It’s English and maths GCSE resit time again, and whether you view them as extended academic torture or the shining light of a second chance, rooms have to be found, staff have to be allocated and the tests have to be taken.
A large proportion of my role this year has been to guide…push…drag…coerce…threaten…trick (and if there’s a bit of time at the end of all that, teach) my alternative provision students through 30-odd weeks of preparation for this. If I’m going to be honest, it’s not been easy. The GCSEs (and academic engagement in general) often represent the dark beast of previous failures for them, and for all their front and bravado, the beast’s teeth have sunk deep.
Disengagement is common, acting out even more so. It’s been a steep hill to climb and the kicker is that there’s no guarantee that the view from the top will be anything to write home about. There are a lot of students in FE who will never be able to achieve a grade that would be considered anything but a failure in the wider world. However, in my opinion, that’s the wider world’s problem, not theirs.
Insurmountable challenge?
Because although the challenges that the GCSE resits present are often nigh-on insurmountable, many of those who I have taught have wholeheartedly gone for it regardless.
They’ve looked at the almost vertical nature of the incline, looked down at their own completely unsuitable footwear and then said: “Sod it. Let’s try and climb the bastard anyway.”
Is it naivety? Perhaps. Will it all be for nothing? In many cases, yes. But I’ve kind of been in awe of the attitude.
It’s the romantic in me, as I witness a nobility through the attempt at an almost impossible task that will perhaps never be recognised anywhere but in the classes where they try to do the best they possibly can. Is that good enough? No. But, selfishly, I’d rather have it than not.
Varied reactions
It’s one of the reasons that, even two years in to the compulsory resit policy, I’m still not completely convinced of its inherent good or its inherent evil. The reaction to it from my students varies greatly – from indifference to despair to dogged determination. Some run from what it represents, and some try to wrestle it to the ground.
For me, it’s these reactions that I have found faith in, rather than whatever result might be achieved (but then, I’m at a point in my life where I have the luxury of not facing the prospect of exam results shutting or opening doors in my future).
But then again I’m not sure that, from my position of relative privilege, I should be the one suggesting that they have that shot taken away from them.
All I know for certain is that whatever the results my students get, I’ve witnessed real effort. Whether there should be some greater acknowledgement of that effort is an argument that I think needs to be had. Because recognition of it needs to come from a wider field than just one classroom.
Tom Starkey teaches English at a college in the North of England
