Q: HOW DO YOU BECOME THE WORLD'S BEST TEACHER (AND WIN A $1M PRIZE)?
A: BELIEVE THAT ANY CHILD CAN SUCCEED - THEN MAKE DAMN SURE THEY DO!
as part of a ‘big fat Greek’ family in which her grandmother, a gifted weaver who didn’t speak a word of English, cared for her brother, sister and cousins while the parents were at work.
Andria flourished throughout her ‘very happy’ childhood, so much so she secured a coveted place at the sought-after all-girls St Marylebone School in London, where she became head girl.
‘There were no barriers there,’ she says. ‘Most of my friends were inner-city girls from tough backgrounds, but we were grounded at that school. We had this, “You will achieve” doctrine on a daily basis. My Greek culture was still a very big part of me. My parents used to say, “You’ve got to remember your roots. You’re Greek. Be proud of it.” But they never made me feel I that was at the expense of being a British citizen. Come off it — my mother worked for the BBC.’
Andria, whose husband John is a personal trainer, was 25 years old when she began teaching at Alperton. The school was then housed in a dilapidated building where windows didn’t close properly and roofs leaked.
‘My first day was wild,’ she says. ‘It was February and snowing. The kids came into my lesson with snowballs in their hands and their coats on. They weren’t interested. They weren’t motivated at all. People didn’t have high expectations for them.’
She was part of an intake of 15 new teachers who set about smartening up the children and giving them a sense of purpose.
The pupils were expected to turn up to school in blazers and ties. They were encouraged to be polite, call their teachers ‘Sir’ or ‘Miss’ and speak English in the building.
‘I remember one boy whose mum was a recent migrant to the country. I was head of year by then so pastoral care was my responsibility. His mum was in a wheelchair and they were in fear of being evicted because they had nothing.
‘He was big, chunky young lad — quite intimidating. He smoked from the age of 11 and spoke very little English.’ DESPITE
this, she recalls going to great lengths to coax the boy through his school days. ‘When it was his GCSEs I’d go to his home, pick him up, bring him into school and say, “OK, you’re here now, sit that exam.”
‘He used to get a telling off for the way he dressed. His shirts were dirty and he’d come in wearing jeans and trainers because he had nothing else.
‘I got fed up one day. I said, “Right, we’re going to Asda.” We loaded up the trolley and bought him shirts, socks and a blazer. I spent about £80 on him. That was the greatest gift he’d ever received in his entire life.
‘Finally he had a uniform and, from that moment, he never felt isolated.
‘He had a blazer and he felt he was part of our school.
‘He ended up getting maths and English GCSEs, and we managed to work it for him so he could sit Spanish because he was fluent.’
Then there was Carl Campbell, a talented basketball player who required just one qualification to gain a scholarship to the States, but was hampered by special educational needs.
Andria dragged him ‘kicking and screaming’ from the playground to her art lesson and brought his mother into class to ‘ embarrass him into doing his work.’
He passed his art GCSE and is now at the prestigious The Phelps School in Pennsylvania.
Or Raphael, an autistic boy who had trouble speaking in some situations.
Andria discovered he had a talent for drawing and entered him in GCSE art, in which he was just four points away from achieving a C-grade.
‘ That for him was such an achievement,’ she says. ‘ This academic year he’ll get his art A-level. He always wanted to go into designing computer games. Now he can.
‘When I started here, the parents with kids at the nearby primary school used to walk on the other side of the road,’ she says.
‘They didn’t want to walk on the same pavement as our kids because they found them so intimidating.
‘At this age, though, they’re just trying to figure out what their identity is. Asking, “Am I an AfroCaribbean child who will underachieve because everyone around me is? Should I be part of that gang because I need to be part of something and they’re calling me to join them?”
‘Or will they tell themselves, “I need to do something different and be like last year’s head boy, who was Afro-Caribbean and got into Oxford.” ’