I think I said I was a primary school teacher! Well, in fact, I am the deputy head of a small primary school, and have been for the last 21 years in September. Retirement is on the cards for Christmas 2006.
I don't know how it is that I have spent 21 years at the school. I arrived as the unwanted external candidate, but the chair of governors at the time, and the Hampshire inspector involved in my interview, over-ruled the wishes of the headteacher, who had wanted an internal candidate appointed. You can imagine how welcome he made me feel! It was an unpleasant time, but I had a family to support, and one of the most supportive wives you could ever wish for, plus plenty of interests outside of school (especially the theatre and acting).
The staff were also either antagonistic towards me - one threatened to report me to the governors because I had dared to use staples in my Hall display on the "sacred" wooden partition doors- or neutral. Gradually I won them round by dogged persistence or rather my inability to be hurt by the slings and arrows of outrageous (outraged) fortune. Someone once said I must be thick-skinned, I replied, "No, just thick!" My response to insulting behaviour or veiled aggression is disbelief - did I really hear someone have a go at me? - and by the time I have worked out that may be the case, the moment for flattening them has come and gone. Whether that is to their benefit or to mine, I don't know (so that's why I say I'm "thick")
Once I got my feet under the table as deputy head, I began to look at moving to a headship but, I realise now if not then, with insufficient conviction. The story I tell, as much to myself as to others, is that when asked any variation of "what would I lie down in the road for?" I was stumped. I'd protect my wife and kids against hell and high water but I fail to be excited about visions and principles to die for. One of the reasons comes from the "if" poem - Success and failure are both imposters" (paraphrased of course). So I don't get too excited if things are going well but nor down if they 're not.
Last year at school I was responsible for the Y6, their SATs and their results ( as I have on a number of occasions over the 21 years). Reading was okay at 75% but the writing task was very difficult and the children struggled, pulling the overall English mark back to 52% (just over half). Science was okay at 68%, but maths was dreadful at 40%. The total for all three subjects was nearly 100 points down on the previous year, which admittedly had been a peak year with a star cohort. I felt wretched and, if I was that way inclined, suicidal, at least professionally.
This year I have not had a full class responsibility. I have job shared a Y4 class on Fridays. I have had a deputy head day out of the classroom on Thursdays. On Mondays I have provided cover for teachers with responsibilities and on Tuesdays I have provided PPA (Planning, Preparation and Assessment Time) for colleagues. Wednesdays have alternated between providing PPA for Y6 and school initiatives (usually English).
I have, therefore, watched from the sidelines, as another teacher has worked hard through the year, coaxing the Y6 towards the SATs week. SATs have now been and gone. The results are awaited and hopefully the signs are that we should have recovered from the 2005 annus horribalis. How much we have recovered is now the question.
The teacher is exhausted and wondering where she will find the energy and motivation to keep the Y6 together for another 9 weeks. She feels unloved and unappreciated by children and staff. Looking in from the outside, I know how inaccurate that perception is ,but also know, from lots of personal experience, how that feels looking out.
I'm looking forward to getting off the treadmill in January 2007.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Saturday, May 06, 2006
The Learning of Lines
This week has been an interesting one. It began with Ingrid's birthday. Ingrid is my best beloved, to whom I will have been married 31 years this summer. Her natal day is actually May 2nd but since the government has kindly provided a bank holiday on the first Monday in May her birthday celebrations get extended using that day off work.
On Sunday, Enid, Ingrid's mother, treated us to a meal at the Chinese restaurant nearby. It was just the three of us and a very pleasant time we had of it too. We had spent some of the weekend erecting a gazebo in our back garden (the gazebo was Enid's present to Ingrid) along with the new patio table, chairs, heater and chiminee. All of this preparation was in readiness for the Bank holiday, which has, by tradition now, become open house from noon onwards. We have had many glorious May afternoons in the past (Ingrid is older than she looks!)
Imagine our dismay when we woke up Monday morning and it was raining. However Ingrid must have been a particularly good girl during the year because she was rewarded with glorious sunshine which started just before the first guests arrived and continued for the rest of the day.
Tuesday, the actual birthday day, was back to work but with a warm satisfied glow that we had right royally celebrated Ingrid's birthday.
On Wednesday, I attended the first readthrough of "Art", the July production of the Bench Theatre (www.benchtheatre.org.uk). I arrived at the director's house at 7.30 p.m., congratulating myself on just making it on time. I don't mean to be unpunctual but if I start a task beforehand I invariably overrun and then find myself running late for an appointment. However I just hate hanging around waiting for an event to occur. Anyway, there I stood on the doorstep at 7.30 p.m., mentally hugging myself, only to discover that the readthrough was scheduled for 8.00 p.m. I was a bit quieter than normal in the readthrough because unbeknowst to even myself I was beginning to catch the summer cold which always begins with a tickly sore throat. I was also beginning to appreciate how many lines I will have to learn over the 8 weeks of rehearsal. "Art" is a three hander and none of the trio are offstage for any real length of time.
When I was young I would learn lines almost instantaneously and mainly through the rehearsal process. These days however the learning of lines needs more laborious application and method if I am to succeed. In a masterclass with a professional director from the Chichester Festival Theatre, he showed techniques used by his actors which contrasted sharply with the non-professional experience. He commented then that amateurs tend to learn their lines in isolation rather than together. This can lead to a delivery that is parallel in performance as well, as interaction is overwhelmed by the physical act of remembrance. It is to the credit of top class non-professional companies like the Bench that some amateur actors give their characterisations a depth and a wealth of subtextual detail that goes way beyond any simple recitation of lines.
I have set myself the task of learning so many pages of script per week. I have learned the hard way that I need to start from the beginning and gradually work towards the end so that the lines are laid down in a continuous and unbroken progression. This works for me but can annoy some directors as the scenes at the end of the play are invariably rehearsed with the book even at late stages of the rehearsal period.
My son in law, Nathan (referred to as Beanie by some people in the family), is a lecturer in theatre studies and he came across a rehearsal technique which I am keen to try one day. The actors record their lines and the tape is then played back while the play is blocked so the actors can concentrate on physical moves and are released from carrying the script around. I think this might help in the process of physical and muscle memory, which in turn might aid the learning of lines.
Still, that's another time and for now it's.....My friend Serge has bought a painting..........
On Sunday, Enid, Ingrid's mother, treated us to a meal at the Chinese restaurant nearby. It was just the three of us and a very pleasant time we had of it too. We had spent some of the weekend erecting a gazebo in our back garden (the gazebo was Enid's present to Ingrid) along with the new patio table, chairs, heater and chiminee. All of this preparation was in readiness for the Bank holiday, which has, by tradition now, become open house from noon onwards. We have had many glorious May afternoons in the past (Ingrid is older than she looks!)
Imagine our dismay when we woke up Monday morning and it was raining. However Ingrid must have been a particularly good girl during the year because she was rewarded with glorious sunshine which started just before the first guests arrived and continued for the rest of the day.
Tuesday, the actual birthday day, was back to work but with a warm satisfied glow that we had right royally celebrated Ingrid's birthday.
On Wednesday, I attended the first readthrough of "Art", the July production of the Bench Theatre (www.benchtheatre.org.uk). I arrived at the director's house at 7.30 p.m., congratulating myself on just making it on time. I don't mean to be unpunctual but if I start a task beforehand I invariably overrun and then find myself running late for an appointment. However I just hate hanging around waiting for an event to occur. Anyway, there I stood on the doorstep at 7.30 p.m., mentally hugging myself, only to discover that the readthrough was scheduled for 8.00 p.m. I was a bit quieter than normal in the readthrough because unbeknowst to even myself I was beginning to catch the summer cold which always begins with a tickly sore throat. I was also beginning to appreciate how many lines I will have to learn over the 8 weeks of rehearsal. "Art" is a three hander and none of the trio are offstage for any real length of time.
When I was young I would learn lines almost instantaneously and mainly through the rehearsal process. These days however the learning of lines needs more laborious application and method if I am to succeed. In a masterclass with a professional director from the Chichester Festival Theatre, he showed techniques used by his actors which contrasted sharply with the non-professional experience. He commented then that amateurs tend to learn their lines in isolation rather than together. This can lead to a delivery that is parallel in performance as well, as interaction is overwhelmed by the physical act of remembrance. It is to the credit of top class non-professional companies like the Bench that some amateur actors give their characterisations a depth and a wealth of subtextual detail that goes way beyond any simple recitation of lines.
I have set myself the task of learning so many pages of script per week. I have learned the hard way that I need to start from the beginning and gradually work towards the end so that the lines are laid down in a continuous and unbroken progression. This works for me but can annoy some directors as the scenes at the end of the play are invariably rehearsed with the book even at late stages of the rehearsal period.
My son in law, Nathan (referred to as Beanie by some people in the family), is a lecturer in theatre studies and he came across a rehearsal technique which I am keen to try one day. The actors record their lines and the tape is then played back while the play is blocked so the actors can concentrate on physical moves and are released from carrying the script around. I think this might help in the process of physical and muscle memory, which in turn might aid the learning of lines.
Still, that's another time and for now it's.....My friend Serge has bought a painting..........
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