School Days

And so we’re back.

The school opened to all at the beginning of September and the children, with their shining morning faces, crept like snails unwillingly back to school.

To be honest, most were less unwilling and snail-like than normal. Much to their surprise, many of them were actually looking forward to being back in a routine. And they were pleased, of course, to see one another.

They rushed around, hugging each other, barging around corridors with no reference to or understanding of the one-way system and the new COVID rules. They were, at first, like puppies that had been kept in for too long.

As for me, I was so happy to see my tutor group I thought I would split my face with smiles. I had to remind myself that I was not allowed to hug them at the best of times and these, if not the worst, are still not what we want.

I welcomed them back. Then I reassured those who, for one reason or another, had done far too little work in the past six months that it was all right.

We had a year to go till their GCSES – they could and would recoup all lost time. They had learned other skills and had found other joys within lockdown – all very positive; all very energising. And they settled down, worked their way around the corridors, learned which lavatories they could use and which area their ‘bubble’ was to be kept in. We distributed new exercise books and timetables and were set to go.

One week later, we were on the national news. On the Friday, we were told there was one child with COVID in year 7. On Monday, there was one (unrelated) child with the virus in year 11. On the advice of Public Health England, both year groups had to be sent home for a fortnight of isolation. So, eight days after reopening, we were back to half a school.

It’s different this time, though. This time, the students are expected to work through their timetables at home and do five hours a day. This time, they are confined to quarters while others are free. This time, there is no sense of adventure; just an overwhelming weariness. And this time, we are on the receiving end of some of the anger and frustration the country at large is beginning to feel.

It could not have happened to two more unfortunate year groups. The 7s have just transitioned from their primary schools and the 11s are in their last year before their GCSES.

The 7s have not yet even been signed up to our online homework site, and have not even had their first IT lesson. The 11s don’t know – we don’t know – what their GCSES will look like. If the rest of the country is going to experience what we’re experiencing, on a rolling wave throughout the year, how can qualifications be given out fairly across the nation? How can we keep the children going and feeling optimistic, if they are in and out of school like the old-fashioned weather man and woman?

Until now, I have always said my key job is to educate the children, and to educate them more widely than the curriculum demands, but we’re beginning not even to be sure what the curriculum itself will be. Poetry was out; poetry is back in – with ‘teachers raging’ according to the tabloids, but not this one.

Now I think that, even more than to teach them Macbeth, I need to instil confidence and optimism in them. While fighting against the trite phrase ‘the new normal’ (because it is not normal, and should not be allowed to become normal), I have to make them believe that all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds.

And right now that makes teaching Macbeth to unwilling teenagers look like a piece of cake.