annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Millions Frank Cottrell Boyce has been in the paper today for winning some prize. He's the guy who 'wrote' the London Olympic opening ceremony, plus the film 24 Hour Party People and some fabulous kids' books. I've been sitting here remembering when I was the hospital teacher, doing odd bits of home-teaching for kids too long-term ill for school, and read his book Millions to one of those kids. I can't remember the kid's circumstances precisely, but there was some kind of bullshit going on with his mother and the local authorities and everyone was grateful when I said I'd try and get some suitable work from his school and get going with him. He was about nine or ten and lived with his mum and two older sisters in a bungalow stuck in the middle of a god-awful, bleak, windswept estate - vast acres of uneven paving-slabs, all neat and oppressive. At the beginning the mum would be getting on with dinner in the kitchen, leaving the door open between us and our lessons in the other room. The school hadn't coughed up anything useful in the way of work the kid should be doing, so we did maths games and some kind of project I've now forgotten, and for the English bit we did 'Millions'. I read him a chunk, we talked about it, made predictions, that kind of stuff, and I asked him to read the next chapter for my next visit. At the end of the first visit, the mum thanked me effusively, turning into tearfully, with sobbing. We had a hug and I really liked her - she was struggling to do her best on her own and it was hard. I had to tell her that I didn't really know what the fuck I was doing (I'm a secondary English teacher, muddling through everything else), but I'd do my best to get the kid learning and interested. When I came back it felt like coming to a friend's house, though the bloody kid hadn't read much of the book. "I like it better when you read it." And he really did - I used it as the carrot to get him through the other stuff - we'd end each session with 15-20 minutes of him sitting totally wrapped up in this odd story of two boys who find a huge bag of money. On my third visit the younger of the sisters was home and wanted to listen and the time after that, the other sister and the mum both asked if they could as well, after hearing about it. They were quite awkward as they asked, but I was so pleased they wanted to that I acted as if it was dead normal, and that was how it went. I'd come at the end of my working day, knackered - there were cups of herbal tea, steamy windows, a small room full of furniture. I'd have a laugh with the kid over his maths in the dark sitting room, then we'd all get comfy and settled in for another chapter - me, the kid (always in pyjamas but very chirpy for a poorly kid), his teenage sisters (serious girls, too scared to do much thinking) and the lovely mum, holding it together by a thread, a wing and a prayer. I'd forgotten that - it was good to remember. 12:49 a.m. - 28.10.12 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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