Who Benefits From Children Retaking Exams In Y7?
Zak Willis is desperate to know… They always say (have you noticed that collective wisdom is always attributed to ‘they’?) you should never meet your heroes. But not only is this advice out of date – after all, with social media, you could conceivably communicate with your idols at all times of day or night […]
- by Zak Willis
Zak Willis is desperate to know…
They always say (have you noticed that collective wisdom is always attributed to ‘they’?) you should never meet your heroes. But not only is this advice out of date – after all, with social media, you could conceivably communicate with your idols at all times of day or night – it is also pessimism of the highest order. I get the chance to see and work with some of my heroes every day, though they are not pop stars, footballers or anyone I follow on Twitter. For me, the ‘heroic’ lies in more urbane characters and traits.
Ronnie Barker is a big hero of mine. So is my dad – as are many of the children with whom I am privileged to work. Some come from the most challenging backgrounds and situations; some triumph over adversity on a daily basis. They are the most wonderful humans, despite the difficult circumstances chance has thrown their way.
One of the nicest blokes I know
Take Big Barry Black (names have been changed to protect the heroic). He’s one of my heroes. Though now a strapping, baritone-voiced giant in Y6, I’ve known him since he was a small, ailing boy. He is far too modest to acknowledge any praise that comes his way, and too polite to consider counting his many friends. Simply put, he is one of the nicest blokes I know. Yet Barry’s heroism does not stem from his sheer pleasantness – although that alone might be enough. It’s not because he turns up every day, regardless of whether his ears are playing him up (which they do often) or whether he has a cold (which he seems to have for 46 weeks of the year). It’s not because he has to bear one of the most difficult home circumstances imaginable.
He’s a hero in my eyes because he finds school exceptionally difficult, and does not let this stand in his way. Though the letters squirm and slither across any page he reads, and numbers devolve into a primordial soup before his eyes, he keeps coming in to expend every ounce of effort and determination he can muster. He does all this with a smile on his face and a bogey running down his upper lip, offering high fives as he goes. There’s more. We have a specialist teacher in school who offered to take on Big BB and give him some additional support. He didn’t just say, “Yes please, Miss” – he turned up at 8am every morning for a month, delivering his little sister to breakfast club on the way, only rarely picking up a bagel for himself. Not one complaint, not even a sniff.
A test meant for babies
Among the staff we talk about Big BB with humble admiration. ‘If only he had other chances‘; ‘If only he had a bit of luck‘; ‘If only we could take him home and chuck him in the bath‘. If only.
Sadly, these wishes never come to anything. Such is our sympathy, not one of us could bear the thought of putting him through the pain of his SATs this summer – but we all know he had the determination to do them. That’s what heroes do. So when we heard, as we discussed BB in the staffroom, that he may well have to sit the SATs again in Year 7, there was outrage. How dare they treat Barry this way? What are they thinking? (That collective they’ again). What possible good will arise from this young man taking these tests again? What purpose will it serve his family?
Even if he passes, how will that set him up for success in KS3 and KS4? Furthermore, in whose interests is such a resit? Big BB’s? His new school’s? The Local Authority’s? Santa’s? No, I mean it. I’m really struggling here. Last but not least, how dull. At a time when we know most children rail against potential disaffection and disenchantment, why on earth would we insist that they revisit what is, to all intents and purposes, a test meant for babies (because that’s how Year 7 see their younger counterparts)? that’s utterly boring and carries the risk of further failure?
Why, at such a delicate and sensitive time, are we being so utterly insensitive and indelicate? This collective wisdom, this ‘they’, should really try and meet our heroes – it might just teach them a thing or two.
Zak Willis is headteacher at Badock’s Wood Primary School in Bristol; you can read his blog at badockshead.blogspot.co.uk and follow him at @willis_zak
