Nurturing talent

How do we recognise and nurture talent and potential?

Sporting opportunity

As a Prep School boy in Scotland, I was a keen sportsman but not especially talented. I can remember one of my Schoolmasters, looking at a rather gangly 12 year old, tall for his age but somewhat uncoordinated, and saying: ‘Reid. Keep working hard at your rugby and you’ll get in the 1st XV and get your ‘colours’. He was right on both counts although my ‘colours’ were only awarded after the final match of the season!

The following term, this same Master spotted that I have a little talent at cross-country running (a sport I went on to develop significantly at my secondary school). Once again he encouraged me by setting a target of getting into the top three when the end of term school event took place. Again he was right to set the goal. I may, of course, have managed this without his interest and challenge – but I doubt it.

Professional sport scouts

Scouts for professional football spend less time these days on the side of muddy pitches looking for talent and much more in front of screens analysing data. Nonetheless, they still have to spot potential. In a course run by the Professional Football Scouts Association, they start with the photo seen above of a team of young kids in red and white shirts. It’s from the 1990s and they are on a dirt pitch in less than salubrious surroundings. ‘If you were a scout, which of these ten players would you most be interested in?’ You might pick the lad in the front row with the wide smile as he looks like he’s enjoying himself and so could have a good mentality. What about the boy standing taller than the others: he is presenting himself with confidence? How many would be drawn to the lad on the back row, far left, with his shirt hanging off his shoulders? He’s smaller than the others and has a shy smile. This young man is the future football megastar – Lionel Messi!

Nurture well

Let’s nurture well all those in front of us – at home, in school, at work, in a hobby setting, at church – and be prepared to be at pleasantly surprised by the outcome!

Drops of grace as life stutters

As we approach the inauguration of the 46th President of the USA, we are being reminded that Joe Bidden is one among 3% of the world’s population who stutters – or stammers. Ed Balls, former MP, ‘Strictly star’ and Shadow Secretary of State for Education was once mocked in the House of Commons for stumbling over his words – someone else who stutters through life. I, too, count myself as part of this select 3%!

Not long ago I read in the Press about author Chris Young, who was trying to get in touch with his English teacher, a Miss Ward, from the late 1970s. Mr Young, who commended his teacher for supporting him after his mother died and his alcoholic father could not cope, tweeted: ‘I’d dropped into the bottom quarter for English at school. My English Teacher, Miss Ward, pulled me out of that ditch’. At the age of 13 years, Miss Ward ‘treated me like a rock star, loved what I wrote and got me to talk in front of the class’. He has now launched his first book!

I imagine (and I hope) that we all have memories of someone who has stood by us, encouraged us and ‘been there for us’ when the going got tough. Whilst my early life was very different from that of the gentleman above, I can also remember a teacher who impacted me positively and immeasurably – and who also gave me confidence to speak in front of others. Her name was Miss Margaret Maclaurin and she was my elocution teacher at Prep School in Scotland in the 1960s.

My parents lived and worked in West Africa and were in a remote area of Ghana when the time came for me to go to school aged five. There was nowhere suitable for me locally and so I came to board, aged five, at Drumley House Prep School near Ayr. Whilst I have only fond memories of my eight years at Drumley, at some point in my early years there I developed a stammer. This was possibly a result of the separation from my parents (although I usually spent my holidays with them in Ghana or, when home on leave, in Paisley). Miss Maclaurin came to my rescue! She saw me once a week for elocution lessons and during this time not only did I learn a few ‘tricks’ (such as how to avoid using words beginning in ‘p’ when feeling tired and stressed), I also learnt about speaking in public. Where this was once the most disarming place for me as a stutterer, it came to be a challenge which I relished. Miss M taught me to learn poetry off by heart so that when I declaimed I could concentrate on expression, modulation and emphasis and not have to worry about the words themselves.

As a Head I had to speak in public almost daily and owe a huge debt of gratitude towards Miss Maclaurin. It was a delight to visit her in her home when she had retired and I was newly married and to introduce her to my wife, Rosalyn. So engrossed were we in conversation that we quite forgot that Rosalyn had gone off to the bathroom (and somehow locked herself in) – but that’s another story!

So, a challenge for us all during a time when life is stuttering in another way: think of someone who has had a positive impact on our lives in years gone by and why not surprise them with a letter, a card, a call or even a visit – just to show appreciation. It might prove to be a ‘drop of grace’ in their life at this very moment. You’ll never know if you don’t try it – and who knows, someone may do it for you, too!

What’s in a number?

Just recently a friend shared with me that on April 29th this year it was the 87th anniversary of the Everton v Manchester City FA Cup final. What was the fascination with this match? It was the first time players wore numbers on their shirts: Everton wore numbers 1-11 and Man City numbers 12-22.

VE Day commemoration

Many of us have also just held socially distanced street parties to commemorate another date – the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II in Europe. We celebrated on May 8th 1945 but the Russians on May 9th (as the Soviets were not happy with the Western Allies coming to terms with the German surrender a day early). My Mother recalls being in school at this time and sitting in her Geography lesson while the teacher moved flags around on a large map depicting the position of the various armies as peace approached. My Dad says he can’t remember VE Day – he was working in the shipyards on the Clyde – but it’s possible he was in the pub! (Very sadly for him the last days of the war were blighted by the death of his two cousins: they were helping out at a First Aid station when a German bomb aimed at Coates’ Mills in Paisley missed its intended target and hit their post instead.) For many, such as my wife’s family, the end of the war in Europe was a false dawn: my wife’s grandfather was still a POW of the Japanese and did not get back home until well into the Autumn of 1945 – and only then could they properly rejoice.

School numbers

At my two schools I was allocated numbers: in my Prep School I was number 58 (and apparently the 58th boy to join this new boarding school in Ayrshire) before becoming number 677 at my senior boarding school in Edinburgh (where the numbers were allocated according to your House). Having numbers meant it was easier for parents to mark up clothing and seemed to go well with the fact that you were generally known by your surname – Reid in my case – for much of your school career. (Boys with brothers, such as my best friend, Tom, had attributions after their surname: Tom’s eldest brother was Davidson Major, his second brother was Davidson Minor and Tom was Davidson Tertius.)

More Maths

We are living today in a time of crisis and once again numbers have become all important. (Not that I’m someone who’s any good with numbers: when I first took O Level Maths – yes, I am that old – I just managed a pass with a grade 6. My Maths teacher was furious: ‘Reid, you’re in set 1. You can do better than this – take the exam again next term’. I did so and promptly got a grade 7, a fail.) The Prime Minister and his medical experts are talking about the R number (sounds like an O Level equation – help), countries are being compared according to the number of virus-infected patients and, tragically, the number of those who have died. It’s all like some macabre league table. It is all too easy to become a statistic and for us to feel insignificant and of no account.

Not a number but a name

And so I am reminded of the New Testament story of Zacchaeus. Whatever our faith position, it’s a great encouragement to read of Jesus calling out to a man who, for fear of those whose numbers he’d been fiddling as a tax collector, had effectively been self-isolating. Jesus calls him down from the sycamore tree and addresses him by name – a person whom He had never met before. Moreover, the Bible assures us that not one sparrow falls to the ground without God knowing about it – and that every hair of our heads is numbered. This is the God who goes after the one missing sheep to return it to the fold with the other 99 – and the God who welcomes the prodigal back home with open arms.

So, how ever you are feeling today, let’s remember that we are not just a number. Our ‘football shirts’ have our name on the back – with God’s name as the sponsor on the front! Oh, and by the way, Everton beat Man City 3-1 back in April 1933 at the FA Cup Final (and my Liverpool family are Everton season-ticket holders)! Stay safe and well – and remember that you are named and loved.

With thanks to Alex Aldous, chaplain of Prestfelde School, for the football numbers and idea

New beginnings and fresh opportunities

I felt very guilty yesterday as I did something for the first time: I bought some cigarettes. Let me hastily explain! I have been privileged to be involved in a volunteer support network in my home town. This sometimes involves calling someone for a chat, collecting a prescription or, as on this occasion, fetching someone’s groceries. I picked up a shopping list yesterday from a vulnerable person’s doorstep and was somewhat astonished by the relatively large sum of money in the envelope. I have clearly lived a very sheltered life! It was only when I went to the tobacco counter, noted the rolling back of the doors hiding the ‘secret stash’ and was then presented with the bill for three packets of cigarettes that I realised why I had been given so much cash in advance. The cost of the cigarettes was nearly double that of the groceries!

Teacher tasks

I recount this story not to be critical of someone’s purchase (although the frightening message on the fag packets did give me a jolt) but to highlight that we are all doing new things in these strange times. Just today I had contact with a teacher who has just ‘gone into’ school for the summer term. He recounted the number of meetings he was attending remotely – some well into the evening – and also the online lessons he was delivering on top of setting tasks, marking work and contacting home to check on the pastoral well-being of his pupils. To some extent these are all familiar tasks for a school teacher but the online medium and the lack of face-to-face contact certainly present a new adventure – and this teacher was approaching things positively in this fresh way.

Incredible creativity

I take my hat off to all those I am coming across who are sensitively and imaginatively undertaking ‘old’ tasks in new ways. There are chaplains in my network delivering ‘thoughts’ in under three minutes, complete with animations and pop-up characters; there are Heads giving rousing start-of-term addresses using clips featuring pupils working from home; sports’ staff are encouraging exercise and ball skills using minimal space in front rooms and gardens (the ‘keepy-uppy’ tasks using a hockey stick and all kinds of objects are amazing); and there are food tech teachers helping us make the most of those long-forgotten ingredients in the back of our kitchen cupboards. So many of those I have regular contact with in schools are making a virtue out of a necessity, turning a cruel situation into a creative one.

New obstacles, too

I don’t pretend, however, that these fresh opportunities are not throwing up new obstacles, too. How can teachers, not least chaplains and form tutors, offer pastoral care without face-to-face contact? There are staff trying to support children, sometimes in dysfunctional environments at home, to stay on task with their learning, to be helpful with their parents and carers and to avoid an over-dependence on ‘devices’. Spare a thought, and a prayer, too, for those with little internet access, shared computers, mixed age and often educationally challenged young people in their homes. And then there are those who have virus-hit families, some now bereaved and unable to grieve with the wider family. My heart and my prayers go out to them.

Community action

It is heartening, however, to see how this time of lockdown has enabled an explosion of creativity and also of community action. Our street enjoyed a ‘social distance afternoon tea’ last Sunday and we had families introducing themselves and sharing in a way they would probably never have done in ‘normal’ times. I have heard of family online quizzes and brunches and also of friends enjoying a virtual night at the theatre. My extended family also managed a zoom gathering at Easter which allowed great-grandparents to interact over three generations. Whilst we long to be ‘unlocked’ soon, I hope that what we are learning under curfew, sometimes in a slower-paced life, will not be lost into the future.

School’s out – but let’s still finish well

I visited a school last week with my Governor’s ‘hat’ on and was impressed to see how far the online teaching had progressed. If ever there was an incentive to enable reluctant staff to master computing skills, this crisis has created the prefect storm. As a Head said to me, ‘Every crisis has its uses!’ In fact, despite the unprecedented times, I am pleased to note that humour is continuing to prevail. Another Head mentioned that a parent had just been in to the school and had remarked to the receptionist: ‘The visitors’ car park is rather empty. Is there something I’m missing?’ Missing indeed!

School ‘graduation’ ceremonies

It’s another kind of ‘missing’ that worries me. Many of our pupils who are in the final year of their schooling will now have had their last day in school. Whilst no doubt a cause of rejoicing for the majority, it will before long be a reason for much sadness. I never experienced the modern preference for school ‘graduation’ celebrations when I left school in the mid-1970s, but we did have ways of saying goodbye to our peers. I recall several pranks, one involving removing my Housemaster’s car and replacing it with a ‘dinky toy’ replica. Another involved turning all the chairs around in the speech day marquee. No doubt all very tiresome for the staff who had to rush round putting everything back to where it belonged, but they built shared memories. We enjoyed, too, the official end of year functions, meals, photos and signing of autograph books.

Finishing well

Today the celebrations might be more spectacular – balls, games, dinners and formal speeches together with special T-shirts or sweatshirts – but whatever the goings-on they form part of leaving well and transition. I am, thus, concerned that the present crisis might have already made such leave-taking all but impossible. Is this always going to be known as the ‘crisis generation’ which didn’t do final exams and wasn’t able to leave properly? One Head I spoke to about this remarked wryly, but with real pathos, that he had heard of a fee-paying school which recognised it might struggle to charge school fees for the summer term but was considering charging £4,000 a head to all the leavers wanting to attend the graduation ball! It might appear to be a small matter in view of the unprecedented times in which we find ourselves, but I do hope that schools will give some thought in due course as to how to enable their pupils to leave well.

Closure

I was, therefore, heartened to hear of a rural school in East Anglia which had called the leavers together for a final, open-air, assembly. It was a relatively brief affair but had finished, with all involved the regulation two metres apart, singing Blake’s ‘Jerusalem‘ at such a pitch that it was heard some distance away in the local town centre. Other schools, too, had gathered their final year pupils to listen to speeches from their Head prefects and senior staff and then to close with prayer and an act of collective worship – usually the singing of a well-known hymn. Poignant and emotional, yes, but also occasions which will have enabled ‘closure’ to begin. I trust that all schools, whatever the next few weeks and months contain, will consider how best to enable such endings to be positive beginnings for the next chapter in their leaving pupils’ lives.

A cheer for Chaplains!

Just last week I was at Newman University, Birmingham, to take part in some research. The focus is on how better to prepare the school chaplains of the future – their training, support, encouragement and well-being. I was asked to talk about my experience of chaplains over the years and this took me back to my own experience at boarding school in Scotland.

‘Muscular Christianity’

We had two school chaplains, one for the Anglican community and the other for the Church of Scotland, and both were very effective and approachable. As I remember, they were a full part of boarding school life – including sport, outdoor activities, the classroom and the boarding houses. (‘Muscular Christianity’, I suppose, but in its most positive of forms.) I was just starting out as a Christian and they nurtured my faith and allowed me to ask questions, to challenge and to explore spirituality in a productive way. Through their pastoral care, I got involved with holiday camps run by Scripture Union and helped organise a Christian Union in school. They were innovative in chapel, too: I well remember us singing our way through the just published ‘Jesus Christ Superstar‘ with great gusto and without embarrassment (and this was an all-boys’ school, too).

Asking questions

I further recalled how important school chaplains had been to me as a young, married, teacher. Also in a boys’ boarding school, I was encouraged to help with assemblies and chapels – thus having to order my thoughts and hone my delivery in those precious seven-minute slots. I was also enabled to lead a town-wide schools’ group – embracing the maintained and independent sectors – and there was helped to articulate my own faith and to consider the time-honoured questions about suffering, poverty, war, creation and disease.

And so it has been in recent days as I have ‘listened in’ to school chaplains through the closed WhatsApp group I help to organise: here again are men and women eager to help and share, to be open and honest where they are at present and to rejoice, despite the current crisis, in all their school communities are still able to do. Chapels and assemblies have become voluntary during the present virus-fearful times and yet droves of students have wanted to come to share, to pray and to support each other.

Here is a poem being shared by chaplains just now. Read it and be encouraged!

Lockdown, by Richard Hendrick

Yes there is fear.

Yes there is isolation.

Yes there is panic buying.

Yes there is sickness.

Yes there is even death.

But,

They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise

You can hear the birds again.

They say that after just a few weeks of quiet

The sky is no longer thick with fumes

But blue and grey and clear.

They say that in the streets of Assisi

People are singing to each other

across the empty squares,

keeping their windows open

so that those who are alone

may hear the sounds of family around them.

They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland

Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.

Today a young woman I know

is busy spreading fliers with her number

through the neighbourhood

So that the elders may have someone to call on.

Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples

are preparing to welcome

and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary

All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting

All over the world people are looking at their neighbours in a new way

All over the world people are waking up to a new reality

To how big we really are.

To how little control we really have.

To what really matters.

To Love.

So we pray and we remember that

Yes there is fear.

But there does not have to be hate.

Yes there is isolation.

But there does not have to be loneliness.

Yes there is panic buying.

But there does not have to be meanness.

Yes there is sickness.

But there does not have to be disease of the soul

Yes there is even death.

But there can always be a rebirth of love.

Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.

Today, breathe.

Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic

The birds are singing again

The sky is clearing,

Spring is coming,

And we are always encompassed by Love.

Open the windows of your soul

And though you may not be able to touch across the empty square,

Sing.

Unsung Heroes

SPOTY

I watched SPOTY – the BBC’s annual Sports Personality of the Year – last weekend and, like so many, was amazed by the breadth and range of sporting success (and some failure) enjoyed by British athletes of all disciplines in 2019. I was especially struck afresh by the importance of the ‘quiet word’, encouragement and ‘behind the scenes’ support given by coaches, family, friends and others – the ‘unsung heroes’. Whilst my own sporting journey to date has been modest, to say the least, compared to all that was on display in SPOTY, I can testify to something of what the writer to the Hebrews refers to as ‘the cloud of witnesses‘ (in Hebrews 12 in the New Testament).

Early sporting interest

My parents come to mind initially. We were very fortunate to live Overseas until I was 18 years of age and my Mum and Dad taught me firstly to swim (apparently I could do this before I could walk and would worry bystanders by doing most of it underwater) and, secondly, to play golf. I didn’t enjoy golf initially but their encouragement and example ensured I didn’t easily give up and then in my teens the golfing ‘bug’ stuck and I was on the course daily during the holidays. I wasn’t able to play regularly thereafter but now that I am semi-retired my youthful skills are being resurrected and I can still hear their words of exhortation.

Perseverance is key

Next I recall a schoolmaster, John England, who watched me playing rugby when I was about 12 years old. As a gangly youngster I was placed in the second row of the rugby pack but was able to show a turn of speed if given space. Mr England advised me to stretch out a bit – and not give up – and suggested that with perseverance I’d confirm my first team place and gain ‘colours’ (a badge and special socks, as I recall). The very next match I remember scoring a try and, although we lost, his confident prediction was borne out. Moreover, the following term, commenting again positively on my running, he challenged me to win the school cross-country championship. Actually I came third but his belief in me ensured that at secondary school I continued cross-country running under the guidance of former Scottish Commonwealth Games runner, Fergus Murray. By then I was shortening much of my focus to middle-distance running and the highlight, aged 18 years, was to run a 400 metre race against senior opposition (including two international athletes) at Meadowbank Stadium in Edinburgh. I came last in the race but at least I had been encouraged to aspire!

Admonition can help, too!

It was at secondary school that I received another type of encouragement in my sports’ playing. This time, also aged 18 years, I was admonished by a Scottish rugby international (and later BBC commentator), Ian Robertson. It was during a 7-a-side practice when an opponent swept passed me. Instead of trying to chase him down I pulled up assuming there was no chance of catching him. Mr Robertson, our coach, ‘let me have it’ and I never forgot the importance thereafter of ‘keeping on going’ even if the odds appeared stacked against me. In fact this advice paid off handsomely that summer in the school Sports Day. My Housemaster, David McMurray – another fine sportsman who encouraged me in croquet, golf, hockey and athletics – had a quiet word with me towards the end of the Inter-House championship. Our House was lying second by a couple of points and we still had the final event to run: the 6 x 200 yards relay. I was on the final leg for my House. Mr McMurray pointed out that if I was to come in the top three then we would win overall. Despite the other final leg athletes being better sprinters, I somehow managed second place and the Cup was ours!

Throw off everything that hinders

It’s not for me to trot out more examples from my past of encouraging words and cajolements on the sports-field (and there are others who have made a great impression on me). Suffice it to say, that as the writer to the Hebrew has said, it’s vital than in all that we do – sporting or otherwise – to ‘throw off everything that hinders‘ and to run the race of life with perseverance. A kind word, a smile, an encouraging letter or card – even a carefully judged and appropriate criticism passed on in love – can make all the difference. Why not try it today and be an unsung hero?

Email at your peril!

The email trail

This week I have been emailing several people to chase up responses to messages sent out in August. I was pleased to receive one automatic message: ‘I won’t be responding to emails this week as I am on holiday with my lovely family’. A great reply. (It is half-term for some teachers.) Another automated response reads: ‘I am on the half-term break but will reply as soon as I can’. Oh dear – a shame. And there was, ‘I am on my summer break and won’t manage to reply for some time’. Ho hum!

I gather it is Ray Tomlinson, a New York computer programmer in the 1970s, we have to blame for electronic communication. As Simon Kelner (The i Newspaper 23/10/19), reminds us: ‘The advent of email changed the rules of engagement for everyone and no-where has this been more consequential than in the workplace‘.

Avoid emails after 9.00 pm

When I was a Head, I tried not to email anyone after 9.00 pm – and certainly endeavoured to avoid the ‘ping’ of the email after that evening hour. Early on in my senior managing career I realised that to open a parental ‘wine o’clock’ email after I was home was likely to rob me of sleep: there was nothing I could do about the inevitable ‘complaint’ until the morning. (Besides, my wife quite rightly castigated me for checking my ‘phone after this hour and banned the device from the bedroom: very wise indeed.)

In the latter years of my Headship, I was impressed by hearing of one school which banned work emails after 6.00 pm and had a setting on the school system to ensure this was enforced. Moreover, I gather that in France it is actually illegal for companies with more than 50 employees to send emails after recognised working hours – and companies such as Lidyl and Volkswagen use software to intercept such ‘Exocet missiles’ aimed at workers during their leisure moments.

Recent research

This is all very well, but now I have heard of a body of research (from Sussex University) which suggests that prohibiting employees from checking their emails outside of normal working hours can actually harm their mental health! It seems that some people just must be ‘connected’ and feel in control of their communication channels.

Clearly, like so much in life, a balance needs to be achieved: strict policies in this area can, it appears, cause additional stress to some people. The younger worker today generally feels it’s natural to receive work emails outside of normal employment hours (and for teachers I defy anyone to classify ‘normal’ in term time). Ray Tomlinson has, in Keller’s words, ‘let the genie out of the bottle‘ and we cannot put it back no matter how hard we try. ‘The only guidance I give to work colleagues‘, Keller concludes, ‘is not to send a work email at a time you wouldn’t consider making a ‘phone call to deliver the same message‘. Wisdom indeed.

What makes you smile?

As we move into the Autumn and the nights start to draw in, the leaves turn and fall and the memories of the summer fade, what is it that cheers us up?

Flared trousers

It’s London Fashion Week from this Friday and, following a Onepoll survey of 1,000 Britons, it seems that 40% name the 1970s as their favourite decade to revisit with nearly a third of respondents hoping for the return of flares. This makes me smile! I had a pair of blue flared-trousers which became progressively lighter as they extended down to my feet (and I also had the long hair and flowery shirt to complement them)! I am not sure, however, I really want to revisit the decade of my teenage years.

Putting a smile on our faces

Another poll, this time undertaken by a holiday firm, Marella Cruises, has published a list of the top ten things which help put a smile on our faces. Right at the top is ‘a random act of kindness’. A few years ago, as the Year 11 leavers celebrated their final day in class in my school in Hampshire, they wrote personal, handwritten, notes to everyone in the two years below them – and also to every member of staff. The messages in the notes were wholly encouraging and remarked on the positive traits of their recipients. To round off these RAOKs, they managed to sneak into the staff common room the previous night and fill it with colourful balloons. This all made a lot of us smile!

Further ‘top ten’ smiles include sunshine, a holiday, good food and a funny joke. I’m not sure how well this one works on paper, but here goes: the cast of the ‘Magnificent Seven‘ were asked to do an aftershave advert at Anfield. Only six of them turned up. Yul never wore cologne…I’ll move on rapidly!

Two of my favourite ‘smilers’ in the ‘top ten’ are the unexpected: receiving a ‘thank you’ from a stranger and, receiving a smile from a stranger. These latter two cost nothing at all except, I suppose, overcoming the fear of embarrassment or possible rejection should these gestures be rebuffed. I suspect they very rarely are – so why not try one today? Just last week I received a handwritten letter from a former pupil of mine who was about to enter her final year in school in a position of some responsibility. It was a massive encouragement, and brought much joy, simply to receive such a personal note. I’m still smiling!

Smiling – for eternity

I was struck just this morning by two Bible verses which were put together in a ‘thought for today’. The first comes from that Old testament book of wisdom, Ecclesiastes: God has planted eternity in the hearts of man (Ecc.3:10 TLB). The second verse, from the New Testament and Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth, is this: No one has ever imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him (1 Cor.2:9). These are smile-inducing, breathtaking, verses! In our most creative moments, in the heights of our happiness on earth, we learn that heaven (eternity) is beyond the imagining of those who love God. How good is that? Surely, worthy of a smile at least…

Rubbishing resilience!

Key expressions in school

When I first started out in teaching in 1980, there were several key expressions doing the rounds. ‘The photocopier’s on the blink again’, is a polite form of what I regularly heard on teaching practice. ‘Where’s the banda paper?’ was another refrain as was a line from a Riding Lights Christian sketch about the Prodigal Son – a Social Worker from Camden Town saying (as she dragged on her cigarette), ‘I really care about the kids’!

I certainly did (and do) ‘care about the kids’ and for me a buzz-word in education was ‘holistic’. I wanted to involve pupils outside of the classroom with activities and sport as much as I wanted to inspire them academically inside. (I still do.) As the 1980s moved on into the next decade, a key educational term was ‘cross-curricular studies’. I remember teaching History and English at a rural boarding school in Scotland (Glenalmond): we re-enacted Shakespeare’s Macbeth among the trees and paths of the school drive before returning indoors to research Medieval Scottish monarchs and their wars whilst plotting their campaigns on large-scale maps before going into the wonderful Episcopal Chapel and trying to imagine how they worshiped. It was an incredibly creative time and, I think, great fun for all concerned – but this phase didn’t last the early 1990s.

Differentiation – for all

Next we were on to ‘differentiation’ and this seemed much more challenging. The core subjects of Maths, English and Science – as well as Modern Foreign Languages and the Classics – were safe from interference as they stuck rigidly to their setting. Humanities’ teachers, however, had a challenging time devising ‘hands on’ lessons which allowed pupils of all abilities to access the curriculum and be stretched accordingly. This emphasis definitely had the advantage of ensuring teaching material and approaches were always being re-examined. I remember one priceless lesson with a mixed-ability Year 9 Religious Studies class. We were considering the run-up to Easter and I happened to point to a picture on the wall which was a reproduction of Leonardo’s ‘The Last Supper’. Quick as a flash, one boy blurted out: ‘Ah, sir, that’s the one with Jesus’ wife in it’. The Da Vinci Code has a lot to answer for!

Resilience and relationships

In more recent years much has been said about ‘resilience’ as part of the character-building we pride ourselves with in schools (and that’s not just for the pupils). Many school ‘Mission Statements’ now contain this word and in my last school (Ballard in New Milton, Hampshire) we put it into our list of pupil expectations. I happen to like the word and the grit and determination it tends to inspire. Recently, however, I read an article by Andy Wolfe (Deputy Chief Education Officer for the C of E @mrawolfe) in the TES, in which he calls on us to re-think the concept of resilience – and I warm to his reasoning.

Resilience as a word has Latin roots and from there to an old English word, ‘to resile’, which means variously ‘to return to the same place’, ‘to spring back’ and ‘to return to normal’. Considering these definitions, the word is much less inspiring than we would wish. Andy Wolfe quotes from a recent conversation with a Headteacher which rather sadly sums this up: ‘Resilience for me means coping until I retire’.

In the New Testament (and the book of Romans), St Paul (who knew a thing or two about opposition, heartache and struggle) wrote this: ‘We know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; character, hope’. Andy Wolfe argues: ‘Re-thinking resilience offers a different lens to re-imagine our present situation. It can help us move beyond the idea of just getting through or coping. In the most difficult situations we face at school, it is primarily the formation of character (as opposed to technical competencies) that defines our response and shapes our relationships’. Andy quotes another Headteacher who uses a telling phrase which I like a lot: ‘I need the courage to tell a more realistic story’.

The courage to tell a more realistic story

Staff, pupils and parents need to see that we, too, have struggles and don’t have all the answers. If we endeavour to let times of difficulty shape and mould us positively so we emerge all the stronger; then our pupils (and others) will see that the teacher is also learning and not simply doing and repeating. Learning and Teaching rather than Teaching and Learning – I feel a new expression emerging!