Originally started by the English Civil War Society in 1984, Little Woodham, a reconstruction of a small village from the 17th Century, was such a success that local volunteers created the Gosport Living History Society in order to keep the village developing as a local resource. Over time, from its early beginnings, more buildings have been built, showcasing a greater number of trades.

The village hosts school trips in the week, as well as families and individuals on selected weekends. It just happened that this past weekend it was open. I had visited several times previously, as a teacher and with family. Despite having lived in this area for well over twenty years, Melanie hadn’t, nor had local grandchildren, so, armed with 20th century camera, some small provisions and sufficient currency to effect an entry, we journeyed forth.

Getting there requires some local knowledge, or a sat-nav as the area around Little Woodham is in the process of being redeveloped, from very old naval quarters into a very modern estate. Surrounding Little Woodham on the other side is the newly designated Alver Valley nature reserve, reflecting how Gosport grew out of very small hamlets simply growing together, particularly with the growing naval and military connections.

Effectively, you have the hamlet with the temporary residents, each with their specific roles, in which they “hot seat” to ever changing groups of visitors. Some are more general in their roles, helping out where needed.

So we met the travelling salesman, with his barrow of goods, which he kindly showed in the hope of a “sale” to the passing public. In addition, he gave much insight into some of the products; crushed plantain mixed with olive oil and beeswax to make an ointment/skin balm or oak galls steeped in water, mixed with ferrous sulphate, or some other iron based liquid (eg leave nails to rust in water, use the water and gum arabic. He pointed us in the direction of the producers and users of his products.

The Phoenix Tavern is a rebuilt version of an earlier building that burned down. The female proprietor was a mine of information about the food and drink available, as well as the formalities of hospitality; discovered a new word “palliasse”, a straw mattress. For children to understand something as simple as where and how people slept is significant.

Spinning, dyeing and weaving were demonstrated, as was calligraphy, the apothecary’s shop, some eye-popping sleight of hand, simple knitting, woodcraft, pottery and bodging and the armourer encouraged some participation to feel the weight of swords and helmets.

The woodsman brought out his tinder box, made by the travelling tinker, to house the flint and iron to strike a spark that could be used to catch some dry tinder alight. A couple of cut fingers later, a spark was created. On an earlier visit to Little Woodham, the woodsman told the story of the “square peg in a round hole”, the means of holding timber joints securely. While the lower part of the peg was rounded to facilitate entry into the hole, the top was left square to bite into the wood and hold tight.

Social history, shared in this way, can be a means of children entering into a study of history, by linking how they live now with an understanding of how people lived in the past.

Very young children have a limited compass against which to judge “before”, but they themselves have a story as do their parents and grandparents, perhaps great grandparents. By linking generations, “histories” can be explored back, in extreme cases up to 100 years. Creating an interest in the past means leaps in imagination. To make some parts more real, through visits, artefacts and different forms of images allows greater insights, against which less obvious elements can be explored.

History is all around, if you know how to “read” buildings and road or landscape names, or visit the local graveyard. When I was a HT, the discovery of a WW1 role of honour board led to a visit to the graveyard opposite the school, finding some of the graves and tacking down the local families that still lived in the village. A parcel of photographs, a family’s genealogy and recalled stories added to the sum of available knowledge. Personal genealogies followed and many interesting stories emerged.

If you’re in, or near, southern Hampshire, check out the website. A day out for a family (of five) costs £16, which, after a four hour visit, felt like excellent value and it did what it said on the title; living history.

Schools need to book visits.

It ain’t what you know, but the way that you use it…

It’s been a bit of a week, probably a good one to go out and buy a hard hat, if you spend any time on Twitter. It wasn’t just raining, it was, on occasion, literally pouring. Bile ducts were seemingly emptied on the heads of a few writers willing to proffer views with were opposite to others; as if people can’t see things in a different light. If it wasn’t knowledge, which it largely was, it’s overtaken by some element of English teaching, but that invariably comes back to children’s lack of knowledge that can be utilised within their oral or written efforts or in their ability to decode the written word.

The two “camps” could be described as those who think they can impart knowledge by sharing a specific body of knowledge, within their classroom teaching and those who seek to develop this knowledge through a variety of linking experiences, including the spoken word.
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This can sometimes appear to be the divide between (some) Primary and Secondary practitioners, with the extended argument that Primary learning is all discovery and play. That the approach is sometimes different, I wouldn’t want to argue, it can become a moot point, but, in reality, it’s likely that there is more convergence than divergence. Whereas young children “play with ideas” through active engagement and sometimes concrete examples, older children, hopefully, are more able to “play with ideas”, so have greater insights from their developed vocabularies.
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Recently, we went for a walk in Winchester, parked by the water meadows, then walked the footpaths, passing opposite Winchester College, into the Cathedral Yard, then onto some of the smaller streets where we find our favourite coffee house. During that mile of walking, we passed over nine hundred years of history.

It made me think that just going for a walk around your neighbourhood tells many stories, if you know how to read them.

Orientation
In the first place, there is the organisation of the area itself, a series of interlocking paths that offer alternative routes and different scenery; we took a completely different route back to the car, to avoid the mud of the water meadows.

Knowing your way around is a fundamental organisational skill, which can apply to navigating your house (try moving around your house in the dark during a blackout, a different place) through to the journey to school or other important place. Within the school, orientation is an important aspect of being in the right place at the right time. So having mental maps is an important aspect of living in the world, in order to function independently.

My childhood, in Exeter, Torbay, Brisbane, Adelaide, and other cities en route to and from Australia and, living in a time where parents were less concerned about stranger-danger, the act of exploring created mental maps of localities, supporting active, confident and safe movement within the local environment. I was unconcernedly walking the mile and a half to school at five.

Today’s children may not have the same possibilities. One grandson is now being allowed to go out with friends, as long as he has a fully charged mobile and credit and makes regular contact, within a very clear time limit.
How is this change impacting on the mental imagery of children?

Are they creating useful personal maps within their heads from which to determine routes?

Do they have an exploratory (survival) mentality? Do they actively engage with their local area, with their parents?

Children drawing their routes to school vary greatly in detail. Some come by car, so may not pay close attention to the journey, while others walk and may possibly have a greater insight into their locality, although many do not, as they engage in activities other than looking around themselves. It can be a salutary experience to ask children to explain how they get from the classroom to specific areas of the school. Linking geography, oral and drawn and mental organisation akin to coding (giving directions), a child’s awareness, ordering and organisational abilities can be explored.
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Orientation is an essential life skill. I have heard it referred to as psycho-geography; developing maps in your head.

Or why SPAG may not be the be all and end all of writing

Last term, I watched a PGCE student on final practice take a class of year four students through an exemplary English lesson, with a major focus on grammar. The learning objective was on creating a setting.

The children demonstrated very good understanding of a range of grammatical elements, significantly more than I knew at their age. The lesson had several parts with imagery and excellent opportunities to talk and capture ideas. The writing and the supporting images were focused on the class book, so there were textual links as well as imported images and a short DVD.

The focus of The Railway Children was interesting and the children came up with similes and metaphors, adjectives and adverbial starters, strong choice of verbs and embedded noun clauses.

At the end of the lesson, the children had produced and shared a wide range of examples of sentences and constituent parts that showed that they could write appropriately.

But, throughout I had a nagging feeling. Did the children really have a good understanding of the setting about which they were writing? Despite the local station being a five or ten minute walk from the school, there was no guarantee that any of them had ever taken the train, or stood on a platform and watched trains arriving or departing. In addition, the setting was the early part of the 20th century, with steam trains, so several removes from their experiences. None wrote about the real sensory experiences, such as the noises, the feelings and the smells. They had the visual, so they wrote what they saw on the video.

In the summary session, the children were asked to share, on a post-it, what they knew about writing settings. Without exception, they wrote down the grammatical constructs. While they are essentials, the sensory aspects need to be available to provide the depth, to create writing that fully brings the reader into the narrative.

Children today, more and more are living vicariously, through television and computer imagery. While they give a flavour, as David Attenborough did, for me, as a young child, it was the fact that my best friend’s dad was the zoo superintendent at Paignton Zoo, so was able to get close to the animals, that they really became real.

Don’t assume that children have experiences from which to draw mental images. That may be a significant limiting factor in a child’s education.
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Ps. The conversation after the observation was very positive and reflective; the student is an excellent prospect.

Buildings

People need somewhere to live. Some live in houses, terraced, semi-detached or detached, while others might live in a flat, or possibly an apartment. On two occasions in my life, I lived with my family in a caravan.

Working on locality based topics allowed for an orientation project, using the landscape and features to orientate the children.

Another topic, based around settlements explored the need for temporary shelter, finding ways to cover and protect someone from the weather, then using the available materials to build slightly more permanent dwellings, within which families might be able to live all year round, which enabled them to develop small farmsteads. Within 20 miles of all the schools where I worked, were two excellent “living” museums, Butser Ancient Farm and the Weald and Downland Open air Museum, as well as Portsmouth Museum rooms from history, or the Gosport Search Museum 1930s experience. These provided excellent stimuli for exploration.

The basis of the topic was discussion of life essentials, food, water, shelter and the better places to build a house and to find out where the first settlement might have been. Exploring maps over an extended time frame gave the impression of the area growth.

Once this was established, consideration of the available materials for building gave rise to speculations, which could be checked through our local museums; for example, where locally there was evidence of Neolithic habitation, if they used trees to build, how did they cut and shape the trees with axes? Equally, with the museum showing deer antlers used for “digging” preparing for planting, finding a similar shaped piece of wood offered an opportunity to try in the school grounds.

Creating a building museum in the classroom and asking children to bring in labelled offerings, we received a wide variety of building materials that were surplus to projects, as well as a significant range of tools. Every item gave food for research and reflection.

Bricks, made from local clay, enabled the challenge to dig some from various gardens, then to make small dwellings from mini-bricks. Other (purchased) clay was also used. Various waterproof materials were explored to find the best for a damp-proof course, while sand, gravel and cement were mixed with water to make various concretes, which were then tested for strength.

Vocabulary was probably the most significant winner, providing the language through which the topic could be discussed, researched, explored and expressed.

All of the above was with Infant and lower junior classes, while an extension would be provided by exploring building details, windows, doors, brick sizes, all giving clues to the ages of houses, with local census materials giving the evidence of habitation over time.
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The essence of good topic activity is opening children’s eyes to what is around them, but also giving them the knowledge language with which to interrogate what they are seeing. The alternative is to leave them “blind” to their surroundings.

People

As a species, we tend to live in communities, starting with families, extended or otherwise, living in our street, among others with similarities and differences, within villages or towns which have different forms of collective structures.
Each of us experiences our personal narrative as a result of birth, most of us, fortunately, being brought up and kept safe by our parents, grandparents, wider family and friends. We are born in our particular time, which has implications for the articles that surround us and possibly the finances available to parents to support our upbringing.

Our story, my story, her story, his story = first steps in history.

I used to use the idea that each of us has a story when I worked with Infants and Lower Juniors, to make a link between different ages of “lived lives”. Working with their own memories, supported by photographs, we were able to consider time before they were born, with exploration of parent and grandparent narratives, again with photographic storyboards. In this way, children could develop the idea of time having passed. The oral tradition of sharing stories was kept alive and the shared experience was often quoted as bringing children closer to older family members, as links were established.

Stories of playing, or eating and how they dressed were shared. The highlights and difficulties of significant events. Each could be recorded, physically on tape, but also as transcripts.

People around us

The local police officer was a regular visitor to schools, especially when there was dedicated school link officer, to talk with the children about growing up issues and responsibilities. Other regular visitors would include the fire-service, ambulance, school nurse, area librarians, local sports coaches and local representatives of several different churches. In so doing, this extended the school community, by invitation.

Local organisations often asked for children to participate in local events, sometimes singing, carols or summer fair fun songs, sometimes country dance, including maypole dancing on 1st May on the village green.

Taking advantage of local expertise supported some aspects of the wider curriculum, as they became known to the school.

All of these events served to show the breadth of people locally and the specific skills that each had to offer to the community.

Life is largely lived in some form of group, home, school and work. Each of us has to find our place within this matrix. Some find it easier than others. An aware group will keep an eye on each member, to ensure that each has a place and is valued for themselves.
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Children need to learn to live within and value the group for all that it offers them and others.

Things.

The first twenty years of my life were somewhat nomadic. By that point, I had been around the world twice, both times as emigrants to Australia, first as £10 Poms, then at 17 with residual family after parent’s messy divorce. It was seen as the land of milk and honey by my dad. We came back reasonably quickly, as 1) he discovered that bringing up teenagers alone was not going to be easy and 2) he was worried that I’d be called up for the Vietnam war.

As a result, I got into the habit of travelling relatively light. The things of childhood were spirited away, but not into someone’s loft to be rediscovered in a sense of lost joy. A few special pieces remain from that period; my County cricket cap, having been awarded that the year before the second Oz trip and a small wooden model of a man that “lived” in my grandmother’s display cabinet and came out when I visited. The legs moved and that was magical to a three year old, “walking” the man down the arm of the chairs or across the table. That this belonged to my grandmother means that it is now over 120 years old.

That I lived a somewhat itinerant lifestyle and had little when I got married meant that this period was the most settled period in my life to that date. Seeking out and renovating furniture became a hobby. To be able to look at a finished piece and feel that it was pleasing to look at and the product of personal effort imbued the object with special meaning. It was something of mine. It belonged to me, and, in a sense, created a sense of belonging.

A few pieces remain from that period. After my first wife died, it was a period of sorting and readjustment, with special emphasis a couple of years later, as I remarried and moved house. Some special bits remain, this time some in the loft, but, in order to rebuild a life, it required an adjustment and a selection of specific special things. You cannot live in the past, only the present and with plans for the future.

A new “nest” had to be created.

The “things” that remain, when all is said and done, are the memories that go with and surround any physical pieces. You may pick up something and remember. I remember holidays in South Wales when I smell coal dust; the smell of the slag heaps. Meeting people jogs memories of shared experience.

The things matter, but so do the ephemeral aspects of life, the stuff of memories. The pictures and the words often outlast the physical closeness of “things”.
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I just need to know that I belong, which is also what I wanted for any child in my classes.

People, Places and Things

​There's always a time when whatever activity you have devised for a class comes to a close before the time you had planned. There's a need for some kind of "filler" activity.

​Early in my career, a colleague suggested that I should make three sets of cards, based on a set of people, places and things or objects. The idea was very simple. a child would select a card from each group, then link the elements together in a short spoken story. This became a very popular filler, but had the potential to be developed further, into extended pieces of imaginary writing.

​Where experiences might be limited, and based on the teacher's good knowledge of their class, each of the groups can be tailored to their locality. Of course, this also relies on the teacher having a good understanding of the area where their class lives!

Why are politicians so self-centred?
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In a few days’ time, there will be commemorations of the Battle of the Somme, which started on July 1st 1916 and continued until November 18th 1916. During that period, more than a million men were wounded or killed, the highest loss of life during any period of history.

It is a sobering thought that only 100 years ago, the continent of Europe, indeed the whole world, was engulfed by horrendous and unimaginable human misery. Young men and women volunteered, then were conscripted, into an army that became fodder for machine guns or artillery. A bit of genealogical research shows that my grandfather, described as 5ft 1in, small but “suitable” was called up around that time. That he survived was good news for me, on one side. My paternal grandfather was in a reserved occupation as an aircraft builder, based in Southampton. He died in the Spanish flu epidemic in the winter of 1918/9, six months before my father was born. A few months difference and I wouldn’t be here.

My life, now numbering 63 years, has been significantly different from my father’s or my grandfathers’ generations. They were at war and were called up to fight. I and my children have never had to endure that, nor the suffering that accompanied the more distant fighting, although I do have a memory of walks to collect the still-rationed milk powder. I’d like to think, that if I had had to fight in the same way, that I’d have done so. Some things are well worth fighting for, such as personal liberty, something that is a higher aspiration.

The greater proportion of the past 100 years have been lived in peace, with people talking out problems for the main part through organisations such as the United Nations or the European Union. It seems as if “Jaw-jaw is better than war-war” has been largely successful. My last blog looked at some of my concerns after the recent referendum.

Sadly, there is no-one of the stature of a Churchill to knock a few heads together and to come up with some kind of plan that takes the discussion forward in a positive way. Treating other countries in the manner of a petulant teenager, stamping feet and having tantrums will not work. If you are a parent of older children, you’ll know that “I want doesn’t get…” in a very short week we have gone backwards very rapidly, financially and morally, because a few self-centred politicians and some rich backers felt they had the right to destroy the stability that has been part of the last 40 years, persuading sufficient people to believe in their promises of a “better tomorrow”.

The past week has been describe as a bereavement. It is almost eleven years to the day that my first wife died.
A few months previously, I had a valued member of my teaching staff succumb to cancer over a few short months. I had a very difficult time, supporting the staff of the school, but also the family. Geoff would call in each day after visiting for a cup of tea and a download. I was pleased to offer a listening ear. I was also very aware that I, in many ways had been lucky, in that grief was spread out over time and took many disguises. The raw emotion of such a rapid demise was unimaginable, even to me, who had gone through several recurrences.

In our case, we were told on our 20th wedding anniversary that she had breast cancer, which needed major surgery. At Easter we headed to France to visit friends who just wanted to look after us for a week. We had been friends for 20 years and they’d decamped to live in an old farmhouse. While we were there, we pursued a dream that had been alive for three years, to look to buy a small holiday cottage and settled on a two room house that had been empty for three years, since the elderly owner had died. We were able to buy a structure that had cold water and an outside loo, for the cost of a reasonable towing caravan. It became our bolt-hole and offered fresh air, calm and a chance to live a simple life for a few weeks each year. My hobbies developed into plumbing, electrics and coppicing. Between visits, plans were made for the next projects. It was a lifeline then, and after D died. It still offers the same respite from the world now.

But I do worry, not about my neighbours and many good friends, but about others who may seek to persuade us that we are not welcome, possibly with the rise of the Front Nationale, in the same way, sadly, that many have been made to feel welcome during the past week.

Johnson, Give and Farage have changed Europe, for the worst. They have played politics, for personal gain; in the process making at least half the country insecure about their futures.

Before Della got cancer, I used to sing at Folk Clubs, with Nick, the friend who moved to France. We often sang the song the Green Fields of France, which is a lament for the fallen at the Somme. For the past week, this tune has popped in and out of my mind, reminding me that we don’t ever learn from history.

I can only hope that sense will prevail.  
                                                               
Green Fields of France  
Well how do you do, Private Willie McBride,
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside
And rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun
I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done.
I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen of nineteen-sixteen.
Well, I hope you died well and I hope you died clean
Or Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene.

Chorus :
Did they beat the drum slowly, did they play the fife
lowly,
Did they sound the dead-march as they lowered you down.
Did the band play the Last Post and chorus,
Did the pipes play the 'Flowers of the Forest'.

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
And though you died back there in nineteen-sixteen
In some faithful heart are you ever nineteen?
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Enclosed forever behind a glass frame
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained
Fast fading to yellow in a leather bound frame.
Chorus

It’s all quiet now in the green fields of France
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance
The trenches have vanished, under the plough,
There's no gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard it's still no-man's-land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
To a whole generation that were butchered and damned.
Chorus

And I can't help but wonder, Private Willie Mcbride
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe when you answered the cause
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
The sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain
The killing and dying t’was all done in vain
For young Willie McBride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again.
Did they beat the drum slowly, did they play the fife
lowly,
Did they sound the dead-march as they lowered you down.
Did the band play the Last Post and chorus,
Did the pipes play the 'Flowers of the Forest'.


If you would like to hear The Fureys sing a variation of this song
https://youtu.be/u0tFv8yu7ow

The Flowers of the Forest mentioned in the song is a lament played when burying the dead on the battle field.
https://youtu.be/g4xIozPcZLg
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There might be some mileage in using both during an assembly later this week, but have the tissues handy!