Every child matters

Flattery usually works. ‘You’ve got such a good reputation for being inclusive so I’m sure you’d be willing to give him a go.’  ‘He’ had been expelled from primary school aged six and had spent the last four years in a special school for children with emotional and behavioural difficulties.  Where he had done really well, by all accounts, and was now considered ready to make it back to mainstream the following September, when he started secondary school.  The thing was, they said, could he spend a bit of time at our school each week, so ease the transition into full time mainstream education?

 Of course I had to say yes.  If a church school can’t offer welcome to reformed reprobates, then we might as well shut up shop.  The year 6 teacher wasn’t thrilled, but he was only going to come for one afternoon a week -with his own minder- and do art, his favourite subject. The special school would watch the whole thing very carefully and pull the plug if necessary.

 And it all went very well. He was no problem, did some good art, made friends, and we were provided with opportunities to bask in the glory of our wonderful inclusiveness. Until, that it, the people who administer the sats tests rang. Why, they wanted to know, hadn’t we submitted any results for this child?  We patiently explained that while he was, technically, on our register, he was in fact dual registered with a special school where he spent four and  a half days a week and that therefore, they had submitted his results. After all, the sats test English, maths and science and he had not attended a such class here ever.  Just art – for two hours a week.

 The authorities were not impressed. As he was on our register, his results had to be included in our statistics. Children like him sometimes find learning that little bit harder, what with their devoting lots of energy to sorting out chaotic emotions. He missed the level four gold standard by a wide margin and his ‘value added progress rating’ was risible. He’d been too busy transforming to learn sums and stuff as well.

 But, and here’s the rub, when it comes to statistics, every child matters.  He was worth 5%. 5% can represent the difference between the local authority leaving you in peace and sending in a SWAT team to find out why you are failing.

 It was still the right thing to do.

 

 

 

Beyond Bigotry

‘Why’, she wanted to know, in a Church of England school, were we studying Bangladesh?’  I confess that it was with a touch of smugness that I explained to her that Christians believed that God made Bangladesh as well as England.   And in that smug superiority lost a moment where I could have tried to communicate something of the gospel.

 Teachers who choose to work in multicultural inner cities tend to be Guardiansista lefty types who view white working class racism with the disdain that the first century Jews felt towards Samaritans.  I certainly could not wait to rush to the staff room to amuse and horrify my colleagues with the tail of her bigoted ignorance.   But gradually, over the years, I’ve realised that I am no stranger to ignorance nor bigotry. I’m just racist about white working class people, which seems to be more socially acceptable.

 She felt that her country had betrayed her and her kind.  She lived in rubbish housing, her children had no jobs and no prospects and the familiar culture she had grown up in was dying. All her neighbours were Bangladeshi, the butchers were all halal, the shops run by Asians, her street had been renamed with some foreign Muslim name, surely the Church of England for heaven sake, would be the one safe place where her identity would be safe? And here we were teaching her children all about ‘their’ country.  If we had to teach about somewhere foreign, couldn’t it be about somewhere ‘neutral’, somewhere less close to home’?

 It is, after all, quite natural to feel confused and bewildered if your familiar surroundings suddenly change dramatically in ways that are not of your choosing.  Not that that condones racism, but it does begin to explain her fear.  She wanted the church to be a totem of white working class cultural values, with god on her side, protecting her.

 And isn’t that more or less where we all start, with a little tribal god looking after you and yours.  And then, like the Israelites, over a very long time we make the journey from ‘my god’s better than your god’ to simply God, the God of everyone and beyond everyone, the cultural property of none of us.

 So I could have had a conversation with her about what she thought the church was for and what I thought it was for, and I could have suggested we look at how Jesus changes how we think about God, but I took cheap shots at her instead.

 

 

I've resisted starting a blog for ages -one because I'm middle aged and don't really 'get' the whole web2 or whatever its called thingy, and two because I've always though that they were only written by self-important people who were overly impressed by how interesting their thoughts were.  But hey - I  am  overly impressed by how interesting my thoughts are - who am I trying to kid!

Anyway, here in England the whole 'faith school' debate is raging. On one side, faith schools are evil, brainwashing, socially divisive promulgators of racial bigotry, on the other, they are an oasis of Christian values, a beacon shining out truth and love in a divided, materialistic and spiritually bankrupt society.  The first sides denies that any church school is socially and ethnically inclusive, the second that they all are.  The first side is uncritically critical, the second just uncritical.  Reality lies somewhere inbetween these two.

Why mission shaped schools?  Well, I am sure if you are reading this you already know all about the Church of England's 'Mission shaped church' agenda - all about bringing the church to the people rather than expecting the people to just come to the church - and therefore about changing - sometimes radically - how and where things are done.  It calls these 'fresh expressions' of what it is to be 'church'.  Somewhere in the original document is a little bit about church schools as 'fresh expressions' but its a very small section.  Yet church schools, at their best, embody everything that the 'mission shaped' agenda cherishes.  They take the church out into the community, to where people are, they work with families, they proclaim the gospel to people who would otherwise never encounter it, they are praying and worshipping communities, they provide a range of practical support for people above and beyond their basic remit of educating children.  This was recognised in the Dearing report where he said that 'church schools are at the heart of mission'.  But neither in the church itself nor in the schools is this much talked about - what a waste.  Clergy see church schools as a diversion from their 'real' work and church schools are too occupied with being a  school to reflect overmuch on what being a church  school might  - should - look like.  Let alone to think about that in terms of mission.  Especially if they are at the more liberal end of the spectrum - then the word 'mission' is seen as an embarrassment, making claims not appropriate in a multi cultural, multi faith environment.  But is doesn't have to be like this.

I am passionately committed to church schools as places where God’s creative, liberating and empowering love is made flesh in practical, down-to-earth ways that touch peoples’ lives.  I believe that church schools should be both signs and instruments of the gospel – distinctive and effective; serving, enriching and transforming communities.  I believe that church schools are at the heart of the church’s mission to this nation and I long to help church schools realise their vocation to live out both  aspects of their mission – effectively delivering the five outcomes of ‘Every Child Matters’ and also sharing the good news that every one of us matters to God.  I believe in church schools as places where valuing cultural diversity and promoting racial and social justice are absolutely integral to what they do.  That's what I want to talk about in this blog -most of the time.  I might wander.