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Catchment 22: The Children Most In Need Of Education Are Those Least Appealing To Schools

The postcode lottery is enabling schools with a watchful eye on their SATs results to leave some children behind, says Kevin Harcombe…

Kevin Harcombe
by Kevin Harcombe
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In the week that the Queen became our longest-reigning monarch and Wayne Rooney overtook Sir Bobby Charlton’s 49 England goals tally, I asked the children in assembly what the connection was between Rooney and HM, the answer being that both had broken a record that week.

“Has he been made a Sir?” ventured one. Not yet, but a good answer. The fact that he visited prostitutes as a teenager might count against him, I thought, but given the past antics of some of those honoured in the latest honours list, perhaps not…

“Is the Queen his mum?” suggested another. Much as the prospect of a future ‘King Wayne I’ appealed to my sense of humour, I had to score that nul points.

The correct answer eventually emerged, and I was able to note it in my ‘Big Book of What We’ve Done to Promote British Values‘, which I can wave under the noses of the Government Inspectors when next they pop by for a cosy chat…

‘They have no places’ A key value at the centre of British schools is inclusivity, and I buy into the notion entirely. So it was with some shame that when faced with two Eastern European children (not refugees), with no English reading or writing skills, applying for admission to my school in Y2 and Y6, my first thought was that my SATs results would immediately dip by 3% and I needed to fob them off sharpish.

They were accompanied by a translator, a young Turkish girl (the family spoke Turkish, though that wasn’t their native tongue). “What’s the address?” I asked. On hearing her reply I announced with relief, “I’m afraid that’s not our catchment; that’s Dunlearnin’ Primary.” They had been told that school was full.

I bet they had.

“Well the next nearest school for you is Dotheboys Academy – very highly regarded among the BDSM community,” I offered hopefully.

“They told us they have no places either.”

No, of course they haven’t. I glared at the secretary who had foolishly confessed to us having places in those year groups. Honesty – where did that ever get anyone?!

“Well, I’m certain Sink County Primary has places. It always has.”

I momentarily envisaged said school’s classrooms, with tumbleweeds blowing across the floor and two feral children trying to set fire to them as they passed. My reverie was interrupted by the young girl shaking her head. “No, no, no. At first they said they had places and we were very happy. Then they checked and realised they were unexpectedly full.”

“Did they check before or after you told them the boys have no English whatsoever?”

She thought. “After, I think.”

Of course it was after.

Box-ticking bastions of bureaucracy

Before the advent of targets, Ofsted, forced academisation and the other paraphernalia of totalitarian police states Britain is steadily buying into, headteachers would be delighted to welcome such pupils. They are innocent children, they need educating! Think of the opportunities for multiculturalism! Exploring and celebrating the quaint and engaging customs of an interesting foreign land! Welcome, wilkommen and bienvenue!

Now, instead of seeing children in need of our care and expertise, we see potential jihadis, a small but possibly catastrophic fall in our data and an implacable inspector beating us over the head for failing to get said children to reach the Age-Related Expectations in reading and writing. Only having taught them for eight months is no excuse, and neither will any inspectorial parsnips be buttered by the fact that the younger child can’t even read or write in his native language because in his country they don’t start school till the age of seven.

But we are teachers and we will deal with that. As always in education, it’s not the children who present the problem – it’s the box-ticking, bean-counting, bollocks-talking, bastard bastions of bureaucracy who make Judge Dredd look like SpongeBob SquarePants who are the major cause of teacher burnout. Reader, I admitted them. They are innocent children. They need educating. That is what we do. That is what Britain should stand for – warm beer on summer evenings, long shadows on village cricket grounds, invincible green suburbs, and, in spite of governments over the past 30 years making it ever harder for us, doing a bloody good job of educating children irrespective of their race, colour or creed.

God Save the Queen! Arise, Sir Wayne!

Kevin Harcombe is a Teaching Award winner and headteacher at Redlands Primary School, Fareham

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