I’ve been spending some time reflecting on journal clubs and their use in schools recently. I’ve been fortunate enough to speak at events about journal clubs in education for a while now, and whilst I’ve tweaked my presentation a few times and always use a new paper for discussion, it’s still pretty much the same thing and I think it’s been good for me to go through this process of reflection so that it doesn’t become something I churn out for the sake of it.
This Easter I’m lucky enough to be going to Toronto for rEDOnt. Whist I’ve presented at events for other organisations, the majority of my presentations have been for researchED and as this is how I started out doing it it’s quite nice to have been able to develop and explore the promotion of journal clubs with them. There is always a treasure trove of speakers at researchED events – all giving their time for free – and it always seems like they’ve got a PhD and books and a gajillion followers on Twitter and they talk about hardcore research and RCTs they’ve done and theories of how research should be applied in schools. I experience quite a bit of imposter syndrome, doubting the legitimacy of my presenting at these events (although I’ve seen ‘names’ doing the same thing a few times so don’t feel too bad) but it’s important I remember the number of new people who come and tell me about their clubs. There are journal clubs across the UK, in Sweden, the US, Canada all because of me and if I allow myself to be honest, that feels pretty awesome.
People talk about research projects they’ve been involved in or opportunities for schools to take part. There is a wealth of stuff going on and I love it. I think it’s increasingly important that people come away from researchED, or other events, with something practical they can do in school or with colleagues and even better if that is something that doesn’t need huge amounts of planning or money and can be done by any group. After a few researchED conferences, and when I’d taken part in (and tried to take part in) some research projects within school I found that for us particularly as a small school it was difficult to take part. Our cohort was too small or didn’t fit trial recruitment criteria. In the one RCT we were part of our pupils found it hard to access the pre- and post-test materials so we ended up as an additional case-study. I’m sure there will be things we can take part in more successfully but I’m aware that we won’t be the only school in this position and for those who come to researchED and want to take back and share something solid that can get their schools engaging with research I truly believe journal clubs are the way they can do it.
There is understandably a significant focus at conferences on how research can be applied in the classroom and how to measure impact on pupil outcomes, or how policy makers at different levels can make research-informed decisions, and I think this risks narrowing the research we look at in schools. I think it also risks an over-reliance on research summaries and meta analyses which whilst they definitely have their place and I’m not saying we need to stop this, it’s healthy for teachers and leaders to be critical of the research they’re presented with and face their biases. Teachers also need to be aware that a lot of research isn’t ready for use in the classroom and I think it’s just as important that this is looked at too.
Implementation science and knowledge translation expert, Melanie Barwick, put my thoughts into a more concrete form recently in a blog post about ‘Why Knowledge Translation and Implementation Science are not Synonymous‘, particularly when she said ‘Not all evidence shared for building awareness or informing is ready for application, but this does not make it less beneficial to the knowledge user’. It’s just as important that teachers become aware of ideas, different perspectives or potential developments in research as it is they find out about something new to try. Journal clubs are a space for teachers at any level to read and discuss research with colleagues without the expectation that they put any of it into practice. It’s great if it means coming across something new to try and explore it further, but it should be equally valid to have an awareness of the research that’s out there and be critical of it and make links and connections and prompt reflection on practice.
It’s amazing to be part of the charge of schools becoming more research savvy and the increasing awareness of the big ideas in education, and despite my occasional doubts over whether I belong, I want to be there to give people something to take back and share something concrete and doable in the hope that it prompts a wider discussion and participation.
I really hope those coming to rEDOnt find something in journal clubs that they feel they can do, starting clubs and starting a conversation. I’ll bring the biscuits 😉
What if using education to prepare students for the 21st century is actually just giving them more education?
We caught up with Endeavour last night – it was set in a 1960s private school and started me thinking about the whole ’21st Century Skills’ thing (what we should be teaching kids and how we prepare them for this new world we’ve already had nearly 20% of). I was wondering what people would say a 20th Century Skill looked like if you had to pin it down – given the changes that occurred over that 100 years, and I thought about how the pupils on the screen were older and in non-compulsory education for the time – privileged whilst their contemporaries were out at work. But I was mostly watching Endeavour.
This morning there were some tweets about from people at the Global Education & Skills Forum debate on 21st Century Skills including this one from Laura McInerney that included this picture:
The view at #GESF is that we are in a 4th industrial revolution & this means schools must change. But I keep looking at this graphic. Genuine question: with hindsight, how should we have changed school in the 60s to prep for the 3rd revolution? pic.twitter.com/00E8BliJxi
— Laura McInerney (@miss_mcinerney) March 18, 2018
I thought I’d take my idea further and have a look. I’ve only used Wikipedia for this and there are many with the knowledge to sweep my nugget of an idea away but my thoughts are that with each ‘industrial revolution’, instead of narrowing a curriculum to prepare children and teach them a new skill-set, the answer is to lengthen their education and broaden their skill sets.
So how do the various revolutions so far fit in with this? Despite the fact there are gradual changes in-between the dates on the image Laura tweeted, I was quite impressed when I had a look.
1784 – 1780’s saw the start of the Sunday school movement. Educating children (boys to start with) on Sunday because they’re at work in factories for the other 6 days a week.
1870 – The Forster Act of 1870, leading to introduction of compulsory education of children ages 5 and 10 in 1880
1969 – Raising of the school leaving age from 15 to 16 enforced from 1 September 1973 (but Wikipedia says they were preparing for this from 1964 so it all includes 1969 quite nicely)
Now – the Education and Skills Act 2008 said that by 2013, all young people in England have to stay on in education or training at least part-time until they are 17 years old, and that by 2015, all young people will have to stay on in education or training at least part-time, until they are 18 years old.
Not implying correlation or causation or anything like that, it was just interesting to look at. Of course increasing access to education will have added to the likelihood of each new ‘industrial revolution’ and I’m fairly certain that the dates of each ‘revolution’ will happily match up with a wealth of other changes – let’s face it, I’ve just selected some dates off a Wikipedia article and that’s not going to stand up to super scrutiny, but I was pretty happy to see there were things that matched up.
The paper I used for the researchED Haninge Journal Club last week was about enjoyment and aspiration of middle grade students and there was a small bit that caught my attention regarding boys’ aspiration and the assumption that they’ll be able to get a job in an industry without good grades – something that’s increasingly less likely. Their 21st Century is less likely to involve simply falling into an industry and I think education is the answer.
The other thing if course is that even if the answer to education for the 21st Century is ‘more education’, it doesn’t give an answer as to what that education should be about and doing more of the wrong thing for the sake of doing more isn’t particularly useful. I’ll leave it there until next year when there’s a new series of Endeavour and I hope it gives me an idea about the rest.
I’m as bored of having a timeline full of times tables chat over the last few days as the next person but, perhaps inevitably, it’s taken a shift in rhetoric and to be honest this trend for equating things to child abuse has proper pissed me off. I came perilously close to spewing out a Twitter thread about this on Thursday but thought better of it in order to focus my thoughts a little more. This isn’t a subject to be flippant about and quietly seething at the quiz was probably not the right time to put my point out there.
The word ‘abuse’ has many uses and degrees of seriousness; whether that’s in terms of verbal abuse, abuse of power, emotional abuse or physical abuse, I think most people can understand the nuances. I understand that the word ‘abuse’ can be used as hyperbole – I’ve used it myself when people (hilariously) suggest triple barreling mine and Howard’s surnames and I tell them that should we have children I would consider it tantamount to child abuse. The thing about these recent comments though is that it’s not being used as hyperbole, it’s being used as a direct comparison with actual life-changing abuse as a central point in an argument against doing something with children. Again.
I’ve worked with children from some very difficult backgrounds for well over a decade; many of them having suffered different forms of abuse and children for whom school is their safe place with routines when home is chaos. There are children who have witnessed and experienced things I can’t even imagine and school is the one constant in their lives. Often these children are ones with 100% attendance and poor behaviour on the run up to holidays because they won’t be at school for a week. Far from being an abusive environment, school and education can be healing.
Of course kids’ll complain about learning things that are tricky. It’s what they do. But basic maths isn’t abuse, it’s a right. I understand concerns about workload, pressure on pupils or staff from these tests, all of that. It’s a separate argument. My issue here is that it doesn’t matter what the argument is – phonics, school uniforms or rote learning, at the moment I couldn’t care less. Flippantly making use of the term ‘child abuse’ to describe pedagogy people disagree with is not routine, throw-away commenting we can afford to get complacent about. It’s not hyperbole, it’s insulting and it’s damaging.
All researchED events kick off well and whilst I’ve sat through a fair few ‘we aren’t expecting a fire alarm test today so if you hear a continuous bell…’ housekeeping announcements in my time, never before has this included instructions of what todo in the event of a lock-down. This made for a very exciting start to rEDBrum (and a silent wonder if each of the change-over bells would run to a count of 5 and we’d (very sensibly and in an orderly fashion) be required to dive under the tables). It didn’t happen (for the best really). It was also the most purplest school I’ve ever been to and if the TES do an award for having a theme and running with it, Dame Elizabeth Cadbury School wins hands down. The announcements and introductions were swiftly followed by a mini-keynote from Daisy Christodoulou on why we need to improve assessment and this ended up an unintentional but welcome theme threaded though my day.This event was also the first time I brought someone else from school to a researchED conference; a surprisingly big thing for me. I’m conscious that I hold researchED dear as my ‘thing’ – there are people I know, ideas I’m familiar with and challenged by, and despite the day-to-day stresses of work I can rely on something like this to put me back on track with why I love it. Of course I share what I learn back at school but bringing someone from one work-world into my other work-world was strange but positive. Anyway, at 7:45 on a Saturday morning our school principal Marcus hopped into our car with his copy of Daisy’s ‘Making Good Progress’ to read along the way.
Introducing a ‘novice’ to all this was a refreshing way to view researchED. Aside from the general what-is-researchED-who-is-Tom-Bennett-yes-everyone-really-does-do-it-for-free stuff there were a lot of things I found myself giving an overview of that I pretty much take for granted now and think lots of other people do. A couple of speakers openly glosssed over who Dylan Wiliam or Daniel Willingham are because researchED is pretty much taken as an environment where that’s basic knowledge – a solid case of David Weston’s point on Fundamental Attribution Error. There were a lot of hands up when Tom asked whose first rED it was in his introduction and whist some may be of the opinion that it’s unthinkable for a teacher of 30 years to not know about ‘Inside the Black Box’ I reckon there’s more out there that don’t know than do.
Marcus reading ‘Making Good Progress’ was actually a happy coincidence. I’d popped into his office to arrange our travel arrangements for the weekend and rattled of a few of the people who were going to be speaking, including Daisy’s keynote, and whilst I explained some of her work he produced the book from under a pile of incident sheets and exclaimed that he knew the name was familiar (promptly writing his name in the front when I asked if it was the copy I’d leant to another colleague). He’d not started it yet but when I popped in again on Friday it’s pretty safe to say it was blowing his mind even from Wiliam’s foreword.
My own day was perhaps subconsciously threaded with assessment/feedback/progress. I’ve spent a week cramming in baselines for new pupils and using a new system for the first time (GL Assessments in English, Maths and Science alongside Hodder Reading and Spelling tests for those who are interested). Ben Newmark’s talk on the mess that is target grades and Tom Sherrington’s take down of ‘Can-do’ statements make complete sense to me and it’s confirmation that what I assumed for a long time was naivety on my part – that the reason for all these non-sensical things must have been explained on everyone’s PGCE courses and it was all a ‘teacher’ thing – is actually based on a snowballing of decisions that nobody is certain of why it’s done; it just is. I’m still moving thoughts on this round in my head so I might consolidate those more clearly at some point. I have to say though, my take-home feeling is it’s no longer just theories of better ways to approach things, there are researched models out there, Ofsted are pumping out the message that they aren’t looking for specific things and school leaders have to be really brave to leap and make these changes. The fear of change is very real for many reasons and not all leaders have the autonomy they need to really go for some of these things. I’m not sure what it’ll take to get going but I sense that as some are starting to jump off the cliff edge it won’t be as hard for others to follow.
As always I left yesterday feeling positive and full of ideas. We’ve still got a week before half term and I’m desperately trying to finish off Relay before Friday so positivity is welcome. It was great to see people I’ve not seen since September and for my fox shoes to make friends with Cat Scutt’s. I’m still rubbish at talking to people at these things and shall endeavour to do better next time. I think Marcus got a lot out of it too. I know it’s consolidated some ideas for him and given food for thought in other areas. I also know that whilst most of us on-line buddies are introverts and ignore each other IRL, he’s 100% extrovert and turns out he spoke to loads of interesting people! We’re in a big period of change at school now and I’m hopeful that there can be increase in evidence informed decision-making. At the very least I’m hoping that when I enquire nicely for time off to do yet another international conference or plant the seeds of hosting a rED event the boss’ll at least know what I’m banging on about.
(Originally posted on Staffrm)
I had a brilliant reading session with a pupil today. Normally, if I have someone for a whole lesson, once we’ve finished our reading-the-book part we use the time that’s left to play some literacy games or work on a particular target. This boy was keen to keep reading today so I gave him a choice of books from the Rapid books that he isn’t using and let him go for it.
Like many similar books Rapid have a series of comprehension questions at the end and they also have a joke. Again, like similar things, the answer to the joke is printed upside down. I was quite surprised that this boy who is at quite a low level and struggles noticeably was very quick to read the upside down answer without a problem. He even questioned why they would just write the answer underneath so anyone could see it. I did a small experiment and made him read some more with the book upside down. Now this wasn’t ‘War and Peace’ but the kid read the whole book without a single mistake. He was ecstatic!
Now. I reasoned as he was doing it that it might be something to do with him being left-handed. I’ve read things about left-handed people finding writing back to front/ upside down easier and guessed that this probably fits in the same bracket. I also suspect that the extra thought process might slow him down and make him think so he’s not rushing as much. I don’t know. I’m just making it up. What I do know is that it was blummin’ impressive and gave the boy one hell of a boost.
Obviously I’m going to try it again. Maybe I should try writing something out back to front and see if he can do that as well. I’m wondering if anyone else has experienced this sort of thing? I know he’s going to have to learn to cope with reading words the right way up (unless we build him a camera obscura to live in I suppose), but I think it’s worth exploring a bit further too.
(Originally posted on Staffrm)
Bare with me on this. I watched Legally Blonde recently and I’m going to stretch this one as far as I darned well can. Instead of a comparison with medicine, I’m comparing teaching with hairdressing and bending the metaphor til it, um, snaps.
Education, particularly evidence based education, is frequently compared to medicine. The idea that any profession should develop and update, based on research evidence where possible is something I’m all for. Education isn’t just a science though; it’s an art as well.
Teaching, like hairdressing, is a craft that needs to be honed and developed over a career. It is possible to learn the basics from a book or course. You could get by and end up with something crude. The theory, the step-by-step instructions, are great for giving it a go, but to be successful you need more than that.
The best teachers use theory and a core foundation of knowledge to push boundaries and try new things. They test out new products and can fine-tune the result.
The best teachers are aware of the individual needs of their client. They notice where they differ from the ‘norm’ – they spot the frizz, the cowlick, and the best ones know how to work with curl…
They know when someone might need a deep conditioning treatment or when they might benefit from highlights. They know you can only hide grey hairs temporarily.
Experience can be a source of invaluable advice but some are resistant to change and new techniques. They stick firmly to the tight perms and purple rinses that have always got them through. Others embrace fashion, rushing headlong into every new fad that comes along (without regard for anyone’s face shape or questioning the damage it might do). Some create the fashion; sometimes it’s classy and lasts a lifetime, sometimes it’s fixed in a particular era. There are the TV hairdressers, the ones with a voice, pushing their message to improve the hair of the nation. Most are probably in between, letting fashion filter through, adapting training as they need it – hanging on to trends a bit too long? Some insist on using a highlighting cap when foils might be the better option.
Keeping up to date and developing isn’t just about reading. It’s about having a feel for it and doing what is right by the pupils. Picking up the pieces of a bad job and turning things around even if it takes years; giving them something they can maintain between visits and, ultimately, something that will grow out well once they move on.
(originally posted on Staffrm)
This time five years ago, like many schools I suspect, the powers that be were trying very hard to get our school’s BSF project to the point of no return. Like many schools, we found it wasn’t to be. As it turns out, they’re still keen for us to expand.
New designs are about to be discussed for our extra building and the staff team have been given a chance to have some input into the new facilities. Given the headings of ‘Essential Features’ (eg. One storey), ‘Desirable Features’ (eg. Learning recovery spaces) and ‘Wish List Features’ (eg. Swimming pool), I was quick to write down a few things but it’s harder than I thought it would be to turn the vague ideas I’ve got into something more concrete.
My essentials include things like timeout space and a bigger staffroom. (It was ok when there were enough staff for 20 pupils, but now we’re going to go up to 100 that’s a few more staff). Desirable features are a bit more indulgent so I’ve mentioned having a bigger art room and a ‘proper’ library would be nice. My wish list is much more personal. I know our art tutor has requested a foundry and other highly specialist facilities, and I’m sure there will be some extravagant sporting suggestions from the PE staff. I’ve gone down the research route.
My thoughts on the place for research in the development of our school are constantly evolving and I’ve got a fair few things in place with ideas of where I see it heading. I am however a bit jealous of some of the things other schools are doing and what is a wish list for if not the extreme? So my wish list section now includes a Learning and Development space. Centre? Hub? I’m not sure. I’ve not thought about it as a reality before. Somewhere for CPD, collaboration, taking part in enquiry. Space to hold CPD events (for us and host for others). Host guest speakers from HE etc. A library of resources for professional development, to evaluate pupil outcomes and engage in action research/lesson study and reflective practice…
It’s not particularly solid as ideas go, but I think it could be. I wonder if it’s out-there enough for a wish list. I mean, I could’ve gone with pimped out golf buggies or a velodrome. If we get a chance it would be interesting to see what other members of staff have put as their answers.
So that’s what I’ve thought of so far. What would you put down as your ‘Wish List Features’ if you had the chance? You can have anything you like…
It’s fairly early and I’m snuggled on the sofa with just a side-lamp on whilst Howard catches up on some sleep upstairs and I’m writing a post that’s been swirling round my head since yesterday. I’m already fulfilling at least four of the introvert statements in the quiz in Susan Cain’s ‘Quiet‘ and that’s before I’ve really started –
- preferring to express myself in writing
- enjoying solitude
- ‘diving in’ without interruptions
- not showing or discussing work before its finished
‘Quiet’ was a book that genuinely changed my life. All of a sudden a lot of things made a lot more sense – not only that but I realised that the various oddities I have could be explained under a broad umbrella and it was amazing. Our world values extraversion and is geared up to promote and reward it but we need to take a step back and see how damaging it can be if we don’t recognise that this is not the way everyone is and see things from the introverts’ point of view.
Yesterday there were a couple of weaving Twitter conversations about ice-breakers and ‘motivational’ activities during insets. Some of it was tongue-in-cheek but much of it was a collective expression of doom at those fateful words ‘Everyone get up on your feet…’. I genuinely have a sinking feeling thinking about it. I wrote about my own feeling on this sort of thing a couple of years ago after my own ‘Motivational Incident‘ at a TeachMeet. I hadn’t read ‘Quiet’ then but having spent time analysing myself I think I’ve got more to say on it all so here it is.
There have been two occasions I can think of where I have flat-out refused to take part in a ‘fun’ inset activity. The first was a whole federation day where there were several activities to do and being asked to stand up and juggle fabric was too much for me. To the presenter’s credit she did tell everyone it was optional and we could sit it out if we wanted, but I’m pretty sure I was the only one. The second was a TA inset where we had to split into groups, come up with a type of machine and each act out a part for other groups to guess the machine. I can vaguely see why you might get people who didn’t already know each other to do something like this but even then I’d be horrified. There were two of us in our group who refused to do it and I did feel a little for the presenter as she’d possibly not come across this before but after some gentle persuading she just said it was very disappointing but we could sit it out. That second one was post-‘motivational incident‘ but pre-‘Quiet’ and I was, I have to say, proud of myself.
Coming out as an introvert is an interesting thing. I’ve not shouted it from the rooftops (which isn’t necessarily surprising for an introvert) but I’ve had a fairly universal reaction from the people I have told, most clearly from my mum who, laden with supportive sympathy, said “Oh, no, you’re not” as if I was putting myself down. The realisation that I’m an introvert has transformed the way I think about myself and for the better; by telling people I’m actually bigging myself up. My mum’s (and others’) reaction is perfect evidence of how society values the extrovert and why, as an aside, I think we need to keep it in mind with students we teach.
Me as an introvert
For me, the realisation I’m an introvert has explained a lot of things. For example, I like to spend a lot of time by myself – in the holidays if I don’t plan outings I could stay at home for the whole time not wanting to go and talk to anyone or deal with ‘people’. I think it’s an extension of Cain’s ‘If I had to choose, I’d prefer a weekend with absolutely nothing to do to one with too many things scheduled’. I recognise that it can build up and actually can be bad for my mental health so I do force myself to do things but it really can be forcing myself.
I also realise now that there’s a reason why I find social events exhausting and actually it’s good to give myself restorative space away from things. This recognition is an important one. Knowing that when I have to do something that’s going to put me ‘out there’ that I need to schedule in an opportunity to be away from it a bit too actually makes it easier. There are about 17/20 of the statements on Cain’s list that I would say are true for me but I don’t think that’s made me resigned to the fact I like to do things a certain way, I actually think it’s made me aware of how to cope with trying new things.
Why people are confused and think I’m not one
I can understand why people are surprised when I say I’m an introvert. I’m quite good at getting involved with things, I’ve presented at conferences, I quite like a bit of fancy dress, I’m quite vocal in discussions. All things that seem fairly extrovert. The thing is though I do these things as an introvert. I get involved with things I want to get involved with, I have presented at conferences where I know the set up, I like fancy dress I have control over*, I’m vocal in discussion with people I know and once I’ve got the measure of a situation – I’ll rarely jump in for the sake of it. The technicalities are perhaps subtle but I think for me it’s about controlling a situation.
Introversion and me
Control is key.
Put me in a situation I have no control over and I will panic. If I can find some control I can cope. Leading a project or volunteering to speak means I can control what’s happening. If I don’t have any control, familiarity is important. This can be as simple as obsessively planning a route on Google streetview or when doing a presentation I’ll start in a fairly scripted manner but by the end I’ll be more comfortable and chatty (not that I think this is unusual for people). I won’t start up a networking conversation but if someone talks to me I’m likely to be able to prattle on til the cows come home. It just takes time to get going sometimes.
*Fancy dress is one I’ve had a long-standing theory about. With fancy dress you actually have more control over a situation. My theory, probably starting as a teenager, is that if you are dressed bizarrely on purpose people can’t take the piss. If you’re dressed in something fashionable that you think makes you look hot-as and someone laughs their head off it is crushing. If you’ve covered yourself in glitter or you’re dressed as Bert Raccoon it’s quite clear you’re not expecting mainstream acceptance and you get away with more. It makes it a performance and you can control how people react to you.
I realise that defence mechanisms in extrovert situations are about control and I think introverts get quite good at them. Whether that’s faced with whole-group country dancing, sticking with a small group of friends to take the piss, or taking the plunge and muddling through til it’s over and controlling the come-down.
I think there are two types of extraversion – the one that you control and the one that’s controlled by others. The first you get to pick and turn on and off. If you want to join in you can and you have a good idea of the reaction it will have and how that will impact on you. The second is both controlled and judged by others – a step into the unknown. It may be this is short-lived and the situation quickly becomes familiar but it may be that the outcome is completely in the hands of others. I know it’s healthy for me to challenge myself and not get too comfortable but I’m more aware of my limitations now, how to deal with that and the fact that, actually, it’s OK.
I wrote a 2016 post last year and thought it might be nice to do the same again this year. I’ve been sitting on the vague headings of ‘personal’, ‘travel’ and ‘work’ for a couple of hours now and my frame of mind appears to be one of mild gloom which is making it bit more difficult. I’ll start with travel this time…
We’ve done a bit more travel than we meant to this year. It started with the planned trip to Stockholm for researchED in February – I got a new coat and everything. I love Sweden but have until now stuck to the south and my friend Cecilia. It was lovely and snowed (a teeny bit) and some good funtimes until Howard was poorly and I didn’t get a bus tour. Put a bit of a dampener on things but was still a nice trip and we’ll give it another go next year.
Last year we did big holidays in April and October and, whilst they were brilliant, I kind of missed having a summer trip so our plan this year was to have a week away at Easter and one in August. The first was our cheap package holiday to Mallorca (lots of reading by a pool and working through the all inclusive cocktail menu) and the second was a week in Lisbon (industrial tourism with some amazing art and sea otters). With the odd weekend away here and there, that was the whole plan. Then for various reasons we ended up in Cape Town in October. Still not quite sure how we ended up there (Expedia and Emerites had a hand in it but there was a slight element of ‘whim’)… We did so much in under two weeks but my favourite bits were a duck parade and cuddling penguins in actual real life.
Next year we really do think we’ll rein it in a bit. Long haul flights have turned into the only way we see recent films.
Plodded along this year really. We did some Ikea hacks for the living room and the decking in the back garden that we’re chuffed about.
We saw some awesome art this year including two of my favourites, Anselm Kiefer at White Cube and Rachel Whiteread at Tate Britain. I squealed at all of it.
I embraced my inner Hufflepuff (official sorting off of the Pottermore website quiz) and I committed to a favourite post-One Direction member of One Direction (Niall).
As I predicted the academy conversion (and MAT formation) has meant extra website work and, not quite as predicted, this has meant a few things have been put on hold for the start of this academic year. Hopefully I’ll be done with setting things up in the new year and can get some other bits done. There have been moments where I feel that I’ve stalled with a lot of things but as a wise Creaby once told me ‘You’ve just got to keep plugging away at it’. I’m trying, honest, and Relay is on issue 17 now – I’m not even sure it gets read but I’m plugging.
Another thing that’s stalled for various reasons is What Matters (the thing with the University of Nottingham). My enthusiasm knows no bounds however and I’ll see if we can revive it in some way next year (I’m still using it in conference bios, I’ve got to try something).
My focus for next year involves some professional development bits, some writing bits and some researchED bits so far. I may be picking brains.
Who knows. There have been moments when I wasn’t sure we’d get to 2018 this year but unless the next few hours goes to pot we will. With all the shifting round at work I’ve no idea what route that’ll be taking so I’m going to make a conscious decision to keep going with the work things outside of work. I’ve met so many fabulous people this year and my brain has ideas.
We don’t have particularly crazy travel plans for next year either. As long as there’s a bus tour or 6 I’ll be dandy. It’s been an interesting year but it looks like we’ve made it. Here’s to the next one.
Working in a school makes you think about your own school days all the time – the subjects, the teachers, the classmates. Despite the fact it’s 20 years since I did my GCSEs I find lessons are frequently peppered with anecdotes from ‘when I was at school’. It’s not just working in schools of course, nostalgia’s big business and as I type this my Twitter feed’s exploding with suggestions for the best kids’ tv themes (this is what happens when Mr Bennett doesn’t have a researchED to get to of a weekend).
Last week I had an unexpected trip down memory lane as we were watching The Last Leg and all of a sudden I spotted one of my first year uni flatmates (the thrown together by luck-of-the-draw sort) appear in the audience. Right there, grinning with a Australian cork-hat plonked on her head. To be honest it was lovely to see her – and lovely to have the flurry of texting people to confirm it was her. Sometimes things hit you a little bit more than others though.
Michael was in my half of the year from year 7 and part of our friendship group. He went out with one of my best friends for a while, we had various lessons together, I have an official photo of us (and the rest of the Geology boys) at the 6th Form May Ball. In April, having not seen him for 18 years, his face was filling the television. He had been killed.
He was one of those people that is peppered throughout my whole school life. I don’t know what his politics were or where his life took him (apart from what’s been printed in newspapers). I don’t do Facebook or hunt people down and there are very few people I went to school with I’m still in touch with, but the constant little snippets of memories that come with working in a school mean that I realised I think about him a lot. I don’t know who he stayed in touch with but by the few people I’ve spoken to about this with I know there will have been ripples of contemplation and memories across the country – the globe even. But time passes.
Last week I had to cover in science for the morning and it sounds over the top but there was almost something emotional about it. The boys were doing an experiment I’ve done a thousand times using equipment and terminology that’s just ingrained. They needed to be reminded to do things that most of us would probably do automatically. For the rest of the day I was back to thinking about what was. Then this week it was in court and in the news again.
Of course, most of the time it’s little flicks of memory that attach themselves to a school day. I think this has a lot to do with the way we work – whether we want to give the pupils what we had or whether we want to ensure they get the opposite. In many ways working in schools means you don’t move on, but it also means memories are always close to the surface and sometimes they’re lovely.