Rog T's Dyslexia Blog - Reflections on the teaching of dyslexics in the 1970's

Seven years ago, I wrote a blog detailing my experiences of education at Finchley Catholic High School in the 1970's. I don't often re-read my own blogs. However two things conspired to make me have a look at it. The first was that I went to see a band put together by an old classmate of mine from that period, a certain Mr Sam Sproule and his band the Midnite Crawlers at the Boogaloo Bar in Highgate last night. I've not seen Sam since I left the esteemed establishment aged 15. It got me thinking about the school. As if by magic, a random reader also left a comment on the blog. This inspired me to re-read it.

It is quite a hard read for me. My views on my education have evolved. When I was 14, I felt trapped and forced to go to school. If I could have possibly escaped the experience I would have. I didn't enjoy the almost ritualistic belittlement that we faced as students at the hands of the teachers. As someone who was bottom of the class most of the time, I got far more than my fair share of it. Was there any upside to it? I've come to realise that there was, but not the one that the Teachers who indulged in the bullying intended. It gave me a complete lack of respect for people in positions of authority and a hatred of bullies. I'd probably not have started this blog, to moan about injustice if I didn't carry a deep felt anger. But.....

The more I think about it, the more I feel aggrevied. You see these teachers were paid a decent wage and held a position of some respect in society. My parents would attend evenings with them, where they were told all manner of things about me that were a) rather bad and b) completely true. What they didn't tell them, the key matter, was that I was dyslexic and my relatively poor performance at school and my bad behaviour was very likely a result of having a learning difficulty. I accept that teachers now have far better training in such matters, but if they were doing their job, they most certainly should have recognised this. My parents were told I was lazy. I believed I was lazy to the core of my soul. I believed all of my problems were down to being lazy. The thing is, I wasn't. I never have been. I've always been an incredibly busy and hard working person. If I have something to do, I throw myself into it heart and soul. The reason that I didn't throw myself into schoolwork is because whenever I did, I completely failed. For my getting a pass (usually a C grade) was a victory. It happened rarely before I reached the age of 14. I can remember teachers setting us school projects, where I'd be inspired, work my nuts off, do what I thought was really brilliant work, only to get it back with red ink all over it, corrections to spelling and grammar, with not a word on the actual content. I recall one science project that had a big prize, a record token if my memory serves me right. I did what I thought was a brilliant piece of work. I knew what my classmates were doing and I knew mine was better. When the marking was done, I got a C. Why? Because my project was littered with spelling mistakes etc. I asked the teacher whether it was a science class or an English class as I was so pissed off. He replied that no one who was unable to spell could become a scientist. I just wished I'd known Albert Einstein was a dyslexic at that moment.

The whole educational experience was telling me that I should do a job like being a gardener or a decorator. I was lucky. I had a stable home life and parents who cared. They supported me in what I tried to do and encouraged me. That is why I now run one of London's most successful music studios. It has taken a very long time, but I now can say with complete confidence, I'm not and never have been lazy. I can also say that those teachers who would belittle my class mates and I were the epitomy of laziness. If I could, I'd love to sue them to get the money back that they were paid, as they were paid to be teachers but let me and my classmates down. They took money under false pretences. Sure some of the brighter kids did OK, but they would have if the class was taught by a donkey. I shudder to think what my youth would have been like had I not had a home that I felt safe and comfortable in. Re-reading the blog I was taken back to those times and it is very hard not to feel angry about it. As I mentioned in the blog a few of the teachers were decent folk who cared and our class was notoriously difficult, but they were grown ups and they had a job to do. The fact that I was in my 30's before I even realised I was dyslexic, let alone identified by people marking my work is a complete disgrace. I'm only moderately dyslexic and I've developed coping mechanisms to get through. What happens to those who's dyslexia is worse? Those who don't have the stable home life? Sadly, if you look at studies of the prison population, the answers are all too evident. I'm coming to the opinion that every prisoner in jail for minor offences (clearly not murder and sex crimes), should be given an assessment and a plan to deal with their issues. They should be given another chance. They have been failed by society. 

Some people may read this and think "Another soft minded liberal seeking to blame society for their ills". I see every day that there is a complete lack of understanding of the subject. Even my wife, who has been with me for 37 years doesn't really get it. But I talk to other dyslexics and when I say I am, they open up and so many experiences were similar. I've always said I could walk into a classroom and tell who the dyslexics were just by where they were sitting. The one thing you learn early is not to be in the teachers eyeline and to be close to the door. You don't sit too near the front as then you are in the firing line when they pace up and down. About three rows back, as near to the door as possible is the perfect seat. I used to deliberately get thrown out of class, as standing on my own in the corridor was less stressful than sitting in some teachers lessons. I'm not alone in this. No teacher ever took me to one side and said "This is the tenth time I've sent you out, is there something you want to discuss, do you not feel comfortable in class?". A very basic question which may have made a big difference. It's too late for me. Only the nightmares about school remain. I guess they always will. 

For those of you who haven't read my dyslexia blogs before, here is a little preamble and introduction, so you know who I am and what I do and why I write this stuff. For those of you who know the story, skip to the end of the paragraph for todays installment. Let me give you a bit of Background so you know who I am and what I do. I was born in 1962. I didn't start talking until I was 4 years old (at all, not a single word). My parents thought I was deaf. My reading age at eleven was 5. When I was fifteen I started a rock and roll band called the False Dots, the band is still going strong. When I was 16 I started a business called Mill Hill Music Complex (although then it was simply called the studio), a rehearsal studio, as we had nowhere to rehearse. The business has grown into a very successful enterprise, one of Londons biggest and most well respected independent studios. We now have 16 studios and a music shop and also have a photography/video studio and a dance studio. I also have done IT work, mostly on a freelance basis since 1983. In 2012 I also moved into film production, producing two highly acclaimed documentary films, both of which had screenings at the House of Commons. When I was 31, a friend suggested I had a dyslexia test. To my surprise I was told I was moderately dyslexic. This made me interested in the subject. To my amazement, what I have learned over the years is that my lack of educational aptitude, my feelings of anger and injustice and the core of my personality have been formed by the fact I cannot read words in a linear fashion. In 2013, I have set one of my objectives to use this blog to let dyslexics know they are not alone, to suggest that people who think they may be dyslexic to get an assessment and toget people who have dyslexic children or siblings to understand the issues that they face.

Holding teachers to account for historic sexual abuse

This morning I was perusing my Facebook account and I came across the most disturbing post on an  alumni group for a local school I used to attend. 

I was quite devastated to read that, on what has been, up until now a pleasant chit/chat group exchanging memories. The poster has been incredibly courageous in posting this. There are over 230 replies on the post and it is pretty clear to me that the problem goes far deeper than I had realised. 

I was aware of some low level issues, but nothing like what is coming out now. I recall one girl, who was a good friend, asking if I could sit next to her on a coach trip, as the teacher leading the trip had 'wandering hands' and she'd feel uncomfortable sitting next to him. When the coach was about to leave, he came up and asked me to move. I replied that I wouldn't be moving as I was sitting next to my girlfriend, at which he shuffled off. She thanked me profusely for getting rid of him. I didn't really go into it with her, but it was clear that she was not at all comfortable around him. 

At recent reunions, other unpleasant incidents have been recalled. One of the teachers from my era went to prison for offences against young boys. It is now absolutely clear that there was a much bigger problem than I could have imagined and far more people were affected than I realised and the effects on them far worse.

The sad truth is that any cursory search of google in your locality will turn up all manner of offences where teachers have been convicted for involvement in such revolting behaviour. What is good is that people are realising that the stigma associated with this behaviour is not on the victim. They are blameless and deserve nothing but support. Those brave enough to go public are to be applauded and supported and I urge anyone who has information that could help any police investigation to get in touch with the Police or anyone posting such appeals. 

I think that the aim of holding the perpetrators to account is one that all decent people should support. No one who has sexually abused children should ever be able to get away with it. People in positions of power and responsibility need to know they will be held accountable. The only way to stop this is to speak up.

What about all the rubbish teachers?

I saw this story on the BBC (Click HERE) and had a wry smile. A group of girls set up a page describing their dislike of a teacher at their school. Had we had Facebook when I was at school, it was just the type of thing I'd done ( I suppose that is probably no surprise to regular readers). Back in the 60's & 70's when I was at school, I suspect that the issue would have been handled rather differently. We still had corporal punishment then. Had I done that at Finchley Catholic High school in 1977, I guess that I' probably been beaten black and blue for my efforts. Would the teacher have been "in Counselling"? then. I suspect they'd have been in the headmasters office to sadistically watch as the canings took place. I remember the first time I was hit at school. I must have been 5 or 6. It was in what we called Infants 1 at St Vincents. I'd misspelt the word Train as Trian. Our teacher wrote TRAIN on the blackboard, called me to the front of the class and asked me to spell it correctly underneath. She handed me the chalk and I wrote in big letters T R I A N. In those days we didn't have dyslexia, so I was just thick and insolent. I got a sharp whack with a metal ruler across the knuckles. For those of you who say corporal punishment doesn't work, I've never spelt Train incorrectly since.

I remember the last time I got the cane as well. That was at Finchley Catholic High School. I was in the 5th year. A 4th year had been kicked in the face by one of my class and had a broken nose. Mr Kelly, the headmaster gathered all of the likely perpetrators together (about 8 of us) and demanded that the attacker reveal themselves. Class 5b were a rather anarchistic mob, so no one said anything. Kelly then said we'd all get 6 of the best. If the perpetrator was identified, he alone would get it. If he owned up, he'd get 6, if someone else grassed he'd get 12. No one said anything. He then dismissed one of our group, as he was disabled, and proceeded to call us in 1 by 1. We all got a good hiding. The funny thing is that it was the disabled guy who'd perpetrated the crime. How did we react? We thought we'd put one over on the system. I don't know what lesson I learned from that incident, other than don't be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Shortly after that, I transferred my allegiance to Orange Hill Senior High School. When I joined, the headmaster, Mr Cully, told me that he'd seen my school record and said it appeared that I was a troublemaker. He asked me why he should admit a troublemaker to his school. I responded that, yes I'd caused trouble from time to time, but I felt that the headmaster had disliked me and not treated me fairly. I explained the background to several incidents and Cully responded that he was prepared to take a chance. He told me that the first sign of misbehaviour would be my last day at the school. 18 blameless months later, I got caught dropping a waterbomb on a 4th year. I was sent to Cully, expecting to be given my marching orders. He said "Look, I can understand that Taylor is annoying, but this really isn't the way to deal with it, is it?". He asked me to promise to deal with things in a more mature way in future. I did. I guess he'd decided that I wasn't really such a troublemaker after all.

One of the most life-changing moments for me happened shortly before I left Orange Hill. Mr Williams, the then deputy head, called me into his office. As usual I expected to be getting the blame for something. He poured me a glass of scotch (I think I was 17 at the time) and said "I would like you to do me a favour". He explained that he was a jazz nut. He loved Charlie Parker and he'd like me to put together a presentation for him showing the development of modern music from Parker to the Pistols. All of a sudden I realised that he actually respected me. I did my very best and it went well. Up until then, the only music I'd had any interest in at all was Punk Rock. As a result of Mr Williams, my tastes broadened immeasurably and I learned to appreciate music which I'd never have listened to.

Reading about the girls and their facebook site lead me to think about my education. I remember spending hours thinking up ways of winding teachers up. I used to bring in fishing line and rig up things so they'd fall over during lessons. I used to order cabs for the headmaster at times when I knew they'd be taking assemblies. I remember dismantling a desk so that it collapsed when a teacher put their books on them. I once broke into the headmasters office at Finchley during a summer holiday to glue his desk drawers shut. The funny thing is, I never, ever did it to a teacher who I respected or who treated me fairly. It was always in response to what I felt was an injustice. When I went to Orange Hill, where I was treated like an adult, I stopped the pranks. Maybe I'd just grown up, but I think there was more to it. We had an extremely poor maths teacher taking us for Maths A Level. At Finchley, I'd probably have tormented them hoping they left. At Orange Hill, I did something completely different. I spoke to the other pupils. They agreed and we felt that it was damaging our prospects of passing the exam. I organised a delegation to see the headmaster and head of mathematics. The head of maths said that "it wasn't our place to decide who was a good teacher". I responded "yes it is, we are the ones who'll be affected if we fail". The headmaster was swayed by our arguments and we got a new teacher. When I left Finchley, I felt the school had not helped me. I realise now that it had, but probably not in the way it should. It made me an extremely belligerent individual, who will fight to the end. Orange Hill then gave me the tools to do that in a successful manner. I'm pleased to say that I've friends who have children at Finchley and it seems that the school has improved immeasurably since my days (I must also say there were good teachers there at the time, John Shuttler, my physics teacher deserves a special mention ).

The point I'm making is that we learn as much from bad schools and bad teachers as we do from good ones. The trouble is the lessons we learn are all negative ones. I suspect that the girls in this case are responding in this way for a reason. Maybe they are responding in the only way they know how to someone who is letting them down? Maybe a more imaginative school headmaster would have dealt with this in a better way, so it didn't end up on the BBC website. Maybe a better head would run a school where this didn't happen in the first place. In my experience, every school has a few bad teachers, a few inspirational teachers and the vast majority are average and do their job. The bad teachers cause immeasurable damage. Schools should have mechanisms for pupils to raise these matters, other than Facebook hate sites. One final point is that in my experience it wasn't the really strict teachers who pupils conspired against. It was either the ones who weren't any good or were grossly unfair who we resented. I never heard a single complaint for a justly delivered punishment. I think that teachers should have a teaching license. If they are no good, they should have their license revoked.