Field Notes

I went to see my dad last week. He was nested in like a tiny bird, surrounded by pillows. He has become like a baby chick, fed intermittently, drowsing most of the time. He sings nearly constantly, drifting. Sometimes, when I sing to him, you can catch snippets coming back in quiet, meandering lines. Although at other times he sounds more like a lawn mower. He was a nightmare, my dad. He didn't like us having opinions that were different to his. He would go catatonic when he didn't like what a cashier, or a waiter or a generally helpful person said.  He'd drill us on fractions and decimals on the school run; he thought that a fun day was walking up and down a hill in the rain. He didn't talk about love. He did talk about how we had to hoover the-hall-stairs-and-landing, and get up earlier, and how we were lazy. He was also a wonder. He made the entire cast of Morph out of plasticine and did tricks where they'd appear through the bottom of his desk. He completely ste

You can't escape the flexible working advocacy that pulses through the education airwaves at the moment. Apparently presenteeism went out with the 90s and it would be 'nonsense!' to suggest that headteachers have to be on site all the time. 'Co-headships considered' is increasingly seen in job adverts and woe betide any school that doesn't allow their staff to take PPA at home. I've seen feelings run very high around this.  'We ALL know that hours in the building are not what counts.' I've become increasingly irritated by this rhapsody to flex. Not because I don't think that we should all be working less - it's high time we re-examined the straightjacket of the 9-5 day, which is more like 7.30am-6pm in education. What grates on me is the quiet asymmetry when it comes to our approach with children. It's everywhere and it is driving me mad.  In fact, I've developed a little game. If someone tweets about flexible working, I ask wheth