I have been thinking of all my writing friends – those that I already know and those I am yet to meet. I am hoping that you are well and that you have managed to allow writing to be present somewhere in the new rhythms of your life. I find that, even if I simply write down the bare bones of my day, it helps to anchor me when all else seems adrift.

Virginia Woolf wrote in her diary: “I think it is true that one gains a certain hold on sausage and haddock by writing them down.” Writing the everyday and the ordinary, captures for me the extraordinary.

And this morning a writing teacher sent me the link to Kate Clanchy’s poetry prompt of the day on Twitter. Frank O’Hara’s poem Today just hit the spot: that celebration of the things that populate our world:

Oh! kangaroos, sequins, chocolate sodas!
You really are beautiful! Pearls,
harmonicas, jujubes, aspirins! all
the stuff they've always talked about

still makes a poem a surprise!
These things are with us every day
even on beachheads and biers. They
do have meaning. They're strong as rocks.

There is a sudden proliferation of such prompts and you will find those that work for you. I am reminded that it is nearly April and that it is the poetry equivalent of National Novel Writing Month. It is worth a go at http://www.napowrimo.net.  

There is so much to talk about!

What I really want to think about this week is the blue sky. The opportunity that stands before us at the moment. Last week, as I thought of teachers stepping forward to prepare work for children at home and to care for others at school I began to wonder what I would have done with my own children, if they had been directed to stay at home. I am not sure they would have taken kindly to daily maths and English.

What would be important? What would I be wanting them to learn? The general coverage of what is beginning to be called ‘home schooling’ reveals a conceptualisation of education, of what school means, that fills me with dismay. That sense that it is ‘done unto’ children rather than children being willing partners in the venture.

In many homes children’s experiences will be rich and challenging. They will have the chance to take hold of their own education and to interact with adults in important ways. Many more will have a different experience. And gaps will widen.

There will be no exams and no testing. Things will not fall apart. We can get to the nub of things. What do we mean by education? What will benefit us all, adults and children, wherever we are in the coming months, and then, maybe, beyond?

Let us seize the chance. Let’s think about what our vision is for the education of children. We have the opportunity to consider it anew; to think carefully about how children might best spend their time. We can think about the children and young people we teach, whom we know well. What are the things that will enrich their lives; help them develop; be fundamental into their becoming the persons they have the capacity to be?

Despite the circumstances, this seems exciting to me. If I am to understand this correctly, no one (except teachers) seems to be expecting any teaching or learning to be going on. So here we are. 

What is it about your own discipline that you love and wish to share with those you teach? What would you like to include, freely, in your teaching without having to squeeze it between the cracks? Perhaps we can begin with writing. 

Now is the time to re-imagine education.