Man battered in fish shop.

I've just finished the fourth volume of Gervase Phinn's recollections of his time as a school inspector of English in Yorkshire. This one's called Up and Down in the Dales.

All four books have been very similar but they've also been very enjoyable. Some of the stories from his inspections are a real laugh and the recurring bit players (Sidney and David, Connie, Mrs Savage and so on) are now familiar comfortable old shoes of characters.

Along the way Gervase and his wife Christine collect funny headlines (like the post's title) from their local paper and various signs for use in after dinner speeches. They are a hoot:

Sign on a visitors' centre - Please Leave Heather For All To Enjoy.

An advertisement - An opportunity to join an expanding contracting firm.

Another - Are you going places in aluminium foil?

And - Street lighting engineers - two posts.

Some catchy headlines - Captain Fuches off to Antartica.

And my favourite one of all - Body in the garden is a plant, says woman.

Take my hand, take my whole life too (Elvis)

While I was writing the previous post and looking for some substantive research on whether teacher evaluations had any significant impact on student achievement I came across a great statement by John Hattie:

On the other side of this equation [the effects of the best rated teachers], having poor teachers can be devastating. The effects of poor teacher quality tend to persist for years after a student has had such a teacher.

These are the mediocre teachers that Todd Whitaker talks about in his work.

While the superstar teachers have high expectations of their students, create high self-esteem, and will be fine no matter what, the mediocre do untold damage by having low expectations and teach in a uniformly boring way to the whole class.

Why don’t we let the superstars and backbones get on with it and limit the damage of the poor teachers by concentrating on them? If the mediocre teachers can’t or won’t adapt then let’s get rid of them.

Believe me I know that’s easier said than done. I have been involved in competency meetings/decisions in NZ, England and here in the UAE. None were fun but all were a case of needs must.


Gervase Phinn includes this poem in one of his books:

Remember me?

"Do you remember me?" asked the young man.
The old man at the bus stop,
Shabby, standing in the sun, alone,
Looked 'round.
He stared for a moment screwing up his eyes,
Then shook his head.
"No, I don't remember you."
"You used to teach me, " said the young man.
"I've taught so many," said the old man, sighing.
"I forget."
"I was the boy you said was useless,
Good for nothing, a waste of space.
Who always left your classroom crying,
And dreaded every lesson that you taught."
The old man shook his head and turned away.
"No, I don't remember you, " he murmured.
"Well I remember you," the young man said.

Home is just another word for you (Billy Joel)

It's hard to believe, but we are still knee deep in teacher evaluations. Even by doing four interviews a day we are still some way off actually finishing this particular task. I would hate to be in a bigger school with a much greater number of teachers to get through.

It is a worthwhile exercise, there is no doubt, but it has meant little time for the other important demands that are cheerfully sent our way. All prefaced by the cliched, "I know you're really busy, but..."

Never the mind, I have Gervase Phinn to cheer me up. Here he is relating a delightful story from one of his classroom visits. One of the boys he reads to is a boy named John. The classroom teacher tells Gervase a story about John.

       John lived on a farm way out across the moors. He was expected, like most children from farming families, to help out around the farm. When he was little, Mrs Brown told me, he had been awakened by his father one night and taken into the byre to see the birth of a black Angus calf. The vet had suggested that it was about time the boy saw this miracle of nature. John had stood on a bale of hay in the cattle shed, staring in the half light as the great cow strained to deliver her calf. The small, wet, furry bundle soon arrived and the vet, wet with perspiration and with a triumphant look on his face, had gently wiped the calf's mouth and then held up the new-born creature for the little boy to see. John had stared wide-eyed.
     "What do you think of that?" The vet had asked him. "Isn't that a wonderful sight?"
     John had thought for a minute before replying. "How did it swallow the dog in the first place?" he asked.

It's just another day (Paul and Linda McCartney)

 I’ve just discovered Gervase Phinn. More accurately – having bought the book months ago from Magrudy’s Bookshop in Bawadi Mall – I have just rediscovered it on my bookshelf at home and started reading it.


It’s a non-fiction, funny as heckfire, account of his time as a school inspector in the Yorkshire dales. The book is called The Other Side of the Dale and the blurb on the cover is spot on:

The James Herriot of schools…Gervase Phinn writes warmly and with great wit.


I loved the meeting he had with the Headteacher at a remote primary school.


Gervase is new to the job and goes to Backwatersthwaite School. He meets the Headteacher (Mr Lapping) and asks if he might see the School Development Plan.

Mr Lapping says, “My what?” and then reveals that he hasn’t got one after Mr Phinn explains what it is. More than that Mr Lapping provides a wonderful reply:

You know, Mr Phinn, I’ve been a teacher in this school for near on forty years. I came here as a boy, taught all the children’s parents and went to school with most of their grandparents. This school is a part of me. I live and breathe it. Look around. Outside is one of the most magnificent views in the world. Inside is a richness and a range and quality of work which speaks for itself. Every child in this school can read and write well, every child knows his or her tables, can paint and dance and sing and they all get on as you’ll see on your next visit. I would never leave this place. When I visit the town I see all the people rushing about, with appointments to keep, no time to stop for a moment, to see the hills rising around them or the colours in the sky. You town dwellers have a lot to learn about us country folk. It’s a different way of life. It took fifty years for the Reformation to reach us up here in the Dale, Mr Phinn. I’ll do my best of course, but I reckon it’ll be a while before you get your School Development Plan.