With Tomorrow's Schools, I often feel David Lange threw the baby out with the bath water.
Back in the days of teacher grading marks and school inspectors, my first inspection out of training college was a disaster. I got one grading mark, and was lucky to getthat, as my life was all sport, boating and parties. I was given a lecture, and the weaknesses of my teaching were brought home to me by a stern no nonsense Inspector with a warning to pull my socks up or else. Positive suggestions were made for improvement.
The old boy was dead right. I applied for and got one of the country's most remote sole-charge schools in a back-blocks mainly Maori community. I worked my butt off, and the delightful back country kids were a joy to work with.
There was pig hunting, splitting totara for fence posts and battens to raise school funds. When able to visit the nearest small town I was welcomed into the Maori bar of the pub, where I was often the only Pakeha. I felt at home on the marae for joyous and sad occasions.
Two schools rang me to warn that my grading inspector was Mr X, a true demon nasty feared by all. That's all I needed after two years of hard work.
Grading day arrived and no inspector, as the Maori road gang had misdirected him up a very muddy side road, where he got stuck. He arrived in a bit of a muddy state an hour late.
"Well boy, I think you have good parent and local support!"
Why did he say that? Before lunch several Maori mothers arrived with some great additions to my wife's cooking. He went through all the kids' books and my records thoroughly. He said little. At the end of the day a kaumatua arrived to tell the inspector the district was very happy with the school.
Before the great man left his words were, "You need to step up now. Good luck."
The much-feared inspector gave me and the school a glowing report, and enough grading to take the next step up.
Years later, when in a senior position in Auckland, that now long-retired old inspector used to occasionally visit my school for morning tea and to reminisce about the old days, and to drop precious pearls of wisdom that were much appreciated.
