My path to teaching.

​I knew I wanted to be a teacher when I was 16. ​

​I had been persuaded by the vicar’s wife to teach a Sunday school class in the village church. She told me it was easy, I would be given a set of Bible study worksheets and that was that. I followed instructions for a few weeks and then realised how unbelievably boring the task was for young children. So I did something different.
 
I told them we were going to make a big picture for the church of the hymn “All things bright and beautiful”. I asked them to cut out, or draw and colour pictures to bring. I found a big piece of card and glue and scissors and the following Sunday we set about making our picture. The children’s eyes shone, they set to with enthusiasm and we made a splendid picture. It was then that I felt the power of motivated children.

Unfortunately we were working on the front two pews. I had brought newspaper to cover the seats but obviously not enough because the said vicar’s wife, who always sat at the front, sat on a gluey bit and ruined the back of her coat. It was the first of many situations when my approach to inspiring my pupils got me into bother. 

I did my teacher training at Christ Church College, Canterbury and then spent many happy years teaching upper juniors. I like to think that my classrooms were always colourful, interesting, and lively places in which to learn. 

After seven years of teaching upper juniors in primary schools I took a break when my two children were born. From a very early age we read books with the children. My son took great delight in telling people that he could read books with the covers shut. He was making a natural journey into literacy long before he went to school.

When he started his “formal” education I went along with the system, dutifully reading the "books" that appeared in his book bag after school. They were remarkably boring texts, supposedly geared towards teaching children how to read. They had no colourful pictures—which aid understanding. They had no proper story to delight the reader. They were dreadful.

The day that he came home and said “I’m reading brown,” I snapped. Brown wasn't a story to inspire my son; it was a colour coding to show his level of ability. “What is the story about?” I asked, “I don't know, it’s just brown,” he replied. From then on I read him the book quickly, signed the card and then we continued to read real storybooks. My son, who now has children of his own, is an avid reader and books fill his home.

​​When our daughter went to school, it was in a school where I was teaching. Our house rules were applied right from the start. Her teacher, who was a friend, kept telling me that she wouldn’t make progress if she didn't work her way through the scheme books. My daughter is now a writer.
 
There had to be a better way of helping children into literacy where the reading and writing were linked and the children could read interesting books written by real writers who brought delight with every page, and also write books themselves. It was then that I decided to get involved in early years teaching.