Now you too can be part of the monitoring and self evaluation process...

Many of you will be thinking that this is the point in the term when I bang on about "I can't believe that this is the point in the term..." about where we are in term.

Well, it is.  And I can't.  Job done.

Therefore, instead of boring you e-rigid with superlatives about how magnificent and super-dooper everything has been, and blah blahdy blah, I thought I would instead use this opportunity to bring you all into the arena of school improvement monitoring.

I could give you my usual "this is a list of what the children have been doing" wrapped up in some unsuitably, toe-curlingly crass format.  But then, who couldn't?  I could rave on about some point that has caught my eye, such as I am now closer to 6000 hits then 5000, but that would be self-fulfilling and, if I'm honest, a little showy.

So, hey everyone, I have an idea! (Hmmm, was it me, or was that a bit too much Cliff-Richard-Summer-Holiday-esque, Miss Lee?)

This week I have started the final major piece of monitoring of the year, where I look closely at the quality of learning on a daily basis in as many ways as I can.  I observe the incidental stuff that goes on outside the classrooms and outside of the lessons, and look at the provision for individuals and for groups.  I also (and this makes me unpopular with some elements of authority, so, who gives?) I look at the care our children receive, and the attention to detail offered by the staff.

Therefore, in this blog, I do not intend to list all the work done by the children.  Instead, allow me please to provide a snapshot of the work I have seen being done for and on behalf of the children.

Over the course of this (not yet complete) learning week, I have been privileged to observe:

• The improvements made over 24 hours by a teacher who really cares;
• Children delighting in being offered so many sporting opportunities, and desperate to improve their skills;
• Very young children having sophisticated narrative built around their play, whether through creative dialogue or searching questioning;
• An assembly which challenged older children, delivered almost entirely via rhetorical questions - could you do that?
• Children who do not like loathe and detest writing (and for whom English is not a first language) thriving and excelling in writing lessons;
• Individuals who find lunchtimes difficult receiving specialist provision from adults, and year 6 (and a year 3);
• Less able learners successfully grappling with extremely difficult maths concepts due to the resources provided by a teacher (who skillfully refused to help them further), whilst...
• Extremely able learners were pushed far beyond the boundaries of their chronological age;
• Very young learners mastering the technology which will doubtless pervade every aspect of their adult life;
• Children as young as 5 mastering the phonetic patterns normally the domain of 7 year olds;
• The delicate care and nurturing direction offered by our better reading partners, and the children's feelings of success as a result;
• Young teachers dicussing, almost debating infinitesimal points of progress for children in other classes;
• Extraordinary care, on the verge of angst, being dedicated to ensuring the quality of EYFS journals;
• The exquisite care placed into the preparation of our new books from colleagues;
• The creation of yet more wonderful display work, which covered science, D&T, art, and so much more.

Furthermore, at my desk this afternoon, I have been an active (and passive) (and curious) (and, let us not deny it, downright nosey) participant in conversations covering an upcoming KUW theme week, the few points at which our APS progress does not represent that for an entire year (at term 5 end), the link between our communications strategy and our new IiP bid, the radical improvement in the behaviour and learning attitude of two boys who should, do and have always known better, how well yesterday's basketball tournament went, what our double bassists will be performing in their assembly, and what I'll be having in tomorrow's chip shop run (although, a big star to Mrs B who had already guessed, recorded and costed my order).  My last job today was to "tidy" my desk, which generally means rearrange the paper and dust.  This evening, tidying meant creating two piles: not-particularly-important stuff, and certificates for tomorrow's praise assembly.  Who wants to guess which was bigger?  

Normally one for a pompous and self important ending, I shall sum this one up by saying 

"Well, there's your monitoring.  What do you think?"  

And it is a genuinely meant question.  I would be intrigued to know what your thoughts are on the work that goes on each and every day.  I would also like to simply, but humbly and deeply respectfully, say to every stakeholder - volunteer, governor, teacher, parents support colleague, music teacher, child, lunchtime staff, kitchen, cleaner, pencil sharpener - 

"Thank you."  

Some day soon, please take a step back and witness how much is accomplished, in any normal week, in the name of the community we are privileged to serve.

May the sun shine upon us all, wherever we may be (especially Cornwall, preferably south Cornwall, towards the end of the A30, just past the level crossing).

Until we collaboratively create spectacular things again, that is all.

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.