing it up and putting it in a bin, and doing this over and over. The idea was to see how long people would do something as pointless as that for, and the answer, surprisingly, was ages. It turned out that the poor people being experimented on thought it was some kind of endurance test, so kept going.

This is possibly the only rationale for college telling us to complete all these forms and assignments that no-one looks at, that we re part of some big experiment. One day we will wake up and realize that we are living the teacher-training equivalent of the Truman show, and the reason that the library isn’t open on the weekend (don’t even get me started on that) is that they need the set for something else.

I think the other reason for this change in atmosphere is that we have now been in schools for a decent period of time, and have found out that what we get taught at college has only a passing resemblance to what actually happens in reality (maybe the Truman show thing is just the college part), and so that going back and doing (I was going to write learning, but thought better of it) a lot more stuff that we almost certainly won’t use just seems stupid.

And there is one more reason. I think most of us reckon that, having got this far, we’re probably going to complete the course one way or another, so the important thing has moved on from how to get to the end of it, to getting a job when you do. What would make this course really pointless would be to end up one of those statistics of qualified teachers who isn’t teaching.

But the effect is that no-one treats anything particularly seriously anymore. When people sit around with their pint of Guiness, if they discuss college at all it’s to see how best to fabricate references for their assignments (this really pisses me off, I was too stupid to think of doing that and actually did the reading for the assignments, if I had my time over I would be taking notes at this point). But what they spend more time doing is discussing what jobs there are, and how best to get them.

But I shouldn’t complain too much about college. At least the scenery’s good.

Better go, the other half has just come and stood next to me with a large packet of washing powder and said something along the lines of “Darling, shouldn’t you be doing the washing, with Persil Extra young Tommies football shirt will come out extra white”. What she talking about? Our progeny are strictly x-chromosome.

You get a few unexpected twists with this teaching lark, including the fact that someone, somewhere thinks that you are someone somehow qualified to teach children right from wrong. This presupposes that you know the difference yourself, and you sort of think you do, but there are always those borderline decisions.

So you fudge it, you come up with scenarios and start a discussion and let the children decide for themselves what is right and wrong. Though I really don’t think it should have taken 20 minutes to conclude the whole robber and old lady with her pension thing.

And here’s another unexpected thing about teaching, it does make you look at yourself, what do I mean by right and wrong, where are the grey areas for me?

For instance, it was suggested that I forgo an evenings pleasure of lesson planning and wind my way up the M6 to Brum for a curry one evening. I know, long way to go for a curry, lets face it, you can lift the phone and get one delivered to your front door in 30 minutes, and even I could probably shift my bony arse from in front of the computer to the front door to pick up a curry. But there were some people I was pretty keen to meet so was seriously considering it.

But here is the moral dilemma. If I was going to go to Brum for a curry (and no, that’s not the start of a joke, but it should be) I’d have to go there and back in one evening, so no beer. A curry without beer, is that just plain wrong?

When you teach RE there does seem to be a natural inclination for children to be a bit flippant. For instance, I’ve heard children suggest that they may become Buddhist for an evening (some strict Buddhist don’t eat after midday – don’t say you never learn anything from this Blog) in order to avoid a meal that they would rather not eat, usually on the basis that it contains something that approximates to a vegetable.

Outwardly you need to stamp on this, what do we mean by religion? It’s about the big questions, why are we here, what happens when we die, how should I live my life, how do I tell right from wrong? So, no, religion is far too important for such petty trifles.

Inwardly, you’re thinking, hmmmm, maybe the next time the misses makes that vegetable stew…

RE is a rich vein for all sorts of things. One of my big fears is that I somehow get under the radar and sneak through the course, but can’t get a job at the end of it. So I’m starting to apply for teaching pools at the moment. There’s lots of guidance on what you need to put in the application form, but a big thing is that you need to evidence it.

So you start trying to tailor your teaching towards being able to evidence whatever it is you need to be able to evidence in order to get into the pool. Again, a little voice in your head starts saying “Shouldn’t you be doing what’s best for the children”, but you stamp on that sharpish.

A hot topic at the moment, is, apparently, making use of outside spaces. So, RE to the rescue. The Buddha sits under a Bodhi tree and meditates until he finds enlightenment (you guys are learning sooooo much today). So, not withstanding the fat that Bodhi trees are a little thin on the ground in SW London, you think, let’s head out into the school grounds for this lesson, sit under a tree, and, well, I don’t know, come up with some sort of lesson plan from there.

So the day comes, its time to teach the lesson, but its cold, and, if not full on raining, then at least a steady drizzle. And you think, I need evidence, shall I send them all out to meditate under the tree in the corner of the field anyway, or do I do the obvious thing and do the lesson inside. And, if I do the later, on my applications form should I say that I did the lesson outside anyway?

Now I’m not going to say what happened in that lesson, but really, which idiot thinks I’m suitable to teach right from wrong?