Someone change the classical record please!

The government's approach to teaching culture in schools doesn't work.

The government's latest drive to find a solution for teaching culture in schools has missed a big opportunity. It's nothing against Classic FM boss Darren Henley. He had a remit. It's just that ultimately we all know the record and unfortunately adding another layer into the English Baccalaureate doesn't seem like an ideal result for kids or teachers.

The problem is that while we all know teaching cultural subjects for longer in schools should in theory produce more balanced, cultural and artistic young adults, the reality is somewhat different. Teachers we know struggle with making strict curriculum subjects relevant and it feels as though Henley's report will do nothing more than trigger self-professed maths lover Michael Gove into some sort of halfway house, knee-jerk reaction.

I'm not against teaching drama and dance in schools. I do fear, though, that any formal, Department of Education-driven changes may focus too much on the "higher arts" and alienate kids from culture still further. I am also not suggesting that we teach them just street dance, pop songs and Banksy. The balance will no doubt be set but it is the same old methods, formulaic approach and academic expectancy that concern me.

Teaching culture in schools is not about throwing in extra lessons and giving out certificates. Take music. The trouble with teaching music in schools is that it is difficult to define its benefits beyond the obvious value of learning to play an instrument. Yet music at all levels can boost confidence in kids (and adults) and this in turn can open new doors and breed new opportunities. You only have to watch Gareth Malone in The Choir to see it in action.

There should be more music in schools across other subjects and not necessarily as a stand-alone class. Music, dance, drama and art have the ability to feed into many subjects. They are engaging mediums that can bring alive other topics and while I know some teachers try and do this, many are under pressure, working within the constraints of league tables and the three Rs. It is the culture that is the problem and the unwavering insistence on a strict curriculum that no longer has much relevance with the real world we live in.

Is this a bit of government box-ticking perhaps? Is the government jumping on bandwagons and paying lip service to culture in an attempt to keep the critics happy? Either way I cannot see how this will change anything. Gove says he doesn't want it to end up being elitist but it is difficult to see it will be anything but. The good kids with most parental support will get better and the rest will be disenfranchised, again. What it calls for is radicalism, a re-writing of the system and recognition of relevant subjects and reference points while maintaining educational values. Times have changed. Kids are playing downloads but it feels like the government is still stuck on vinyl.

Martyn Ware, former Heaven 17 and Human League musician and founder of the Illustrious Company, will be speaking at X Media Lab Bath on 16 March.

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era