It’s 10 years since I started writing for The TES Scotland, an anniversary I am a little reluctant to flag up in case the editor decides that a decade is enough for anyone. There is, however, no chance of me celebrating,because I’m in a bad mood.
I am writing this on the third Sunday of Advent at 4pm. Mrs Steele is in another room, unable to walk without crutches as she has just had her second hip replacement. I’ve just done the housework and will make the tea when I’ve finished this. If I’ve time, I will tot up the marks on the prelim papers I marked last night. Wait a minute ... don’t touch that dial. This isn’t another teacher workload moanfest. No, it’s deeper than that.
What is at the back of it all is the Scout Christmas Post. My son benefits greatly from going to the Beaver Cub Scouts each week. Every year, to raise funds, the leaders organise the collection and delivery of Christmas cards locally. To make this possible, they ask for help from the parents. Do they get it?
Yes . . . from the same few every year. I have spent four hours helping this year, which barely registers on the Richter Scale compared to those in charge of the local troop.
Yet I am fair scunnered, because only a fraction of maws and paws who could have volunteered to help bothered to do so. Believe me, you can work yourself into a fair lather of righteous indignation as you trudge the back streets of Carluke with a poke full of festive greetings, and the excess baggage of a couple of hours of housework waiting at home. It only takes one un-numbered envelope to induce a Donald Duck tantrum.
It’s a pity I’m in a bad mood, because a lot has gone right in the last few years, both for me personally and for education. I do have plenty to celebrate. Now that we have a devolved government with responsibility for education, many of the alien ideas proposed in the early Nineties will surely vanish.
I’ve never been anything other than a fan of the Scottish Parliament and believe that one measure of its success is that certain newspapers try to rubbish it. If you disagree, please do so amicably, because I’m in a good mood again.
Maybe you could express your dissent in a (properly addressed) Christmas card?
Gregor Steele resorted to sticking stamps on the un-numbered cards and letting the posties sort it out.
