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Poetry
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| The Educator's New Clothes | |
| By alandavidpritchard | ||||||
| 07 November 2007 | ||||||
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This poem was written as a response to the fact that teachers on the island where i live, while individually aspiring to raise achievement, do not, for some reason, share their good practice with each other. I have always found that odd. Let’s see now: we teach in box-like rooms with walls and ceilings(so many ceilings) and we have corridors that link these rooms making it easier to physical move to where sharing can occur, yet most of us don’t have a clue how the other teaches. Let’s see now: we have a common room, where we can gatherand rest, and find solutions to things that test our patience, but the smokers will find their shed; the weary will make a bed from the chairs, the moaners will not talk with the whingers, and god knows where’s the Head. (Let’s have another meeting instead). Let’s see now: we have roads that connect all of the schools, but we don’t visit each other,regularly ..or at all. We’re on an island, for goodness sake! How long can it take? We have horses on the island, you know, we have bicycles, motorbikes, cars, busses, trains, - oh, and by the way,If pressed, the walk would take less than a day. (And there was a time when that meant nothing to get to where you needed to be). Still, we have a postal service, but we only send letters home,to complain.usually. and there is the telephone (why walk a mile?) so people who are too lazy to turn the dials, can just press buttons,on cordless, hands-free, and pay as you go mobiles. (And those too lazy 2 spk can txt n sms) There is even a thing called the INTER NET, which links us with every other school, not only on the island, and in the UK, but IN THE WORLD; Yet, most of our students think children in Africa learn under trees,and that Outdonesia is a place that actually exists. (Did I mention we all spoke the same language?)
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