In the “finding stuff out and writing stuff down” portion of my working week, I sometimes get the opportunity to wander into areas of society that are unfamiliar to me.
I’ve spent a day in a high-security prison learning about education from a prisoner in his cell. I’ve been to barracks the size of a small town to find out how the military train instructors. These places are societal ecosystems which support huge numbers of the population, but they can be overlooked unless you happen to be directly involved - just like the FE and skills sector. I know all about that one. Or I thought I did.
I’ve just finished my second term teaching adults with learning difficulties and disabilities. I’ve taught similar groups for years, but never in the community. I knew that provisions existed where health, care and education blend to build a varied social calendar for people with disabilities but never really considered how these sort of places run. It has been the most joyful and challenging experience of my career so far.
I’m working for the council teaching art at a privately run centre. Some people live there, others join in as part of day services. There’s a wide range of abilities: some live more independently, some have profound disabilities. The preferred term is “service users”; I prefer to call them my “Thursday gang”.
Everyone feels valued and welcome, with kindness and humour making the group a gang of mates. I know I’ll leave feeling better about the world
The support professionals there are medically trained and help the gang access a range of activities. They’re more than support though: they are sunshine.
Everyone feels valued and welcome, with kindness and humour making the group a gang of mates. I know I’ll leave feeling better about the world.
I teach drama at another community provision - a charity running day services from a large semi-detached house. To say the group I teach have fluent speech and few mobility issues would give the wrong impression. They sing, dance and act with complete commitment as fearless performers
This lot always challenge me. Their high expectations of what we can achieve mean I have long since binned any notion of comfort zone.
In our first term, we put on a musical in the local church hall. I rewrote the whole thing, we all made costumes and props and rehearsed for eight two-hour sessions. It was a haphazard hit.
This term, we created a series of pop videos based on our musical interests. One gent wasn’t so keen: his passion was Marvel Comics. He wanted superpowers, so the group devised, performed and shot a superhero film. Using precarious camera angles and my husband’s film editing talents, we got him to fly. Even at our big premiere in the city, tears trickled down my cheeks as the music swelled and he took off.
The groups make me better at my job. They believe in my improbable feats of teaching. They believe we can all fly.
Sarah Simons works in colleges and adult community education in the East Midlands, and is the director of UKFEchat. She tweets @MrsSarahSimons