A direct attack on The Great British Academy

I have something on my chest. It's currently inflamed and looks like I have the onset of a terrible skin condition. It's as red as the red flag, gently restricts my breathing at worst, and over the years has provoked countless shrill exclamations of 'are you alright?'. I've had it as long as I can remember in times of heightened anxiety, arousal, anticipation, to go on. I am currently seething.

As a non-oligarch student of Literature at a London university I work part time. Following a brief stint back home over the Christmas period where I slotted back into luggage shop tribulations- a grave error- I put my foot down and secured a job as a tutor of GCSE English back at uni. The firm; based in Hackney are relatively newly fledged and fundamentally the loveliest bunch of young professionals keen on helping students of all ages gain confidence in academia in both private and group tuition in schools across Greater London. As a student who was once reliant on tuition to shoehorn me through GCSE Physics I understand the importance of getting through to a pupil who may not necessarily connect with the subject but is eager to work at it for the sake of a grade. So far, I have tutored GCSE students with abilities ranging from a D/E grade to A, and whilst I am still very much a fresh face to the sphere of tuition, I'd like to say I take immense pride and attention to lesson planning, listening to students and asking for their own feedback to sculpt the lessons round their areas of focus. To be totally frank, there are few things I enjoy more, and I can get an immense adrenaline rush out of it.

I have so far worked at two schools, one in West London and one in East London; both being light years away from my former secondary school. As a student who only left secondary education about four years ago, I'd like to say I was still fresh from the oven. I loathed my school wholeheartedly, having transferred mid-GCSE following a family relocation to North Devon. A rurally isolated private school; mine perpetuated a grotesque class divide with Damien Hirst’s darling tottering down corridors whilst I hopelessly attempted to integrate. 150 years old, the school held close Freemason ties [insert pun on school ties] shamelessly made known to pupils with the presence of the enormous Masonic rugs rolled up in the corner of the drama studio and 'special favours' that my Music teacher has mentioned that several of the male teachers would make for the sons of Masons. In fairness to my parents they were aware this was unsurprisingly going to be an awkward time to move any 16 year old from the costal metropolis that is Brighton so sent me here in the hope of an amicable environment and quick solution to salvaging an education for a furiously hormonal young woman.
My experience of secondary school, as most teenagers find in retrospect, was painful. I was distinctly made to feel aware of how much money my parents did or did not have in comparison with my peers, and as an extension I felt an enormous sense of guilt at being there and so insufferably miserable. Girls were forbidden from wearing trousers (there was no option), boys had to have hair of a certain length, my peers frequented homophobic and racist slurs so often I gave up on trying to call them out.  It wasn’t until I moved back to the city and discussed this with friends at university I could finally express my pent up frustration at a school so retrograde in its deeply conservative ideology.

What I would not understand until four hours ago is that arseholes are not exclusive to the private sector. Call me a fool.

The schools I teach at in West and East London are both Academies. I value my job, and in light of this I am going to abstain from referring directly to the school(s) in question. What I am not going to abstain from is the expression of the conversation I had today with a year 11 pupil, ‘A’. ‘A’ is a GCSE student in her final year of secondary school. She is diligent, has grubby fingernail, is the most methodical planner of essays I have ever encountered and quite honestly is absolutely charming. This said, half of the scheduled sessions I’ve had with her she’s called off or she’s had doctor’s notes. Today was evidently a lucky day and sure enough she was waiting outside as soon as I had finished with the previous group session. ‘A’ looked visibly drained.   

I open the school approved ‘tutor pack’ that the head of department has instructed us to use. A smarmy, deeply condescending woman; it is evident by her manner that she has very little respect for us tutors, let alone her students. Today in the earlier session she swans in making no attempt to speak to us privately and waltzes in mid-session to my colleague, asking if her students have been making ‘insightful comments’, then reprimanded another for slouching, both in the most poisonous tone I have ever heard a teacher speak to a student. The whole premise of tutoring is breaking the boundaries of formalities to tailor to the student’s learning and allowing them to feel comfortable to broach questions on the topic that they may find challenging. Two weeks ago she stormed into my session and in front of my entire group session and told me my whole lesson plan was incorrect in explicit earshot of my students. That evening I sobbed to my boyfriend and drew a tiny effigy in my journal.

I asked ‘A’ how her week had been. She gnaws on a biscuit in response, “it’s from study club miss” she says, embarrassed and wiping the crumbs from her mouth- completely ignoring my question. We propose to look at a creative writing question we had planned from the previous session; we look at the mark scheme. ‘A’ highlights the key words, slumped into her chair and I try to keep a chirpy tone, anxiously sipping on my own cold coffee.  When we finally commence writing a creative passage she slumps even further. “I’m really sorry miss” she confesses, “I’m exhausted.”.

I ask her what time she was in this morning, presuming 9AM; my own earliest lecture and a pain at that. She tells me that students must be in for 8:11 promptly every day. If a student is more than 1 minute late they lose their break time and their lunch time is halved. I gawp, and she continues, the other one-to-one student who my colleague is overseeing chirping up too, and before I know any better they are both outpouring.  Girls must have their hair in ‘one unit’ [one hairband- two are deemed unprofessional]. If a student is caught rolling their eyes or saying ‘oh my god’ they are excluded for a week. Any student put in isolation must ask permission to drink water. The school day is 8.17AM to 6PM, for 5 days a week plus compulsory Saturdays 9AM-1PM. ‘A’ informed me that the academy would be rolling this out over the Easter period as well.  What’s more is that before the start of every single of the six lessons that make up the day, the students stand behind their chairs and recite:

‘Throughout this lesson I aspire to maintain a calm disposition and an attentive air so that in this class and all classes I can fulfil my true potential’.

Whilst immediately evoking visions of a Dystopian 1984-esque institution, nay, prison, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the pupils I had taught in India, rote learning a Robert Louis Stevenson poem but who could barely spell their own name. The words are hyperbolic and pointlessly archaic to the extent that their meaning is totally redundant. It’s a literal fucking incantation to the ghost of the Grammar school.

I couldn’t shut my mouth if I wanted to.  

What is perturbing is that this academy is doubtlessly not exclusive. Gove’s upheaval of the UK education system now places immense pressure on students through the introduction of linear A-Level exams culminating in exams at the end of the 2 year stint meaning Universities shall have to consult a student’s grades at GCSE, exams typically sat when a student is 16 years old.

I asked ‘A’ if she thought the strictness of her school improved her grades? She said no.

Did the strictness of her school detracted from her enjoyment of her studies? She said a little.

I asked ‘A’ what she intended to do once she had completed her exams. Her friend sat across the room said she had been planning to ‘stick it out’ for sixth form. I tried in vain to stress that the levels of discipline at this age are far higher than at A-Level, let alone in university.’ A’ was keener to leave as soon as she had the chance to do so.

Well done Michael Gove, it’s working. You’re dissuading future generations from pursuing further education, apprenticeships will be on the up and A will secure herself a job through hard grit, providing she sticks at the same industry for the rest of her life.

I don’t know what I’m proposing, if proposing at all. I am documenting the perspective of a child emotionally and physically drained by a school fighting for funding like tigers over a buffalo.

This school’s principles are grotesque [as I’m sure hundreds other are] and the most perverse and industrious husk, devoid of humanity and nurture I have ever had the misfortune to teach at.

I am still seething.

A [my] sad puppy, as a reflection of the author's angst.

artist S Mark Gubb provides an insight into upcoming Exeter installation

Exeter’s Phoenix centre is set to host Cardiff dwelling artist Mark Gubb’s upcoming new venture. Gubb’s work provides an insight into 1980s Britan drawing upon socio-political issues. Here, Gubb takes the time to answer some questions.

Hi Mark, what can you tell us about the new installation?

It's a collection of new works that encompass a whole bunch of different media and ideas. There are also consistent ideas that run through a lot of what I do – I'm particularly interested in misinformation, controlling forces – whether that be an obvious one, such as an elected government, or something more unseen, such as the psychological side of marketing – and communication between people in general, how this can break down and the implications of that.

There is a prevailing awareness of the 1980s that influences your work. How do you think today’s economic climate might inspire a future generation of artists?

That's an interesting question, in so far as in so many ways, we are in exactly the same situation now as we were in the 80s – strikes, riots, Conservative government, military action, economic depression – it's uncanny really. Under this government the economic climate for the arts is only ever going to get worse, but as always happens, interesting things come out of adversity; people making do and finding other ways and means to realise their creative visions. The real inspiration, so far as I see it, comes out of the reality of the day to day existence – in the same way that I have been influenced by the climate and paranoias of the time, so a new generation will be inspired by what's happening today.

Do you feel that the environments in which your exhibitions are at all encompasses the message you are conveying?

In one part of my practice, I have a real interest in working site-specifically, responding to particular geographies or histories, but those are specific commissions that request that focus from the very beginning. Another part of my practice is what you'll see at the Phoenix – a studio practice, developed around particular points of interest I find in the world. The best analogy I can make is to think of a gallery show as an album – a band writes an album in their garage/rehearsal room wherever they live in the world, then that album gets listened to in bedrooms all over the world. The connection people feel with those songs isn't specific to their individual location, but connects for more personal reasons.

How do you feel your will influences the perceptions of those attending the exhibition?

This is a really tough question to answer – one of the key questions that artists have been asking themselves forever. I may set something up in the gallery that means people can only move through it in a certain direction, or have something very over-bearing that I know will connect on quite a visceral level. But, at the end of the day, any artist has to be aware that every viewer brings their own set of ideas and experiences to any work. Some of the best insights I have ever gained in to my own work have come through things that other people have told me about my work, not things I have figured out for myself.

Do you think the intention of art is to be eye-opening to those observing it or a self-fulfilling act? Or both?

Eye-opening would suggest that something needs to contain an inherent shock or entertainment value, then self-fulfilling suggests something very introspective, even selfish. I'm interested in both of those positions on some level, but also all that grey area in the middle. All I ever really hope for my work is that it might make someone think. Maybe hold something back up to them for another inspection and have them thinking, 'I've never thought of it like that before'. I'm offering a shifted perspective on the world that opens up room for discussion or reconsideration. I'm selfish enough to think that as an artist, you don't owe your audience anything. What I really mean is that you can't second guess who your audience are or what they will think. It's about honesty at the end of the day. I think most people can sense integrity and honesty a mile off, so you owe it to them and to yourself just to be honest.

The exhibition voices the ‘losers’ of history- who would you see as society’s present day losers?

I think we are living in very dangerous times, and by that I don't mean a threat of physical harm, despite what we are told by the media, day in, day out. We have reached a time where the economic value or cost of anything is the first consideration of everything, as opposed to the humanitarian cost or value. We have politicians that are so disconnected from the reality of the lives of the majority of the population that they can't even begin to understand that reality, let alone do anything to support or improve it. I want to live in a civilisation that is empathetic, supportive and compassionate. You can say that everyone is currently losing, whether we look at the erosion of the NHS and civil liberties, basic freedoms or any kind of vision for future generations. the way we structure our societies and values has to drastically change or humanity is doomed. I know that makes me sound like an old hippy, but when we have almost every area of our existence being proven to be unsustainable in the long-term, from energy and food production, to the very air we breathe, we've got to accept that we're losing, it's just some will be going down in luxury yachts whilst the rest of us drown first. Either way everyone's ultimately going down. On that happy note, I'll finish.

The exhibition ‘History is Written by the Winners’ at Exeter Phoenix centre opens on the 28^th March. Workshops and further information is also available at: http://www.exeterphoenix.org.uk/events/s-mark-gubb-history-is-written-by-the-winners/

photo credit:

http://locwsinternational.com/wp-content/uploads/artworks/gubb/gubb2.jpg

For further information: http://www.smarkgubb.com/