Tag Archives | education

Two government cuts of which I wholeheartedly approve

I read two stories in the paper today.  The government is, at long last, going to introduce means testing for Child Benefit and it is possible that thousands of children will be taken off the Special Needs register.

Apparently, 97% of families claim Child Benefit even when they have massive incomes and have no need of the extra money whatsoever.  This money is often considered to be pin money for the mother or is put straight into savings accounts which then go towards making those families even more privileged.

Ideally, families on high incomes should refrain from claiming this money because it is an immoral act.  In times of recession it is outrageous to give free money to people who can easily support their children without help from the government when that money should be channelled into organisations to help children from deprived or abusive situations.

Child Benefit should always have been means tested and this nonsense about a universal benefit is just woolly, liberal, vote-toadying wastefulness.

And now we come on to the Special Needs register.  I am delighted that we now live in an environment where children with learning and behavioural difficulties are flagged-up and helped accordingly.  The recognition and assistance for people with dyslexia, for example, has changed the lives and careers of many people, young and older.

But for a long time I have suspected that a small but growing proportion of children have been labelled as ‘special needs’ because they are not very good at something or are badly behaved.  It’s a win-win situation; the school gets paid and the parents can abdicate responsibility.

At Boy the Elder’s first school, his class had 50% of the children statemented as Special Needs. 50%.  In a middle class, affluent and relatively trouble-free area.  I have witnessed at first hand parents who have had  their children statemented and labelled simply because they are unable to cope with their behaviour and personalities.  Other families have had to walk across hot coals just to get a bit of reading or maths help for their child because they are falling behind but have no official diagnosis.

Boy the Younger has shocking handwriting and can be a right little bastard.  He has neither ADHD nor dysgraphia, both of which have been suggested to me as possible explanations for this.  He is left-handed, eccentric and both his father and I have shocking (if characterful) handwriting and, more importantly, I don’t give him enough help with it at home.  He attends a handwriting club at school which is really helping, but he does not have a ‘condition’.

My, and our doctor’s, explanation for BTY’s bad behaviour has more to do with four house moves in five years, the separation of his parents and a love-hate relationship with his older brother.  He is a deep thinker and has the intellectual but not emotional maturity to work out his feelings. I am a great believer in appropriate counselling and I think this will be of far more benefit and influence than an educational statement or regular gob-fulls of Ritalin.

I have said this before and I will continue to say it until someone stuffs my mouth with socks.  As a society we have become too reliant on the idea that someone else must always sort out our problems and take up the slack for our difficulties and failures.  We are regressing in our personal responsibility, our capacity to assess risk and our determination to stand on our own feet, stop moaning and get on with it.

If everyone gets help with their children when they don’t need it, it distracts our attention away from the ones who really need society’s help, either financially, emotionally or educationally.  So, much as it kind of hurts to say it, I fully support the government on these two measures and support their determination to bring us through this recession, with our help, so that we can build a sustainable foundation for the future.

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School Report

What do you do when your child comes home with a poor school report?

Boy the Elder has come to the end of his first term at his new grammar school and, although his performance in class is fine, he has huge issue with homework and half the time either doesn’t do it, does it badly or hands it in late, incurring a penalty on his marks.

He is incredibly happy at his new school and has slotted in like an easily slotted in thing.  He has made friends and is a popular member of the school.  He contributes well in lessons but just can’t seem to get on top of his homework.  The new school has been a massive culture shock after the lax attitude and discipline of his last school and I expected a settling in period, but his approach to homework is beginning to affect his progress and grades.

We had a long talk tonight about how he could structure his time, making sure that he does his socialising at break and lunch leaving him free to do his homework at the homework club he attends every afternoon.  I explained to him that I had left school with negligible qualifications and consequently no career because I had also not bothered at school and never did my homework.

I also recognise that he has launched in to this new environment in Year 9 when his friends have been in the system since at least Year 7, and possibly all their school lives, so they know what’s expected of them.

I don’t think it was unreasonable to point out how fortunate he was to be able to get into the school in the first place or to mention the amount of effort on my part that went into securing the place. I also reminded him of the work we both put in to home and private tutoring in order to pass the exam.  He has been given a wonderful and enviable opportunity and, knowing how bright and capable he is, it would break my heart if he didn’t grasp this opportunity with both hands.

I told him that I would support him in every way possible, that I would help him to structure his work and give him tips on how to research and present assignments, but ultimately it’s down to him.  I gave him a list of things that will help him to be better organised and showed him how to make best use of his homework diary.

It’s really hard at 14 to grasp that, at the end of this year, he will have to choose his GCSEs and that those choices will affect what he can study at A Level and hence how his adult life progresses for the foreseeable future.  I know you can do training when you’re older but, as I know myself, it is much, much harder when may have a job and a family to maintain while you’re doing it.

I want to empower him to take responsibility for this himself, without feeling browbeaten or that I think any less of him.  At the same time, the reality is that the expectations have gone up a gear, which is exactly why I fought so hard to get him in.

How would, or have, any of you tackled this issue?  Am I over-reacting? Second-hand experience gratefully received!

http://www.wartimehousewife.com/2010/09/helping-at-home

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Today Boy the Elder starts at his new school

This morning we will be taking Boy the Elder for his first day at his new school.  This is the culmination of a year and a half of tutoring, swotting, entrance exams, begging, pleading, writing letters and finally getting a place at what I hope will be absolutely the right school.

Boy the Elder is a very natural mixture of excited and anxious; what if no-one likes him, what if they discover in the first week that he’s thick, what if he gets expelled?  None of this will happen but, as any other mother would be, I am anxious myself but naturally I don’t show it.   His uniform is all labeled and hanging up ready to go.  Two and a half thousand items of sports kits are bagged up and waiting to be launched by a skinny boy onto the rugby field.  Pencil cases are filled, his schoolbag is packed and we are ready to rock and roll.

Yesterday I knocked off work early and we went to Pizza Express for lunch and spent a couple of happy hours talking and laughing and eating too much pudding. Afterwards we wandered around the garden centre and chose some flowers for the hanging baskets, and then slid into Argos and bought a bumper pack of Nerf gun cartridges so that he and Boy the Younger could have a battle when we got home.

This is a new and significant phase in the life of the whole family; routines will change, expectations will change as Boy the Younger will go there as well and the goal posts have been well and truly shifted.  Phew.

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The School Reunion

My School

Gosh, what a day.  As you know from my post back in March, I was rather apprehensive about going back, as one of the girls who bullied me was also going to be there.  I had arranged to meet my Naughty Friend, who I have not seen since we left school, as well as a couple of other girls, Orville and Vivienne Ferret, who I was really looking forward to seeing.  Also, to my delight, Denise Gnasher contacted me the night before to say she was going with her family and, although we’ve kept in touch, we’ve not actually met up for nigh on seven years.

One of the first people I saw as I approached the Old Girls’ Marquee was the bully.  I wouldn’t have recognised her and I said so and she appeared to be ill at ease.  I didn’t have a chance to speak to her alone, but as the conversation progressed among the group and I made the point that we had all been sent to the school in order to be safe, that many of us were bereaved or had very dysfunctional home lives.  Wasn’t it a pity, therefore that, because of the behaviour of other girls and certain members of staff, it turned out that we weren’t emotionally safe at school either.  I saw the look on her face and left it at that; she had been as troubled as the rest of us.

The rest of the day was spent touring the school, seeing all the wonderful changes that have been made, and exchanging histories and reminiscences with many other women who had come from all over the country to share the day.

We talked to lots of the girls who are still at the school, as well as one of the current House Mistresses and they listened wide-eyed to our tales of how the school used to be.  The girls were obviously very happy there and the whole feel of the place was one of nurture and contentment and it seemed impossible to them that we had lived in such a regimental and strictured environment and had never thought to complain.

It was a cathartic day.  The last time I went back I was very bitter that the school had changed and become such a comfortable place, too late for my generation to have had the benefit of it.  Now that my children are growing up, I am genuinely delighted that it has become such a healthy, happy school full of lively, well-adjusted girls.

Ghosts well and truly laid to rest.

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More evidence that the world has gone mad

Boy the Elder came home from school today with the following information. There are nine hundred children at his school between the age of 11 and 14 and they have a large playing field with lovely country views … which they have not been allowed to use for recreation at lunch or break time.

They have now been told that they may use the field in groups of no more than twenty two children at a time and, if they do manage to get a go, they have to wear hi visibility tabards.

I have nothing more to say on the matter, mainly because I can’t speak properly with my fist in my mouth.

Boy the Elder has only three more weeks left, until  in September, he starts at a school where getting dirty, climbing trees and roaming the grounds is positively encouraged.  And hurrah to that.

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Ejukashunal success!

Many of you will have read my various articles regarding the education of Boy the Elder.

The first one explained the problems I was having at his state school

Then the joys of tutoring for the Common Entrance Exam

Followed by a comparison between the two shortlisted schools

And finally the difficulty of how to phrase letters to charities and trust funds and how he will feel if we fail

At some point, when I have gathered all my information together, I will write a post on how to approach the problem of finding funding as, hopefully, I have found out a great deal which may help other parents in the same situation.

But today, I have the wonderful news that Boy the Elder has been accepted into School A and will start in September.  We will have to move house to be a little nearer to the school, which is fine, as my current house is ghastly.  The whole process has taken nearly a year and a half and thankfully it has all been worth it.

I would also like to thank all of you who have shown me so much encouragement and sympathy – you have been a great support.

YIPPPPEEEEEEEEEE!

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Lunch at MacDonald's so only myself to blame

Have a look at the artist, Andy Councils website, its amazing. Click on the link below

As Boy the Elder was spending the day with a friend, I allowed Boy the Younger to choose what he wanted for lunch.  ‘Can we go to MacDonald’s, please?’ he asked nicely.  We very rarely go (for so very many reasons) so off we trotted.

We sat down with our food, when in walked a giant group of people.  Two enormous women with two children who were so fat they couldn’t walk properly.  There was also a very thin woman and her thin daughter – I feared for them.

I have never seen so much food on a table, all mixed up with piles of wrappings and cardboard and tubs.  The children were running about, the women were getting crosser and crosser and the children got louder and louder.  Then they got up to get more food.

We all know the dangers of being severely overweight – heart problems, high blood pressure, diabetes etc.  I’m a bit overweight myself, but I am an adult who is responsible for my own health and wellbeing. My children have hearty appetites and enjoy their food, but they also get plenty of exercise and, because they eat healthily, they can eat junk from time to time with a clear conscience.

Adults who allow their children to get that fat, and therefore expose them to lifelong health problems, to say nothing of the teasing they are likely to get at school, are guilty of neglect and consequently abuse.  There is no excuse.

Andy Council is the illustrator who made the above picture:
http://www.hypixel.co.uk/andycouncil/lotsofstuff.html

I downloaded his picture off Google without asking and his picture on this site does not indicate Andy’s endorsement of my article.  His work is fabulous so have a look at his site.

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Ejukashun Update

Back in May, I told you about the problems Boy the Elder was having at his state secondary school and what I was doing to tackle it.  Then in September, I wrote about the home tutoring schedule upon which we had embarked in preparation for another shot at the entrance exams for the original school and another grammar school that has an equally good reputation.

Since September BTE has been going to a maths tutor every Thursday and I have been tutoring him in English every evening and doing practice papers in Verbal and Non-Verbal Reasoning.  It has been seriously hard graft for both of us, taking a good two hours out of every evening and sometimes the weekends. 

Again, this has highlighted big gaps in his knowledge and I have found that I have been, effectively, teaching (hopefully effectively).   His maths tutor was really alarmed by how few of the basics he seemed to have been taught, but they have been making steady progress and BTE really enjoys their sessions because it they give him confidence.

What really annoys me is that his current school has been praising his improvement which has only happened because I’ve been teaching him all the things he should have been taught at school. But don’t get me lolloping down that particular alley or I will drip froth into my tea.

The upshot is that today was his first exam at one of the schools, which we will call School A.  The exam for the School B is not until January.  School A insists that, if offered a place, you have to accept within two weeks and then apply for a bursary within one week.  This would mean that if BTE was offered a place at School A, I dare not turn it down in case he fails the exam for School B. 
There are lots of pros and cons:

School A is 25 minute drive away, which is a lot of travelling or there’s a school bus at £6.50 per day
School B is a 10 minute drive
School A would be a completely unknown environment for him
School B contains all his existing friends 
School A has high standards but is a third of the size and is more family orientated
School B is enormous, highly academic and takes no prisoners
School A virtually guarantees to accept a younger sibling in order to keep children together
School B doesn’t

I have been silently crapping myself for the last two days.  BTE, in contrast, has appeared perfectly calm.  But when he came out of the exam, the first thing he said was “I’ve done really, really badly, Mum.  I didn’t even understand some of the maths questions, let alone be able to answer them!”   My heart sank. 

As we drove home, he became rather more positive and felt that he had done perfectly well in all the other areas of the exam, but was let down by his maths again.  Whatever happens, I shall continue with the tutor until I’m satisfied that he has caught up.

BTE is now upstairs playing with his brother and has forgotten all about it.  I am in bits.
He has been granted a week off  from being tutored by me and then we’ll start again.
School A will let us know within the next 2 weeks whether he’s passed.
….. aaaaand breeeeeeathe.  And then give me some cake.

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Ejukashun – or lack of it. A personal account of the failure of the state education system

I’m going to talk about something quite personal tonight of which I’m sure many of you have some experience either as teachers or parents.

Boy the Elder started at a local state secondary school in September.  He was so excited about leaving Primary and getting his teeth into some proper learning and our visit to the Open Day had given us all great encouragement.  He had left Primary School in good academic form and he was looking forward to meeting new friends, using the public bus and generally doing Big Boy Things.

Without going into the boring detail, from the moment he started he was subjected to low level bullying, teasing and unpleasant behaviour from some of the other children and he felt very lonely and let down.  This was not helped by the fact that all his close friends had left to go to private schools so he had no allies.  We have tried every strategy we can think of but nothing works, nothing changes.

At his first Parents’ Evening the teachers told me that he was doing extremely well, not quite so well in Maths (apparently still at national average though) and I was generally given a rosy picture of his progress.  I asked his Maths teacher how I could support his learning at home and asked why, if he was not doing so well, he was never given any homework. I was told that he always finished his work in class and that home time should be devoted to hobbies and family time, not homework.  I stared at him open-mouthed.  Did he really think that children who regularly had homework didn’t have hobbies or playtime?  He replied that my son would never get any homework from him. 

Half way through his third term, the bullying has not stopped and his recent report was less than encouraging.  It was still good, but his grades had dropped and I was not happy.  I have been in touch with the school regularly regarding the behaviour of the other children but this time I needed to tackle the apparent change in his academic progress.  I did not get a satisfactory response.

A couple of months ago I got in touch with a local fee paying grammar school who have an excellent reputation and more importantly, have some available bursaries.  The next round of entrance exams was not until January 2011 which would mean that even if he passed, got a place and won a bursary, he wouldn’t be able to start until September 2011.  That is a very long time for a 12-year old boy.  A week ago, in desperation, I rang the school again and they invited me in for an interview.  They were wonderfully understanding and encouraging and pointed out all the incumbent difficulties and hoops that we would have to jump through to get there, but, out of the blue, he invited to Boy the Elder to take the entrance exam.  10 days from the date of the meeting.  After much discussion with The Father of My Children and advice from Sister the First, we decided to go for it. 

And thank God I did.  Putting aside the exam, the process of doing papers in English Comprehension, Verbal Reasoning and Mathematics has revealed the vast gaps in his knowledge, of which I had no idea because he never gets any bloody homework.  I was astonished to discover that Boy the Elder, who will be 13 in September, could not do long multiplication, long division, percentages or areas and didn’t know his tables.  He had no confidence in geometry or algebra, although he can do it, and pretty much has a cerebral powercut the moment he turns over the paper.  Maths isn’t my strong point either and, although I can help with some things, my  CSE from 1981 would need a palaeontologist to bring the information to the front of my brain, so, after a week of searching I managed to find a tutor.  His first session is tomorrow morning. His exam is on Tuesday.

Even if he fails the exam, I will carry on with the test papers for the foreseeable future, both to get him up to an appropriate standard and to make sure that he stands an equal chance if we re-apply, or indeed if we try another school. 

I am firm in the belief that parents have the right to educate their children how they see fit and in a way that is appropriate to their family and lifestyle.  I also believe that state schools have a responsibility to provide the best education they can for the children in their care and to provide those children with an equal chance of competing in the working environment or in further education.  Of course private schools are going to have the edge – if they don’t, a lot of people are paying an awful lot of money for nothing – but a bright child in the state system should be nurtured and supported with as much care as the less able who often get a high level of learning support.  If they can’t provide this in the classroom, then the least they can do is to give the parents the opportunity to support the child’s learning at home.

I’m not interested in whether Boy the Elder’s maths corresponds to the national average.  I only care about whether he is achieving his potential.  If my children are going to be astrophysicists or film directors, that’s fantastic, but if they want to be plumbers or basket weavers, I would like to think that they would be the best and happiest plumbers and basket weavers they are capable of being.

Wish us luck

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Adventures in Learning

Illustrated by Tunnicliffe

As my regular readers will have gathered by now, I love my books.  I can’t remember a time when I couldn’t read, although I can remember the frustration of not being able to write (and some would argue that I still can’t as my handwriting is a diabolical, loopy, tortured scrawl).  Books meant everything; they taught me things, they took me places, they gave me new words, we travelled in time, they showed me another world.  

I started collecting books deliberately when I was about 16, before then I had read what was in the house or in the school library.  I joined a book club and used some of the money I earned in the holidays – doing bar work or picking strawberries in Norfolk – to explore new authors. In the end I decided that I needed my own bookshelf and, having found the perfect item in the ‘under £10’ section of The Staines Informer, Sister the Second drove me in her two-tone Morris Marina to pick it up.  I still have it and the books I put in it. 

James I and the Gunpowder Plot

 As children, my sisters and I had a large collection of Ladybird books, mainly the ‘Adventures from History (Series 561), but also some of the natural history titles and the children’s stories.  We were not always very careful with our books and I still cringe at the memory of our removing all the dust wrappers from our early editions of The Famous Five books because we thought they looked more grown-up.  (I am collecting them anew out of guilt).  However, the Ladybird books survived in marvellous condition and about 15 years ago I began to collect them in earnest. 

There are a lot of books.  I only collect up to 1975 which was when Penguin took over from Wills & Hepworth in Loughborough and temporarily trashed the brand, but even so, that adds up to well over 350 titles. Up until 1975, the books followed a simple structure – a page of writing opposite a full page picture.  The writing was beautifully and meticulously researched and many of the illustrators were heavyweights of their time, Tunnicliffe, Wingfield, Ayton and Payne are names that immediately spring to mind. 

The Party ill. J H Wingfield

 For me, a child with a very narrow life, the Ladybird books showed me worlds that I dreamed of.  The Party (Series 563 Learning to Read) was about a little girl and her brother getting ready for a party.  She had a pale blue party dress with matching shoes!  I can’t tell you how I longed to go to a party in a dress like that with matching shoes.  The children played Blind Man’s Buff and Hunt the Thimble, Mother had clearly made all the food and they had great jugs of quite strong squash and straws and it all looked utterly wonderful. 

No sexism here

 But these books weren’t just about fantasy, I learned to read with The Party and Helping at Home and my prep. school used Ladybird books to support the curriculum.  I still have my exercise book in which I had copied pictures from The Seashore and Seashore Life and Pond Life and even now, if I want a basic fact about something, for myself or my children, we invariably find what we want in a Ladybird book (assuming that it’s not a subject where technology has advanced beyond Ladybird’s wildest imaginings).  I idly wonder how they would have tackled The Ladybird Book of Chat Rooms ?

Wonk by Muriel Levy

Once I had started collecting, I realised that there were far more titles than I had ever come across at home or at school.  One of my greatest joys has been The Adventures of Wonk (Series 417) which came out during WW2. They were written by ‘Auntie Muriel’ of radio fame and they are about a little Koala Bear in Australia who lives with his friend Peter and with whom he has many gentle adventures and lovely outings. I have four out of a possible six and I crave the other two with a gnawing hunger.

There are many excellent contemporary children’s books around but, with the possible exception of Dorling Kindersley, there is nothing to rival the beauty, simplicity and sheer range of the Ladybird books.  You’ll find no dumbing down on these pages although they are sometimes criticised for being sexist or elitist.  I would call them aspirational.  The five year old Wartime Housewife would have given anything to be in the family featured in Helping at Home.  Still would.

A Robert Ayton illustration of mist

The Seashore and Seashore Life

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