I’m a bit of a contradiction when it comes to
tradition. I am an absolute stickler for
observing some traditions, and my Christmas Eve is rife with them. Equally, there are some that I think are ripe
for the breaking. Ultimately, traditions
largely fall into three categories: some you have to keep; some you feel duty
bound to challenge, and that, frankly, you can do without.
As I child I stuck unfailingly to the rules. I was (I know you will find this difficult to
believe) never one to rock the boat, always a good guy. I had to become an adult to know how to push
boundaries. It was during my first years
of teaching that I began to ask “Why do we do it that way?” You have to remember that we would still be
stuck with laws that were, essentially traditions, had we not challenged the
sense behind them. Corporal punishment
for children, anyone?
I left my first job for a number of reasons, one of which
was that I refused to go along with certain things that my colleagues insisted
upon because they’d “always done it that way”.
I left another job because people still wanted things done the way they
had been in the 1860s – no, really, I’m not joking. When one of the governors asked me at the end
of a long and embattled Full Governing Body when I intended to sweep the car
park (she stopped short of calling me “Sonny” as she peered at me over the top
of her spectacles), I silently admitted that my time there was at an end.
When I arrived at Badock’s, there were a few things I had to
question repeatedly, because although people claimed that they were “for the
good of the children”, it became quickly apparent (at least to me) that they
were in fact “for the gratification of the adults”.
Sadly, there were some traditions, or habits, that had been
at Badock’s long before my arrival but had to go. Theft, a daily occurrence once upon a time,
is no longer a daily issue, but has reared its ugly head this year, with
children’s coats going missing and never returning. As tough as times get, surely this is a tradition
no-one wants to see return. Equally,
aggressive attitudes towards staff – a daily occurrence on my arrival - has
mostly, mostly disappeared. It should
disappear completely. And soon. The sub-culture (a part of tradition) of
teachers being punch bags has gone – it left with the cane, school milk and the
ink well, and, just like those artefacts, should be consigned to a museum
specialising in exhibits from a golden era that never really happened.
You see, we ought to be extremely wary of trusting ideas,
notions or procedures we are told are the right way to do things when we have
an inkling that they’re wrong. Adults
are, by-and-large, not vey good at this.
Children on the other hand, seem to have this skill in spades.
Although I enjoy pushing boundaries and exploring new
dimensions, there are some traditions that must, must remain. These are the few, the very few, that I will
pass on to my own children and hope they pass onto theirs ad infinitum. They are things such as:
· - You should always know the name of all the Dr
Whos, in order;
· - You should always be able to recite the 1982
Villa side who won the European cup in Rotterdam (including both goalies);
· - You should know the perfect recipes for yorkshire
puddings.
Furthermore, there are some traditions that simply help you
to take your place in the human family.
Participating in Children in Need, Red Nose Day, Sport Relief, whatever
it may be, should be a tradition that remains.
Offering support, whether you donate a fortune or simply adorn your
proboscis with an irritating piece of recycled rubber, should be more than a tradition;
it should be an obligation – an act where it feels more wrong to not take part. I stress again, it matters not that you offer
a shiny penny or a thousand pounds – it matters that you care enough.
Above all, one tradition that should remain unchallenged is
the minute’s silence. Every year, on a
cold Sunday morning, I take my place amongst hundreds in our village who make
the slow trudge up the (closed) High Street to the memorial park in order to
listen to the Service of Remembrance.
The number of veterans slims each passing year, but the crowd never
seems to decrease – far from it; for not the first year, they ran out of
service books. Although I had had to
semi-battle my son to go, he needed no instruction as to how to behave when
there. This silent code, this feeling,
this tradition speaks volumes for
itself. The following day, in our own
remembrance assembly, you could have heard a stealth pin drop into a bed of
cotton wool during our own silence, and at no point did I feel as if I needed
to impress on our children the importance, the symbolism, or the (forgive me
again) tradition.
Of course, there is a fourth option: sometimes you simply
have to start a tradition. Who started
singing “Happy Birthday”? Who was the
first person ever to say “Please”?
Someone, somewhere in the mists of time had to come up with the idea of
a song at 12.00 midnight each December 31st. Why not start a tradition of your own. “Flowers on a Friday” was one a former
colleague of mine started in his house.
They smile a lot, his family.
As long as I’m at Badock’s, some traditions will be
welcomed, embraced and encouraged. Some
fads and phases will be … left in the dust of the past. One tradition we should display with pride is
our love of learning. If we’re not
learning, what are we here for? Check
out the nursery’s blog, and watch a group of three and four year olds as they,
quite literally, reinvent the wheel.
Is it tradition, or is it breathtakingly new? Or is it simply wonderful?
From me, but not from our amazing children, who both seek
and challenge tradition on a secondly-basis, that is all.
