In his All Change Please! Guest Post Curriculum Noir last May, Philip Marlowe recounted the story of how he had searched in vain for the Arts in schools, discovered they were now only available in the local PaintEasy, and pleaded for the Blob to somehow find a way to overcome the Mob, led by the notorious Big Mickey Gove. So what’s happened since? Marlowe picks up the story…
I remember the day it happened – who doesn’t? There we all were outside Number 10 expecting maybe one or two of Gove’s henchmen to be taken out, when all of a sudden a big black van marked ‘Toxic Waste – Please Dispose Of Carefully‘ drove up and suddenly Mickey Gove was gone. Most teachers just stood there in silence, not believing the news. But as the day wore on, incredulity gave way to singing and dancing and lots of other things that Gove would not have approved of. No-one knew where he’d gone, and even fewer cared.
Then just a few days ago there was a knock on my office door and a tall, elderly gentleman entered. I recognised him immediately. It was the notorious, well past his retire-by-date, Lieutenant Wilshaw of the Flying Ofsted Squad.
“Marlowe”, he said, “My apologies for this no-notice visit, but I’ll come straight to the point. I’m worried about Mickey Gove. It’s been two months now and no-one’s seen him since the day he was taken. He seems to have just disappeared off the face of the earth.”
I wasn’t really listening to what he was telling me. While I waited for him to engage my interest I tipped back on my chair and texted a message to my secretary whilst gazing out of the window, but my attempt at low-level disruptive behaviour didn’t seem to put him off. Even lighting a cigarette didn’t get a reaction. I got the distinct feeling he wanted me to call him Sir all the time, but I had no intention of doing so.
“I’m concerned he’s been brainwashed in some way and is just walking the streets trying to work out who he is, or rather was. I was wondering if you could maybe find him for me?”
I remained silent, wondering why I should agree to take on such a task.
“I’ll pay you of course” he said, anticipating my thoughts, “or even better I could speak to someone who would make you chairman of a large academy chain. Or perhaps you could open a free school, if that’s what you’d like?”
That sounded a lot more tempting, but I still wasn’t convinced.
“It’s just that ever since the start of the new term the teachers have become very confused.” he continued. “Without Gove dictating what should be taught and when and how, they don’t seem to know what to do next. And now there is nothing to fight for anymore they are just aimlessly walking around the school corridors like zombies.
“OK”, I said, reluctantly. “In that case I’ll see what I an do”.
“Thank you Mr Marlowe. That’s a satisfactory response. Good of you to help. Very good – in fact, outstanding. Use any special measures you need to. You must excuse my limited vocabulary – it comes with the job. Err – you will keep me fully updated, won’t you?”
I thought I’d begin by checking up on Delores Anass and find out how she was settling into the new term, and whether or not she’d turned into a zombie. Arriving at the school I walked passed the dance studio where Edward (AKA Sir Ken) Robinson was in full flow, giving another of his motivational lectures. Then I came to the IT suite where the ICT co-ordinator was desperately trying to learn two coding languages just in order to keep up with the kids. Meanwhile outside on the school field someone was quietly stringing together a Daisy chain of academies.
Delores was looking as stunning as ever – like she’d just stepped off the cover of a glossy school prospectus. She could sure keep me in detention anytime she liked. But I could tell she wasn’t happy.
“I don’t know what to do about the new KS3 curriculum.” she said. “I’m trying to deliver it as required but the children don’t seem to have any idea what I’m talking about. It’s almost as if they just haven’t yet covered the much higher demands and expectations of KS2 in their Primary schools, so that makes it quite impossible. And as for these new GCSE grades, well they’re so much nonsense, aren’t they? It’s just replacing letters with numbers and adding a 9 to fool people into thinking somehow that makes it louder. Perhaps next time they’ll use colours instead – for example, you could have Green for ‘Pass’, Yellow for ‘Get Ready To Pass’ and Red for ‘Stop and Repeat’. That would be much better, wouldn’t it?”
I looked around and checked out the notorious art room sinks, but in this case they were gleaming white: this was clearly a clean sink school. On her desk I noticed a cracked, not-so-young Toby jug crammed full of bald paintbrushes. I wandered towards the art storeroom door, but noticed Delores suddenly seemed uneasy, as if she was trying to hide something.
“No, Marlowe, No.” she pleaded. “Please don’t go in there. It’s not safe. You might not like what you find. It’s – where I keep my whips, if you get my meaning.”
I wondered if this was a side of Dolores I didn’t know about, or whether she perhaps just had a penchant for Walnut Whips, but then I made the connection. I had my hunches about what, or rather who, might be in there, but I decided to let sleeping dogs lie. If that’s where Gove was, he couldn’t do any further harm.
Back at the office I rang Lt. Wilshaw. I told him I thought I’d found Gove and he was well out of harm’s way, but I was afraid I couldn’t reveal his whereabouts. Wilshaw sounded relieved, but still not happy – I guessed perhaps he’d really wanted to get to Gove himself so he could finish the job off properly. It could only happen in education.
The bell to signal the end of school for the day rang somewhere in my head and I decided it was time to head for home. Gove may be gone – for now at least – but there’s no doubt his legacy will live on for some time. It’s going to be a while before the Blob manage to take control of education again, and Big Mickey’s Mob are never going to be far behind. I wasn’t feeling human tonight, but at least I hadn’t turned into a zombie. Not yet, anyway.
Lower image credit: Flickr/emiliano-iko