I used to teach all day on a Friday. Six long hours of presenting, questioning and monitoring. Half the lunchtime cleaning the blackboard. The other half getting the chalk off my clothes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Finishing the day with Year 7 felt like the final push. On the Friday in question, we were learning about Medieval castles. I\u2019d started by \u2018getting the glue out\u2019 and allowing them a minute or so to obsess over neatening the edges of the castle picture, then still sticking it at a weird angle, which when \u2018repositioned\u2019 tore a hole out of the page in their book. But we managed to put down the glue, face the front, and begin what I imagined was a discussion which would spark the creativity and curiosity of these young minds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My question was this: How, year 7, do you think you would go about getting INTO this Medieval castle?<\/em> Pleased with the deceptively simple yet multi-layered opening gambit, I waited for the answers to roll in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n First hand almost immediately: \u201cYou\u2019d just jump over the walls!\u201d Err, not really Daniel, because as you can see, they are pretty high<\/em>! Murmurs of dissent; clearly Daniel\u2019s scaling plan was thought to have merit. Next hand: \u201cI\u2019d set a trap so when the castle-people came out I\u2019d LUNGE at them and\u2026.\u201d Well, yes, I admire your courage Sam but that\u2019s not actually addressing the issue of these very thick walls!<\/em> Who else?<\/p>\n\n\n\n This started to go from bad to worse, with a buzz developing in the room as the suggestions became wilder: \u201cI\u2019d dress up and pretend to be\u2026.\u201d Pretend to be what<\/em>, Stacey? We\u2019re not trying to trick them into opening the doors! The walls, year 7! How would you penetrate these thick,<\/em> thick<\/em> walls<\/em>? You\u2019d put what<\/em> in the moat to frighten them Kirsty? But there are<\/em> no crocodiles in England! And you\u2019re the one trying to get IN!<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was losing the crowd. So it was with some relief that I saw the next hand go up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Let\u2019s call her\u2026. Lucy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Some context: Lucy arrived either late or mysteriously early to class. She carried an overflowing school bag from which was (eventually) pulled a chewed biro and dog-eared exercise book. Lucy seemed to float in a haze. But look over her shoulder to see what she\u2019d written and it was often a work of genius. Sometimes she\u2019d answer my questions with such insight I thought she\u2019d climbed inside my head. I readied myself for this castle-conquering conversation to really take off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Yes, Lucy. How would YOU go about getting into this Medieval castle?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Lucy half closed her eyes and looked slightly upwards as if the answer was gradually revealing itself: \u2018Would you use\u2026..female intuition?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Use WHAT? Female intuition?! \u2018Lucy\u2019, I wanted to say, \u2018have you not listened to the answers we\u2019ve heard over the last 20 minutes? I wanted you to save me and you give me female intuition?\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It was then I did what I should have done at the beginning of the lesson. What Lucy lacked in castle-storming knowledge she more than made up for in pedagogy. The students knew nothing about the attacking and defending techniques of late Medieval England. They were plucking ideas from their own fairy-tale-inspired imaginations, so it was no wonder the answers were wrong. They were guessing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n