Let’s bubble about – right now!

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps… we should play. Why don’t we collect our pennies, count them up and link hands in a chain to the toy shop? Hand in hand, we trot (and try not gallop) to Smyths. Who doesn’t adore an hour in the den of all dens, shops of all shops? Some adults. But, for those delightful in simplicity, when the trip is over… Walt Disney does remind us that: “Adults are only kids grown up, anyway.” Anyway, he has a theory here. A theory that is much more than a theory: reality. That’s my (no laughter) Mickey Mouse take on it. I better go fetch my ears and put them on right now. Here we…. GO. Are you friends with Mary Poppins too?

Thought so. Let’s bubble on, now.

Pish posh to stern philosophical outlooks for two seconds. “Disney, as ever, is rather inspirational….!” I don’t believe that (and that’s only my view). I don’t see any person being fit to be called that word over another person as we all – in our own book – make a blank page have character. In teaching, you see one student who grapples with a concept grinning from one side of the rainbow to the other when the ‘oh-yeah’ moment gives them the educational gold. For another, the ‘graphite’ hexagons neatly fitting together in his or her brain might be significantly easier – and so “ooooo… that’s it” is emitted out of audible speech. That is why, well, for me inspiration must come from yourself. And, blatantly, your own progress is for no other single person to comment on. I remember starting University…concerned about achieving As… but well, for me it isn’t a priority. Trying matters. That’s part of the assembly of the toy, of an idea, of a book.

And, Walt Disney did fail many times. But he kept with his idea, his own little ‘toy.’ That’s why I rather believe we are all very much inclined to love his art – and undeniably, his story books. Books, you see, are an essential part of teacher education. From Vygotsky to Piaget, we learn. And learn. And, secretly try to figure out how we are developing ourselves as educators. But. Library days can only take you to a certain level of understanding. Lecturers constantly tell us of the imperativeness of writing about your strengths, your weakness and the movements forward. I agree; I do try to read factual works for enhancement: I do try to take an upwards approach to learning. However, some realisation has led me back to another square that I’m convinced is more of a triangle with another line to it. Not to another course is it bringing me, but to a moment of pause in my professional journey. After all, toy cars from Smyths aren’t intended to withstand several batters and bashes daily. We do need  ‘wait’ and ‘recapture’ time.

Time to separate the key words from the text, is it now. What for me is most crucial during this stage of my teacher education is figuring out the nuances to teaching – and classroom experience stories are all that is required. Remember when the nursery staff would come and give you a tip to be help make that tower look less like Italy’s (famous or infamous… I’m not entirely sure!) Pisa? Well, that is what I’m mentally making a note these days. Writing for assignments gives me the knowledge, but the breadth comes with the ‘you assist the child with the zip, yet leave them to attempt it if possible’ comments. That is why I am here. These pieces of advice mould me into a teacher who will (hopefully) as many of us wrote in our application… make a difference. Everyone, or so I wish to think, goes into the profession to bring out the best in others. By sharing a piece of humanity, of your own experiences, the heart in education beats on with the same rhythm.

The policies, lack of funding and health and safety – which we hear through the news more than word of mouth – puts on the rain too heavily sometimes. The career, of being a teacher, is being destroyed (sometimes) by what the child must achieve, must do and must obtain. Without stating the obvious, qualifications are extremely crucial but so is contact with others, so is PLAYTIME. And…health and safety is creating a gigantic wall…like that of Mexico.

After hearing that a former headteacher couldn’t obtain a swing for health and safety reasons, I desired to scribble : with frustration, with fury, with flaming anger. Sounds a tad over the top… but… well society needs to take a breather. Health and safety: uh-huh, the Law is imperative. But, what is wrong with a swing? For all you know, you could be hit on the road from misjudging a car speed or land awkwardly after a (as safe as possible) wall jump. Honestly. A swing moves up and down and let’s the child take control of their movement and emotions. Bare not, can I, to see a playground without such apparatus, without such necessities. Accidents happen. It’s life. And yes, we can avoid some but not every. single. One.

Play (and relaxed play) is what we need more of. Have a read of the Scottish Government’s 2013 Play Strategy: please do. To save you leaving to fetch it right now, here’s Scotland’s play vision: “A nation which values play as a life-enhancing daily experience for all our children and young people; in their homes, nurseries, schools and communities.” (Scottish Government, 2013, p. 2) Within merely opening the booklet, we see the phrase ‘LIFE-ENHANCING.’ Then, why is it that: our children are using i-Pads to clock up that screen time; our outdoors have no door; and our older ones play with the rubbers on their desks? I still play. Yes, I do. I am legally an adult, yet the amusement of following the yellow lines until they stop (in a quiet area!) or throwing up and down a ball will never leave moi. I do doodle: and well, at least it helps me with creative writing of some sort.

Early Years children become excited over miniscule parts of life – but that is what is crucial to the LOVE of teaching. That is why we must never treat play as only a reward. That home corner where you learned that hoovers make a noise: yes, it was really only fake plastic beads. But, imagination can become reality. That clean-up with my friends translates into ‘let’s tidy the classroom in P7!’ Play gives children hope, belief and an ‘I can do this’ attitude. Bring Smyths back to the classroom. Please do. Adults, it’s time to be silly but with a sprinkling of prudency (and sugar too!). We all have that inner-child that can be effectively controlled. I know we do.

Rudolph, I’ve got a letter for you (and Santa too, of course)!

Before you immerse yourself in these words for a few minutes, you will be all the wiser from knowing that this blog post is my Christmas Eve letter to Santa (and Rudolph). Don’t worry, I’m old enough to realise that Santa is a fictional character, but the magic can still exist- right?! Merry Christmas for 2018! Have a lovely time (and be sure to save some mince pies for our jolly old fellow, Mr. Claus.)


Dear Rudolph,

Even though your nose resembles blinding scarlet laser pens, my heart still bursts with love for you. Love is a thrown-away word nowadays but Rudolph, I am not prancing around here. Your co-worker, Cupid, would forecast that we’re never been destined for a relationship- and I presume the stars shine in that direction too. However, my dear friend, my attraction to you continues to live on, unlike romantic relationships which are as delicate as the intricacy of snowflakes. Your festive vibes encapsulate me from some of humanity’s ill spirits. It is your story, the true lived tale of bullying, that puts you on the highest pedestal for me – me, and the teaching community at large.

Vital information has just whizzed around the circuits of my brain… these words… must be of very little value to you. That’s unless I’m mistaken, and reindeers secretly have a Google Translate to decipher our human-talk by. Santa may be able to lend you a hand with that one afterwards but I’m afraid the rest of this letter will be addressed to your friendly, red-hat, long-bearded master. Don’t stomp your hooves until the snow flings in every direction with fury; blame my people’s government for their failure in bringing up a multi (animal) lingual nation. Now then, pass this letter over to Mr. Claus if you may. (Your Tesco’s Finest carrot is already at my fire-place- as ever, royalty deserves nothing less.)

Ho, ho, ho, Santa: sorry to eat into your precious time although this letter will cheer you up just as a bucket-load of mince pies do. It is with ounces of delight that I can assist you with your naughty and nice lists this year: Rudolph, your ‘best-man,’ deserves a permanent (not fixed or temporary) post in your good books. The upmarket, front-row position on your sleigh may comfort his ego, but remember it is imperative that we tingle your companion’s heart strings. Put an end to your omniscient persona, Santa, and give my fellow the right recognition. Undoubtedly, you treat every single one of your reindeers the same – it’s standard practice – yet your heart must ache ever so more upon musing of the troubles of his past. Must I (painfully) recall those ‘oh so fun’ games when your (now) sleigh captain was belittled like six-foot ‘monsters’ boss around three- feet elves? No, I guessed not. Rant over: it’s time to harmoniously sing his praises – call for the choir… that’s if the eminent Michael Bublé is on strike.

Hold on a second- apologies are well and truly due. Now my fast and furious (seventy-mile per hour) hurricane attitude has settled to a breezy blizzard, I can write with sense – and not blanket everything in lethal, icy remarks. My thoughts led to me to a slippery slope when I addressed you quite forcefully in the previous paragraph, however I now am admitting to my wrongdoings. It’s just thinking of such an empathetic person like you – who is most comparable to the Christmas Big Friendly Giant – raises the hairs on my goose bumps to the point you’d think they meticulously practised yoga every day of their life. That’s not an understatement, believe me. Whilst on the topic of forgiveness, it’s fitting to mention that I’m partaking in the joys of greeting children queuing to meet you. You may not have hired me in Lapland (Claire calls for a man-size box of tissues) but Aberdeen needs me. ‘Elfing’ is truly a privilege that you have endowed me with; I can only but seize the chance to share my adoration for Rudolph and… take an #elfie.

Hurry on the days when society deems it acceptable, presentable and respectable to attire joker hats with jingle bells and slipper-soft shoes!

I’ve deviated off on a tangent again, Santa. Let’s toast our glasses to the fact I’m not your GPS navigation… swiftly back on track, if we may. Please do me of the honour of allowing myself to properly explain my feelings towards your wingman. Rudolph, he’s a strong piece of meat: I’m not a vegetarian, but equally I’d never even consume a slither of reindeer-meat. That’s a high-court crime, especially for someone who is meant to be Rudolph’s guardian! With hefty muscles- peaked to perfection for his annual present-delivery endurance marathon- comes determination, and that is what we need to install in our children. Instant gratification is as common as plastic money notes. Should we ever wonder why our kids are ‘besties’ with sheets of illuminated-glass? In with the old Tamagotchi; out with the new Siri. (Oh, that’s a deliberate ‘mistake’ in my phrasing.)

Mental stamina is not developed enough amongst the majority of our young people these modern days. Sir, with your magical work, we could help share the story of Rudolph’s battles and give our students a lecture about the grit that they all so need to carry with them throughout their lives. Wish lists of happiness feeders are driving you out of pocket – and the elves…well, their array of talents are spectacularly wasted with the infinitely increasing output of gadgets ongoing. As a student teacher – and part-time Lapland aspiring elf- I’d hope it wouldn’t be deemed ‘immature’ and too out of place for me to remark that parents must continue bringing up their children with time-limits on their gadget usage. Despite Rudolph being in a turmoil of teasing from his red nose, he danced and pranced through the traditional party games – and won over every cell beating in your unmeasurable heart. Our cherished fluffy Christmas ‘horse’ flies around with the magic of (almost) everlasting happiness, all whilst demonstrating to our young ones that being unique is as special and worthy as the rare pennies living on the ground. He’s a man…with just a slightly alternative twig-like hairstyle. A man needs no gadgets; the classic board games are the ultimate deal (if you’re also not forgetting about the gel for anything like antler-hair of course!)

Dear me… my inner-elf has outshone itself again. These festive characters really like to bounce around to the sound of their jingle bells (and blether away until their cheeks inflate like mini red-balloons). Aren’t elves just secretly human versions of Rudolph? Seriously speaking, that’s my Christmas wish for you, Santa. Give me the chance to be an elf from Monday to Sunday. (Yes, I’m enrolling for the atypical seven-day job- uh huh, not the nine-to-five Monday to Friday.) If I’m blessed with my elf-tunic and plane tickets to Lapland, I’ll know my teaching will improve vastly. My students will learn the key to healthy happiness- and maybe the odd few will become your minions too (or as English-lovers joke, your subordinate-clauses). It’s a wicked myth that people fall to the trick of believing that you are born as an elf: W.Huittt and J.Hummell (1999) are behaviour theorists who would one-hundred percent support elf-school as they define learning as “the relatively permanent change in behaviour brought about as a result of experience or practice.” We can all be elves, can’t we?

I guess you’ll reveal the truth tomorrow, Santa.

That’s me for Christmas 2017,

Lots of love from Claire Xx (The 18-year old girl who should really be an elf, especially since she has left out your all-time favourite of a beer and a mince pie!)


This PowerPoint (which is available online) was of assistance to me in the writing of this blog post. The quote by W.Huitt and J.Hummel (1999) is found on the second slide.