My last fifteen years of working life were spent as caretaker, and lunchtime playground supervisor at a primary school.

New labour decided that they could con me into acquiescence by changing my designation to "SITE MANAGER", with no extra money, and I STILL had to clean thirty toilets between 6am and 9am, every schoolday.

But the way they treated ME pales into insignificance compared to the crap heaped upon the poor teaching staff.

1. Four to five hours of paperwork(most of it for government records) EVERY weekend, and most week nights.

2. Constant pressure, appraisal, and regulation stifling any vestige of motivation, enthusiasm, or inspiration.

3. Abuse from parents, harassment from the Head (himself under pressure from above), and NO backing from the LEA.


In spite of all this, these wonderful people managed to inspire, enthuse, and motivate the vast majority of the pupils in their charge, notwithstanding that every effective means of maintaining discipline had been outlawed.

I have nothing but admiration for the teachers I have met, both as a pupil, and as an adult, and, if the control of our childrens' education were placed once more in their capable, and knowledgeable hands, not ONLY would we have well educated, erudite adults emerging, but we could ALSO dismiss hundreds of self serving empire builders, bean counters, and pen pushers, and use their salaries to improve in-school facilities.

Let educators educate, and protect them from ignorant administrators would be my suggestion for the way forward.

Teachers should also have the authority to discipline restored.

I know every class has some pupils who have genuine causes for what appears to be bad behaviour, rightly considered to have "special needs", and I have every sympathy with them. But every school has its (fortunately tiny) number of street smart kids who have been primed with a knowledge of their "rights", though unfortunately NOT with a knowledge of their "duties" or "responsibilities".

During my period at the aforementioned school, I was made only too aware of the presence of one such, and it gave rise to a song, which I post below (I repeat, this is not a comment on ANY genuine special needs child) because I was incensed with the fact that this junior criminal, when first expelled for throwing a chair at a teacher's head, was promptly re-installed by the LEA, and caused disruption at will for another year, before finally being kicked out.

Names have been changed to protect the innocent. No, actually. They were changed to avoid a libel suit LOLOL.


MRS. PLATT

1).        Do come in and sit down Mrs. Platt,
        Young Reggie's behaviour, let's talk about that,
        You see, he's in trouble, the third time this week,
        Disrupting a class, with an unearthly shriek,
        Then dropping his pants, and performing a streak,
        The whole school's in shock, Mrs. Platt.

2).        Yes! I do understand, Mrs. Platt,
        When it comes to excuses, he's got it down pat,
        To get out of trouble, he constantly lies,
        He'll tell you black's white, looking straight in your eyes,
        And so you believe him, that's not a surprise,
        You're his mum, after all, Mrs. Platt.

3).        Our SENCO has tried, Mrs. Platt,
        But all of her strategies seem to fall flat,
        It's doing her brain in, her head's in a mess,
        She's taking time off, to recover from stress,
        When's she due back? 'Bout a year, more or less,
        She's the sensitive type, Mrs. Platt.

4).        It just will not do Mrs. Platt,
        He's been worse since the day he set fire to your cat,
        He bashes his schoolmates, to serve his own ends,
       Superglue on the chairs didn't win many friends,
        What he'll do when he's seven, well, heaven forfend,
        It's a frightening thought Mrs. Platt.

5).        His schoolwork? My dear Mrs. Platt,
        The less said, the better's the answer to that,
        His work's always marked with a cross, not a tick,
        Let's face it, your Reggie's not clever, or quick,
        I'm afraid that your Angel's bone idle, and thick,
        There's not much we can do about that,
        But thanks for your time, Mrs.Platt.


Don T.


ã Don Thompson    Feb 4 2004