The truth is, I've never been right in the head. But who has? Who is? I may not charge windmills, but at least I dream of charging them. The truth is, no SENCO can succeed if he is not daft enough to attempt the impossible on a daily basis. And so like a latter day Don Quixote, I took up my sword and lance, mounted the faithful Rocinante, and, backed from the rear by the somewhat befuddled Sancho Panza, set out to defend the helpless and destroy the wicked, though it was often difficult to determine which was which; and all in the name of the fair Dulcinea del Toboso, whom I envisioned as a fair princess, though, in truth, she spent most of her days labouring over hot potatoes.
Twenty four fair ladies, two squires, and I am off to set the world of Special Needs aright. Oh, those Thursday mornings when the entire team settled round a table and shared the nuggets we'd dug from the gold mines of information. Nothing is more reliable than gossip. And, joy of joys, the meetings ran themselves leaving me little to do but dunk another ginger snap into my Tetley tea and ponder how I could screw another Statement out of the LEA, for with another Statement I could purchase yet another LSA to sustain my dream of empire. Oh, how I loved to take issue with the LEA who were as naught to a Scot who could happily take issue with his own shadow. Incensed with indignation I blazed through Clover House like a comet!
And to those who say I did it only because I could finish at 3.30 each day, or zoom off to the footie at 2, or have afternoon tea in the Tudor Rooms, I say... well, why not? I had a staggeringly diverse and brilliant team; they did not need me leaning over their shoulders breathing down their necks; they did not need to second-guess what would or would not please me; they did what they thought was right, and more often than not what they thought was right was right.
I am fortunate enough to have worked with many good managers, the best of whom told me, "Paul, get the best people you can for the job. Set out the targets and goals clearly. Then let them get on with it. You are there to advise and support, not to do the job for them." Anyway it's pointless trying to tell me what to do. I never appear in anybody's movie but my own, and I never take anybody else's direction but mine. Anything else becomes a Mexican stand-off and, believe me, I don't blink.
Over the five years do we fail or do we succeed at making something special in providing for Special Needs at SWNS? We may not wholly succeed but we do not wholly fail, and, anyway, on the way to failure at something great, one sometimes succeeds at doing something good. We did not succeed on the first OFSTED inspection, some six weeks after I took over, but the Inspector for Special Needs took me into a room, sat and me down and said, "Don't tell anyone I'm doing this, but here's what you need to do." Unfortunately, the next hour was devoted to the school's special needs, not mine. She sat me down and drew up a ten-point plan I should implement over the next few months. Her final comment: "You've got the team to do it. Now get on with it." So wherever you are, dear lady, I send you my heartfelt gratitude.
In our second OFSTED inspection we are rated 'outstanding', in the depth and quality of provision not only for the students we officially support but for the school in general. Yet I am not entirely happy. You see, my 'partner' and I have set up the most marvellous systems of assessment, analysis, individual education plans, global needs and global strategies, solution-focussed approaches, school-based reviews, and a framework for the future. (If you must yawn, at least yawn discreetly.) The Inspector more or less ignores these: (a) on the grounds that he doesn't like computers, and (b) it's what we do for the kids that matters. So much for assessment for learning! No matter what he says I shall continue to weigh the piglets though it makes no difference to the taste. Who knows, they might even come to enjoy it. The truth is, this gentleman of certain years is fixated on our literacy and numeracy groups, or rather on the fair damsels who teach them so admirably. Hour after hour, class after class, he sits amongst them declining my invitation to inspect our new all-singing all-dancing data base. Spit! So don't sing the virtues of OFSTED to me. Each OFSTED inspection has its own agenda; and if it is not my agenda, stuff it! When I want OFSTED's opinion, I'll give it to them.
OFSTED is, of course, no longer as we knew it. OFSTED inspectors now remind me of nothing so much as bluebottles buzzing busily round a pasture frantically searching for a cowpat. The greatest of things can hang by the slenderest of threads, and to have the reputation and future of a school hang on a judgement arrived in what amounts to a day-and-half visit is unreliable, invalid, mean, cruel and unspeakable. By definition one cannot speak of the unspeakable; therefore I will remain silent - but not forever, and not for long.
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