by Mike Kent
NINE TILL THREE AND SUMMERS FREE
LIFE AT A TEACHERS’ TRAINING COLLEGE: A MEMOIR
Mike Kent
Copyright © 2018 Mike Kent
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
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ISBN 978 1788034 890
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Matador is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd
This one is for Fluffle
Who, I’m certain, will be a delight to teach
PRAISE FOR MIKE KENT’S WRITING!
THE RABBIT’S LAID AN EGG, MISS!
This book will raise a smile in any reader, but it will ring several bells for anyone involved in education. Mike Kent has obviously been there and printed the T-shirt. First published in 2006, it is still valid in its hilarious depiction of the reality of running a modern school, caught between the Scylla of challenging children (and their equally challenging parents) and the Charybdis of inspectors and educational authorities, who are mostly blissfully ignorant of the sharp end!
B. Sherunkle: Former Chair of Governors
This collection of Mike Kent’s popular Times Educational Supplement columns is highly addictive, giving tantalising glimpses of life as a primary school headteacher. I became totally engrossed in sharing his humour, poignancy, frustration and joys. It will revitalise test-driven, demoralised teachers and will remind parents of the sort of education they really want for their children.
Emily G: Teacher
Absolutely brilliant! Snippets of some very entertaining aspects of school life in an inner London primary school that will have the reader giggling non stop! It is a joy to read Mike Kent’s books. His love of teaching and school life shines through and you certainly don’t have to be a teacher to enjoy them.
Julie Jenkins: Social Worker
I loved this. I am a parent who was looking for insights into how primary schools work and how teachers think. It made me wish my children could go to his school. Quite a few laugh out loud moments. My only criticism? It was too short!
Mrs N. Stoker: Parent
TALES FROM THE HEAD’S ROOM
Humour, heroism, common sense and inspiring humanity shine through Mike Kent’s writing. ‘Tales From The Head’s Room’ demonstrates how, against all the odds, it is possible to create a centre of educational excellence, where both children and staff enjoy the learning process.
Emma Davis: Trainee Headteacher
I enjoyed reading Mike Kent’s school anecdotes. Each chapter is relatively self contained and well suited for dipping into if you have a busy lifestyle. We need more school leaders like him. I hope his book inspires more potential school leaders to trust their judgement and ignore some of the loopier government initiatives!
Robert Butler: Teacher
This book is such a joy! Encouraging children to learn is what education is about and Mike doesn’t let the nonsense get in his way. Heads or tails, whichever way it lands, you are going to get a highly entertaining read and have a good laugh.
K. Kool: Lecturer
I opened this book and then could not put it down! This is a must for anyone who has ever worked in a primary school or for that matter anyone with the slightest interest in education. Mike Kent’s stories are hilarious but also convey the hard work, effort and dedication that teachers put into our young people to give them a great education. A great read!
Stupot: The Blue Elephant Theatre.
A LIFE AT THE CHALKFACE
An excellent read! Technology brings many changes but children remain the same. I taught Infants for thirty five years and no work could have been more satisfying. I live now with many wonderful memories and this book was a re-visit to the classroom and its unforgettable memories. Thank you!
E.R. Melville: Teacher
A brilliant book that brought back such wonderful memories of working at Mike’s school. An absolutely amazing head teacher. After eighteen years I still haven’t found a headteacher to match Mike Kent.
Karen Thompson: Teacher
This book is a beautifully warm, emotive and honest account of life in an inner London primary school. A wonderful insight into the varied life of a headteacher, and all the characters and situations that the author encountered in his career. Prepare to laugh and cry as this book recounts the high and low points of a career in primary education.
Rachel McMutrie: Parent
Mike Kent was obviously the kind of head teacher we would all have liked to have been. Although he does not pull any punches when he describes the trials, tribulations and stresses of headship, this book is clearly written by someone for whom headship was not just a job, but a joy and a privilege. There must be a great many people, now in their 20s, 30s and 40s, who have very fond memories of their time at his school.
Michael Evans: Headteacher
Life as a headteacher doesn’t come with an unreservedly positive recommendation, but for Mike Kent it was the best job in the world. ‘A Life At The Chalkface’ is a love letter to thirty eventful years in a job he found endlessly challenging and fascinating. In a world of league tables and assessment spreadsheets, this book stands out as a testament to all that is best in primary education.
Lucy Edkin: Educational Columnist
Mike Kent is a rare talent. He writes beautifully and has spent most of his life in schools, first as a pupil, then as a teacher and deputy head, and finally thirty years as a headteacher in South London. So here is a rich tale, filled with meaningful insights and revealing anecdote, all set against the backdrop of school life. Read, and enjoy, his story.
Sir Tim Brighouse: Former
Commissioner for London Schools
AMAZING ASSEMBLIES FOR PRIMARY SCHOOLS
This book is a must-buy for any imaginative, forward looking primary school.
John Lord: Headteacher
The activities are simple and easy to prepare and I will be using them immediately, just as long as I contact the fire brigade first!
Richard Dax: Headteacher
Mike Kent’s broad experience as a headteacher and thought-provoking columnist and writer has given him the skills to produce this book, full of practical ideas to make school assemblies exciting and interesting learning experiences.
John T Morris, BA(Hons),
Med, MPhil: Director,
JTM Educational Consultants.
As a busy headteacher, this book is just what I need to capture the imaginations of children of all ages at the start of the day.
Anita Asumadu: Headteacher
Gaining inspiration for leading a school assembly can sometimes be the main obstacle, but Amazing Assemblies for Primary Schools offer
s an excellent collection of ideas which will inspire any teacher.
UKEdChat.com
Contents
FEBRUARY
AN EXTRAORDINARY INTERVIEW
SEPTEMBER
ARRIVAL, FIRST FRIENDSHIPS… AND MILLY
OCTOBER
THE PLUMBING, AND A FIRST TASTE OF FROSTBITE
JANUARY
SO, WHO’LL BE THE FIRST VOLUNTEER?
FEBRUARY
HOPPING WITH THE FRESHERS
MARCH
LEAPING, LEARNING AND A DATE AT THE LIBRARY
APRIL
THE SECRET AGENT ARRIVES FOR TEACHING PRACTICE
MAY
A VISITOR, TROUBLE AT THE TOWER, AND MRS GARRETT
MARCH
A FILM SOCIETY, GLENN MILLER, AND THE BOYS FROM ST BERNARD’S
MAY
MEETING THE MAJOR AND STARVING IN DORSET
JUNE
LAUNDERING, GUERNSEY… AND THE FINAL RECKONING
FEBRUARY
AN EXTRAORDINARY INTERVIEW
Thinking back, I was probably always destined to be a teacher.
From the time when I was old enough to reach up and chalk on the blackboard my father had made for me, I’d felt the urge to teach. Then, at the tender age of twelve, I solemnly informed my mother of my ambition to be a teacher, which pleased her enormously. She considered teaching to be one of the more respectable professions, and certainly one that would benefit from her son’s abilities. Not quite in the doctor or lawyer class, of course, but respectable nevertheless. Since this was the early fifties and our lives were centered almost entirely around the street we lived on, I knew the neighbouring children well. She’d observed me spending my summer holidays playing schools in the garden, inventing and organising team games, or setting up our shed as a museum and inviting children to inspect the garden creatures I’d captured and put in labelled glass jars, and then asking them to write something about their visit afterwards.
She wasn’t surprised by my decision and my father didn’t really mind what career I embarked upon, providing it didn’t cost him more money than necessary as funds were usually short. My father was a relaxed and quiet man, rarely ruffled, and this was probably a reflection of his upbringing in a peaceful Essex village. He’d been stationed in North Africa during the war, working as a cook… a surprising job allocation as he’d found it difficult to boil an egg prior to being summoned for service… and on returning to civvy street his artistic talents helped find him work as a draughtsman. He worked hard, eventually brought home a reasonable salary, and then left the rest of life’s arrangements to his very capable wife.
I had been raised on what my mother considered to be important character-forming qualities; reading plenty of books, attending church on Sundays, not complaining about being ill, changing my underwear at least once a week (washing and drying clothes in the 1950s was a two day job), always being polite in company and not eating chips in the street. Once I’d announced my determination to train as a teacher, she looked forward to the day when her son became a respected headmaster and invited her to present bibles and dictionaries on Prize Day.
I was not by any stretch of the imagination an academic, although I’d pleased my teachers at primary school and achieved tolerable results at my rather mediocre comprehensive. The fact that my list of paper qualifications was a trifle lean didn’t concern me at all. Good teachers were in short supply and I was convinced that winning a place at a teacher training college wouldn’t pose the slightest problem.
In my final sixth form year, I sent an application to a college near the seaside, attracted by the possibility of writing essays on the beach and getting a suntan at the same time. The college, perhaps suspicious of my motives, turned me down without an interview. Shortly afterwards, a second interview invitation arrived, for a place at a training college in the heart of Buckinghamshire, but the Principal’s aggressive grilling reminded me of the ticking off I’d received from my headmaster when I’d short-circuited the most expensive lathe in the metalwork shop, and the interview never really left the ground. The third application was for a college in Westminster, and within easy travelling distance from home. From my experience of the previous interviews, I’d thought carefully about the questions I might be asked and I looked forward to this one with a little more confidence.
I arrived much too early for the interview, having made allowances for the heavy snow which seemed to have fallen endlessly for weeks, but within minutes of my arrival the Principal had ushered me into his tiny book-lined office, gripping my hand warmly and offering me a steaming mug of hot chocolate. He commented so enthusiastically on my determination to plough through the snow that I felt like Scott of the Antarctic.
Dr Bradley was the archetypal college principal. Well-proportioned, gowned and slightly stooped, as if cramped by the lack of room in his study and the weight of his learning, his thick black spectacles and intelligent eyes gave him a fearsome appearance, but his handshake was warm and encouraging as his hand guided me to a small chair on the other side of his desk. He moved his tea tray to one side, positioned the lamp to give a little more light and then moved my written application in front of him to refresh his memory.
‘So, let’s get down to business, Mr Kent. I only have a short time at my disposal, and you’re rather lucky to be interviewed by me. My time being so limited, I don’t conduct many interviews, you see. But it’s important that I do one or two, just to make sure we don’t let in any old riff raff, eh?’
I gave a watery smile and shuffled uncomfortably in my seat. The Principal clasped his hands together on the desk and leaned forward.
‘Humour, Mr Kent, humour. A very important quality in a teacher. Now, there are several points I need to clarify from your application. And of course, I’d like to hear your own views about primary education. You want to be a teacher. This college can train you to be one, but I’d like you to give me a few good reasons why it should.’
I’d been asked this question at the previous two interviews, and decided that sincerity might be the best way forward at this stage.
‘I have only one reason,’ I replied. ‘I’ve never really wanted to do anything else.’
‘I see. Well, that’s admirable, of course, but it doesn’t mean to say you’d be any good at it.’
Dr Bradley raised his eyebrows questioningly at the inference in his remark. Then he pushed his spectacles into a more comfortable position on his nose and leaned back in his chair.
‘These days, teaching is not a soft option, Mr Kent. Many young teachers start out with admirable dedication and then discover their pupils do not share the same enthusiasm. They locked a colleague of mine in his classroom cupboard a short while ago. How do you feel about that?’
‘Very sympathetic. But I don’t imagine it’s typical of all teenagers.’
‘You’re right. Most of them are worse. These were eleven year olds, Mr Kent.’
‘Then I’ve learned something already,’ I said brightly. ‘I’ll make sure I always carry my classroom keys with me. Or keep a spade in the cupboard so that I can tunnel out.’
Dr Bradley smiled cautiously. ‘Well done! A sense of humour and a sense of vocation. Two absolute essentials in my view. You probably won’t get locked in a cupboard. Your pupils may well be content with sawing the legs off your chair.’
There was a pause as he turned the page on my application paper and glanced through it. My eyes wandered round the book-lined walls of the study and the further stacks on the carpet and I wondered how many of them he had read.
‘You’re still in the sixth form, Mr Kent, so obviously you haven’t had any teaching experience. Do you think it’s a good idea to go straight into college from school? Perhaps you should gain a little experience of life in the big wide world first?’
‘Possibly, but I really want
to teach, so any delay seems to me a waste of time. I’ve already worked with the cubs and the Scout movement and helped out with groups like the Woodcraft Folk. In fact, just a short while ago I helped organise a new youth club at home, and I…’
‘Woodcraft Folk, eh? And who would they be? A coven of elderly ladies who leap about stark naked in the woods at midnight, perhaps?’
My mouth dropped open. For a moment I lost my composure and giggled nervously.
‘Well, no, I…’
‘Don’t worry, Mr. Kent. Take no notice of me. I just caught you off guard. In the classroom, children are constantly trying to catch teachers off their guard. Now, what were we talking about?’
‘I was telling you about my work with the Scouts and youth clubs.’
‘Ah, yes. That must have been interesting. I was a Boy Scout too, many years ago. They haven’t changed much, have they?’
I hesitated, unsure how to interpret the question. Dr Bradley’s piercing eyes looked at me carefully and he raised his eyebrows for an answer.
‘Well… they don’t stand on hilltops and signal to each other with semaphore flags any more,’ I replied cautiously. ‘And being involved with the Scouts has given me a lot of pleasure. I’ve had quite a few enjoyable camping holidays in this country. And in places like France and the Channel Islands. I was a patrol leader for some time, and that was a great teaching experience.’
The Doctor waved a mildly reproving finger in the air.
‘All very admirable, but you were working with enthusiastic youngsters, who were keen to learn from you. Trying to inspire children in a classroom day after day is rather different from showing a tenderfoot how to tie a reef knot. Wouldn’t you agree?’