The English Consultant

In the circles I move in, most people now take it as a fait accompli that the Conservatives will win the next election. Thus, the talk turns to what differences there will be in education policy when the new regime takes over. We already know that the National Strategies will be gone – the current administration announced their demise to save the Tories from having to do it. But an interesting idea emerging is this: whilst the last decade has seen education mostly as being interested in “knowing how”, the next lot will be much more about ensuring that learners “know that”.

It’s a significant difference, with implications for teaching and learning that go far beyond current practice. Indeed, the current emphasis on “learning” looks as though it will be largely replaced by a concentration on (didactic)teaching.

What comes to mind is Gradgrind: “Now what I want is facts …”

Here’s a picture of daughter and grandson. Zachary was born on 8th April at a healthy 8 lbs, and is filling out fast!

Last Friday I played 18 holes at the Tower Course, Chichester Golf Centre. This was the first “proper” round I’d played for 30 years – and it was thoroughly enjoyable, even if a score of 107 leaves rather a lot of room for improvement.
The reason for such a long lay -off is simple: children. In the early seventies I would play 2 or 3 rounds a week, but once the first baby came along the idea of disappearing for the greater part of the day was a non starter. So now, with 4 children grown up, I can start playing again. Of course, the game hasn’t changed at all – although such things as “hybrid” clubs hadn’t been invented when I last played.

Over at The Language Log (which I’ve been reading daily for a while now, and enjoying). Geoff Pullman has this paragraph:

“You know, just between you and me, I sometimes worry that there is a naive view loose out there — most students come to linguistics believing it, and there appear to be some professional linguists who regard it as central and explanatory — that language has something to do with purposes of efficiently conveying information from a speaker to a hearer. What a load of nonsense. I’m sorry, I don’t want to sound cynical and jaded, but language is not for informing. Language is for accusing, adumbrating, attacking, attracting, blustering, bossing, bullying, burbling, challenging, concealing, confusing, deceiving, defending, defocusing, deluding, denying, detracting, discomfiting, discouraging, dissembling, distracting, embarassing, embellishing, encouraging, enticing, evading, flattering, hinting, humiliating, insulting, interrogating, intimidating, inveigling, muddling, musing, needling, obfuscating, obscuring, persuading, protecting, rebutting, retorting, ridiculing, scaring, seducing, stroking, wondering, … Oh, you fools who think languages are vehicles for permitting a person who is aware of some fact to convey it clearly and accurately to some other person. You simply have no idea.”

Nice use of the Thesaurus, presumably. And if you listen to politicians on the radio, he’s spot on.

Now here’s a thing: it’s all very well us telling 14 year olds that using modals correctly will help them get a level 5 on their SATs writing paper, but this article takes the biscuit. I can’t imagine the average Year 9 engaging with it, but I found it interesting.

One of the magazines that I subscribe to is Writers’ News. It has a short story competition each month, and in the latest issue a setting is given which has to be the location for the story – in this case a motorway service station. Reading over the competition guidelines, I was reminded of an incident a few weeks ago and wondered if it could be the basis for a short story …

In early October, I was driving with my son-in-law to Old Trafford to watch Manchester United v Wigan. As the game had a lunchtime kick-off, it meant an early start for us and we stopped for breakfast at the Oxford services on the M40. Having selected our bacon rolls and mugs of tea (at the usual exorbitant service station prices) we sat down at a table in the middle of the dining area. Two tables away from us was a group of Thames Valley policemen and women in uniform, seven or eight of them, enjoying a break and a bite to eat. Not long after we sat down, the table in between us and the police was occupied by a couple of blokes in their 30’s, wearing identical fleeces, who had got their food and place before a large contingent of people piled in and formed queues at the various food outlets. We surmised that they were coach drivers, and the large group their passengers. All unremarkable stuff  – until I saw falling out of one of the men’s pockets a perfectly rolled but unsmoked joint. He clearly hadn’t realised that it had fallen out, but it sat gleaming on the floor by his foot, and in clear view of several of the police, if they chanced to look in that direction.

The dilemma was pretty obvious. If I drew attention to the offending (literally!) article by picking it up, it might be thought that it was mine. If on the other hand I drew the attention of the rightful owner to his misplaced property, he might be less than amused at having it pointed out in the vicinity of the constabulary. There was, of course, a third, moral, dimension: if he was a coach driver, and therefore had the lives of many in his hands, should he be in possession of drugs?

In the end, I opted to do nothing, since none of the courses of action could be recommended. And, of course, the inevitable happened. The police contingent got up to leave, a policewoman came over to the table next to us, had a hushed conversation with an initially startled man (his colleague disappeared from the scene with remarkable haste), and ended by saying quietly to him, “Perhaps we should deal with this in a less public place.”

The last we saw, as we walked through the car park, was the coach driver (if that’s what he was) sitting disconsolately on a picnic table while the policewoman noted his details and read him his rights.

All the ingredients for a short story are there, but the challenge will be to make it sufficiently intriguing to keep the reader guessing about the possible outcome. There’s also the question of whose point of view it should be told from, and what voice to adopt. It should be fun trying!

Preparing for a somewhat varied week, including APP (Assessing Pupils’ Progress) training with two different schools, a strategy managers’ meeting that needs a brief input on Making Good Progress and the new Single Level Tests, the Subject Leaders’ development meeting, where all the Heads of English come together to be briefed and trained on the latest Strategy thinking and a training session improving the teaching of Y11 English in a Hastings school.

I’ll be shadowed on some or all of these by my line manager (for performance management purposes) and by a new Consultant who’s learning the ropes with a view to doing a maternity cover nearly next year. Oh, and throw in some one-to-one A level and GCSE tuition. It promises to be quite a week.

Welcome to The English Consultant. It’s a personal journal of the working life of someone who is now a consultant, but who did 29 years at the chalkface as an English teacher before deciding that it was time to use that experience to advise, coach and support.