“A child is supposed to love learning”

Katharine Birbalsingh made her name when she wowed the Conservative Party conference last October. H

Katharine Birbalsingh taught me when I was a year 8 in secondary school, in 1999. Just about all I can remember is that we called her "Ms Singh" and gave her a hard time. On the end-of-year French trip, she also helped some kids in my year get a French girl's number.

It came as a surprise, then, when I saw her name in the media recently. Around 12 years after she had been my teacher, I discovered that she had just released a book, To Miss With Love, about her experiences teaching in the state sector, and had even been invited by the Education Secretary, Michael Gove, to deliver a speech at the Conservative party conference last year, an event that propelled her into the media spotlight.

"Ordinary School", the backdrop for To Miss With Love, is a fictional creation, but one that had often hilarious, often disturbing parallels with my own, which in the spirit of the book I will name "Average School". Knowing that Katharine had taught at Average School, I was very curious to see what she was saying about the state sector, and even more curious about why she was being associated with the Conservatives.

As I read To Miss With Love, familiar situations from everyday school life came back to me, but it also showed behind-the-scenes issues that I was unaware of while I was there. Suddenly the reasons for a series of ridiculous decisions and situations I witnessed were exposed, and I began to wonder whether the state system really is broken, as Birbalsingh asserts.

I met her at a small café in Brixton, south London. She is tall, thin and dark-skinned, with a fantastic explosion of hair and an accent of ambiguous descent. My own trajectory, as I described to her, involved five unhappy years at Average School, studying for A-levels at "Slightly Better Than Average School", and finally earning a degree from "Stuffy Russell Group University", a point she quickly picks up on.

"The irony of this is, you'll write this piece and people will say 'Well, you're a success, you're at the New Statesman, you got a degree from Stuffy Russell Group University, you got two A*s and 6 As', or whatever it is, and people will look at you and say, 'Well, how can we say this, how can we say that your state school education failed you?' But it did fail you."

Shouldn't school be horrible?

On this basis, I explain I'd be inclined to concur with the people who believe that if you can succeed at state school, it shows the system works. But Birbalsingh points out the contradiction in my reasoning, based on what I mentioned earlier about hating school – about being constantly scared, about not being able to learn, about hating many of my classmates.

"You sat in chaos for five years, you were miserable, you had to get out in the end. If that's how you think of your secondary school education then the system has failed you. A child is meant to be happy in school, a child is supposed to love learning. It's awful!"

I admit I'd never thought about it that way before. To me, school was supposed to be horrible, but perhaps that in itself is evidence of how I was failed. In this sense, Birbalsingh is very convincing.

"My point is that Ordinary School really does represent normal schools," she continues. "Average is considered to be a really good school. It's 'good with outstanding features', as Ofsted said – just like Ordinary School. You went to a 'good' school and yet you lived in fear every day! If that's true, then how can anybody say to me that the system isn't broken?

"I think that the criteria that Ofsted uses now – they're looking at the wrong thing, they're looking at 'Are lessons fun?', so that's one of the things that needs to change. The thing is, we all trust Ofsted. We all think, 'Oh, if they think this school is good, it must be good.' "

I offer that perhaps people who have kids at a nice, reasonably successful state school in Hampshire or Devon would disagree.

"That's what I find so outrageous," she continues, "because they're saying, 'It's all right for us so leave it the way it is.' I think even those kids are being failed, but they're not being failed as obviously. They're all taking exams that are being dumbed down, they're all learning skills instead of knowledge. All these things are still part of the whole system."

Birbalsingh has been criticised for putting the onus on schools rather than parents for creating bright, socialised young people. But when there are as many social problems as we have in inner London, what good is it to blame schools for failing children?

"I can't do anything about the families. I can't change those parents. If you've got an alcoholic mother, father's never around, I can't do anything about them, but I can change the school system. I'm just expecting us to be the very best that we can be."

A question of choice

But in her book, Birbalsingh comments that every child can be made to develop an appreciation of things like Shakespeare. Is this not too much to expect of kids?

"Middle-class kids in public schools aren't born loving Shakespeare!" she says. "You have to be taught to learn it. When you can understand it, you come to love it. But it's only through a hard slog that you come to the other side.

"If you give choice to children, then they'll always choose the easier option. Why wouldn't they? So you don't just say, 'Actually, you can take business, or you can take physics.' You say, 'You're taking physics,' and then you make physics as interesting as possible and you try and spark their interest and you help them succeed at it because children love what they succeed at."

But doesn't this mentality still alienate the archetypal dumb kid, like Dopey from the book?

"Well it depends. Remember, five Cs at GCSE is rated high – it's not expecting that much, and I think a vast majority of our children can get five Cs at GSCE. However, there is a small minority of kids who can't, and that's when BTecs are perfectly applicable."

The emphasis Birbalsingh puts on standards and respect for authority in the book is interesting. David Lammy, the MP for Tottenham and former education minister, wrote of her that "she reminded me of aunts back in Guyana. Hers is a small 'c' conservatism of the West Indian variety. It has a tough attitude to personal responsibility, underpinned by a Christian belief in personal salvation."

This seems reasonably accurate and when I was at Average School I thought that the strict reinforcement of standards that Birbalsingh so strongly supports – including tucking in your shirt and not wearing hats indoors – was petty, causing more arguments and lost learning time than was necessary.

"It's the broken windows theory," she argues in response. "You need to look after small things. If kids don't have a uniform at all, it doesn't matter, but if you do and the kids disobey, you are allowing them to undermine your authority."

Free schools have caused a lot of controversy since the idea was taken up by Michael Gove in government last year. Many have claimed they will increase social divisions by creaming off middle-class families from the local state schools, and the journalist Fiona Millar refers to the idea as the "comprehensive-grammar, secular-faith, Latin-speaking, liberal-education school". Free schools will be funded by the state, but as Katharine explains:

"They have to follow the admissions code. They cannot select. It's exactly like a state school except it's not set up by the local authority, it's set up by a group of parents or teachers. And obviously it's a very rigorous process to get approved, so it's not just like you can go and set up a school tomorrow."

But what if a free school is set up by the people Katharine disapproves of – middle-class lefties with a lax approach to discipline and choice – or just people who know nothing about education?

"Some schools could be set up that aren't very good. But the point about a free school system is that if the school isn't very good it can be closed. Now, people say, 'That's a bad idea. Where are the kids going to go?' They just go to some other local school!

"We're hoping that most of the free schools being set up will be good schools. If they're bad schools, then they close and we move on from that. I'm trying to make a difference. It's like the Titanic is going down – all I can do is take my little boat to the side and throw as many kids as I can inside it, and row away."

Mix it up

One controversial topic Birbalsingh touches on in To Miss With Love is the high level of failure among black children.

"In addition to schools failing our kids, there are two reasons for black failure," she says. "There's the whole family situation – there's a lot of absent fathers – that is a difficulty, but – and this is a big thing – the street culture: rappers, MTV, all that stuff, because they buy into it.

"You were the white kid at Average, but, in a way, you had an advantage being white, because you could culturally step out of that; you could just be the quiet white kid who didn't have anything to do with the black kids, whereas the black kids there, they have to buy into that, otherwise they're not 'cool'. They have a reputation, like when Furious says in the book, 'You don't understand, I've got a rep,' and I'm saying, 'What do you mean?!' "

After reading To Miss With Love and thinking about some of its criticisms, I began to wonder whether they were directed towards the actual ideas Birbalsingh was proposing – which, I can vouch, are based on 12 years of teaching in inner-London state schools – or more unfairly towards the fact that her views were considered to be those of a right-wing Tory.

"Well the fact is that everything Michael Gove is doing I agree with, and the fact is that I voted for the Conservative Party because I agreed with their educational policies. Unfortunately we have reached a stage where the Labour Party has abandoned good discipline and high standards in schools. If the Labour Party were to reclaim that, then next time, I would be voting for Labour.

"So it just so happens that apparently my views are right-wing. So I suppose I am right-wing when it comes to education. When it comes to everything else, I'm not – I'm a mixture of things."

"To Miss With Love" is available from bookshops, published by Penguin (£9.99). Read Fiona Millar's review of the book for the New Statesman here.

Liam McLaughlin is a freelance journalist who has also written for Prospect and the Huffington Post. He tweets irregularly @LiamMc108.

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Is defeat in Stoke the beginning of the end for Paul Nuttall?

The Ukip leader was his party's unity candidate. But after his defeat in Stoke, the old divisions are beginning to show again

In a speech to Ukip’s spring conference in Bolton on February 17, the party’s once and probably future leader Nigel Farage laid down the gauntlet for his successor, Paul Nuttall. Stoke’s by-election was “fundamental” to the future of the party – and Nuttall had to win.
 
One week on, Nuttall has failed that test miserably and thrown the fundamental questions hanging over Ukip’s future into harsh relief. 

For all his bullish talk of supplanting Labour in its industrial heartlands, the Ukip leader only managed to increase the party’s vote share by 2.2 percentage points on 2015. This paltry increase came despite Stoke’s 70 per cent Brexit majority, and a media narrative that was, until the revelations around Nuttall and Hillsborough, talking the party’s chances up.
 
So what now for Nuttall? There is, for the time being, little chance of him resigning – and, in truth, few inside Ukip expected him to win. Nuttall was relying on two well-rehearsed lines as get-out-of-jail free cards very early on in the campaign. 

The first was that the seat was a lowly 72 on Ukip’s target list. The second was that he had been leader of party whose image had been tarnished by infighting both figurative and literal for all of 12 weeks – the real work of his project had yet to begin. 

The chances of that project ever succeeding were modest at the very best. After yesterday’s defeat, it looks even more unlikely. Nuttall had originally stated his intention to run in the likely by-election in Leigh, Greater Manchester, when Andy Burnham wins the Greater Manchester metro mayoralty as is expected in May (Wigan, the borough of which Leigh is part, voted 64 per cent for Brexit).

If he goes ahead and stands – which he may well do – he will have to overturn a Labour majority of over 14,000. That, even before the unedifying row over the veracity of his Hillsborough recollections, was always going to be a big challenge. If he goes for it and loses, his leadership – predicated as it is on his supposed ability to win votes in the north - will be dead in the water. 

Nuttall is not entirely to blame, but he is a big part of Ukip’s problem. I visited Stoke the day before The Guardian published its initial report on Nuttall’s Hillsborough claims, and even then Nuttall’s campaign manager admitted that he was unlikely to convince the “hard core” of Conservative voters to back him. 

There are manifold reasons for this, but chief among them is that Nuttall, despite his newfound love of tweed, is no Nigel Farage. Not only does he lack his name recognition and box office appeal, but the sad truth is that the Tory voters Ukip need to attract are much less likely to vote for a party led by a Scouser whose platform consists of reassuring working-class voters their NHS and benefits are safe.
 
It is Farage and his allies – most notably the party’s main donor Arron Banks – who hold the most power over Nuttall’s future. Banks, who Nuttall publicly disowned as a non-member after he said he was “sick to death” of people “milking” the Hillsborough disaster, said on the eve of the Stoke poll that Ukip had to “remain radical” if it wanted to keep receiving his money. Farage himself has said the party’s campaign ought to have been “clearer” on immigration. 

Senior party figures are already briefing against Nuttall and his team in the Telegraph, whose proprietors are chummy with the beer-swilling Farage-Banks axis. They deride him for his efforts to turn Ukip into “NiceKip” or “Nukip” in order to appeal to more women voters, and for the heavy-handedness of his pitch to Labour voters (“There were times when I wondered whether I’ve got a purple rosette or a red one on”, one told the paper). 

It is Nuttall’s policy advisers - the anti-Farage awkward squad of Suzanne Evans, MEP Patrick O’Flynn (who famously branded Farage "snarling, thin-skinned and aggressive") and former leadership candidate Lisa Duffy – come in for the harshest criticism. Herein lies the leader's almost impossible task. Despite having pitched to members as a unity candidate, the two sides’ visions for Ukip are irreconcilable – one urges him to emulate Trump (who Nuttall says he would not have voted for), and the other urges a more moderate tack. 

Endorsing his leader on Question Time last night, Ukip’s sole MP Douglas Carswell blamed the legacy of the party’s Tea Party-inspired 2015 general election campaign, which saw Farage complain about foreigners with HIV using the NHS in ITV’s leaders debate, for the party’s poor performance in Stoke. Others, such as MEP Bill Etheridge, say precisely the opposite – that Nuttall must be more like Farage. 

Neither side has yet called for Nuttall’s head. He insists he is “not going anywhere”. With his febrile party no stranger to abortive coup and counter-coup, he is unlikely to be the one who has the final say.