The river can change its flow
Child and dog playing on the beach. Christmas Eve eve, Great Yarmouth, 2023
Supply it is
I keep thinking about what I can sell to make some money;
to make ends meet, keep the wolf from the door.
It’s been four months now
and with my earnings on the floor, I can’t stop thinking about what I can fabricate,
or articulate, or peddle that would resonate with the hard pressed and the time stressed.
A side hustle, as Sam used to say.
But in the mean time needs must so supply it is.
Feelings I shouldn’t be feeling
“How are you finding it all, going back in?” mum asked.
“It’s all so very sad,” I said,
Sad and ill-thought out.
Sad and ill-thought out and so fucking lazy;
the poorest of thinking dressed up as the best of intentions.
“This’ll save you time,” they say
(though it won’t, which they don’t)
I watch children lean out of their learning, bored beyond tears.
Staff lean in then out, equally bored and more than a little helpless.
“We must do Geography today,” they say, tearing off another printed and dated learning objective from the gummed block that came with the scheme.
I’d totted it all up. 45 minutes at best.
“Do they have sketchbooks? We could do some art after?”
“No. We must do Geography today. We’re all learning about rivers. It’s day two of three. Art’s next week.”
Heads tilted, backs turned, swinging on our chairs; constantly needing reminding of the value of the whole sorry enterprise.
Led-ish by long distance leadership - it’s now all virtue signalling of the very worst kind:
unctuous, impervious, delirious.
I saw a head visit his own school on Monday; didn’t even check in with the kids. In and out to meet with the central team.
I mean, there were only 64 kids in the whole school. What would it have taken to pop in and say hi? Too much it seems. I saw his head bob off down the driveway as he left the premises before the end of the day. No doubt very busy indeed. He’d managed two hours best, and these were behind very much closed doors.
And this is the part of the whole thing that draws out the pathos that I really shouldn’t be feeling.
The river can change its flow
Mid-afternoon and exasperated, I’d almost given up
when a girl came up to me having successfully navigated the lethal maze between desks.
“Can I tell you yesterday’s word of the day?” she looked up smiling.
“Of course you can,” I beamed.
“It was meander.”
This was a proper moment.
Thing is, I was only there for the day, but still she dropped everything and reached out for connection.
This is the insane raw power that crosses the threshold of each classroom each day.
The labelled diagram of a river from source to mouth sets out the course and the core vocabulary.
Where the river meets the ocean and salt and silt collide.
Its persistence gives it the power it needs to cut through rock,
to gouge out its route,
to end where is needs to end.
But we need our river, our main stream, to defy gravity now.
We need our river to change its flow.
The natural ways of children
Honestly, I don’t think I’ll be able to bear the sadness much longer,
so I need to conjure some new ways to bring home the bacon, put bread on the table.
If someone wanted to pay me a king’s ransom to come in and offer insight I think my pitch would be pretty simple.
No sequenced progression maps, no assessment matrices, no knowledge organisers, no platitudes, no snake oil.
I’d simply urge them to make time to find the child again, to make them visible.
Emancipate learners and learning.
Show and share the natural ways of children.