Educating Cardiff / The Catch

Reporting on an evening's documentary television ...

Educating Cardiff (episode 1) took us to Willows School, recently turned around, we were told, by ebullient headteacher Joy Ballard and her team. The focus in the first episode was on Year 11, the GCSE year, although we did get a charming look at a Year 7 class being assured that the sun did indeed rise in Wales ('it's the one thing that turns night into day'), even though it didn't always feel like it; and the same class, I think, were involved in fantastic act of brinkmanship around the lunch break ('We're not finishing until this problem's solved'). The teacher in this case, and the one we saw most of, was Mr Hennessy; probably the most arresting moment of the programme was learning that Mr H himself had left school with just two GCSEs. He remembered crying in the kitchen with his mother the day results came out. He knew first-hand how things could go wrong, and went well beyond the limits of duty in trying to make sure that a group of truanting girls rocked up to their classes and took things like mock exams seriously. One of them, Leah, even got a wake-up call from Mr Hennessy each morning. We saw a lot of Leah, a bright girl who didn't see the point in school, although she was inspired by drama (the drama classes looked wonderful, by the way, and the rescue line they offered Leah was thought-provoking at a time when drama and indeed anything creative / expressive gets so little official support.) The other truant girls didn't seem to get so much attention, but that might have been editing. We also met Jessica, the oddball swat who actually wants to use classtime to study. Jessica was more comfortable with adults than her peers, diffident, introspective, not a great mixer, 'quirky' to use the word of the head ('I'm quirky too'). In a great move, Ms Ballard made Jess editor of the school newspaper, and she and her deputies promptly set about interviewing aspiring reporters, collecting comments in a suggestions box and proudly distributing the paper when it was complete. Both Leah and Jess got good news on results day. Leah could go to college and study drama, Jess got a string of As. Ms Ballard's governing style was matter-of-fact, arguing a reasoned case for turning up to school rather than bawling at her charges. I suspect anyone with Oxbridge airs and graces in this environment wouldn't last five minutes. Mr Hennessy stepped neatly into the tough-teacher-with-a-heart-of-gold persona that a series like this needs. The programme was edited from presumably hours and hours of film taken by hidden cameras. Classes looked quite bewildering exercises in crowd semi-management. There were terrific moments of wit (I loved the comment that a group of shuffling teens coming across the playground to school looked like a bad outtake from Reservoir Dogs). Some bits, like a roving reporter eavesdropping on a staff meeting (as teachers bizarrely discussed their fear of crabs and beetroot) had the feel of being staged. But beneath the charm the picture was troubling. Teachers seemed to be working with a population of children who were entirely disaffected. Where do you start with that? We saw nothing at all outside the campus, but it is only when family life is taken into account that the whole picture can emerge. I understand that Willows is in a very tough, very run-down part of Cardiff. What are the likely prospects for these children? What are their parents' expectations? As ever, the music pulled me whichever way the producers wanted my heart to go. I hope we'll meet a Welsh speaker before the series is done.

The Catch took us to a very tough place indeed, the fishing vessel Govenek as it sailed through a storm to trawl in the Atlantic, two hundred miles off the Cornish coast. I realised I knew nothing about fishing at all. For example, I didn't know that the men are not paid a regular wage. Instead they share the income from each catch, and are at the mercy not just of the tides and weather but also of constantly fluctuating prices. It was because foreign vessels had flooded the market and driven down prices that Govenek's crew had to stay out in the storm and go deep into the Atlantic (the eleventh, whatever that means), in the hope of catching enough to cover the costs of the trip. In the event, they came across a school of turbot and netted (hey, is that where that metaphor comes from?) £50,000 worth. (The selling is done at auction to supermarket buyers, with Govenek represented by an agent. There is a mark-up of over 50%  by the time it arrives in the shops.) While crews are usually different for each voyage, skipper Phil has a loyal team who sail with him regularly, trusting his judgment and putting up with his occasional irate visitations to the deck, hurling crates around and stomping off in a blizzard of expletives. The crew also had under their wing novice seaman Loui, from Essex, an interesting young man with a background in home schooling, no qualifications, an adoring mum and an obvious desire to put on a good show and be accepted as one of the boys. He made a good enough job of it to be allowed the honour of casting a grappling hook (or something) and getting invited back for a second trip. The Catch made it clear that this trade is serious, dangerous business. 'What's the worst injury you've seen?' 'Death. Death over the side, by drowning.' Phil remembered a man going overboard. He reached him in the water but didn't have the strength to get him back on board. 'He's still out there somewhere.' Great television. Humbling. Willows and the Govenek. Which would find me more of a useless burden, I wonder? And who would jump in to save me? (Why, Phil or Mr Hennessy, of course, two of Britain's last real men.)

School Swap: The Class Divide

School Swap was a two-episode documentary in which small contingents from a private and state school swap places for a week, to see how the other half lives (or, in the case of the privately educated, how the other 93% lives). In episode 1, the Headmaster of (private) Warminster School travelled with three of his pupils to (comprehensive) Bemrose School in Derby. And in episode 2 Derby visited Warminster. There were shots of the children in class, at the homes of their host families in Derby or the small dormitory at Warminster, and we got at least a glimpse of the workings of the two institutions.
Of course a series like this is primarily entertainment, not research. You never know how spontaneous scenes are, how much was shot again, what scenes were selected out for not following the gameplan, and so forth. Nonetheless, I found School Swap more enjoyable and illuminating than many documentaries, and less obviously manipulative. There were several thought-provoking moments. One of the private schoolboys, entered as a lower tier candidate for maths at Warminster (meaning he could not get higher than a C) was regarded as a potential A 'at least' at Bemrose. Was his school too anxious to stream, one wondered? Brett from Derby seemed positively euphoric in his dorm at Warminster, dressing for a formal dinner with evident pride and being motivated by some simple remarks on his potential and the need for hard work. Had no adult said this to him before? Both heads came over as warm individuals; Jo (Derby) made some insightful comments on how privately educated children take up a disproportionate number of top university places and jobs in the professions. Self-confidence, built through relentless positive messaging, seemed to be the answer. I liked her comment on the Warminster children already adopting the nonchalant Oxford walk. She was sharp, but not chippy, and completely devoted to the children of her community. Full credit to Warminster Head for giving a history lesson at Bemrose, too. Speaking of which, the teaching seemed to be much the same in both schools, though the extra discipline at Warminster (made possible by smaller class sizes) was remarked on with admiration by Brett.
School Swap had its weaknesses, of course. Most obviously, it was an experiment that decided its conclusion in advance: private schooling is better because the days are longer and crammed with goodies. Filming techniques underlined this message. Warminster was forever bathed in golden light and surrounded by ethereal music as the camera soared celestially upwards as we contemplated the transcendent beauty of the campus. It is, we were told, 'exclusive', a word delivered with no apprent sense of irony. Bemrose was shot much more from ground level. No ethereal music accompanied the punishment room, or the session on nutritional eating, though to be fair the street-fest we saw looked a lot more fun than hymn practice at a Warminster assembly. Parents on both sides were remarkably absent, though they are surely the most important figures of all.  Warminster Head's comment that 'we have two education sectors in this country: private and state' is technically true but disguises - as he would know - a mass of complications. State education differs widely according to distribution of wealth; state schools in affluent areas are de facto largely private, serving those who can afford to live in the catchment area. And whatever school they use, families will still be differentiated by wealth: parents with money can afford after-school music lessons and drama clubs and the like, and those without can't. Did Warminster have to go all the way to Derby because the local comps weren't grim enough? I welcome the project to have joint clubs for both schools, on equal terms, but it's hard to see how that could work across such a great distance. Still, collaboration and some measure of integration across sectors is surely, both morally and practically, the way forwards. There was no time to examine how well children at either school were served by the national curriculum, but perhaps that is the subject for another documentary. And while Bemrose was shown working brilliantly to address the socioeconomic problems of its intake - the breakfast club for disaffected boys and the pastoral mediation session were inspirational - Warminster seemed to have no problems whatsoever to deal with besides the Head not having room for his dessert at dinner. That can't be true, surely? No one is perfect. Was there no case of homesickness, obsessive helicopter parenting, individuals not fitting into the vision? You believe the good things more when you hear about the not-so-goo things.
All the same, School Swap was a good two hours of television, and while at the project stage it might have expected shock and confrontation, it delivered instead a heartening mood of curiosity and genuine burgeoning friendship. When the ethereal music was over, one could only reflect that there are losses on all sides when the young from different backgrounds are separated during their schooldays, which is exactly when they should be getting to know each other. I don't think it's a question of private establishments having a superior approach to the business of educating, much as they love to philosophise about their art: of course Bemrose would have lectures and clubs and dinners if it could afford them. It really does seem to come down to money. Class divide, indeed.