Umlazi

Last night my memory was jogged and I was transported back to South Africa - October 2003.

Shirley and I had met up with friends Linda and Ian in "The Greystones" for an evening of beer and conversation. We were in an alcove room left of the main bar. I noticed that there were two women at a table  in the bay window. They had a dog with them.

After an hour I put my mask on to visit the lavatory and when I returned the dog started barking like The Hound of the Baskervilles. It was then that I recognised the dog's owner though I could not remember her name. Like me. she was in a party of Sheffield teachers who visited South Africa  almost eighteen years ago.

She apologised about the dog's barking and we exchanged a few pleasantries before she and her friend left the pub. She said that she recognised me and then it clicked - South Africa 2003.

There must have been a development grant from somewhere. We were in South Africa on some sort of fact finding mission though to this day I have no idea how it was meant to impact upon our work back in Sheffield secondary schools.

I related a story to Shirley, Linda and Ian about the woman with the dog. It happened at Ogwini School in the middle of the vast Umlazi township on the edge of Durban. That impoverished estate is to Durban what Soweto is to Johannesburg. Sprawling, dirt poor and often desperate.

She was an I.T. and media teacher.  One day she thought it would be a really cool idea to lend a costly video camera to two boys - telling them to walk around the school grounds and gather some footage.

Imagine that  - teenage South African boys from tin shack homes entrusted with a camera that was worth an absolute  fortune relative to Umlazi's median household income. The temptation was too much. 

They left the school grounds and took the camera home before returning, claiming that it had been stolen from them. 

The wily headmaster was mortified but immediately saw through the boys' ruse. He quizzed them and discovered the truth then he took the main perpetrator home and spoke to his grandmother. The shock and the shame combined to give the old woman a heart attack whereupon she collapsed and died.

The headmaster retrieved the precious camera but there was nothing he could do to restore the grandmother's life. To this day, I am not sure that the woman with the barking dog even knows the full repercussions what she did that day. Putting such temptation in the hands of the two boys was a very stupid thing to do and the unseen outcome was not only fatal but tragic as well.

I expect that the grandmother was buried or cremated. In contrast, the woman with the barking dog went on to become an I.T. adviser  for the local education authority. Such a cushy number.

from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/3jaCXme

Remain

 Trust 

When I’m 

Not sure

Of what 

To believe

Anymore

You are 

With me

And that is

Where I 

Must remain

from R's rue https://ift.tt/3d7LFOm

Apologies

 

I’m usually very responsible when taking the girls for a walk

Mary is always on a lead, and Dorothy who returns to me as soon as I click my fingers is leashed whenever a dog she doesn’t know looms into view or a cyclist appears on the walkway we venture down daily.

I didn’t see the man happily eating his bag of crisps this morning

It was raining softly and I had my head down

He was sat back, away from the path and was obscured by long wet grass

But Dorothy saw him.

Moments later all I heard was yelling

“ FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” the voice bellowed

Dorothy shot passed me with a cheese and onion Crisp bag in her mouth and moments later a middle aged man in grey jogging bottoms thundered out onto the path

Sans crisps, he stood there, red faced with two perfect and very muddy bulldog paw prints on each thigh of his joggers, then stormed off with my ineffectual and perfuse apologies ringing in his ears.

from Going Gently https://ift.tt/35OR6Oo

Chairing

On Tuesday, I was listening to an item on BBC Radio 4 about meetings - specifically the business of chairing meetings. It made me think about my own experience of chairing meetings.

I suppose it began when I was seventeen and a sixth former at Beverley Grammar School in The East Riding of Yorkshire. Our debating society met every month in partnership with the sixth form of Beverley Girls' High School. Having been a noteworthy contributor at the debating society the previous school year, I was nominated to take the chair in the 1971-72 school year and accepted.

As far as I can recall, we debated topics like abortion, the existence of God, improving Beverley, trade unionism and legalising marijuana. The "motions"  always began with "This house believes...."  and there were proposers and seconders. It was all done quite formally before a vote was taken. And there I was at the centre of it all, bringing discipline to the proceedings in an uncharacteristically neutral manner.

Move on a few years to my university days. The University of Stirling was very politicised and  there were regular well-attended meetings of the students union in the biggest lecture theatre. Two hundred attendees was not unusual - often more than that depending upon current issues. 

I joined the "General Meetings Committee" which had the responsibility of organising and publicising these meetings. It was never my intention to become the chair of proceedings but that it was happened more or less by default. I found myself at the heart of angry debates about boycotting South Africa and rent rises on the university campus. There I was at the front with my notes and a microphone, following the rules, following the debates and imposing order. I was very conscious of the need to give speaking opportunities to a wide range of voices - not just the familiar politicos who often sounded like empty vessels. At first it was all extremely nerve-wracking but I got used to the role and grew in confidence.

Once I had to say to the country's future Home Secretary John Reid, "I am sorry Mr Reid but your time is up. You were warned and now could you please leave the platform!" This was followed by thunderous applause from the assembled students. Mr Reid grabbed his notes and moved sheepishly out of the spotlight that he enjoyed so much.

When I became a Head of English in Sheffield, I had to chair weekly department meetings which I enjoyed and which were straightforward  collegiate events until around 2005 when the school's new headteacher started sending members of her inner circle to all department meetings to spy on our discussions. All in the name of "school improvement". Of course none of these unwelcome visitors were English specialists.

Some time around 1995/96 I was nominated to chair whole school staff meetings. I did this for three or four years. It meant putting out agendas, chairing the meetings and publicising minutes. 

These meetings were held in a spacious classroom. At one point I decided to start arranging the seats into a massive circle  before each meeting in order to facilitate debate. No longer was it school managers effectively lecturing a fidgety, disengaged audience . I would address quiet teachers directly, "What do you think about that Bob?" or "I see you are shaking your head about that Mary. Can you please tell us why?"

I listened and showed respect for my colleagues. I sought to engage them  and to a large extent it worked. I always made sure that the meetings did not overrun as they had often done before for I knew that many staff had family duties to fulfil at the end of the school day. It would not be fair to overrun. All of this was greatly appreciated by what I used to call "shop floor"  teachers. They felt their voices were at last being heard.

So that's it.  Upon reflection, I believe I can rightly declare that chairing meetings was something that I had a talent for. It came naturally to me and that Radio 4 item brought it all flooding back. Order! Order!

from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/3wT7dpU