British Schools Brushing up on...

Good evening. Tonight's theme is Schools on TV, and it's a subject I have particular affection for.

You see, my very first ever TV appearance came in 1969 when,

following a violent outbreak of food poisoning at my school

in Deptford, ITN despatched a film crew to get some newsworthy

shots, and I was pictured in a group of kids spoiling

the gravity of the report by gurning away at the camera,

pretending to be sick and drop down dead.

It was actually a big story.

Dozens were hospitalised, and one kid did nearly die.

I think a teacher lost part of his stomach too.

Anyway, I was hooked on the sheer glamour of that moment

and I was determined to find a way into show business,

a dream I refuse to give up on. Welcome to tonight's programme.

I loved school. Love it.

Look, there I am, four from the left, front row,

and digging the whole academic vibe tremendously.

Even today, I can still rattle off the names of that soon to be

food-poisoned gang for the sheer exhilaration the evocative

sound of our register continues to bring me. Here we go.

Atkins, Bake, Barnes, Benford, Biffin, Burridge, Bayer,

Carpenter, Chapman, Harrison, Hill...

-Kenneth.

-Yes, sir.

-Richard.

-Yes, sir.

-Peter.

-Yes, sir.

-Gartley.

-Yes, sir.

-Green.

-Yes, sir.

-Gregg.

-No.

-Barnfield Ma.

-Here.

-Mi.

-Barnfield Mi.

-Here.

-Barton Ma.

-Here.

-Mi.

-Here.

Barclay Ma.

-Bristow.

-Here.

-Columbo.

Nanson, Leavey, King, Duffle, Patterson,

Byrne, Wedgewood, Bostrich, Burman, Insul, Potter, Guppy.

Now, that's television!

Endless long lists of names, read out in a lifeless room,

full of bored, blank faces, trapped until home time.

You know - just like the BAFTAs!

I'm genuinely always staggered

when people can't recall their full class register.

You heard it every day, five days a week, year in, year out.

Everyone should be able to just rattle it off.

Monotonous? Not likely! How about stereophonic?

-Ian Edwards.

-Here, sir.

-Peter Evans.

-Here, sir.

-Kenneth Gibson.

-Here, sir.

-Stephen Hall.

-Here, sir.

-Stephen Holmes.

-Here, sir.

-Paul Nicholson.

-Here, sir.

-Andrew Brown.

-Here, sir.

-Ian Nixon.

-Here's sir.

-Mike Walker.

-Here, sir.

-Ian Caulfield.

-Here, sir.

-Simon Laven.

-Here, sir.

-Thomas Taylor.

-Here, sir.

-Paul Peacock.

-Here, sir.

-Mark Burns.

-Here, sir.

-Keith Cole.

-Here, sir.

-Paul Burnham.

-Here, sir.

-Barry Ray.

-Her, sir.

Must have been fun in that classroom, eh,

when one end was doing music and the other end was doing maths!

And what happened if you were late? There'd be no way in.

Your classmates would have to crowd-surf you to your seat.

Of course, I don't recognise that sort of urban overcrowding at all.

Though, to be fair, at my old alma mater,

we were not unaware of the ruddy old squashed oiks.

'In the old days, you could spot a child's class a mile away.

'Children from middle- and upper- class homes were actually taller

'and heavier on the average than working-class children.

'Quite apart from differences of clothes, manners, speech,

'habits of thought and education, or lack of it.'

'The public school accent has always been the proudly borne,

'never to be suppressed hallmark of the public school man.

'He wears it as flamboyantly, often as grotesquely,

'as a fireman's helmet.

'The boys still guard what they call their Queen's English jealously.

'In this debate, the progressives are pleading

'the case for admitting more local accents to the school.'

-(UPPER-CLASS ACCENT)

-It has been said that by bringing the Dorset

accent into Milton Abbey, or any other public school, it would

bring down the class barriers at their roots,

but as long as there is a difference between the qualified

and the unqualified people, there will always be a class distinction.

THEY APPLAUD

I know several local people very well and have met many more.

Apart from the fact that these people are mostly pleasant types,

there is the fact that their accent is tuneful and pleasant to hear.

I don't find that they are embarrassed to talk to me and

I feel this school is sadly lacking the sound of the Dorset accent.

THEY APPLAUD

If he's got enough character, which this school does try to produce,

he can get on very well in life. If he hasn't got much brain, well,

this school's proved this, because some people have left

with no O-levels, they seem to be doing quite nicely, thank you.

This must just be due to character.

They must have something behind them. If they haven't got brains,

they've got...something. And if you went to a state school,

you might not have this catch and you might just be absolutely no-one.

I've never really understood the idea

that going to a public school

will make a person brighter because if it did,

then the Houses of Parliament would be full of geniuses.

And...

it's not.

You have the power to inflict corporal punishment, haven't you?

-Yes. We certainly have.

-With what?

-With this cane here.

-Ah, this is it.

-Yes.

This is the instrument of torture.

Now, have you a right to do that without any reference

-to masters at all?

-Yes. It's entirely on my decision alone.

If a boy has been late for breakfast three times, has been continually

disobedient, or any other major offence, he can be beaten with that.

May I meet one of the young gentlemen concerned?

They should be outside the door by appointment by this time.

-A young fag called Andrew Dawson. May we have him in?

-Yes.

Would you come in, Dawson?

Sit down.

Hello, Andrew. Now, what exactly is a fag?

Well, sir, a fag is a personal assistant of the sixth

-and has to do manual labour for him.

-What kind of jobs?

Well, things like cleaning shoes or cooking...

Organising cabinet reshuffles, keeping an eye on the economy,

invading small countries we've a pretty good chance of beating...

To start with, I didn't like it at all.

But as you get used to it, it's not so bad.

Are you looking forward to the day when you have a fag yourself?

-Very much so, sir.

-You spend a great deal of your time cleaning out other people's studies.

-You have a study of your own?

-Yes, I have, sir.

-I share it with another fag.

-Now, this is it.

You share this with another fag.

-Share it with another fag.

-Another fag.

This is a barge pole, because I'm not touching any of that!

As for the older beating the younger boys, well, so what?

That sort of thing went on in working-class schools too.

Although there, it was less about tradition,

order and discipline and more about protection money and bags of chips.

So if all schools have this potential for violence,

it does make you ask - what normal person would want to be a teacher?

Why do people teach?

Some people really do want to teach,

but I'm afraid, at least I think, some of us just drift into it.

An important distinction has to be made between a sense of vocation,

a feeling that one is doing something useful and important,

and a pleasure one gets from the sense of power

when you come into a form room and you say, "Sit down.

"Stop talking," and everybody does.

-(HIGH-PITCHED)

-I had a very powerful voice and an aptitude with young people.

I was taught to hold a piece of chalk. That's as practical

as you can get. It was a vital lesson. One of the best I had.

How to stand in front of a blackboard.

That was a post-graduate department in the university,

and I think that's exciting.

Well...

the only good thing I learned when I was being trained as a teacher

was how to write on a blackboard.

That was the only thing of relevance.

I know.

He's obviously a decent chap and all, but he does look like

Lily Allen hurriedly disguised as all three members of Atomic Rooster.

And that nun's wimple!

This is no simple wimple.

I name this Darth Vader descending on some goalposts.

Brave souls, all of them.

No wonder eccentricity be their hallmark.

They did spend their days amid sights

and sounds alien to the rest of us.

THEY PLAY OUT OF TIME

PLAYS SCALE SLOWLY

# Runaway, runaway

# You've got nowhere to turn

# Runaway, runaway

# I'm never going to return

# I'm never going to return. #

CHILDREN APPLAUD

Polite applause for a muted freak-out.

I always find it charming that drummers in school pop bands never

really move their hands and feet,

thus reducing even the mightiest kit to a timid tambourine.

It hints at what Keith Moon might have been like

if he'd been schooled in North Korea. Oh, yes.

Let's keep improvisation and flexibility where it belongs.

Out on the playing fields!

Right, now. Davies, get a rifle out from the cottage.

Take it over to the rifle range.

Murray, you take the other.

Barton, you can start at golf at the second hole.

You'll be safe there.

I don't know what's more impressive here -

the kids carrying hunting rifles,

the sheer array of sports available, or the fact the dapper master

in charge had a primrose for a buttonhole.

And golf! This is the school that Nintendo Wii was based on.

'Pogo sticks were all the rage 30 years ago

'and now they've returned in a big way. These kids even box on them.'

THEY CHEER

Pogo-stick boxing? Of course.

A cornerstone of the curriculum, like skipping-rope wrestling

and cross-country hula-hoop.

And these are the traditional schools.

Is it any wonder that our progressive establishments

really have to go that extra mile...possibly while yo-yoing?

'Here's a boarding school where youth is not merely allowed

'but encouraged to have its fling.

'The headmaster believes that every child should first find himself.

'Burgess Hill School is against the carbon-copy boarding school product.

'It does what it can to help each child's personality to develop.

'The staff of the school believe that if you blindly forbid children

'to do something, they will certainly revolt.

'The answer is to allow them to find out for themselves,

'whether these conventions are good or bad.

'Besides which, smoking calms the nerves.

'Teenagers, whether they attend secondary modern, grammar

'or boarding schools, and of course, the Burgess Hill exponents are tops.

'Dressed in beat uniform, leather jackets and the rest,

'they really go to town with the new Chubby Checker disc.'

'Dartington Hall School. It's before dawn on a winter's day.

'Every morning, one of the pupils takes it in turn to call the others.

'Everyone gets called, but not everyone goes to breakfast.

'In fact, it's a school with very few rules.

'You can spend your free time as you please. No caning, no detention.

'You don't have to stay in the school grounds,

'so long as you're not missing lessons.

'And anyone over 13 can smoke.'

What is it with the smoking?!

How does sucking on a soggy cork tip equate with freedom of choice?

Got a couple of plantations down Virginia way need

a bit of boosting, eh, headmaster?

All smoking will do is give even the most angelic pupil

a voice like a world-weary old actress.

Listen to the first kid here.

(HUSKY VOICE) Like, originally, this school's someone's dream.

It's stuck in the '30s. It's not progressive any more.

Can you turn that off, please? You know you're not supposed to.

Hey, Thomas. Thomas, which dorm are you supposed to be in?

-In this one.

-Come on, tell me another one.

Which are you supposed to be in?

-Come on, get out.

-Oh, let me finish this.

-No, go on. Get him out.

I'll take this.

PLAYS SITAR

I went to comprehensive for the term,

because my dad ran out of money, so I couldn't come.

Anyway, and um... The teaching there... You...

I found myself getting dead bored in the classrooms

and just falling asleep.

-I still fall asleep in maths lessons.

-Yeah, I know.

I don't do physics or chemistry, cos I found it so boring.

-I still sort of fall asleep in biology and stuff.

-Yeah, right.

But, I mean, you go to a comprehensive

and you fall asleep even more.

Good to see St Groovy's Academy of Anything Goes is thrashing

the somnambulism out of those two livewires.

Like so many slackers,

they seem to have confused outright revolution with outright hiding.

How much better to take on the system head-on.

Out of the schools and into the streets, brothers and sisters! Yes!

It's the great schoolkid strike of 1972.

-Going on a strike, then.

-Yeah, on Wednesday.

We assemble at Trafalgar Square.

So jump on the Tube and if you ain't got any money, obviously, don't pay.

'For the last few days, truant committee members of the Marxist Leninist group,

'the Schools Action Union, and all wearing badges of Chairman Mao,

'have been out with their leaflets

'in the streets of various parts of London.

'The response to their campaign is certainly high-spirited,

'but it's also a little confused.'

-What did you think of the pamphlets?

-I thought it was a good idea, yeah.

-Why?

-It's right. About time someone did something about it.

That's right, yeah.

We want something done about the unions and all the caning.

We're sitting down doing nothing!

Perhaps it's not the, um...

Perhaps it's just not the uniform, it's the caning that matters.

Since when have you had caning? Come on. Go to your lessons quickly now!

All of you.

-All right.

-Sandra!

They keep bossing us about.

Power!

Not a bad effort.

True, it fizzled out as soon as Miss Henderson told them

to stop being so silly and get off to assembly,

but that was the special gift of all British schoolteachers at one time.

I always think that Stalin himself would have shrunk

like a salted snail had a proper UK class warrior told him...

Sit down, stop talking!

That said, in '72, the fuse had been lit,

and the authorities found, as soon as they stamped out one fire,

five more sprang up elsewhere,

fuelled by righteous anger, political zeal

and that most important element for teenage militancy, TV cameras.

CHEERING AND SHOUTING

-What do we want?

-ALL: Democracy in schools!

-What do we want?

-ALL: Democracy in schools!

My dad reckons that kids should stick up for their rights

as much as grown-ups, and he reckons

that if I want to go out on strike for a good reason,

he reckons I should go out.

And what is your reason for being on strike?

Well, our reason for going out is the lessons.

They really are terrible, just boring.

In some lessons, you just sit there doing writing, writing, writing.

Yes, but what one person might find boring another might not.

Yeah, that's OK, but we've asked them to change it, but they won't.

-Yeah, we should choose our lessons.

-Yeah.

We want better meals.

What do you want to see?

Well, revolution, socialist revolution,

when we've had that, that is when we'll have the schools that we want.

We've heard a lot about the socialist revolution this morning.

What do you know about the socialist revolution?

BOTH: Nothing!

Our school as a whole isn't really that strict.

Erm, as for the caning, you know,

there's not that much goes on in our school.

Only unless there's a real offence.

'16-year-old Simon, the SAU's information officer,

'outlined the union's aims.'

The demands, as you all know, are firstly...

no compulsory school uniform!

CROWD CHEERS

No caning!

CROWD CHEERS

A major demand of the working-class kids, the "no caning",

which is interesting when set against public school boys,

who, in later life, would spend up to a third of their incomes

just to receive that sort of thing.

No detentions!

CROWD CHEERS

No victimisation!

CROWD CHEERS

And also the demand of schools not prisons!

We demand to be let out of school in the lunch hour without passes.

This is one of the major demands of loads of branches

of the Schools Action Union.

CROWD CHEERS

I don't suppose we have achieved a lot, really, coming,

but it's proof that we can do what we want if we try.

Everybody else does - look at the miners, they did. And everyone else.

So why shouldn't we? I mean, we're people, aren't we?

But young children were shouting, "Kill them, kill them."

They're treating us like we're still in the nursery and we're not.

-We're not even allowed out of our school at break time.

-Or dinner time.

Or dinner time, no. We're not allowed...

And there's nothing in the school for us to do except sit on the grass.

-The dinners are horrible.

-And the dinners are disgusting.

I like her. And I like the way they wore their ties

and the fire in their eyes.

They defied society to judge them.

Today, their grandkids beg Simon Cowell to do just that.

Has there really been such a shift in playground values?

Were pupils once so focused and militant that they were

impervious to the shallow distractions of celebrity?

Well, it depends on the calibre of celebrity

and the distraction involved.

'You've got to prove that you can do it,

'and basically I can go to a school and, in a fairly small area,

'demonstrate that I can ride a bike pretty good.'

The good side of motorcycling is very good.

You'll find that during your teenage years, the motorcycle

will provide you with some very happy memories.

Certainly, there's nothing quite like,

on a nice, warm summer's evening,

just sort of swanning around the countryside

with a bird on the back, maybe looking for a nice, cosy spot.

His name's Andy Beckford,

and he's going to dance to Chaka Khan, I Feel For You.

'This disco isn't laid on for PC Andy Beckford to enjoy himself.

'His dancing skills are on display as a public relations exercise

'to show the human face of the police in Hackney.

'It's part of a desperate battle.

'At stake, the hearts and minds of the children of the borough.'

THEY CLAP ALONG TO "AGADOO"

'And in a junior school in Hackney,

'the local police join the kids on their own stamping ground.

'This disco is part of a series of events aimed at changing

'children's long-term attitudes.'

That break-dancing police constable!

The only reason things like THIS exist

is so downmarket papers and people like me can say,

"Look, more bobbies are back on the beat,"

or, "This is PC gone mad!" And nobody wants that.

Puts you right off your dinner.

Do you like school food?

-Yes, thank you.

-I'd have, erm, fish fingers and chips,

and, erm, erm...

..fish and chips.

-What's your favourite school food?

-Shepherd's pie.

What do you like next?

Erm, potatoes.

I mean, they're pretty good here.

If they eat chips, they usually tend to balance it out with fruit,

or, like, they quite like cheese.

'But at lunch time, it only seems to be chips.

'Chips balanced with gravy, chips balanced with battered things,

'chips balanced with salt, and chips and cheese.'

'Now Poltair School has moved computers into the dining room.

'They give everyone's meal a one to ten health rating.'

That's quite good.

Chips, number 5.

Beans, number 13.

That's 4 out of 10, I'm afraid - that's not very good.

The computer does make an impact.

If a child sees, "Well done," they feel very happy about that.

If they see, "Very poor choice, go and look again,"

they are going to look again.

That's two out of ten, I'm afraid, that's not very good.

So, 2 out of 10 - that's a very unhealthy meal, then, isn't it?

Yes.

-What made you choose it?

-Cos I just like chips and chocolate slices.

-Is this what you eat more or less every day?

-Yeah.

Do you think, now that you know it's not very good for you,

you might choose other things?

No, I'll still carry on having this.

That's 1 out of 10, I'm afraid.

I'm afraid that's a terrible meal.

Well, if you think THAT'S a terrible meal,

you wait till you grow up and have to kill time in a British airport.

See, that's the trouble with computers - all cold logic,

no hot saveloys.

SIZZLING

I think I'll write that down later - that's brilliant.

Anyway, as we saw,

there hasn't been a computer invented

that can come up with an answer

to a British schoolgirl saying, "What for?"

followed by a curt, "No, thanks."

Even so, today's schools could not operate without the laptop,

the tablet and the internet.

Bringing an apple for your teacher has a whole new meaning.

So let us now salute one set of scientific classroom pioneers

and their pocket-sized electronic friend, Nellie.

Preparing Nellie to do a day's work has become a well-practised routine.

OK, Peter, the keys are in.

All right, keys in.

Can you check disk oil level, please, Harry?

Oil OK.

Right, can you check disk temperatures please, Malcolm?

OK, disk up to speed.

Hello, alternator house?

Disk oil and temperature OK. Is it OK your end?

Rotor, alternator on.

OK for stand-by.

Switch on stand-by, Peter.

Stand-by coming on.

GENERATOR POWERS UP

OK, HD coming on.

The computer is ready for use.

I know.

Why can't computers today fire up as quickly as that?

..a programme that enables the boys to write tunes

and have them performed by Nellie.

NELLIE BEEPS

NELLIE BEEPS TO TUNE OF "What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor?"

The boys have calculated that Nellie fails

once in every 12 hours of running time.

When this happens, they go into their breakdown team.

# Baby, baby When I look at you... #

He said breakDOWN routine.

Continue.

BEEPING CONTINUES

-HD gone off.

-Thermostats. Check thermostats, please, Peter.

Line failure.

RAPID BEEPING

OK... No.

-What...?

-Four.

Peter, change line four, please. System centre one.

Most adults still find computers a bit of a mystery,

but for youngsters like these, brought up in a world of diodes

and transistors, there's nothing mysterious about a computer.

TUNE CONTINUES

RAPID BEEPING

Check thermostats, please, Peter.

I understand the journey of a million miles

begins with a single step,

but even then that must have seemed an awfully long way to go

just to get 40% of What Shall We Do With The Drunken Sailor?

And a pretty rudimentary version, at that.

The thing that made the theme for Doctor Who in 1963

must have been the size of Quebec!

The irony also is that, as ever,

the nerdy kids do all the heavy lifting in development,

but then the bad boys get the glory when they steal the machines

and form Depeche Mode.

# I just can't get enough... #

They probably weren't even in school that day.

You don't think it's irresponsible to refuse to go to school?

No. You don't want to go, you just don't go. And that's it.

Morris.

No, Keith never gets up, does he?

What time will you get up today?

I'll probably get up about half two to three.

-And you're going to go into school?

-Nah.

Charlie's had a chequered career.

A spell in the RAF, a merchant navy catering officer,

a hotelier and a ballroom bouncer.

Today, at 35, he's the youngest

of Southampton's 14 education welfare officers.

Since signing on five years ago, he's grown a beard

to give him dignity and authority.

He's the education welfare officer.

His job - to sell education.

Charlie's at this office for half an hour every morning.

It's the only routine part of his day.

I think I know you, you're up the road, aren't you? With Mum?

-No.

-Pardon?

I'm the school welfare officer.

-No, I've left school.

-Yeah, you have.

-What school are you?

-Bitterne Park.

Why aren't you at school?

Got a cold.

-What are you doing out shopping, then?

-I'm...

He's got to get some clothes for a wedding,

he's going to a wedding tomorrow.

Ah, that's more like it. And he's got a cold. Ah.

-Yeah, that's right.

-Yeah, he has, as well.

-And what's your name?

Why's the little 'un not at school?

-Why?

-Yeah.

She's, um...

Well, Mum phoned up the school this afternoon.

-Oh, she's phoned, has she?

-Yes.

-She has or she's going to?

She has. Well, the school phoned her,

-and she's been in this afternoon.

-What's wrong?

-We overslept.

-Overslept! Couldn't you have gone in late?

It's not our fault, it's the baby!

You could've gone in late, couldn't you?

-What, at half past ten?

-Yes, that's better than not going at all.

-I shall go...

-You'll tell Mum I stopped you?

-Yeah.

All right. And you'll let Mr Norton know at school.

-Yeah?

-Yeah.

-All right, then.

It's a good thing he's got that beard for authority, eh?

Or else them mums might have said, "Ah, push off, stupid George

"from George And Mildred."

Ah, Christchurch.

Blooming kids again, I suppose.

You get annoyed, but this is one of the things you've got to accept.

Charlie's the only officer in Southampton to live on his patch.

He sometimes pays a price for this devotion to duty.

This is the 13th time his tyres have been let down.

Charlie Trayhorn's ready for anything -

especially when ferrying children.

If it's just vomit, well, I'll wash it at home

and use a strong disinfectant.

But... if it's urine, the same again,

but if I think it's bugs or some sort,

I'd get it done here, as my clothes.

Granville?

Here.

I've just taken a couple of kids to the school nurse.

I think they're lousy. Can I have your treatment?

Oh, certainly. Yeah.

-You'd like your clothes disinfected?

-Yeah, and me. And the car.

Charlie visits his local fumigation centre about twice a month.

Dear Lord, he's only been in contact with a couple of kids!

That's a phobia to make the Child Catcher

in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang seem like...Angelina Jolie.

Of course, those kids he targeted were happily hopping the wag -

swinging the lead, sagging off

or whatever regional variation you'd care to conjure up.

Strange, then, that thousands of them would later join

Friends Reunited just to wax nostalgic about the old dump.

And then there are those who never leave school.

Not mentally - physically.

In my day, they even used to have their own little house,

built right on the property.

KNOCK AT DOOR Come in.

-Morning.

-Morning, Ken, how are you?

-I'm very well, thank you.

-Good.

-Did you have a nice weekend?

-Lovely.

Guess what I saw on the drive on Friday night, late.

-A fox?

-A badger.

Thank you, bye.

Wow.

Brutal, eh? Nobody talks to the headteacher like that.

Or rather, nobody DOESN'T talk to the headteacher like that.

But then, men like him, they've seen it all before.

They know teachers, pupils, fads and curriculums,

Ofsted and camera crews may all come and go,

but the caretaker goes on for ever.

BELL RINGS

Good night, chums.

# Remember the days of the old schoolyard

# We used to laugh a lot

# Oh, don't you remember the days of the old schoolyard?

# When we had imaginings

# And we had all kinds of things

# And we laughed and needed love

# Yes, I do

# Oh, and I remember you

# I remember you. #