At around the age of thirteen I went a bit nuts. This was because my young life had spun out of my control and the only way I could feign any kind of mastery over it was to be a really pissed off teenager. I’d gone from a cushty prep school in London to some parallel universe called boarding school. I hadn’t particularly wanted to be at home because home life was as cheering as root canal; my parents were divorcing, my family hated each other, and under the circumstances Transylvania-on-Sea seemed quite appealing. I had a head full of Enid Blyton books and I imagined a life of midnight swims, feasts and shenanigans.
As it turned out the school wasn’t for me. It was for child-hating sociopathic lesbians. There was a constant sinking feeling of dread at some looming punishment because of course I was a ‘trouble-maker’ and I had an ‘attitude problem’. Of course I did. I was cooped up, screwed up, under-stimulated, lost, bored, lonely and terrified. I was the battery chicken before the politics of ‘free-range’ and ‘organic’ meant grass and sky were a creature’s rights.
Thankfully I was able to retain some notion of my former self by questioning, challenging and testing the waters I found myself in. Still, considering I ate mostly fizzy cola bottles, space raiders and stinger bars I’m surprised I didn’t burn out before I got thrown out. Well, at least my dissent was 100% wholegrain.
“What is a rebel? A man who says no.” Albert Camus
Further reading:
George Orwell 1984
George Orwell Animal Farm
John Stuart Mill On Liberty
Transylvania-on-sea
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The news today that teenagers could condense their GCSEs into modules to be assessed on completion, and then take a gap year before A Levels, and then take a gap year after A Levels, is absolutely my kind of thinking. When I’d finished my A Levels I could have gone into study hibernation for good. GCSEs and the dullards that ‘teach’ them make you more knowledge bulimic than academic. Ingesting and spewing fact after chart after quote after equation after explanation, all of which we forget about the minute we’ve got a grade to show for it. This is not learning.
Learning is in the hands of the messenger, not the message. By this I mean teachers. Bad teachers are like venereal diseases – there are cures but if you let them linger long enough they can wreak havoc with your fertility. Geography to me is crumpled tweed and corduroy, the glacial slowness of a class, and don’t ask me to explain population density. Why don’t they liven it up a bit, make it relevant? The newspapers always report on world news: floods in India, mass migration, global warming, globalization, famine. Fortunately, a revamped syllabus will mean that “Geography pupils will be taught that ‘sustainable development is a key strategy for the survival of the planet and its people’”.
It’s encouraging to know that the history syllabus will include the study of terrorism. Religious studies will incorporate Sikhism and Buddhism. (Let’s hope biology will also include a key module on evolutionary biology and obligatory reading on Darwin and Dawkins.) I never considered taking music GCSE because my music teacher Mr Richards thought I was boisterous and made me play the triangle in every group music session, so I’m delighted that music GCSE now includes rapping, dance music and freestyle DJing. But if you missed out on the GCSE, the school of life offers a lengthy education in these subjects, starting every Friday night at a nightclub near you. A* and hangover guaranteed.
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/education/article4629442.ece?&EMC-Bltn=ILTBH9
Further viewing:
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