As we trundle inevitably towards our new school year next week amid threats of redundancy, more cut backs and an ever shrinking national curriculum, here’s a reminder of why we do what we do.
Queuing up in our corner shop the other day, I recognised the young man in front of me as one of our ex students. He bought a couple of cans of coke and a pack of cigarettes.
“Still smoking then Danny, I see,” I said smiling, but trying to force a look of disapproval.
He turned and grinned at me. “Orright, Miss? Hey, do you remember when….?”
We reminisced a little before he left the shop. I watched him drive away in smart little car.
Do I remember? How could I forget? Eight years ago Danny (not his real name) was a student in a class of sixteen listless, under-achieving kids with bad attitude. I supported their English GCSE lessons alongside a young teacher who has since become a firm friend. I shall refer to her throughout as TF (Teacher Friend). She was patient, innovative and determined to get the best from this rabble who were not overjoyed to be in school at all, let alone have to struggle with Shakespeare or, heaven forbid, visit the library and select a book. I admired her enthusiasm but worried that she was being overly idealistic.
Nevertheless, we took them on for two years from the age of fourteen and from the outset they were a challenge. Their target levels were understandably rock bottom. They never produced homework. A detention was not a deterrent – they never turned up for one anyway. Their reading wasn’t fluent; none of them could spell or at least, didn’t bother. They would arrive in the classroom without their exercise books or even a pen. Because they were such a small class and they had most of all their other lessons together as well, they formed a tight bond: they worked and moved as a pack. TF wasn’t having any of this – she set about finding the pack leader and working on him. She wisely reckoned that with him on side, the others might eventually follow.
(I ought to point out now that it was not Danny who was leader; if anything, he presented as slightly anxious. He was content to follow the crowd, take the path of least resistance).
And follow the others did. Amid much groaning and sprawling on desks, we started studying “Much Ado About Nothing.” Instead of making them write reams and unpick unintelligible quotes, TF got the students acting the play out. Pack Leader was Benedict; our feistiest female played Beatrice. The others took turns in having a go at the other parts; they began to understand the play and, dare I say, enjoy it.
When we finished with that, we moved to a modern text by Willy Russell called “Our Day Out” – chosen because it is a short play about a load of dysfunctional kids going on a school outing. The irony did not pass over their heads: they thought it was hilarious. We began to love these kids: as hard as they found this subject, they had a sense of fun: they began to work for TF and produce essays of sorts. It was more than we had hoped for.
During one lesson, one of the pupils mentioned that she had never been on a school outing. Most of the others agreed. I was appalled. TF and I exchanged glances and before I knew what I was doing I had suggested that we take them to the theatre to see Willy Russell’s musical play, “Blood Brothers” – at that time showing in London.
Well, what can I say – we had opened the floodgates – the kids were thrilled with the prospect. A few of them had never even visited our capital city. They were nervous. To them, London represented a terrorist target.
Of course, we hit massive resistance as well as disbelief in the staff room.
“Take that lot out – you must be mad!”
“You’ll never get the risk assessment passed,”
“Of course you can’t take them by train – far too dangerous!”
“Imagine them in a theatre -they’ll disrupt the performance! You’ll get the school a bad name …”
And so on…
TF dug her heels in. Management suggested she team up with the Drama department who were running the trip later in the year but she politely refused. She didn’t want our little band of oddballs mixed in with a lot of high achieving students who regarded a theatre trip an everyday occurrence. She wanted this to be an occasion for them.
I dug my heels in. I don’t like being told I can’t do something either, surprisingly. I filled in a lengthy risk assessment form, got it begrudgingly signed and then I set about ordering subsidised tickets, checking out the school minibus schedule and acquiring a driver. My heart sank when I saw the state of the minibus. Used virtually exclusively by the PE department, it was filthy and smelled of unwashed bodies and football boots. Not suitable for a theatre trip to London. I called in a favour from an old ex-colleague who had started running her own hire company. She provided us with a vehicle and driver at minimal cost. Our trip was on – hurrah!
The kids were uncharacteristically enthusiastic. They all paid their fees within a couple of days. We finished “Our Day Out” and started on the poetry, expecting some opposition. There was none. The class continued to work well.
A couple of days before our outing, Danny dropped a bombshell. We were rounding up a lesson when he stood up, said he hated English and wouldn’t be coming on the trip. He stormed out. We were mystified. Nothing appeared to have provoked this outburst.
Pack Leader took me aside and explained conspiratorially that Danny couldn’t come because he wouldn’t be able to smoke. I almost laughed, but not quite. Pack Leader went on to explain knowingly that Danny was addicted to nicotine and “got the shakes” if he didn’t have a cigarette. When I realised that PL wasn’t winding me up, I was horrified. Apparently Danny had been smoking regularly since about the age of ten – with his parents. I thanked PL for his honesty and told him to leave it with me.
I managed to get Danny on his own for a quiet word. I asked him to explain his reason for the outburst. With a little coercing, his reason bore out what PL had told me. I asked Danny if he ever managed to go to the cinema and sit through a film. He had, many times. I told him that a theatre performance was just about the same length as anything at the cinema. It wasn’t the theatre he was worried about, however. We had suggested to the kids that because we would have to leave school in the late afternoon and they’d probably be hungry, we’d go for a burger before the show. Danny told me that after food especially, he needed a ‘fag,’ otherwise he got the shakes and started sweating. I told him that no way was he missing this trip and I’d sort something.
I mulled it over and discussed it with TF. I hatched a plan of which she wanted no part as it might compromise her professional position but she agreed to turn a blind eye.
Can you guess what my plan was? And what would you have done given the circumstance?
Here’s what happened.
At last our much anticipated evening arrived. The students met us back at school having gone home to change into their ‘smart-casual’ clothes. The girls teetered on impossible heels, looked a few shades of deeper orange and carried huge handbags filled with goodness knows what. The boys wore nicely pressed shirts and jeans. Because it was coming up to Easter, TF put little bags of chocolate eggs on each minibus seat which were scoffed down as we drove the forty odd miles to London’s West End. Any affectation of being ‘cool’ dissipated within the confines of that bus. As we crossed the river their excitement grew as they spotted Big Ben and then Nelson’s Column.
Our driver dropped us at Leicester Square and arranged a rendez-vous point for later on. We trooped off to Burger King where the kids were at home ordering their meals. TF and I withdrew a little with a bag of fries and a coffee. I kept a surreptitious eye on Danny, who was having a whale of a time with the others but who was, I noticed, unusually fidgety. When they’d finished, he was definitely looking sickly; I wasn’t imagining it. I nudged TF who, in her teacherly fashion, grouped the kids together and suggested we move across the street to Frankie and Benny’s for ice cream. This was our pre-arranged cue. I stayed behind to make sure the rubbish had been cleared by our party, and Danny stayed to ‘help.’ Then he and I sauntered off in the opposite direction, into the Square, and he (self-consciously, I have to say) lit up. I stood by the gate while he wandered up and down dragging on his horrible cigarette.
Eventually I was joined by PL who had cottoned onto what was happening and didn’t want to miss out, so he had a quick couple of drags too. Understandably, we received a few disapproving stares. I turned a blind eye to that one and, as we walked back to meet the others, while I impressed on them that I thought smoking was a disgusting habit and that it would affect their health this occasion was not to be discussed or mentioned back at school. They promised me that the incident would go no further – and it never has.
Having met up with the others again we walked crocodile fashion along Charing Cross Road to the theatre, our students keeping to a tight, nervous formation. It was interesting to see a bunch of supposed streetwise kids so far out of their comfort zone.
Their amazement and appreciation of the old theatre was gratifying. They gazed about them in wonderment at the old Victorian building. They were awestruck. We had fantastic seats along the front row of the dress circle. TF had grilled into them the need for excellent behaviour as the other theatre-goers had paid top dollar for their seats. We told them there’d be time for sweets in the interval. They were as good as gold, and as the music began, they leaned forward in their seats and became absorbed.
As the play came to its final heart-wrenching scenes, the sound of muffled sobbing came from along our row. Feisty Girl left the theatre with black mascara tracks coursing through her powdered orange face. Our party was buzzing. Danny gave me the thumbs up as we waited for the bus – he looked calm and chatted to the others about the performance. When our driver saw how much the kids had enjoyed themselves he suggested taking them on a short tour of the sites before we left the capital. So they took in Piccadilly Circus, Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament to round off their evening. We arrived back at school after midnight and we dared any of them to bunk off the next day. None of them did. It was business as usual and back to poetry in the classroom.
On my desk I found a scribbled note which said simply ‘thanks for last night.’ It wasn’t signed, but I recognised the writing.
Aw Jenny that was a good story, but I still ended up in tears. Isn’t it so sad the bad start so many kids have in their lives, and they written off before they have tried?
A little like your Snowy, I think? Aha, so I found your soft interior. Knew it was there all along, really 🙂
Huh. Oh no. Have read Cotton Boll (do you read him? Can’t remember). Just posted the exact opposite to your story.
Linky? I’m being lazy …
Of course: http://southcarolina1.wordpress.com/2014//designer-dorm-rooms-another-trend-we-can-do-without/
Cheers …. popping over now …
What a great story. Congratulations to you and TF for having the creativity and the courage and tenacity to go outside the system.
It’s heartwarming to know about teachers who have not lost their sense of vocation. And encouraging to know there are ways to reach some these kids that society finds it easier to discard.
Too badDanny is still smoking. Such a terribly addictive product. Thanks for making sure he was able to attend the event and for accepting he could not control his addiction.
TF has since moved on to pastures new – still in teaching, just elsewhere, unfortunately for us.
I occasionally bump into those old students and they always stop for a chat. Pleased to report that one of the girls I met recently (a real tomboy in those old days) has just been accepted on a nursing degree course at college. She went the hard way – by working in a care home and gaining A level equivalent qualifications along the way – but she’s discovered what she wants to do with her life.
I’m sure you have had significant positive effect on students and probably other staff members.
We rarely know what effect a word we have spoken or an act of kindness has had on another’s life. I know there are people who have been unknowing mentors to me that, unfortunately I didn’t get to tell and say thank you.
I loved this story, Jenny. I was lucky enough to have had an English teacher very similar to TF. She also made up perform Shakespeare – a midsummer night’s dream – and rewarded us by showing us Bertolucci’s Romeo & Juliet on video. She was one of three teachers who sparked my interest in reading and writing, and I cannot thank them enough.
A good teacher is worth their weight in gold but its more than just delivering their subject well. I was lucky to have two very good English teachers who stood me in good stead and sparked a lifelong interest too. Also, in our day, we went on lots of trips to fire our interests and I remember an art teacher taking us to plenty of galleries – something that sadly no longer happens.
This is what teaching is all about. That will probably stay with them forever. Did you do anything wrong? No. Improvise, Adapt, Overcome. It’s hard to stomach such sad tales and at least you and TF gave it a happy ending, if not a happy ever after. Well done the two of you and good luck for the new year.
Ah, thanks. Looks like we might need it!
All you can do is pass on experiences and hope they stick. Any learning is incidental 🙂
What a wonderful thing you and TF did for Danny and the class.
The teaching profession is full of unsung heroes like you, Jenny.
Well I don’t know about heroes, Jill but it was certainly an education for me watching TF handle this class! As a supporting role I’m there firstly for one or two particular students and then for the teacher – if they know how to use the help offered effectively. The reason this case worked so well was because TF knew how to use another adult in the room to the advantage of everyone. Not all teachers are able (or willing) to do that.
Great story Jenny – when it gets to this time of year, when the re-structures start, it can be easy to forget why we’re in public service. I still remember when I was a young librarian running a homework club in the library and I’d get one boy who would always come in for help with his homework. I’d see him years later as a ‘feisty’ young man and he’s still stop and say hello.
It’s great when they still recognise us and want to be bothered to stop and chat after several years. Doesn’t happen all the time though – I’ve seen old students cross the road rather than say hi. On the whole though, it’s the old needier students who will pass the time of day.
We had the same issue when taking a group of youngsters camping – two days and a night are impossible for those who are addicted and a blind eye is necessary.
I have nothing but admiration for those who can get through to a certain type of young person. It’s a very special gift – one I don’t have – but I’ve been privileged to work with those who do and you and TF obviously do. An amazing story and I felt quite teary at the end of it.
Blind eyes are paramount for staying sane in this job, I reckon. 🙂
I don’t think it’s a gift, it’s finding the person you can connect with and getting through on some sort of level, both from a student point of view and the educator’s. Doesn’t always work – there are lots of kids that I’d never connect with in a million years. Personalities, timing – all play a part.
Another thing your story reminded me of – we are trying to run the SEAL programme at work with some youngsters and tearing our hair out because it is only working with about 1 out of 6. It’s a question of matching up the needs of the young people and the offer (a number of them are just taking advantage of it as some time out of lessons :-() – in your case, a different experience to open their eyes was exactly what they needed. Timing, as you say. Being the person in the right place at the right time.
You are also right in that the paperwork is the most hated part of providing the experience!
wonderful story Jenny 🙂 I went through a particularly difficult time in Grade 4 and I credit my teacher for helping me get through it. I admire teachers like yourself and TF.
Thanks, Yolanda. We do what we can! As part of the support team I find it’s sometimes the teachers who need a little TLC just as much as the students these days, with the ever increasing workload being imposed upon them.
You’re not wrong here Jenny. I thoroughly appreciated the assistance I managed to get (though it was like pulling teeth) in my lessons. Sometimes just having two adults in a class shifted the balance, but I always made sure that we worked as a team, because that was most affective for us AND the students, even if they (students) didn’t always see it that way. Really enjoyed reading this story. Good things do happen in schools, some times 🙂
Thanks, Jude. I think teachers who are able to use a second adult in the room effectively are the ones with the most confidence in their own ability. To be able to off load and work in partnership with someone willing and able to help has got to be better for everyone in the long run.
What a wonderful story – and what a wonderful thing you did for that boy. I was a teacher for 25 years and remain appalled at the things some parents do to their children. Often for these deprived kids it is just having that one accepting person who makes a difference. I’m betting ‘Danny’ will never forget that trip.
I hope he doesn’t forget. I can still remember many of my school trips as being the place where I probably, without knowing, learned the most. Sadly, these days, school outings are few and far between – and a major issue to organise when they do !
Because I still believe that change in children can happen, that intellect and understanding can grow- even against the odds. Without people like you who believe that…that could never happen. Thank goodness for you! Xxx
Sent from my iPhone
Well thank you, but also thank goodness for teachers like TF who was prepared to tackle her subject to suit her students, not try to take them the conventional route. I think teaching is all about creativity, whatever the subject, and that’s why she was so successful with this class.
What a heart warming, true story. It just goes to show that you get out what you put in and by going the extra mile (or miles, in this case) , what you got back in return was priceless. I expect not one of that group will ever forget the experience and the kindness and encouragement of you and TF. Well done
Thanks Kay. I have to say that since that group of students left I haven’t had a similar experience with a whole class. Individual students, yes, but not a group. How’s things down Mexico way?
Hi Jenny, Mexico is hot, hot, hot! Have a beautiful room and view. Did the ice bucket challenge with fellow holiday family. Am just waiting for my. Real fast to arrive because I felt lazy this morning and wanted to do some writing. So as promised, have done my blog from holidays, although it is about moving! Maybe I should do one about Mexico before I leave. The wedding is Wednesday, which I am really looking forward to and the Spa treatment the day before, oh and we are going into Cancun itself in the next two days. Speak soon, Kay x
Oh Jenny, what a fantastic, rousing story. All I kept thinking about was To Sir With Love with Sidney Pottier which, coincidentally, hubby and I caught on TV at the weekend. Fabulous film. Although in this case, it would be ‘To Miss With Love’ 🙂 So sad that this lad was brought up to smoke with his parents like that and obviously still doing so, but what a difference you and TF made to his life, and the other kids too, something they will never forget. Bravo Jenny. You are doing a marvellous job…if only there were more teachers like you and TF. I’ll be thinking about you as the new year starts and hope the cut backs aren’t too awful…
Thanks Sherri. Well, the cut backs will be awful but there’s not much we can do about it so well just have to plough on the best we can.
TF now works in another school – lucky them, I say. I’m fortunate that I work in a strong team of support staff whose jobs are made so much more fun when we work with teachers like TF who give us the chance to really get involved. It’s all about knowing how and having the confidence to use your support staff effectively.
Well I think you are marvellous…
Stories such as this reaffirms my belief that some people are called to be teachers, just as some are called to be artists, doctors or ministers. You and TF will never know the impact you’ve had on the lives so many students, but the ingenuity and enthusiasm you bring can’t help but be infectious. If only all teachers had your approach and ability.
Well, thanks for stopping by and leaving such an encouraging comment.
I think ingenuity is one of the strengths of good teaching – we don’t all learn the same way, so why should we be taught the same way? Happily TF worked that one out pretty early on.
I believe kids pick up on the teachers that care enough to try different techniques and respond accordingly. If we all learned the same way teaching would be pretty cut and dried, but as dropout rates in even some of the most advanced nations show, that’s not the case.
Wonderful story, and what a wonderful gift those kids passed along … whether they knew it or not. You and TF were wonderful for giving each of those kids an experience they will never, ever, forget. As an educator one often wonders what sorts of far-reaching influences our efforts may or may not have. Won’t it be fun to know? D
Yes it would be fun but it’s one of those things that will remain elusive! I remember many of my old teachers for good and bad reasons, so which ever way, teachers seem to leave an impression of some sort 🙂
What a touching story. What a very touching story. I do believe you and your assistant made Danny’s life. Not to mention the other kids’!!!!!! (I have to say, that scene with the “fag”, as you call them, makes me know now why your favorite Stone is Keith Richard)
Haha, Hollis – but I hate smoking, I really do! I think it’s because he had his own unique style while Mick changed with the seasons or to suit the current fashion.
By the way, thanks for promoting me – I was actually TF’s assistant – and pleased to be so 🙂
Jenny, this brought back SO many memories. We’re a world apart but on the same “teacher page,” and I loved reliving my student story by listening to yours. This was fabulous, and I’m cheering like crazy…I hope you can hear me.
Yes I can! I somehow thought you’d approve of this one, Marylin!
Found this very affecting. Having “done it” for forty years, I have always found it very touching when the unlikely student has clearly been reached. So many of them live very culturally and socially impoverished lives. I once ran a course for this sort of student. None of them had been to any of the local sites of interest; that became our focus. They loved even simple things such as running along Bledlow Ridge. When I retired, one such student came to thank me personally. It was the only time I cried. Keep “doing it.” The students will ALWAYS remember “The day we ….”
Thanks Jacqueline. I hope they do remember a bit of their time with us – we’ve not had a complete class like them since, so they are memorable to us for that reason.
Yes, we’ll keep doing it – until the powers that be force us to stop!
You bought back some memories here of working with similar kids! Take them outside the formal classroom battle-ground and they were a joy. Sometimes I think we should just leave the bright ones to their own devices – they will probably succeed anyway – and concentrate our efforts on those who really need it.
Hear, hear!
Although there is a case for pushing the gifted and talented ….
This is a great story Jenny, and so well told. It ought to be made into a film 🙂 I’m sure it wasn’t yours and TF’s only success story. You both did something wonderful for those kids and I don’t doubt that it gave them something of a different outlook on life that hopefully has stayed with them even in a small way.
Our 6th Form group visited the Round Theatre in Stoke in about 1970 and a small number of us inexplicably found ourselves in the pub instead of the theatre for the second half 🙂
Ha, thanks Roy! I also remember pubs featuring during sixth form field works – ah, those were the days 🙂
Reblogged this on Back On The Rock and commented:
I commend to you this uplifting post from Jenny of the ‘Characters in the Kitchen’ blog. Our children are the future – how do we help them to shape it?
Oh, thank you – very honoured to have the reblog 🙂
Thanks for such a wonderful post which I got to read via Roy McCarthy.
It has me in floods of tears, but gives me huge hope at a number of different levels.
Thank you so much for stopping by and commenting. I’m really touched that so many folk agree with what I did. I thought there may have been some disapproval …
My pleasure. I can’t imagine who would/could disapprove. If only more teachers had your insight and vision!
Oh, I enjoyed this and, as I’m in catch up mode with my WordPress reader, am grateful to Roy for reblogging it.
Wonderfully told, Jenny and an inspiring example of persistence, creativity and passion.
Thanks RH. Glad you enjoyed my tale – and thanks to Roy for the reblog.
Catching up with the WP reader is an on going task I think – it’s so easy to miss stuff anyway – and then mine sometimes decides to eliminate blogs I follow without any warning. So annoying!
Yep, that’s a big failing of the wordpress reader. I’ll regularly come across comments and think “Hey, I used to read that blogger”. Only to root around and discover I’d missed a whole bunch of posts.
Loved this story (reblogged by Roy). What a difference you made to those lives… a difference,I would like to think, that has had an impact on their lives.
Ah, thank you so much for stopping by and commenting – much appreciated. 🙂
I was just remarking to a friend, that the majority of my friends are writers or educators or both. You’re a gem, Jenny. I’m proud to know you.
What a lovely thing to say – thank you. Like minds certainly seem to congregate around our blogs – and it’s been great to make contact with you Tracy, to exchange ideas, experiences and a little banter. For all the distance between us geographically, we seem to stay on pretty much the same page for everything else. Long may it continue – hope your summer was more restful and we’ll see more of you back at your blog before too long.
Cheers to our friendship’s longevity!
I’m hoping to post (and visit) 2-3 times/month for the foreseeable future. I have a lot going on, but I miss you all too much to stay away long.
I’m working on a novel and a couple of non-fiction books, plus I’m helping Ken organize his consulting business (I’m the details person, the paperwork person, the accounting person).
And, I’m editing a local history book for another writer. Plus trying to stay on top of exercise, diet and sleep. It’s going pretty well so far. I think I’m getting the hang of being an entrepreneur without falling into burnout. 🙂
I’m hoping to get back to some more regular posting again now that school’s back and running. Writing keeps me sane! So see you around in the blogosphere. 🙂
What a beautiful and inspiring story. You and TF found a perfect solution to gain their attention and their good behavior. I’m glad it worked out so well. That ‘Danny’ remembered it years later: Priceless. 😉
This year, I’m posting daily Classroom Positives on Facebook. It’s an idea I borrowed from another teacher who I used to work with. Focusing on the positives in the classroom certainly has me looking out for the 99 percent in my class rather than the one percent who choose to be off task and/or disruptive.
That sounds like good sense Judy. We all respond to praise for a job well done. One head master I knew always would say “Let’s catch ’em being good” – I think he’d enjoy your Facebook page. 🙂
Man, this made me cry!!! What a wonderful story! I can’t help thinking of movies like To Sir with Love, Dead Poets Society, and Dangerous Minds. It’s wonderful to hear about teachers who care about their students.
Ah, thanks L. Marie. I loved all those films too … Also there’s Educating Rita … Always a favourite.
Now THAT is a great story. It resonates quite well with one of the lessons I have learned along the way: we can’t always get exactly what we want but if we work with others we can get things done that benefit quite a few people. That is, I think, the best that any of us can do. In fact that is exactly what we should always try and do. Nicely done on all counts–the story and the event.
Thanks for back reading my posts, Maurice. I thought this might resonate with you as you must have dealt with challenging students in the past. I appreciate you taking the time out to comment.
Sometimes, you have to lose a battle in order to win the war!
I understand this completely – I used to teach Outreach (a very tough crowd of 15-17 year-olds) and often turned a blind eye to smoking in order to get something else. 🙂
We learn as we go, don’t we, Lynette? I do appreciate you back tracking through my posts, thanks xx
You’re welcome! 🙂 I missed some good ones.