Home Truths

Frank Todd sighed deeply. He swept some wisps of charcoal grey hair
across his head, and uncrossed his legs. He leaned forward, supporting
his head on one hand,. The fingers of the other hand curled around the
handle of a half full mug of tea. "Dear God", he muttered, smiling
ironically. His eyes were shut tight, in an expression which conveyed a
level of frustration bordering on pain. This impression was misleading.
Frank was a Technology specialist. He recognised the qualities of his
colleagues, and was sufficiently humble to defer to them on issues in
which he was not well versed. However, this was a straightforward
argument which demanded a heavy dose of common sense, and Frank was
aware that pragmatism was a forte of his.

The dramatics achieved the desired affect. The attention of the staff
room was now focussed upon Frank. Smiles appeared on the lips of one or
two of the more senior members of staff, who could anticipate what was
coming next. Slowly, and deliberately, in a thick Lancastrian accent,
Mr. Todd expounded his views, as a matter of fact, rather than opinion.
"It's ve-ry simple", he began.

A summary of Frank's argument goes as follows.
The title "learning facilitator", does not demean the teaching
profession. It reflects the changes that have come about in education,
such as the internet, and the opportunity for students to access some
of their education from home. The introduction of the term "learning
facilitator" was undoubtedly the brainchild of some think tank in
Whitehall, who were given the brief of raising morale among teachers,
which, give the government their due, kind of demonstrates their
commitment to education. The fact that pay had reduced by 15\% in real
terms over the last three years was not a good thing. He (Frank) would
have paid additional voluntary contributions towards his pension, if he
had suspected things might go this way. However, the bottom line, is
that conditions are better now than they were ten years ago. And for
that, we should be grateful.

"Listen to the teachings of chairman Todd", muttered Andy. (Andy Booth.
Art facilitator. Homosexual, with left wing tendencies. Gets right up
Frank Todd's nose).
Frank was into his rhythm, now. He was putting the world to rights, and
no queer upstart, albeit with undoubted creative ability, was going to
derail him. "Listen", he instructed, with a paternal wag of the finger.
"You've only been teaching five minutes?."

And now we get to the crux of the argument. For Frank was essentially,
a politician at heart, and he had now stepped up, on to his proverbial
soap box, to preach to the soft underbelly of liberal, namby pamby,
middle class unconvertibles. To place the argument in context, you must
bear in mind the changes that have taken place in education over the
past 15 years. The guarantee of free education for all up to the age of
13 was introduced, a luxury which not all countries offer. The 14+
exam, ensures that only the top 45\% of students continue in full time
education after year 9. This elite embark upon a process of testing,
and interviews, in order to ascertain key skills and interests. They
must then specialise in a negotiated field, such as accounting, or
medicine, until they enter employment. The bottom 55\% are directed
towards vocational training, or pre-apprenticeship schemes.
Participants in such schemes are eligible for a small weekly
payment.

"Those of us who can remember teaching bottom set disaffected youths of
15 and 16 years of age, who wanted to be anywhere except school, will
appreciate the changes". The pitch of Frank's voice was rising now, and
his delivery was less measured. "The swearing, the fighting. The
constant battles to get some work out of 'em. And at the end of the
day, they were right! What bloody use were GCSE Geography to Wayne
Price, Margaret?"

Margaret Tyler blushed a little, and nodded sympathetically. Another
experienced member of staff, she could appreciate Frank's point of
view. The times that Frank had come into her classroom to quell a
disturbance back in those dark days gave him the moral high ground, and
even though Margaret had voted against the changes, she could now focus
on helping kids who wanted to learn, where previously she had
considered leaving the profession.

An aside : its funny, you know. There are kids in Africa who walk ten
miles to get to school. Respect for teachers borders on reverence.
Equipment is shit. The buildings are little more than shells. The
alternative is to work your knackers off from the age of 4, just so
that the family can survive. Education is the escape route from the
poverty trap. Its hard to access, so it is valued. Supply and demand.
Simple.

At this point, the staff room door opened. Charles Gray entered the
room. A tall man, he bowed his head under the door frame, and then cast
a dour look around the room, before walking to the kettle, to make a
coffee. The conversation had been interrupted, but Frank felt driven by
a combination of adrenalin, and self-righteousness, to continue.
"There's some of you, who wouldn't have lasted a year in teaching, in
the old days", he said. Charles flashed a glare of annoyance towards
Frank, as he sat down. A Marxist by conviction, and originally from
Widnes, he relished the opportunity for a confrontation. "How's Sally?"
he enquired.

Sally is Frank's niece. She passed the 14+, fairly comfortably, and was
guided towards a career in engineering, based on the promise she showed
as a mathematician. (And on the government led drive to increase female
numbers in that area). A year later she became pregnant. The child's
father was a 19 year old hod-carrier. Social services advised against
prosecuting the lad, since consent had been given, and so punishment
was meted out by Frank's brother, outside an off-license, one Thursday
evening. Sally's place in education was forfeited, and she became
reliant upon her parents to provide for her and the child, while she
did her best as a young mother.

Aside : There are countries where mothers are in such poverty, that
they have child after child, in order that each might make a
contribution to providing for the family. Where infant mortality is
such, that most don't live to see the age of 5. But still they go on
producing kids. Not out of desire, but out of harsh economic necessity.
There are places where parents mutilate their own children, in order to
inspire sympathy among tourists, so that the begging bowl will be that
bit more full. In 20th century Britain, they knew that these conditions
existed elsewhere, and yet they were prepared to tolerate a system in
which young girls of 15 and 16 were encouraged to get pregnant, and
were then given council housing, and generous welfare benefits, to
sustain themselves and their children, at the expense of the tax payer.
The result? A kind of fucked up parody of the theory of evolution. The
weak prospered through the National Health Service. The intellectually
challenged proliferated, as the socio economic conditions were created
to encourage them to breed. The useless, unskilled masses drained the
nation's resources, at the expense of the skilled, and the diligent,
who paid heavily in taxes, and were careful not to have more than a
couple of kids, because they couldn't afford it. When the system was
changed in 2014, the gut feeling among much of the country, was that we
were fashioning a society in which it paid to be member of the
underclass.

Frank was riled, now. The argument had been personalised, and he had
been put on the defensive. He put his mug down on the table, folded his
arms across his chest, and fixed his eyes on Charles. "She's fine,
thanks". His speech was once more slow and deliberate. He refused to
sidestep the issue. "She realises that she made a mistake, but now,
with the love and support of her family, she's making a good fist of
things. We're very proud."
"And what about the poor girls who don't have such support?" asked
Charles. Who can't access decent health care. Who's parents kick them
out on the streets. What about them?"

Frank spoke through gritted teeth. "We never threw Lorna out. I'd do
anything to bring her and the baby back. She chose to leave, and she
chose to jump off the bridge". The tears were visible in his eyes. The
lump felt like a chicken bone in his throat. Charles spoke softly now.
The battle had been won. He's always respected Frank. I don't believe
he wished to destroy him, merely to point out some home truths. "But
she knew, Frank. She knew she'd let you down. She knew your beliefs,
and she hadn't lived up to them".