1991: Oliver Brookes: Article in the Scottish Child Magazine
Where did I Fit In
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Where do I fit in
Where do today’s young people think they fit into the political scene? Oliver Brookes visits Kilquhanity School in Galloway, where a successful educational approach encourages responsibility and participation.
Sitting in on the weekly all-school meeting what I saw was, in fact, quite ordinary-people who live together sharing out the practical tasks of living and learning. They come together to discuss problems, decide action and share what is going on. Essentially the only thing that seems extraordinary is that Kilquhanity’s proven approach should appear so isolated and unusual in its emphasis on participation and freedom.
What I brought to the meeting was a question about how real the participation of the 50 children was in the running of the school.
The scene had been set by Morag and John who separately asked me if I had a family (not, was I a teacher?) – a question aimed at fending off theories untested in practice, and suggesting that the family was the model by which the school could best be understood.
The kids spoke about the weekly council meetings.
‘You’ve got to think things out, not just ask for them.’
‘If you do have a vote it gives the kids too much power because there are more kids than staff.’
‘You only have a vote if you can’t sort it out any other way.’
‘It makes you more independent.’
‘The staff have to have more power than the kids in a way ... but we should have as equal a say as the staff.’
It seemed clear that both staff and children knew that the adults had the ultimate control, but in the children’s opinion this was a necessary backstop and did not interfere too much with the genuine experience of participation.
The meeting itself took place in a self-built round timber room filled with light, the whole school fitting around the perimeter bench. It was chaired by two students and order was very well maintained. Breakages were the first item and individuals would confess.
‘A plate slipped when I got it out of the Aga with an oven glove.’
A 10p fine would be proposed, agreed and the sin would be absolved.
It took ten people to discuss the broken belt of the vacuum cleaner and the motion passed was the girls involved to take it to the workshop and report back to the meeting next Thursday. Another issue discussed was that of a window which had been decorated with painted hands. On discussion people decided that they liked it. The art teacher asked.
‘If kids want to do impromptu decorations could they ask me first?’
Such minutely discussed problems are probably the more cumbersome necessities of an exhaustively democratic process. They do, however, help to prevent lingering resentments getting in the way of more important matters. The kindergarten children left after an hour and were always attentive of the more dynamic exchanges. It was clear from the participation of the eight year olds that they were learning to feel relaxed with the idea of speaking out in front of 60 people.
The second half of the meeting left the fixed agenda, and was open to other business. It had appeared to me by now that the meeting was serving many functions; to sort out practical business, to cement the unity of the school family, to allow those in need of group sustenance to take freely, to share and discuss difficulties between people and to assume your part in the process of change. It was also clear that these were the needs of both adults and children, and discussion and criticism flowed easily and equally around the room.
STUDENT: ‘going back to the staff meeting, did you discuss about the monitor? (computer VDU)’
STAFF: ‘I’m very sorry. Matthew did ask me to bring this up and I clean forgot. Perhaps if Matthew reminds me immediately before the next staff meeting I’ll bring it up again.’
STUDENT: ‘When I brought this up I knew something like this would happen. Cos that’s what happened, the same thing, using the computer, Matthew kept bringing it up and the staff kept forgetting to discuss it. It’ just going to go on for ages. Matthew’s found a monitor. I don’t see, you know. It’s rally duff.’
STAFF: ‘The staff meeting as everyone knows is at 3 o’clock on a Wednesday. If Matthew can contact me shortly before 3 o’clock, then I will promise to bring it up.’
A fight was next business. A new boy was having a lot of difficulty getting used to Kilquhanity and problems appeared to have arisen among the other children. The fight was the focus of these problems.
Those involved were asked (by the chair) to put forward their stories and were questioned about blame and what had gone wrong. It was pointed out by a student that violence was no solution and would not be tolerated.
It was lovely to see 14 year olds understanding so clearly the problems of this younger boy. They knew that in this small school society this lad would need to be shown patience and tolerance and would also need defending from retribution and rejection. When he was asked if he thought the fight was his fault, or mainly his fault, the lad concerned said that he had gone wrong at his last school and that was where the fault lay. This inadequate answer spoke of all kinds of inner turmoil and the meeting left the question of fault unpursued, asking him to undertake not to be violent towards anyone and to report to the next meeting how things had progressed.
The meeting came to a close after two hours and the last item – the fight – had involved everyone, with the kids’ heads turning in unison to the people speaking. After the meeting, the 20 or so students who are resident received their pocket money and their time was their own.
There was no real doubt for me that participation was real and felt to be so. Despite, or perhaps because of, the views about who had ultimate power the children were fully engaged and supportive of the council meeting. They had eagerly rushed off from our earlier visitors’ questions to get a seat in the council dome. By contrast, the subjects I discussed with them before the meeting – democracy, the vote and participation in politics – were met with disinterest and indifference.
‘Do you look forward to getting the vote?’
‘I’d vote maybe, I don’t know, so I don’t actually look forward to it.’
‘I’ve never taken any interest in politics, I think they’re boring, I mean it’s just a load of names and figures.’
What did you think of the Downing Street bombings?’
‘They missed.’
What was displayed at the meeting was a sophisticated degree of understanding and awareness, a lack of anger or retribution and an absence of the abuse of power. The general feeling of good sense and humanity would be hard in any adult meeting, especially if the participants were discussing a recent fight. In the light of this meeting the present educational agenda of national standards, a national curriculum and education for the good of the economy left me embarrassed to be part of the adult world.
But perhaps the most obvious lasting question is who is this education for? Kilquhanity is, after all, a private school. Why is it that even after fifty years of success, the Kilquhanity model has yet to find a place in the state system?
