You could feel the widespread disbelief at the news that a marker - of all people - was being hunted down this week for being involved in some kind of allegedly criminal activity. The public were not used to this kind of news.
Scores of Sats markers all became suspects for probably the first time in their lives. What’s more, we had the schools minister suddenly restyling himself as an action man rather than a man trapped inside a subordinate clause of his own making. He announced a 24-7 merciless marker-manhunt to track down the culprit. But where on earth might a fugitive exam-marker choose to hide? Where would he or she consider a “safe house”? Inside an exam-script margin perhaps - the one place in the world where only a marker may venture?
Some of us, on the other hand, were not all surprised to hear of a marker perhaps turning to the dark side. The real wonder is that it does not happen more often. We all know from personal experience that any session with a pile of exercise books can soon turn even the mildest marker into malevolent monster - sometimes within minutes of sitting down to it. We have all been there. We understand. We recognise that thin and fragile margin between marker and hardened criminal. Even the most cursory glance at the history of the art will bear this out.
Take, for instance, that notorious Victorian serial marker who once haunted the streets of Whitechapel in London - the one who used to approach his victims and simply give them a trademark tick across the forehead with his pen, along with some brief written feedback. They never found out the true identity of “Jack the Ticker”, as the media dubbed him. After a while, the ticking terror mysteriously stopped. Few understood why, though it is no mystery to some of us. The man had plainly bored himself to death.
The schools minister has suggested that the “rogue marker” may even be part of some organised gang. Again, history reveals that there is nothing new about this. Notorious US gangsters Al Capone and “Lucky” Luciano were both keen markers at their school in Chicago, as indeed were the Kray brothers. (Or “formative assessment”, as they preferred to call it.)
In fact, I doubt very much if Mr Gibb fully appreciates where all this might be leading him. The “rogue marker” may well have connections to an organisation far more terrifying, even, than the present Department for Education. I wonder if the minister is even aware of the Mafia’s core business activity - that its very name derives from its early years as a “Marking and Feedback Inspection Agency”. This ruthless global organisation does not merely have influence in the marking underworld; it controls the marking underworld. Delve too deep, and Mr Gibb will soon end up wishing he was back being interviewed in that Radio 4 studio. Better to be grilled over subordinating grammar than to be grilled - Wicker Man-style - above a pile of burning Sats English tests while cloaked markers circle and chant their familiar mantras.
Stephen Petty is head of humanities at Lord Williams’s School in Thame, Oxfordshire
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