From The Chalkface: Richard Evans

FROM THE CHALK FACE

RICHARD EVANS, HOUSEMASTER OF WELLDON HOUSE, AND TEACHER OF ENGLISH, REFLECTS ON THE LAST YEAR OF LESSONS LEARNT AND MOMENTS MISSED WHILE TEACHING THROUGH THE COMPUTER SCREEN.

The sun is actually shining on the first day of the summer term, and all around are the familiar sights, sounds and smells of Tonbridge: the opening pair look a little wobbly against Halileybury; Jamie Lawson is barking at the sprinters on the Athletics track; housemasters are nagging boys to tuck their shirts in and as if to complete a perfect vignette, there goes Gibbo on his bike, dropping past to chat to the boys on the boundary of the Head, before, I suspect, nipping down to Waitrose who have an especially good offer on sherry this week. In so many ways the extraordinary events of the past year are hard to make out on a day as good as this. But what has lock-down been like from the ‘chalk face’?

Liberating might not be the answer you are expecting, and it was certainly not what was running through my mind as I attempted to teach my Lower Sixth contemporary poetry for the first time ‘remotely’ with horrendous feedback through the speakers, garbled responses, and painful pauses in conversation. A year on, the process has forced even teaching dinosaurs like myself to radically improve my teaching resources, to learn totally new strategies to communicate ideas, to try out new technology in terms of marking/ collating/collecting written work and in the fresh communication of our enthusiasm as teachers for the material we work with. Did I miss that chat with the novi as they arrived, the cake lessons with the UVIth, the comradery of the mighty 5th XV (surely the strongest team at that level left in the country!), the boys messing around in the Welldon garden? Yes, painfully, but despite the grimness of the situation, the Common Room has been compelled to re-think, to renovate and to shape ourselves into something more closely in tune with what we think Tonbridge, at its best, might be.

Before more thoughts on that, let me take you through a typical day at the school, with some observations (and forgive, boarders, that this comes from perspective of a day boy). Firstly, most boys are allowed a longer lie-in: there is less traffic on the road. Of late, we ensure we have taken our lateral flow test, and entered our results like good boys on the Firefly site provided. We put our masks on before entering the house. Masks are recommended in the Common Room, but not compulsory because we are in a year-group ‘bubble’, though we must still try to retain 2m distance! Windows must be open: some teachers are more vigorous than others in interpreting this rule, and in the case of extremists (i.e. Biology teachers) we have packed coats/scarfs/ thermal layers in order to survive a double period. Our housemaster takes our temperatures with a gun-shaped thermometer during house registration: we have noticed he aims at our forehead if he is in a good mood, or the temple if we have incurred his wrath. Serious slackers get the ‘Candy’s dog’ treatment. We only have to attend chapel for one day each week, as this means each year-group can be appropriately spaced. We are not allowed to sing. When we walk around school, we follow the new one-way systems to avoid crowding and congestion – this is especially confusing on the maths corridors, and we suspect that Dr Jackson has done this to test our problem-solving skills.

In lessons, we sit in desks spaced apart by 2m and all facing the same way. We must sit in house groups and always in the same place: if someone tests positive, a ‘radius’ in each classroom isolates rather than an entire class. Our teachers can remove their masks at an appropriate distance, and must not walk amongst us. We submit work digitally on OneNote, not in books

We play internal matches, often as houses: these are often more competitive than against other schools. We get very, very good at touch rugby.

Richard Evans (CR 1993 - present) outside Weldon House with his pupils, typically masked-up during the Covid pandemic.

or on paper – most of our work is marked electronically and returned to us in this form. We do not dine together as a house, but sit in staggered sittings to maintain distance. In the first phase of our return to school, we sat on one side of the dining table only and ate sandwiches: we were much happier once year-group bubbles arrived.

For games, we cannot play contact. All fixtures (until summer term 2021) are cancelled, but we play internal matches, often as houses: these are often more competitive than against other schools. We get very, very good at touch rugby, developed by the RFU into ‘Ready4Rugby’. To our surprise, we enjoy it. No boy at Tonbridge has run a Cras since 2019.

And that is after the physical return to school. During full lock-down lessons we taught boys all lessons, with Saturday school cancelled. Oh my goodness, the joy of a full weekend off – bliss was it in that dawn to be alive! I found myself teaching, via a screen, William Blake to 22 boys in 2P4, Paradise Lost, Edward II, Dracula, A View from the Bridge, Hamlet, The Old Man and the Sea – and to my absolute horror, on one level it actually worked. I suspect that, academically, the results from Tonbridge this year will be excellent – and I mean that off a very straight bat.

But the point of Tonbridge, the thing that keeps teachers here for so long, the element I hope boys carry away from the place is not defined by academic results – and that is what, above all, the experience of lock-down has taught us, because sometimes you only realise how important something is when it is taken away from you. Even in my 28th year at the school, I still can’t quite put my finger on it – and I suspect that is the point. It’s definitely about silliness and not taking yourself too seriously: I see Peter Carpenter smiling wryly or David Williams lifting one eyebrow by a millimetre. Then there is the energy: Mr Dobson in full flow on the New Testament; Andrew Edwards, volcanically, on Hamlet; Mark Forkgen drawing the orchestra to a crescendo. It’s about an attitude. Why do we have so few last places in Athletics races? Because we battle, even if we are last. The best of Tonbridge is when the energy and belief of the boys is married with the skill and thoughtfulness of the staff: Chris Henshall guiding 30 novi of all shapes, sizes and abilities to the top of Scafell Pike every year; Dave Makey getting the best out of the shy novi who is struggling in lessons; Richard Burnett (Director of Admissions and Buddhist priest) sitting quietly teaching Mindfulness in the Cricket Pavilion. That teacher understanding exactly what that boy is battling with.

These are the things I profoundly missed during lock-down.

Yes, I know that I can teach pretty much a year of GCSE or A level English via a computer screen, and do that ‘successfully’. But I want to see my UVIth dancing (badly) at the Leavers’ Ball. I want to watch the two second years walking back from tennis having a natter about nothing in particular. I want to drink coffee with my Sixth Form while reading Shakespeare. I want to sit down in Chapel and feel the whole school around me, with the sunlight breaking through the high windows. As the (rather wonderful) Simon Armitage wrote, I want to feel ‘that sense of something else. That feeling, I mean.’ Richard Evans (CR 1993 - present) ●

WHEEL OF BOOKS

At a visit to the British Museum before lockdown, Will Biddle (PH 76-81 and CR 2004-present) was struck by the ‘Wheel of Books’ installation that sat in the window of the newly refurbished bookshop. Will's creation stands nearly seven-feet tall, contains 270 real books and looks like a literary version of one of the living, natural sculptures by British artist Andy Goldsworthy, the man who hangs circles of leaves from branches and creates free standing sculptures out of loose stones.

Having consulted with Helen Precious (Head Librarian), Will decided that the Smythe Library vestibule would be the perfect place to install a reimagined version and provide an eye-catching focal point for visitors to the library and Chan Café.

Helen was able to provide outdated and damaged books for Will to use, which fits well with the DT Department’s Upcycling activity.

The boring of the holes in the 200 books that were required took most of the Wednesday afternoons of the Michaelmas Term 2020, using a specially designed tool, and the steel tubing was rolled into a 170cm diameter hoop.

The structure and geometry of the frame was designed by Will using Computer Aided Design, with technician Chris Martin assisting with the fabrication and welding.

Dhani Lynch (FH4) assisted in the final assembly, which had to be completed ‘in situ’ as the finished piece would have been too heavy to transport. Will Biddle (PH 76-81)