MY DREAM

My dream would have been
to send my children to Steiner schools, Forest schools, Montessori, Krishnamurti, Un-schools,
any schools that were not,
did not do what most schools do….
….bless them, preach instead of teach,
follow rules instead of make them,
squash spontaneity etc….ad inf.

While celebrating the noble heroes
who, despite it all, hung in there,
dedicated to their vocation
and to the interests of their pupils and protégées;
while these, when grown old
still remember and cherish
a revered maths tutor or dance master,
a language maestro who loved words. enthusing the youngster with bright eyes,
role models and aficionados
who inspired and gave them courage
helped them find their own gift
and develop ways to grow up
centred and true
….against the odds of deadly, depersonalised schedules
and hierarchical modes of presentation,
(let alone threatening, boring, partisan)
too many, too large,
ravelled in red tape and conditions:
a kind of zombie-land
of purposeless detention
- just to get the kids out of the house,
off the streets, out of mischief
shaping their putty brains
ticking administrative and Ofsted boxes
to be processed into the apparatus of mindless self-replicating consumerism.

More than half a century later,
having witnessed a generation
of mine and others’ grandchildren
go through these various processes:
toddle through pre-schools,
some still visionary, joyful places,
others dire with routines
and filling-the-time-ism, boredom,
lack of meaning or motivation.
Then in their primary years,
skip and hop, trudge or drag
their way through timetables
and learning about friends,
secrets and competition.
Plodding on through higher Ed:
cutting down on sport and art
in favour of exam results
and pressures re future practicalities.
Growing street-wise and world weary before their time;
on through Uni, College and Post;
the same one-track focus,
to either drop-out or graduate
to Adulthood - working, tax-paying, marriageable-ness.
That’s the best to hope for, surely.
What else?
Anarchy, dependency, despair.
Nothing to be part of or do?

Then my heart and hope is restored
and reminded:
a system doesn’t depend on a history, name or reputation,
nor has to belong to a state,
some in-group or elite
to be worthy, healthy, happy.
It just needs one passionate person
or group of,
and out of that,
- the oyster nurturing its secret treasure,
there, hidden in surprising corners
and in the most unlikely places,
are havens of promethean educational experience,
where creativity and respect thrive, interest and hearts are warmed
and where the odd one out,
the disrupter and disabled
are fully included and catered for.
Where body and mind are both exercised and spirit
allowed its original wings.
Where it is safe to speak up
and be sure to be heard.
Where it is OK to make mistakes
and how to learn from them:
how to give and take, be part of, negotiate, live with limits,
and find a point.

Who would reckon even now,
in this sonic, whizz-kid, media age
there are still places like this
aside the known ones!

It could be a back-street, city slum or…..
down a fairy-tale country lane
grassy in the middle
with hawthorn blossomed hedgerows, lamb-dotted pastures,
over the tumbling brook,
round an old barn,
passed rusting implements in the ditch,
an old horse cogitating over a farm gate,
the ancient yew-encircled church...
- a school-run to delight each day
and hedgehogs for traffic…

and there one is - such a place -
my dream (just skipping a generation!)
for real!!