22nd Sept - Abbott Community Primary School

If you spend as long as I have on-the-road you don't make quick assumptions about schools. I've often been disappointed by the cosiest of leafy suburb schools but more frequently I am blown away by the success of schools in less salubrious areas, who are contending with issues that teachers in more privileged schools merely have nightmares about. Today was one of those days - it took no more than five minutes for me to realise that my day in Abbott Primary School, in Collyhurst, Manchester, was going to be a pure delight...

I'd been invited in by the deputy, Mel Crosbie. As we fine tuned the day, over tea in the staff room, I got my first sense of genuine affection the staff have for the school and its pupils. Her enthusiasm was mirrored in each member of staff I met and their collective commitment was reflected in the strong work ethic of the children and the obvious pride they have for their school.

Staff rooms are excellent barometers of a school's well being - I've heard many a teacher bad-mouth children in the privacy of their sanctuary; although they'd never do it within the child's earshot, it's indicative of a pretence that children are likely to see through. But the teachers at this school seemed to only share positive comments about their children - it was obvious why they were held in such high esteem by their pupils...

Although I enjoyed every minute of my day (especially meeting the amazing Georgia who had broken BOTH arms and, I learnt, managed to lose a banana down one of the plaster casts...). It's my time in year 6 that's going to stay in my mind... For it was there that the brazen Britney came out with the priceless observation "Hey, when you take your glasses off you look just like our milkman..." and it was also here that I witnessed the result of some truly inspired teaching. I'd already heard Gill Rowland enthuse about the way her class had thrown themselves into their work on Romeo and Juliette and how Shakespearean quotes had become common currency, so I was keen to see it first hand. The children duly obliged...

They were brilliant...

"Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books,

But love from love, toward school with heavy looks."

Kingsway Infants Library

Wisely, this lovely school in Watford did not allow me into their library with a hot beverage in hand. Although, as I was cutting my second ceremonial ribbon in two days, I did note that the carpet was a practical dark colour - I could have poured a full teapot onto it and no one would have noticed...

To mark the opening of the library the school held a poetry competition - here's the winning entry. If you can't see it clearly it reads -

"I like books because they are good,

Not because I'm told I should,

I like pictures and words and stories too,

Can I read my book to you?"

Well done Sarah!

Making My Mark in the Whitley Park Library

What better way to start the first of over a hundred school visits this year than with a library opening? The alarming trend of converting primary school libraries into ICT suites has well and truly come to an end and more and more schools seem to be focusing on revamping their libraries - which can only be a good thing. A revamped library usually requires a wad of cash and the dedication of a team of willing wall painters and book sorters - in this case it was led by Vickie Mullan, the literacy coordinator and the teacher who invited me in. As in all welcoming schools I had been offered a cup of tea and was sipping it when Vickie asked if I'd like a quick sneak preview of the room I was going to officially open. Fungus the Bogeyman and Burglar Bill looked down us as I heard how the once painfully pink walls had been slowly replaced during the summer holidays. I drifted into the cosy beaned-bagged corner of the room with the pristine new rug adorned with reading penguins and sipped my tea. Remember, only a select few people had been into this room - the windows were blacked out to prevent young prying eyes seeing their new facility - I was a privileged, honoured guest. Alas this honoured guest is not known for his steadiness of hand (I haven't earned the nickname of Mr Magoo, a home, for nothing...) and a dreadful drop of tea feel onto the rug. Happily, Vickie hadn't noticed (although it landed on the whiter-than-white snow, so it was only a matter of time...). I knew I'd have to confess (although if it had landed on a darker part, I probably would have remained mum...). By the opening ceremony I was consumed with guilt... I duly cut the ribbon, made my books-are-far-more-powerful-than-TV programmes speech and gathered the assembled crowd onto the penguin rug... "Let me tell you a story," I said, "about a gleaming new rug and a clumsy author..."

The thing is, I'm in a school in Watford tomorrow - opening another library...

It just dropped out of the sky...

So - there I was, in the garden, laptop ready, about to begin this blog. Well, it's the beginning of September and, even though schools aren't really back yet, and my first author visit is a couple of weeks away, I felt obliged to write something... But what? I'm an author, right? I shouldn't have any problems thinking about what to write... ideas are my stock in trade. So I did what authors normally do when they are waiting for "the muse" - put the kettle on....

So - there I was, in the garden, laptop ready, tea in hand, about to... then thud. Something had crashed into the shed...

...a pigeon. Clearly a rather stunned bird, it's neck was at a peculiar angle and, apart from its blinking eyes, it was motionless... I had a choice of three things, contact the RSPCA, take a quick photo of it or write about it. I decided to do all three (in that order...).

By the time you're reading this I'm assuming the bird has made a complete recovery and is this very moment up a column pestering Nelson with a gang of its mates (well, let's hope so anyway...). I'm certainly seeing this as a good sign - this year ideas are going to just fall down from the sky... Only next time I hope they get their timing right: by the time the pigeon had been dispatched to the local vet my tea had grown cold...

As I sip my replacement cuppa my thoughts go out to all you teachers who are gearing up for a new term... Here's to rolls of brand new backing paper, piles of unsullied text books and uncannily bug-free computers. I just hope, as you put the finishing touches to those tray name-labels, that the silence of your room is not disturbed by a sudden thud against your window... (Although if it is - you'll certainly have something to tell the kids tomorrow!)

Special...

It is rare that I get the chance to visit "special" schools, but yesterday was one such day. Meadowgate is a special day school in Cambridgeshire that offers education to children with either moderate or severe learning difficulties aged two to nineteen. I had the pleasure of working with Kestrels, Falcons and Hawks - the Key Stage 3 & 4 children.

Over the years there has been a struggle to come up with an appropriate way of describing this sector of the system. Once acceptable terms have been quickly discarded as misleading or downright offensive. It could be argued that, to the casual outsider, the term "special" seems to be a neutral compromise... But if you spend a day in such a life-enhancing place as Meadowgates you quickly learn how accurate it is...

It didn't take long to pick up the positive atmosphere. The sense of joy was contagious and the enthusiastic response was overwhelming...

Often, when performing in "main stream" schools, the contrast between stony-faced teachers sitting impassively at the periphery of things, embarrassed to let their guard down, and the sea of engaged smiling children is enormous. It takes a few well targeted deliberate jibes to startle them into life - experience has shown me that the more involved teachers are in the session the more their children get out of it. There was no need for any of that here! There's no them-and-us at Meadowgates - we're all in this together! Actually, at times it was difficult to tell teachers and pupils apart - if it wasn't for Charlotte's giveaway two-toned nail varnish I would never have thought she was 14!

The day was a procession of magical moments - let me mention two...

Barnaby was an extremely large lad who clearly had very limited communication and motor skills. The smile on his face and the glint in his eye showed he was obviously enjoying the storytelling session, but he could only join in at a very limited level. The story involves gradually packing a series of items into a battered old suitcase and, at first, I didn't think he was up to doing that... Ben, a confident mouthy lad, sat next to him. He was more than eager to come out and help... I sensed quite quickly that he was a rather loose canon and made a mental note not to let him pack anything that might break! As the story progressed, and everyone who wanted to had been out to pack something, I decided to offer Barnaby a cuddly toy - to everyone's joy, he eagerly grabbed it and made his way towards the suitcase. Instantly Ben stood up and placed a supporting hand on Barnaby's shoulder. His cheeky grin now replaced by serious concern, he shadowed his friend all the way up to the suitcase and then carefully back to his seat. Ben's usual manicness only returned once he was sure that Barnaby was settled. It was beautiful. I often come across "natural carers"; children who, completely unprompted by teachers, take on the role of primary helper to a vulnerable peer. At times children can make life seem quite simple - I see someone who needs my help, so that's what I do... simple.

The second incident will live with me forever. The trick of encouraging creativity is to provoke an idea in a child, leap on it, coax them into expanding it into a story by asking a few subtle leading questions and then declare how phenomenal their imagination is to be able to create such a fantastic unique idea. There's a part of this story that refers to "5 climbing kites" and Luke, for no apparent reason, seemed to think it would be funny to replace them with tomatoes - so I ran with it. "But what would happen if one of those flying tomatoes fell to the ground? What if it landed on someones head?!" Luke found that particularly funny and said it would "splat down on them with a splash." In class afterwards, in the follow up workshop, Luke was choosing the things he wanted to draw in his own suitcase. He was bent over the table, transfixed. As I approached I was suddenly catapulted back to 1987 when a 13 year old autistic child named Steven Wiltshire first came to public attention. I watched as his steady, confident hand moved unerringly around the paper. There, as if by magic, was the scene we had spoken about...

...amazing, isn't it! He agreed to reproduce a signed copy for me if I gave him a signed copy of one of my books... I don't know who was prouder when we made the exchange. His teachers told me that I'd made Luke's day and that he'd never forget it - I assured them that the feeling was mutual... Happily, I'm going back in a few weeks to spend another SPECIAL day at the wonderful Meadowgates!

Are you sitting comfortably?

"Are you sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin..." the refrain that seemed to start each of my grandfather's stories when I was a child. It was like a reassuring arm around my shoulder as we travelled into mysterious lands where untold dangers lurked. And although with each retelling the lands became ever more familiar and the dangers expected, it always felt like the first time. When you're six there's nothing like predictability to induce a sense of security. But, as any teacher who has worked with nursery children as well as top juniors will tell you (and I once did that in the same academic year...) there comes a time when repetition does not work anymore...



This is especially true when it comes to the merry-go-round of educational initiatives. The longer you're on it the dizzier you become. But it is so tempting to dismiss anything new as merely rehashed old ideas (I have done it on many occasions...) and I'm starting to think that such a stance is just a simplistic cop-out...

"Teaching" is such a fundamental thing, pre-dating by many millena the establishment of these things we call schools. I'm sure Ug, when trying to teach his son Oog a new way of fashioning flint, felt pestered by his know-all traditionalist father, Erg. Everyone starts out as "Ugs", but, alas, we all become "Ergs" in the end...

I remember, while nervously sipping my first ever staffroom coffee, the whispered advice of a lovely Welsh colleague, speaking from the height of her many year's experience - "don't listen to anyone who tells you they have the next big-thing - mark my words, young man, everything just goes round in circles..." After almost thirty years in teaching, and as I mull over the implications of the latest government initiative (I make that number 6953...), I know what she means - it seems that the "topic web" is about to be reinvented...

At times it really does feel like there is nothing new under the educational sun... but it's an illusion. No matter how convinced we are that we've "heard it all before"(and with every passing year that becomes so much easier to say...) it's the peculiarities of the moment that matters - it's all down to context...

As I embark upon my year as Scholastic's Literacy Time PLUS Writer-in-residence and my private thoughts become puplic pontifications, it's the context of the moment that is exercising my mind. Who knows what is about to happen to the recommendations in the Rose Review or what shape "assessment" or "appraisal" will be in by the time my year is over? What's certain is that by this time next year we'd have gone through an election (and from where I'm sitting we're going to have the first conservative education minister since Gillian Shepherd...), the true effects of the recession will no longer be speculative, the 2010 Key Stage Two SATs may (or may not...) have been boycotted and Arsene Wenger's youth policy would have been finally vindicated (or not, I dread to say...).

Also, I would have visited another 130 schools and tried to convince another 30,000ish children that they are authors - that we are all authors! It's what I do... I've been travelling the world since I left full time teaching 13 years ago with that mantra - it's my passion... I often get asked whether I get bored with peddling the same message and I can honestly say I don't. While my message remains pretty constant the world of schools, where it is preached, is in constant flux - the context.

I look forward to sharing my thoughts with whoever wants to listen, hopefully my observations as I move from school to school will provoke others to share their comments and opinions here as well - I look forward to any responses with excitement and trepidation: authors rarely get a chance to hear the thoughts their words may have evoked...

So whether you are an idealistic young Ug or an Erg who has been round the block a few times, you are more than welcome...