The bleak public discourse about education persists. Nadine Cole of Girls Aloud, reflecting the drivel that has become increasingly respectable, says that you have to accept that some kids are just not going to be as bright as others. When I read this, alongside the same sort of thing from from ”professionals”, I remember Anthea. It was 2nd year RE and I had posed the question: Why did Jesus tell his disciples to keep quiet about the miracles? Blank looks all around and then Anthea’s hand went up. This caused an expectant hush since she just never volunteered anything and had a problematic stammer. (We teachers had, in our perceptive way, dubbed her as not very bright.) She went bright red, stammered and stopped. We all waited for her to try again - and the wave of encouraging patience was coming from the whole room, not just me. After two or three tries, she got it out. I can’t remember the detail now, but it was a simple exposition of the concept that Professor Barret called the Veiled Messiah, with the additional insight that in the fragile early stages of communication aimed at developing significant relationships, tentative and obscure gambits may be used. I was stunned. For the rest of term she made no other contribution. It was a brief and brilliant volcanic eruption. I heard later that she had taken certificate RE in 3rd year but had made rather a hash of it, because her writing skills were poor. She is just one example - so don’t give me any crap about ability. We don’t know what we are sitting on top of.
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- 2006-12-16 @ 13:33:03
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- 2006-12-16 @ 14:05:51
Good one.Maybe we should do a collection of these??
Reminds me of James. I used to be his 'minder' in S1 Science. He was only allowed in to the lab if I came along to protect his teacher from him. The general consensus was that he should have been in a special school. This was based on his ilegible handwriting and his tendancey to shout loudly and leap out of his seat to compensate for his tiny stature.
The teacher would conduct experiments and ask the class to explain the results. James was alsys first with his hand up, bursting out of his jacket with excitment and shouting 'Please Sirr! Sirr!' Of course, he was never chosen to anwer.
One day, I put my hand up. Could we please listen to James's answer, I asked? James finally got his chance. You've guessed. He not only could explain the experiment, but could tell what would happen if one of the variables was changed - which was to have been the next stage in the lesson.
The teacher never believed I hadn't put him up to it.