How often do you think about red roosters? Twice a day? Then this column’s for you: read on.

A mixed pair of year 8s are gazing at something so I get between them. This new pound coin? What’s it worth? Ever the educator, I can help: ‘A pound’. ‘Yes, yes, but what’s it worth, I mean, how long’s it been around?’ This is, I suspect, precisely the existential question that standardised coinage is meant to prevent. Rather like you and I, dear child, worth does not depend on age. 

We’re obsessed with money this week as the future is grim. Successive governments have longed for a schools’ National Fair Funding Formula but shied away from the cost or the carnage until now. This lot are doing it within the funding envelope, as we say now. The same money, shared out fairly. It has a brutal logic as a cold fiscal fix. As a way to support a the nations’ young, it is utterly inexplicable. Why disinvest from children? 

Tallis’s total budget is about £12 million a year. For the financial year 2017- 18 we’ve been given about £326,000 less, a drop of -2.7%. We‘ll face further reductions next year, and then that lowest level of funding will be the new normal. Over the next two years we’ll try to plan to lose over half a million pounds.  Which may not be possible.   
Such brutality does interesting things to language. The ‘Fair’ was dropped a while ago so it’s just a formula, rage against the machine. Similarly the parroted ‘we are spending a record amount on schools’ makes my head swivel on its stalk before exploding. School funding is frozen, with inflation and other factors meaning schools have to make huge cuts on top of Coalition cuts.

So, pottering home after the A level dance showcase (brilliant, with a matchless first Little Red Rooster) I thought out loud (thankfully not on the bus), about the rationale for slashing expenditure on schools. Hana’s questions recurred: What’s it worth and how long’s it been around?

The best schools have a grand narrative: this is what we are, this our history, this our aim. Ancient schools know: educating the poor of the parish for 500 years, Honore et Labore, Sapere Aude, like we have Education to understand the world and change it for the better. But quality education for the masses is very recent, a post-war, comprehensive dream. Most of our schools, in historical terms, are modern. Does that make us less valuable?
From the standpoint of the privately educated, this must all look very clear. If schools were better they’d have nothing to fear. Most schools are not very old so they haven’t survived for a long time, and they’re not very attractive to rich people, they’re obviously not very good. Ergo, they’re not worth much, so they must be improved in whatever way seems economical at the time. Or starved of cash so the weak go to the wall. Or altered again and again and again by successive ranks of politicians who have no clue that stability and trust are crucial to public institutions.

So, Hana, perhaps the government sees it your way. We can tell what schools are worth by how long they last. In a future without enough money, subject to measurements that change every year, without enough teachers and with people rightly fearful of becoming headteachers, let’s see how they last. Like the rooster-less barnyard: everything in the farm yard upset in every way, the dogs begin to bark and hounds begin to howl.

Our friends from Taiwan came to visit to protect us from gloom, dancing and singing. 20 year 8s had a great day with them and there was much hugging and tears when they left, having given us a second rooster. It’s got a money-box slot, so we’ll perch it on reception and see if it can lay us a load of cash. The attributes of the year of the rooster, I discover, are fidelity and punctuality, and you can’t have too much of either of those in school.
So I turned to Confucius and the wisdom of the structured life. As he said:

When Gove declared that the nation was sick of experts during the Brexit (brexpert?) malarkey he sounded the death knell for civilisation as we know it. I could rant rhetorically about how it is possible that a man so fixated on subject learning and top-class degrees could simultaneously hold such a view, but then I remembered. Far from the zealot and idealogue he presented as himself during his occupation of Sanctuary Buildings, he is a cynical and deluded opportunist. Good schools for the poor? Yes, until it costs money. Safer prisons? Yes, until they cost money. 

When Boris declared himself in favour of Brexit, he threw oil on troubled flames. I could rant rhetorically about how an educated global polyglot could simultaneously hold the view that we take no responsibility for shared endeavour with our neighbours, but then I remembered. Far from the lovable buffoon, he is a cynical and easily bored opportunist. London as the global melting pot? Yes, unless it loses party votes. The UK as a model of integration? Yes, until it loses party votes. Who cares, therefore, that they stabbed each other in the back? (We all should, see below) 

Civilisation took another knock in another part of the forest, where Trump’s victory was utterly impossible right up until the moment that it seemed altogether likely. What’s the most worrying thing? Not the reprehensible views and the ghastly boasty claims but his capacity to invent stuff then passed off as facts. How many Mexicans, exactly? Who’ll pay for the wall? Which parts of Europe are controlled by Isis?  Is Hillary Clinton actually a criminal?

And so "post-truth" is the Oxford English Dictionary word of the year. They define it as "relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief."

We’ve got a bit in our Behaviour Policy at school which talks about truth and lies. It says:

When we worked together (2000 of us) to decide on the five traits to define Tallis Character we agreed on fairness, respect, kindness, optimism and honesty. None of us realised that it would be like adopting an endangered species: quick, kids, have a try of these before the big game hunters wipe them from the earth. At least they’ll be able to tell their children about them. Do you know, Donaldina, once upon a time people were kind to people they didn’t know and never spread lies to frighten others? 

I was talking to a governor in an advanced state of despair about this earlier in the week. He asked: how can we possibly tell children to live good lives when it is patently obvious that the way to get on in life is to be foul, and to lie with every breath? Well, we do it because it is right.  We do it because children want to be respected, happy people. We do it because we model a better world inside our little communities and if that involves pulling up the drawbridge to protect our values then up it comes. Church schools have been at it for years: these are our beliefs, which the world doesn’t value. We can learn from them. 

Which brings me on to the most famous ex-church school head of them all, the rapidly receding Sir Michael. All hail, once again, his principled opposition to grammar schools, the debate about which is a perfect example of post-truth policy. Academic selection entrenches advantage, it does not spread it. Grammar schools are attractive to some because they are an appeal to the emotions and to an idea of life as it might once have been designed, not as it is or as it should be. The man says, grammar schools are wrong, but comprehensives can celebrate tradition ritual and formality. (Yes, good). Comprehensives have been remarkable escalators of opportunity and great forces for social cohesion (Yea, verily). There is no reason why headteachers shouldn’t insist that children stand up when the Head enters the classroom or sing the school song or learn whole tracts of Shakespeare by heart. Pardon?

In aping the hideous proxies of the rich and harping back to a bygone era, Wilshaw undermines himself. Our schools have ritual, tradition and formality of their own. They should be deeply rooted in the school’s DNA, respected and upheld. They should be for the right reasons, to build up community and model a better world, and for no other reason. Traditions cannot be mandated externally. They cannot be imposed: they grow. 

Gove, Johnson and Trump have done civilisation a great disservice and materially endangered the future of our young for personal gain. In protecting that future, schools will have to be very clear about their character and resist lies, bigotry, reaction, flummery and false logic. From sea to shining sea.      

CR
18.11.16

After that it was half term. I had a wet week in Germany and visited the Nuremburg courtroom, where genuine British values played a part ‘the tribute of power to reason’ that picked up the stitches of civilisation again. US Judge Jackson’s speech for the prosecution is an astonishing feat of rhetoric, but it was Maxwell-Fyfe’s calm and methodical cross-examination which broke Goering. Unflashy but effective is a British value too.

The memories of wars are heavy this year. Before half term we’d met with our vicar to plan our part in the redevelopment of the war memorial in St James’ Kidbrooke. We think it’ll be interesting to find out who we’re related to and what happened to them. We need to think about the D Day anniversary too, once we can have some assemblies again after exams. Remembering (and getting round to it in the end) are British values too.

And so is going to Tyn y Berth for a week with year 8 to be outdoorsy or walking down to Sports Day in Sutcliffe Park or selling doughnuts for charity or other ordinary things. It’s being so astonished by the sun that you get half-dressed outside after PE just for the feel of it, or getting really cross with an inanimate object and having to climb down afterwards. But it’s also putting other people first and creating the circumstances for everyone to get along together, and taking care of the hard-won victories of democracy and equality. Trying to make things better for everyone is surely a British Value?

There are so many irritating factors in the Trojan Horse furore, so many ways in which conspiracy may be alleged on all sides that paranoia and suspicion may well have become British values as well as Corporal Jones-y panic. Useless to speculate on Wilshaw, Gove or May’s motives but I wouldn’t be British if I didn’t add my two-penn’orth. We HAD a statement of British Values for schools – it was in the preamble to the 2008 version of the National Curriculum and it was wonderful.  It said

We have them in the Teachers’ Standards 2012, telling us that teachers must not 

We had all this and a great Citizenship Curriculum. We’ve standing orders for RE which ensure children learn about and from religion. We’ve a distinguished tradition of assemblies and community activities and an inspection system that, until two weeks ago, was in grave danger of working sensibly. Struth, we know what to do. But now we’ve got academies and free schools that don’t have to build up the common good, a moral panic just before an election, knee-jerk reactions, and wanton ignorance of the honourable purposes that direct daily life in school.  Such a shame that hypocrisy is a British value too.

CR

11.6.14

As it was, we tried to work out which friends our new children and their parents could agree on liking, which classes to group them in and how to get that perfect mix of background, test scores and gender in every single form group. We hoped for a balanced intake, but had no means of promoting it.   

In London admissions are different. Children take a test in year 5 and are allocated one of 4 ability bands: this combines with parental preference to give schools a balanced basketful of children. This wise process is reinforced by the Sutton Trust’s latest characteristically sensible publication.  Last month’s report on Banding and Ballots recommends banding to achieve a comprehensive intake, especially in urban areas. It meets the Trust’s laudable aim of improving social mobility through education.

Why is this important? Why is it right to divide children up and then spread them out? Is this not social engineering of the worst sort?  Why not make every child go to its local school and let the devil take the hindmost? Why not leave year 7 to the market and the pointy elbows of the argumentative classes?

A good comprehensive school like Tallis is a work of art and a force of nature. It contains within its warm and cheerful walls the raw materials of the good society. Children of all kinds thrown together make friends across the divides and learn something about how to bear one another’s foibles and burdens and how to respect one another. They reject snobbery and develop an immense pride in diversity, community, fairness and justice.   

A Head I worked with had a leaving speech for his upper sixth which I’ve plagiarised shamelessly ever since. He would warn those heading off to university to be understanding towards people who had not enjoyed their advantages.  He spoke pityingly of young people from dull schools where everyone was alike, who then might find it hard to get along in real life. He said that being an alumnus of a comprehensive school was the best possible preparation for life, and that such young people had a responsibility to keep to the values that formed them, to make the world a better place.

We have to be organised about what we believe is right for our society and our young people.  Parents are individually and collectively wonderful, but they need a structure to relax against, where what is right for their children is also right for other peoples. A proper, balanced comprehensive school gives us a glimpse of a just society in which no-one is disadvantaged by money.

It’s not easy to balance all schools and is almost impossible in rural and post-industrial places. Children in some areas would have to spend hours on buses to be part of banded intakes, and that wouldn’t be right either. School buses are at the mercy of the Lord of the Flies at the best of times.  Heads in London have little idea of the time it can take to resolve a bus disagreement including soup and chewing gum. But a good is a good, and just because something’s hard doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try it. If we thought that, who would understand A level Economics, surds or the offside rule?  We need banded and balanced intakes in all our schools for the common good. Time to try harder. 

CR 12.3.14