I had been a headteacher for 18 months, when our local arts centre sent out a flyer advertising a forthcoming exhibition by an artist then unknown to me, Saleem Arif. Saleem was born in Hyderabad, studied at Birmingham College of Art and the Royal College of Art before his first solo exhibition in 1982.
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In addition to the exhibition, the arts centre offered to local schools the opportunity to work with Saleem, who would provide workshops for all Primary age groups, at a modest cost. I very quickly showed an interest, but no-one else apparently did; we were offered Saleem for ten days at very modest cost, if we could also offer some accommodation. One of my staff was prepared to do that, which was very generous.
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The exhibition, in the September of 1991, was based on a most recent series of work, deriving from earlier works, but with a very much more muted palette. Year six went on a visit on the first day of the exhibition, showed around by Saleem, who explained something of his techniques, together with ideas that he would be using in school. The children therefore approached the coming experience with insights.

Sharing a broad range of techniques as a starter, older children explored the creation of textures in paint, using sand, sawdust and earth. They used scrapers, spatulas, other broad bladed objects as well as paint brushes to apply the paint to different prepared surfaces.
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Year six decided that they would like to recreate one of Saleem’s recent pictures, so working large, approximately 5m by 3m, they drew the shapes, then started using the learned techniques to fill them in, sometimes working through their lunchtimes to complete the task while Saleem was in the school.
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Other year groups did a variety of experiences based on textures, with the Reception class creating a huge printed necklace, which led to some storytelling from Saleem, bringing cultural background and imagery together.
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Saleem came to dinner with my family, entrancing the children, in part because he simply integrated with the family, rather than being an aloof guest. Leaving a signed catalogue of his 1986-1991 works inspired our eldest, then aged eleven to explore for herself. It was this piece of paper dropping from the catalogue that brought back the memories.
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The experience of bringing specific expertise into the school as an inspiration for learning was sufficiently significant that it became a feature of school life. Especially where the expert was able to engage with processes of thinking and learning, they left the school enhanced by their presence; children met and could aspire to become real life artists, sportspeople or musicians. That on the whole bringing these experiences into school was often much more reasonable cost than an external trip, meant that they could be accommodated in the budget.

It was then a case of finding the right people… Many thanks to Saleem for making our first experiences so positive.

Saleem's website adds much greater biographical detail and an extended gallery.
   http://www.saleem-arif-quadri.co.uk/

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hree days ago, I typed and sent this tweet. I felt very strange about doing so but was soon overwhelmed by a string of lovely comments from close and more distant contacts.

Because of the freelance nature of my employment since stepping away from headship following the death of my first wife from cancer, I have had several “farewells”, each of which has offered commentaries that have been a surprise. I have always had the mantra of “just doing my job”. I could have added, “as well as possible” and, in many ways, I have worked with colleagues who have had the same approach, so it didn’t seem in any way special. Others have suggested otherwise. Perhaps I should have kept going…

In 1970-1971, after a return from Australia, I was working as a Lab Assistant for ICI at their biological research establishment in Brixham, exploring the impact of outfalls from ICI establishments. This meant visits to site, hours spent on trawlers following drogues to establish sea movements, or possibly walking shorelines to discover where certain vegetables and fruits had been washed up, after mixed sacks had been put into the outflow pipes. Bottom sampling meant further trawler days, largely in the North Sea, taking bottom samples, which then were brought back to Brixham, each one tipped into a white tray under a microscope and then the constituent fauna identified and counted. Hours of backbreaking, eye straining activity. Such was the stuff of “front line” science. With the career opportunity of becoming an Experimental Officer, and working with the incumbents, it was clear that the job wouldn’t alter very much.

In the June of ‘71 walked into St Luke’s Teacher Training College in Exeter, simply to enquire how to become a teacher. The head of the science department, Tony Staden, happened to be available for a conversation. Half an hour later, he sent me to the admin department to register, to start the following September on the Primary course. I know it wouldn’t happen now. After a year of straight science, I transferred to the small Environmental Studies department, providing the background to every subject area in some depth; the philosophy of the department.

Forty-eight year later, I am stopping paid work.

There’s a certain regret involved. I have thoroughly enjoyed my career, which makes me very lucky. I know that won’t necessarily be the same for everyone. I may have been lucky with timing; it was a period when teachers were lead thinkers in their classrooms, organising curricula and making do with relatively few resources.

Stopping being paid doesn’t stop the thinking about education. As a school Governor and grandparent, I have a continuing stake in the system, so I will continue to think, offer ideas and share in the collaborative discussions generated via Twitter.

If you’re interested, I have explored the detail of my career in Thinking Teacher-from black to grey; another non-book of reflections. Download from https://chrischiversthinks.weebly.com/pdfs.html

As it says below, "Be true to yourself and grow yourself; you are a work in progress".
I'm looking forward to continuing my development, with a little help from my friends. 

It was always intriguing when walking around school, whether as a class teacher or management, to come across a piece of work, on display or in a book that made you go “Wow, how did you do that?”

The answers were inevitably illuminating, as the colleague or child recounted the stages that they had gone through to end up with a finished outcome, in whatever subject. They describe the process. In education, we can become obsessed with outcomes, to the detriment of the process, or the process is laid out in such a way that it becomes more a copy exercise than requiring the learner to make decisions and refine their own outcomes.

After four years of teaching, I went to a school that used the Dienes multibase approach for all its maths teaching. Despite being pretty reasonable at maths, and having used the base 10 materials as modelling aids, I was unaware of the background to the thinking and the multiple purposes that could be demonstrated using the materials. The school DH, Joe, as maths lead spent several hours taking me through the details of varied function machines and exemplification of equations. He also gave me a copy of the “bible”, from the Masters course that he and the head had completed. Tutoring through the processes strengthened my teaching for the rest of my classroom and school career. Worked examples enabled me to explore my own and possibly children’s misconceptions.

Therefore to improve the outcome, in any area of learning, there’s a need to refine aspects of the process. Just a few possible examples.

A writing outcome is hard to read, so it’s reasonable to look at improving the handwriting. But, in reality, it may be multi-layered, with a need to look at grip and basic letter formation, with alterations in both being practised outside the redraft exercise.

In maths, just having the correct answers in a book might hide the face that a child has copied from another. Asking the child to articulate (talk) their thinking through the process is more illuminating. This can become “show your thinking/working out”.

In art or DT, different elements can require a focus on the fine skills of material selection, colour, cutting, joining.
“How did you do that?” can become the basis for oral description, for written instructions to another or a report on what was done, with an evaluation of the outcome supporting subsequent attempts. If the process had been captured as images during development, the images can support the ordering and organisation of the talk or writing.

Virtually every area of school activity involves process in some form. Time for active processing (thinking) is often at a premium, as teachers move from one activity to another.

“How did you do that?” is also the essence of CPD. Listening to and learning from a colleague explaining the processing in their subject responsibility can enable insights for less experienced or confident colleagues. In a teaching force that can appear ever younger, it’s essential that the experience is passed on, otherwise it’s lost to the system, then requires a process of discovery. The art of explanation is based on clarity and ordering of thinking. The coach has to consider detail as well as an overview description.

So, my advice to all teachers is to acknowledge the expertise of colleagues and to seek to emulate them. If everyone was enabled to become as good as the “best”, the system as a whole would improve. So, over an end of the day cuppa, sit together and chat. Learn through dialogue and demonstration.

“Show and tell” works for children, too. “How did you do that?”
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