By Isle of Wight Observer
When I started school, there were two classes for each year and naturally you hoped to be in the best one. Certain teachers were always much better than others, weren’t they? Why pretend otherwise?
I believe I was born with the ability to identify outstanding people. I don’t just mean teachers and old money toffs; any fool can do that. I could easily tell when someone ‘had it.’ Individuals who accumulate money usually do so as a consequence of a passion for whatever they do. It’s rarely their primary motivation. ‘A labour of love is no labour at all’ is one of my favourite quotes.
I wasn’t born with a silver spoon, so was determined to be successful. If only I’d had a positive outcome at the interviews, I could’ve been a great telegram boy or road sweeper. At 16, I hadn’t a clue what I’d do with my life, but did know I wanted nice things. In the ’70s, dentist’s and GP’s surgeries had old copies of ‘Motorboat Monthly’ and ‘Country Life’ magazines. They inspired me to own a house and perhaps a modest yacht! I didn’t visualise those things to make them happen – but did believe they were possible.
I made the most of what little talent I had and worked hard only after leaving school. The other day I fell into conversation with a talented creative person. We agreed that artists are born not made. If only they had attended school for art lessons, they would’ve been the first to arrive and the last to leave. Instead, unconventional kids often become skivers and truants. I certainly did. Few kids want to study boring subjects like maths.
Students should repeatedly be told that ‘one size fits all’ schooling isn’t for everyone. You may not be academic, but you do have a talent for something. If children are allowed to shine at whatever they’re best at, success is virtually guaranteed. “But everyone must learn to read and write,” you cry. I agree; I could read before I started school and have little doubt, I would have picked up everything else I needed when good and ready. So why did the system persist with teaching me algebra and logarithms? I’m still clueless; such things never caught my imagination, so I switched off. In our school there was no dyslexia, no learning difficulty or ADHD. If you had anything resembling those things, they were not yet given names.
In the ’70s, I do recall a tiny number of kids getting learning support, but generally we were considered clever, average or thick. Good or naughty. Curiously no-one had allergies, nor were they gluten or dairy intolerant. I’m not suggesting those things didn’t exist, just that we were blissfully unaware of them.
Sadly, I was a disruptive child, placed in the bottom set for virtually every school subject. Justifiably, some of my teachers excluded me from their lessons. Still, I briefly considered college, but working to earn money prevailed. No-one I knew went to university. I find it incredibly sad that I meet young people now who seem lost because they didn’t pass exams. Even supermarkets won’t hire them without decent grades. Surely, on-the-job training is still possible; that worked just fine for kids of my generation. And why do we now call workplace progression ‘lifelong learning,’ or ‘continuous development’? Why the silly jargon? Naturally your ‘pathway’ and ‘journey’ must be fully documented by HR, usually after your ‘annual review.’ Pointless training became a costly industry.
In my day the system couldn’t cope with non-conformist children and, half a century later, nothing’s changed. My advice to any young person is simple. Find what interests you and work hard at it. Do that, and I promise you’ll be set for life.