The top line of this blog is not a joke

Q: Where would you find Stevie Wonder and Vincent Van Gogh battling it out with underwater sea creatures in space?

Now, your initial reaction does not surprise me.  You may well think that I am recounting a subterranean / intergalactic duel between men of sensual impairment-driven hyper creativity and output. You could be forgiven for thinking that someone has uncovered an as-yet-unpublished HG Wells masterpiece waiting to be transformed into a kindle-friendly format.   Well, you're off the mark...somewhat.

Allow me to make your lives, and your guess work, easier.

I am writing this whilst sat less than ten feet from a Roman fort, a collection of 6 feet square rangoli mosaics, an A3 anthology of moon poetry, story maps and recipes for the gingerbread man, whilst today's drumming lessons take place.  Furthermore, in the two classrooms closest to me, some children are writing the most detailed descriptions of the respiratory system I have seen since the 1989  bumper edition of the Lancet, whilst others are creating rap songs about all of the planets in the solar system (it is indeed, "all about Neptune - Neptune - Neptune").

I can see nursery heading off across the fields to tend the plants and crops they have planted in the woods, and year 5 are presenting their speeches on conservation.  After play, our key stage 2 will break down into smaller groups studying photography, chess, eco-care, web design,planting sweet peas, the work of Andy Warhol, alongside the 5-a-side league that has belatedly altered its team names away from Ashton Gate / robin puns.

So, you may well ask, what on earth has all this to do with the abode of the Picasso trigger fish, the largest junkyard known to womankind, a bunch of sunflowers and the pensmith of "Superstition"?  I'm glad you asked.

Far from battling for supremacy in some of nature's most hostile terrains, these topics sit easily side by side in our curriculum for term 5.  Key stage 1 are studying the lives of famous people who made a difference (why David Bowie, Paddy MacAloon or Jeff Lynne weren't in there I will never know #curriculumrevision); years 3 and 4 are tackling space, whilst our older friends dive straight into their eco water topic.  All around me hang / sit / reverberate / live examples of all the creative, exciting, energetic ways in which our curriculum lives and breathes around our entire environment.

Yet a curriculum is only so much.  There needs to be more to make a lifeblood of a school.  Primary schools, macrocosms of this BIG society no-one can quite fathom, need a curriculum of emotion and wellbeing in order to be successful - citizens keep this world safe just as much as academics advance it.  Sometimes, you have to engineer it, but if the foundations are firm and the conditions right, it happens as if by magic.

Already today, I have awarded 60+ certificates, many of which (awarded by people other that regular classteacher) praised children for being nothing more than the outstanding citizens of our school; one class is celebrating their 100% attendance for the week, whilst another curses their 99.6%; a group of children are walking on clouds as they are off to share their lunch with the Princess of Dark-ness on the Golden table; the administrator is chuffed as someone quietly left her a cake on her mouse mat, and the NQT has insisted that today is bizarre hat Friday for the staff.  Lifeblood.  Absolute lifeblood.  When much union-season pontificating has been deciated to "curriculum issues", I'm quite proud to say we have no issue with ours.

Rarely one to dip my toe into the seedy, germ infested pond of politics, I can not stay completely quiet on the thorny issue of curriculum, so shall state simply thus.  Whitehall, in an era of thrift, paid consultancy to the tune of several thousand K to write a curriculum no-one wants.  I could have saved you thousands; my curriculum would have consisted of 1 single sheet of paper, with one of my daughter's drawings in the bottom corner, and some of my son's moshi monster stickers and notes on the back, bearing the legend:

"Do nothing but the very best by the children you are privileged to serve."

That'll be £severalthousand please.

Or let's call it a bottle of wine.  Decent stuff mind, no HoC plonk.

I could go on ad infinitum, but then I would miss the chance to play in reception's new bug hotel whilst wearing the fez my son feels is a sure fire winner in the staffroom.  Therefore,

That is all.

Where did those two thirds of a year disappear?

I am (and yes, I know I normally say it at these junctures, but it remains the complete truth) utterly blown away by the fact that we stand here, on the precipice of yet another break.  It seems only 24 school days ago that we started a brand new term, walking in to a bucketload of new and exciting displays and looking down the business end of a new batch of medium term planning.

Only 24 school days, but oh so much accomplished.

We opened our magnificent library with a visit from the magnificent (don't overuse it now Willis) Thomas Docherty.  He kept everyone of us spellbound for ages, thrilling us with his stories.  We followed that up with  a World book day brimming with character-driven dressing up ... including an immaculately timed visit from a caped crusader.

More and more children are now playing musical instruments.  We would count the exact number, but it just keeps growing!  In term 5 and 6, we are planning even more projects to get people playing, but in a normal week at the minute we have children playing the clarinet, the recorder, the double bass, the flute, the violin, the guitar and the drums.  We've kept it very quiet, but we have now received the music for a certain Colston Hall concert in the summer.

Never one to shy away from giving, the staff and children made massive efforts do do funny-for-money stuff during the week of comic relief.  We were so overwhelmed by demand that we ran out of red noses by the Tuesday.  Almost £200 at the last count, but still not finished yet.

Our relationship with the children's centre keeps growing and growing, with more and more shared projects emerging between the two.  Family learning day at the centre tomorrow (22.3.13) all about growing.  All invisible, but a much bigger and potentially better staff team growing behind the scenes all the time.

After the blips of snow days, and despite the attempts of various illnesses and bugs, our attendance rises and rises.  The top classes this term have, on average, been much higher (99.5% this week - so close Miss Dark's class) and the overall figure for the term is back up in line with terms 1 and 2.

But of course, what is a school if not a place of learning and progress?  And how do I back up all these ludicrous claims without the data to match it?  Well, as it happens, I can.  Our children continue to make impressive and pleasing progress in all areas.  Teachers have just given me the data for the end of term 4 which tells me:

 - more and more children are reaching the national average in reading, earlier and earlier;
 - groups of children are making enormous strides in maths;
 - our targetted intervention for specific pupils in writing is starting to pay off;
 - our APS (average point score) in most subjects and year groups is above the national average, especially for girls.

Not bad for what can only be described as "24 days", eh?  And this is just the stuff you can see and touch and measure.  This does not include the new adventures people have embarked on, the favours we've done other schools, and the Local authority visits we have survived ... and impressed at.

It was a horrible, rainy end to term, so I did not get the chance to see as many as you as I would've hoped, so please forgive me, but accept these well meant wishes for a relaxing and enjoyable break.

Until April 8th, not thinking about the box of paperwork I taking home tomorrow evening, that is all.

They have not yet invented a long enough list of colours...

... to describe our school environment at this moment in time.  Every time I walk around the corridors, something new and bright is emerging.  Most recently, the corridor at the end of the key stage 2 building has been irrevocably transformed in readiness for our grand library opening.  Thank you so much to Thomas Docherty, who came along this morning and kept us all in raptures for an hour with his wonderful stories and illustrations.  It is the first (and probably last) time I will spend ten minutes with year 6 debating the spelling of the word "snork".

All joking aside, the environment is transforming into something of which we can be extremely proud, both in its constantly evolving presentation, and in how it represents the wealth of work our children undertake on a daily basis. I went through a huge pile of children's books before half term - which I do regularly - to find that some people are on their fourth book this year.  Fourth!  How hard must they have worked to be on their fourth book?  Furthermore, this does not even begin to reflect the productivity of all our children - including our very youngest - when you consider the general mark making, whiteboard work, note taking, poster designing, ICT based bank of work they create each and every term.

This in turn reflects the planning and assessment the staff undertake regularly, in order to best meet the needs of the children - something, amongst many things, OfSTED praised the school for in November last year.  The staff work incredibly hard to tailor a highly bespoke learning environment and opportunity for every one of our children; those who come to school and work every day, and those who require special attention for whatever reason  but who shall never be turned from our doors.

One of my proudest moments was when the children of key stage 2 independently told three OfSTED inspectors that - yes, this school has children who misbehave - but that the staff work tirelessly and relentlessly to resolve these issues fairly.  The staff at all levels, myself included, work on very simple principles: Aspire - Achieve - Enjoy.  When this does not suffice, it is simple - we follow the procedures and processes laid down by Bristol City Council.  In a time when academisation and federation mean schools are no longer what they once were, we are proud to remain a community school and children's centre, because we know that, ultimately, that is who we proudly serve.

However, this job is not made any easier by confrontation, or gossip, or rumour.  In fact, some of the biggest work we have had to undertake since Christmas has not been around children, or learning, but around parents and keeping staff safe.  Some of the (frankly, ludicrous) pieces of gossip that have been floating around the school community recently have been laughable, but have become issues that have required resolution because adults are all too keen to believe them.  I have had to become all too familiar with the process of referring cases originating from the abuse of social media to the appropriate authorities.  Furthermore. people have trusted things that they have heard outside school more than the answers they have been given in school.  This is not helpful, but - far worse - it is potentially damaging to the quality of service we can offer the most important people in our world - the children.

Please rest assured that every decision we make is reached by following our very simple but oh-so-important principles.  If you have a problem, or you need us, talk to us, calmly and appropriately, and we will move Heaven, Earth and anything else to support your families and yourselves, if and whenever its in our power to do so; even if it isn't, we'll try our best.  But know one thing - if we are to reach the goal of being an outstanding school, it will require every single stakeholder - teacher, parent, governor, visitor, carer, supporter and child - to play their part, and we can only do it together.

I am enormously proud to be the headteacher of this school and children's centre, and I will work tirelessly, for as long as I am making a difference, to get this dynamic, innovative organisation as close to outstanding as  I know how.  If I can work my will, fourth, fifth and sixth books will become the norm, every child every year.  Please, please support us.  If you already do, you do not know the power of the difference you make.

Thank you so much.

Emperor's new groove

Like a new sweater - not quite like your old favourite, but rather novel and cool, and without the comforting but slightly embarrassing holes under the arms - this blog should find you glancing in astonishment at our NEW WEBSITE!

Rather cool, is it not?  Rather dashing.  Rather splendidly teeming with... elan. Panache.  Rather.... wonderful.

Or, as year 4 would say, "Sic, innit?"

Yes, our new website is already the talk of other educational establishments.  Where we lead, others follow. Where we plant our flag, others try and build their sandcastle.  Where we commission websites, other people say, "Yes, we rather like that.  Any chance we could have one?"

I could regale you with tales of my January, my ever present seat on the CAF panel, or my walk from Yatton on snow day (honest!).  However, I know you're itching to go off and peruse all our new shiny stuff.  So, go on.  Off you go.  Be back in time for your tea.  Just remember -

That is all.

Three gifts for the age of austerity

Last year I offered up my first Christmas blog on the idea of an alternative set of kings or wise men.  Those of you who took the time to read it (all three of you) have intimated that it wasn’t half bad, and that none of you took any offence, for which I am eternally relived.  Therefore, I have spent my idle moments of the last three or four weeks considering how this year’s blog-essay, or “blessy”, may shape up.

I enjoy my morning drive to work.  I never tire of the views of the effortless countryside that I have to ride through for the first part of my day.  Chris Evans on the radio is (just about) tolerable, and you get enough news to get you thinking, enough banter to get you smiling, and enough cheese to keep you regular.  However, the theme to which the news has rightly returned time and time again in recent months is the plight of the poor around the world; not necessarily, however, the economically poor.  Not a week goes by when a story does not tug at the heart strings: obviously, the situations in Greece and Portugal, but more than that, people ill and dying, that poor nurse and the radio hoax, and, this weekend, the events in Newtown, Connecticut.  It strikes me that the world is becoming scared of its own shadow, and that we are poor in ways beyond money.

However, at such a time of the year, when generosity abounds, surely we should be able in some small way to counteract the effects of these troubles?

So that is what I am seeking to use my Christmas message for this year.  My objective is to offer up three gifts for a world suffering through an age of austerity.  I am fully aware that, despite their low cost, it would take an Herculean effort to dispense them globally.   Equally, some people might feel I sit in my place of comfort (and joy) and don’t appreciate all that goes on.  However, three gifts I have to offer, and I hope that at least one of them will resonate with you each.

As with last year, my offerings come with the caveat that no offence is intended, and no harm sought: I seek merely to provide something to think about – this is, after all, although you would never believe it from my usual ramblings, and educational website – and to ponder, maybe even to discuss and debate.

Therefore, after much consideration (and I genuinely mean that – one of them changed only yesterday) I have chosen to offer as my Three Christmas gifts:

Something “done well”

A little humility

A good night’s sleep

Allow me to explain their significance, at this time of the year and at this point in our historical evolution for our race of beings.

I am a great fan of the radio presenter and broadcaster Marc Radcliffe.  I have followed him at various times of the day or night through various stations and incarnations as he has offered up an ongoing variety of music, or, as he humbly puts it himself, “playing some records with a bit of talking in between”.  During a holiday this year I had the great pleasure of reading the latest instalment of his various autobiographical grumblings, entitled Reeling in the Years.  In one of the later chapters, Marc recalls asking people what their favourite thing is in music.  Various celebs and mus-oes offer their own notions of this, but the one that struck me the most was from Lou Reed.

Let’s be honest, if you’re going to listen to someone when it comes to these issues, it’s Lou Reed.  His answer was technical, cool, eloquent, yet stunningly beautiful.  His answer to the best thing in music was “the change from and E chord to an A, but done well”. I think he’s got a major point here, and not just in the sense of major chords.  Yet his crucial point is simplistically faultless – perfection can be found in the smallest of movements and issues, but only if it is done well.

At this time of year, our ears are forced to near bleeding by some pieces that we hear every single twelvemonth.  As much as I love the Pogues, and the romanticism of the song and its own unique story, Shane McGowan’s voice is hardly a thing of beauty.  Equally, although I’ve nothing whatsoever against the bloke, Shakin’ Stevens could hardly be considered to have added immeasurably to the yuletide oeuvre.  Again, the story behind and the generosity surrounding Band Aid is something I always enjoy far more than the song itself.    

However, for every man from Wolverhampton ripping his voice box to shreds (and readers of last year’s Christmas blog will know I have ought but fondness for the great Nod) there are, within the latter end of the those CD box sets, two or three examples of Christmas cheer done, as Lou would say, well.

But you have to look for them.

Many may guess that I am about to mention Bing Crosby.  Only in passing; my mate Adrian Burns sang White Christmas in one of our school plays, and since then that is the only version I can reasonably tolerate.  Aled Jones? Not for me, although when it is doing its job, i.e., accompanying the wonderful cartoon, then the Snowman as a whole piece is indeed something done extremely well.

No, I would encourage you to seek things done well in other, less predictable places.  Listen to Chiqitita by ABBA, all of it, gone on, and then just when you’re saying “Phew, it’s finished” listen out for the amazing piece of piano playing.  Now that is done well.

Similarly, although the words “Cheesy synth pop” are normally enough to make me put my head in a bucket, I always feel festive when the opening bars of Wonderful Christmas Time kick in. 

Greg Lake’s guitar playing.  Say no more.

Although I said I wouldn’t mention Bing, the harmony between him and David Bowie in the middle of Peace on Earth is a bit awesome. 

But, let us go beyond music, where things are done well every day.  London, never my favourite place on the planet, must be given an enormous clap on the collective back for the Olympics – now they were done very well. 

The pomp and circumstance surrounding the jubilee, and, last year, the royal wedding – now that was all done extremely well.

Yet, how could I possibly offer up one of these as a present? 

I was actually thinking of something a little closer to home.  Something more tangible and do-able. 

The way I’d like you to look at this gift is like this: if there is a key event you are worried about, e.g., the cooking of a turkey, the presentation of a pudding, whatever it may be, I hope that you will feel that you did it well.  The satisfaction of a job well done / done well is immeasurable, and so I hope you earn and enjoy that feeling sometime during the next few weeks. 

Or, I hope that something is done well on your behalf – that surprise gift, that meal you’re going to, that visit to a relative.  Whatever it may be, I hope you will look back and think to yourself “Now that was pretty awesome!”  That is what I wish for you when I talk about something “done well”.  I wish that you get the chance to look back on something you did, or something that was done for you, and you get the chance to enjoy how wonderful it was.

So, first gift down, and, like a camembert or bottle of plonk, it may take a while before you feel the full benefit of it, but it is well meant and intended none-the-less.

And so, onto the next invisible parcel beneath our ethereal tree of austerity…

Recently I had the joy of taking my seat at Villa Park.  I have been lucky enough to visit some of the world’s greatest grounds, including the old Wembly, and the Nou Camp, but nostalgia and memory lane make Villa Park glow with special sparkle for me.  Cold wet Wednesdays of the 80s and 90s come flashing back as I walk along Trinity Road.  Sunny Saturdays of yesteryear, including my first, sleep inducing visit as a 4 year old, tumble into my mind.  After a League Cup Final victory in the early 90s, the players paraded the trophy at the front of the Holte end, which, for a full ten seconds, shone with electric white as fans took their photos of the momentous occasion. 

The game was, shall we say, dull.  Very much not done well.  However, one incident stuck out.  One minute to be precise.  The nineteenth. 

You may be forgiven for thinking that you have missed an essential law change to the game of Association Football that imbues the nineteenth minute with some kind of special status.  Fear not, the game as a whole remains largely unchanged.  However, at a Villa game, the nineteenth minute is special.

As the large red numbers on the digital clocks at either end of the ground changed from 18:59, every man, woman and child stood on their feet and loudly, loudly applauded.  Their joint motivation?  Every nineteenth minute of every Villa game sees this act as a mark of support and friendship for our club captain, Stiliyan Petrov, who is currently battling a rare form of leukaemia.  Of course (and I feel sure you have filled this blank in for yourselves already) Petrov, or Stan as he is affectionately known, wears number 19 on his shirt. 

I knew this was coming.  I have joined in with it myself whilst watching them on my own at home.  Yet I was struck dumb by the spectacle of fans from every section of the crowd, including the away fans, standing deferentially and applauding warmly to mark their own respect for an outstanding servant of the game and his club. 

That is humility.

Every summer, I smile as I watch the “Race for Life” posters adorn buses and billboards. A few summers ago my wife took part, taking both the running and charity sides very seriously.  The kids and I took our place next to the barrier towards the finish line, and watched and cheered.  I told the kids we had one rule: cheer everyone.  All the competitors had turned up with their own agendas, and who were we to question them? 

So we stood there and cheered.  I was, however, extremely glad I had taken my shades, as I was repeatedly left at a loss by the messages of hope, of remembrance and of love that adorned people’s pink t-shirts.  As they ran past, I could do little but read the heartfelt and tender messages on the back of the competitors jerseys; messages to those they had lost, but still loved.

And in memory of these departed loved ones, thousands of women turned up and ran.  In their often ill-fitting running gear, and their tutus, in their angels wings, cowboys hats, sequins, tiaras and regalia, they ran. They laughed.  They encouraged each other. And they remembered.

That is humility.

Like many of you, I woke on Saturday morning to the news of the shooting at an American elementary school.  Like many of you, my thoughts turned to “Not again!”, and “Why always in America?”, and my condolences to the parents and families who have lost loved ones so close to Christmas – indeed, at any time.  I forced myself to watch, with discomfort, as parents and teachers openly wept together, and comforted one another.

However, my abiding memory was of watching President Obama (forever in my mind President now, not Barak or plain old Obama)  almost unable to speak.  One of the leaders of the free world demonstrating what it is to care.  To stand in front of the assembled press of most of the globe in the knowledge that what you are about to say and do will carry gravitas, must carry gravitas, and to simply and beautifully show what it means to feel sad. 

The world often needs its men and women to stand up as leaders; yet, on rare but important occasions, which creep up on us without our knowledge, we need our leaders to be men. 

That is humility.

Although I do not wish your homes to be visited by tragedy this year, as my examples seem to point, I do wish you to be visited by some humility.  Whether that humility take the form of some compassion shown to you and yours, or by you and yours to another home, or in the act and deed of another, I wish you to be visited by a piece of humility that reminds you that, in this troubled world, decency still thrives.  If I could offer you anything, it would be this.

For tangible evidence, look no further than the words of In the Bleak Midwinter:

Question: What can I give him?                                 Answer: Give your heart.

Couldn’t put it better myself.  Therefore, whatever you receive this Christmas, with the bad news that will almost inevitably touch the world in the weeks to come, I hope it is given and received with a humble heart.

So that brings us to package number 3 from our Santa’s sack of imagination. 

I am all too aware that, in comparison to many, I lead an extremely cushy life.  There’s always enough in the account for a bottle of wine, or two, I’ve never missed a mortgage payment and I enjoy the odd holiday here and there.  My wife and Mum and Dad would instantly jump in shouting “You’ve earned it Chubs!”  Be that as it may, there’s no reason for me not to acknowledge the nice things I enjoy in life, for which I am grateful all the year round.

Furthermore, even when my job is most keenly brought into focus, for instance, during our recent OfSTED, even then I could enjoy what I had around me.  Everyone urged me to “get a good night’s sleep”.  But that adage for me has always been pointless – I always sleep.  The only two things that have every kept me awake are hayfever, or too much sleep during the day.

But I am fully aware that it is not the same for everyone.

Although I mentioned above that I did not want to linger on financial difficulties, I am all too keenly aware that people do lose sleep, and they lose sleep about money.  Never more will this have been keenly felt that in recent months.

Yet there are a million personal reasons why people lose sleep.  Although it doesn’t affect me, I am all too domestically aware what detrimental effect tired people can have on the mood of a household. Furthermore, I have seen a growth in an alarming number: the number of people who live with the fallout of relatives and loved ones with poor mental health.  Even worse, the thing that hurts me the most, if the number of invitations I keep receiving to MARACs are anything to go by, domestic violence is massively on the increase - not just in areas of low income. 

As I alluded to at the end of last year’s blessy, these presents are intended for people the world around – middle of a warzone, or silently living with an ever present fear of danger within your own home.  That sentiment remains.  I would wish for you a night’s sleep uninterrupted by the worries of money, violence, sadness, illness to a loved one, or the proximity of conflict – political or personal. 

I would wish for you to drift into, as PG Wodehouse used to say “a touch of the deep and dreamless” for the entirety of a night, then those few beautiful moments in the morning of blissful forgetfulness.  When reawakening brings realisation, I hope that your night of fortifying slumber will allow you to look upon your problems with refreshed resourcefulness, or give you some moments of respite, or find you resolved with greater strength to face your issues. 

This world holds precious little physical escape for those in need – but there is ample mental respite if we have courage and the wherewithal to take it. A good night's sleep, free from the shackles of the worries of this world, may be just what is needed to strengthen ourselves against the harshnesses we face daily. 

So, there you have it.  I hope, in this ghostly little essay to have raised the ghost of a question and the merest phantom or spectre of something you may find valuable.  The things I have presented (no pun intended) cost nothing, at least in earthly money, but could mean something invaluable and incalculable to someone near… or far.

Therefore, may I take this opportunity to wish you the merriest of Christmases, with the gifts I have humbly offered here.  Please take as many or as much as you would like; or, if not to your taste, just a small soupcon of the most useful one. 

Whatever you are doing this year, I hope your Christmas is enormously special.  In this austere world we face in 2013, let us work together to build something we are all proud of, and will keep us going until the boom times return, as they no doubt will.

Keep safe everyone.

For another year, that is all.