On Sunday I joined my singing group Tutti, for our annual Christmas event. I have mentioned Tutti many times before in this blog, but for those that missed it the Tutti choir is a mixed-abilities choir that operates from the charmingly quirky and colourful premises of Tutti Arts, based on the MINDA campus.

I have been singing with Tutti for a few years now, and it is without question one of the best and most rewarding parts of my life. To stand alongside the able and those with physical and mental challenges, and together produce music that makes people smile, laugh and cry, is, quite simply, an endlessly amazing experience.  

For this event we sang a variety of styles, including carols, folk, jazz and gospel, and, in true Tutti style, the South African National Anthem (Nkosi Sikelel iAfrika), as a tribute to the late Nelson Mandela.  If you can believe it, we sang in Xhosa, Zulu, Sesotho, and Afrikaans. Not bad with only two days’ notice to learn it! It was a moving experience, for us and, judging by the applause, the audience as well.

President Obama said shortly after Mandela’s passing - “He achieved more than could be expected of any man.  Today he has gone home…he no longer belongs to us; he belongs to the ages." 

Whether or not you believed in his politics, or his stance on violence for change, there is no question that his courage and conviction forced change in his country. He proved that one man can make a difference. We may not all be Nelson Mandela’s, or Ghandi’s, or the countless other leaders, male and female, who defied the limitations of race, colour and creed to achieve great things, but we can all in our own ways stand up for what we believe in.   

When I visited South Africa in 2001, it was to attend a lavish wedding in ‘polite society’, far from the poverty experienced by the mass populace. When I mentioned that I planned to visit Soweto, the ‘notorious’ slum, they struggled to hide their shock. It was so far removed from their safe and cozy existence that it really did seem like another world, and my mentioning it made me a threat. But I was determined, and, as Mark will confirm, I seldom back down when committed to something. 

The next day, not only was I the only woman on the bus, I was the only person on the bus period! My driver gave me a fascinating tour of the streets and shared his favourite café. I shared lunch with an in spiring man whose father had been shot alongside Steve Biko, trained as a doctor in Cambridge in the UK and now had a practice in Soweto.

As it turned out, my visit to that dangerous place was the highlight of my trip, and forever changed my view of the country and, of course, Nelson Mandela’s fight to change it. I suppose I am a bit of a risk taker, but I also know that the risk I took that day influenced the way I think, and has in some way led me to where I am now, helping kids to achieve their best thousands of kilometres from the place I was born and brought up. 

As Helen Keller said - “Life is either a daring adventure of nothing at all.” We don’t all need to climb Everest, hike to the poles (well done though Prince Harry) or save our countries from oppression, but we can take up smaller challenges. I love working with the kids in our centres, watching as their initial nervousness and lack of confidence gives way to a new energy as they gain knowledge and realise that they can actually do it. To them, catching up and gaining new knowledge is every bit as challenging as Mandela’s struggles, and I love being a part of their triumph.

I will keep blogging through the holidays, but if I miss next week due to too much Xmas cheer, I want to take this opportunity to wish all of our kids and their families all the joy of the season and we both look forward to welcoming you back in the new year for more challenges!

For those waiting with baited breath for our next blog instalment, apologies, we have both been burning the candle at both ends running the existing business, managing the purchase of our new centre in Valley View and recruiting staff for both! It would be an understatement to say that it has been a busy time! End of term break? What end of term break?

Which brings me to my ticklish topic for the week: how much control should parents really allow their kids over whether they attend tutoring or not? It is a difficult area for parents, because of course tutoring is not school, and therefore not mandatory, so as a parent can you really insist that your child attends tutoring if they make it clear that they don’t want to?

It is a question faced by many parents after an end of term break, and even more so after the summer holidays. Let’s face facts; we are talking about kids, whether they are in primary or secondary school, and after a week or more of video games, sleeping in late and hanging around with friends, any form of mental exercise will sound less than appealing, especially if it is in addition to school. In fact, Mark and I are more surprised by the students who are eager to return to tutoring after the holidays than those who drag their feet.

This is where the ‘tough love’ element comes in I’m afraid. Unless something miraculous has happened during the break, and your child has suddenly gained maths or English knowledge they did not possess at the end of the previous term, those skill gaps will still remain and tutoring will still be required. As someone who has completed their schooling and knows the value knowledge has at University, other forms of further education and in the workplace, you have a responsibility to use that perspective to advise your child.

If your child says ‘I don’t want to go anymore’, you have to recognise that this is a natural reaction to losing the freedom of the holidays, and be wise enough and tough enough to urge them on. Make no mistake, this is a huge responsibility; if they are remedial and there are significant skill gaps, your response to their attempt at giving up will impact on the rest of their schooling and potentially their working life.

If you are unsure how to handle the conversation, or need support, ask the tutor. As noted, this is not an uncommon post-holiday reaction, and any experienced tutor will have faced this challenge many times before. When the stakes are this high, a tough conversation is a small price to pay.

I hasten to add by the way that it is extremely rare for the negativity to last even to the end of the first session, at least in our centres; students soon relax back in to familiar surroundings and get on with their work. So please relax, kids are remarkably resilient, it is the parents who agonise! Any doubts your child has now will be more than compensated for when they can read at the level of their peers, or achieve their first ‘B’ or ‘A’ in maths. These are the things that matter, the things that have long term value.

Have a great week!

When I was a young girl, way back before iPads, smartphones and laptops, thanking someone for a present, or asking Santa Claus for something special, meant writing a letter. I’ll let that sink in for a moment for those born after the dawn of the keyboard.

Have you recovered? Yes, I really did say the words ‘writing’ and ‘letter’, ancient terms that bring to mind the horse and carriage, knights in shining armour and the invention of the wheel. But that’s not all. I am going to shock you even more: I still hand write letters! And thank you cards, and post cards, and invitations.

Why do I do this in an age when messages can be sent with a few button presses or key strokes and people no longer expect whole sentences in communications? Well, partly it is precisely for that reason, because it is unexpected, outside the norm, and I do like to be a little bit different. 

It also makes me feel good using all of those words that I have stored in my brain over the years and rarely get a chance to use. There is an undeniable pleasure in grouping together just the right words, in just the right order, and creating something that is far more than simply a combination of letters and spaces. Words can evoke emotion, describe a landscape unseen, put substance to an idea and take the reader back to a shared memory.

Can we do the same in a conversation? In part, but conversation throws words away, writing saves them. Also, when we speak we are hampered by other factors; time, convention, the natural reserve of sharing too much in public, the need to be liked and take other people’s opinions into account. When we are writing we can stretch out in our own space, take as much time as we need, be selfish, get all the emotional stuff out in the open, use those big words that would make us sound la de da in public, because we can.

There is a freedom to express in writing that is difficult to find in conversation. No matter how many times I speak by phone with my Aunt back in the UK, who I have always had a close bond with, I can somehow never get her past the discomfort of speaking on the phone with someone thousands of kilometres away. It is like talking with someone I barely know. So, in between phone calls, I write, and in those letters I can share all of the things I can’t by phone. And it works; we connect far better by writing than long distance talking.

Some time ago I began writing to my goddaughters. I have a few, seven in fact, all fast-growing girls and young ladies towards whom I feel a moral responsibility. The letter-writing with them is a little hit and miss, but I am pleased that my eldest goddaughter (17) and I now regularly write back and forth, and this has added a new level to our relationship. We share things that I am sure we would not do when speaking; writing somehow creates this lovely intimate and trusting environment, separate to the ‘real’ world.

We recently ran a contest at the centre, asking the kids to write persuasive letters to Kip McGrath, convincing him that their families were deserving of an all-costs family ticket to the Royal Adelaide Show. I was surprised by the number of entries, and more so by the obvious care taken in writing them. The winner was written by one of our younger students, who has struggled with the early stages of reading and writing, and spent three days writing his letter. He included a bribe in the form of a ‘bucket of fairy floss’ for Kip, but the main reason for his win, apart from the quality and honesty of his letter, was the use of an envelope, properly addressed to Mr Kip McGrath. I was genuinely moved by his efforts and, obviously, so was Kip.

All of which, dear reader, brings me round to you. I want you to try, writing that is. A little thank you note, or a letter to your Mum, or your children; something that forces you to stop, pick up a pen and focus on the act of writing, just for a few minutes. Then, let that letter float away from you, straight in to the nearest post box. You may be pleasantly surprised by the reaction you get, first to the use of ‘snail mail’, but then, just perhaps, to the time and care you have invested in sending them a special message.

A more serious tone this week I’m afraid. Don’t worry, more humour to follow, but sometimes I have to put on my ‘sensible adult’ hat. So please read on and hopefully you will find some value in my ramblings.

This week, for the first time, we were forced to cancel an evening of lessons when an accident on a main road nearby robbed us of power. The electricity company couldn’t guarantee that we would have power back that evening, and, even though we would have been able to continue lessons with paper-based activities, without lights it was simply not safe to have children moving around the centre.

So, Mark and I made the tough decision to close for the night, and immediately started contacting parents by phone, text and email, to let them know what had happened and confirm how they would like to proceed. We told them that, as we were cancelling the lessons, they would be not be charged, but offered them the option of an at-home online lesson at a reduced cost.

We were pleased and a little surprised when the vast majority of parents took up the option of an online lesson. This response confirmed to us that what we do, tutoring young minds to help them achieve their best, has value to parents and is not just a ‘tick box’ exercise. The questions they asked, about how the lessons would be designed, what support they needed to provide, when the lessons would be ‘live’ and when would be best to complete them, was clear evidence that these parents are engaged with the learning process in a way that we hope but are never entirely sure happens.

This ‘partnership’ between tutor, child and parent, is so important to the success of our tutoring system. Without it, children struggle to maintain focus and get the best out of the process. An obvious example is the homework we assign, which is an important reinforcement of the learning process, but easily lost amongst school work, sports and other activities, unless children are gently urged to complete it by parents.

Less obvious is parent’s awareness of their children’s progress with us. Tutoring is easily accessible for parents. There is no need to wait for parent-teacher meetings, as every session is an opportunity for a quick chat with us (admittedly in the midst of changeover chaos!) and children can immediately share their results on the computer screen.

This intimate ‘hands on’ approach encourages parents to get directly involved in their children’s progress, and often helps us to understand children better. When this extends to homework activities, the result is invariably improved results. Do parents need to be able to understand senior algebra in order to help them? No, but they do need to be aware of their child’s progress, provide an environment that is conducive to learning and encourage them with positive reinforcement when they succeed.

This is why we were so pleased by parent’s response to the centre closure. It clearly demonstrated an engagement with their children’s learning that we hoped was happening but so seldom see evidence of. Was it worth the ‘investment’ of an evening’s revenue to find this out? Actually, it probably was and has added another layer of the good feeling we both have towards our little centre. So, thank you parents, you have helped to confirm again why what we do is so worthwhile.

The past week has felt like a scene from the movie Julie & Julia as I suddenly found myself connected to like-minded people around the world responding to my blog. Blogging is quickly becoming addictive, partly because I get to see my words appear for the world to see, but more so because they appear to be striking a cord with so many people. Yay, I am not the only one that thinks educating children is an amazingly important job!...More...