Life is not a bed of roses, but our sunflowers can still spring
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Life is not a bed of roses, but our sunflowers can still spring
https://www.tes.com/magazine/archived/life-not-bed-roses-our-sunflowers-can-still-spring
Damian’s sunflower is the first to emerge. It is pale and fragile with an empty seed case balanced on its head for comic effect. I suspect its life will be one short fight for survival, but then it’s not on its own. On classroom window ledges all around our school, hope sprouts eternal. In polystyrene beakers, brown plant pots, transparent cups and green plastic seed trays, nature stirs. At least in the short term.
It is a fact of primary school life that sunflower seedling rarely survive to the summer holidays. Dreams of them ending their days in a sunny spot in a garden, having grown tall and produced seeds of their own, are likely to remain unfulfilled. This is especially true of Damian’s sunflower.
The main problem is that its immediate future is likely to be characterised by periods of severe drought, interspersed with downpours of biblical proportions. And if that doesn’t kill it, then the destructive force of little green fingers, poking around in the interests of data collection and a scientific method, almost certainly will. Sunflower seedlings are simply not hardy enough to survive the rigours of primary science. In hindsight, we should have grown dandelions.
Despite Mrs Eddison’s yearly determination that dandelions will not invade our lawn, they have turned up again more defiant than ever. Laughing in the face of weed and feed solutions, ducking and weaving beneath the flashing blades of the lawnmower and refusing to be cowed by systemic spot treatments. Even the special weed-puller we bought two summers ago has retired ignominiously to a dark corner of the shed.
To be able to survive their first few weeks of life, sunflowers need careful nurturing. Incidences of neglect or of overzealous attention will nip existence in the bud. Dandelions, on the other hand, sprout with attitude. They are one of nature’s true survivors. They let nothing stand in their way. Through gaps in paving slabs and cracks in walls, they muscle their way to life-cycle success.
Our Year 6 children are mostly like successful sunflower plants. After years of careful nurturing in the skilful hands of teachers, they have survived their formative years and are ready to be planted out.
In September, they will be bedded into their new schools. Most of them will quickly adapt to their new environment. They will stretch out and fill the space that has been provided, and in time grow into good citizens.
Damian’s future is less certain. By using intensive methods, we have protected him against his own hot temper, helped him sit out storms and made light of the black clouds of his discontent. But will the less sheltered anonymity of a large secondary school be too much for him? How will he cope with new faces and less forgiving rules?
Authority is a constant blight upon Damian’s life. He wilts under pressure and is sensitive to anyone who looks at him the wrong way. And yet, despite these frailties, there is something of the dandelion about him. I suspect that in the long term, through gaps in systems and cracks in regulations, he will find a way to endure.
Steve Eddison teaches at Arbourthorne Community Primary School in Sheffield
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