Once upon a time there was a school. An ordinary little school, in an ordinary town. It was run by ordinary teachers, and attended by ordinary little children who came from from ordinary families like yours and mine.
This schools’ name was St Boris of the Unattainable Pledge C of E Primary School.
Like many schools up and down the land St Boris’ was a happy place where staff and children lived within ‘the values’ and fostered a love of learning despite a crippling budget that saw off three TA’s and the part time teacher Mrs Fothersque, and cuts which sadly put an end to the heavily subsidised school trips.
However, these were no ordinary times. The land had fallen into darkness. A virus was sweeping the kingdom and causing men, women and children to become ill. Sometimes people would get ill and then get better. Sometimes they would scarcely know they had been infected at all. And sometimes, just sometimes the people of the land would become so ill that they would die. The people wept. Something had to be done.
To protect the kingdom, the rulers of the land decided to make new rules! “Hoorah!” shouted the people, “A little too late” heckled a few.
The nurses nursed like never before. The police policed, the shopkeepers kept shop, teachers found new ways to teach, the bus/train/lorry drivers drove and thousands upon thousands of people made little offices in their homes and worked in ways beyond their imagination.
Everyone agreed that the people were doing their best. They clapped and cheered and painted rainbows and for the smallest of moments, despite the sorrow and the pain the kingdom lived as one.
During this time, the rulers of the land decreed that some of the children of St Boris of the Unattainable Pledge C of E Primary School had to stay at home. Others could go to school. These were the Key Worker Children, loved by all for the special work their parents did. They played and read stories and painted rainbows and despite the sorrow and the pain the school worked as one.
The weeks went by and discontent began to set in. The less honest of the kingdom began to live outside ‘the values’ and those whose hearts were true felt something had to be done.
One dark day it happened. The most powerful man in the land, advisor and trusted aid, was also found to be dishonest and untrue. “No!” cried the people, but the leaders just shrugged. “Stop” bayed the angry mob but again the leaders would not listen. The crowed grew angrier still. Then, just as heads were about to roll. The ruler of the land realised his cunning plan.
“All schools shall open forthwith, and because I know all about schools having been a child once myself, I declare the following shall be put in place...”
And as if by magic he captivated the people with carefully woven words.
Meanwhile at St Boris of the Unattainable Pledge C of E Primary School the staff had listened and were getting worried. They missed their children dearly but they had done the maths (school staff are generally good at maths) and the promises made to the people just didn’t add up.
The rooms in their ordinary little school were too small to fit in 15 children at 2m intervals, and too few to fit in groups of less. The ordinary staff of the ordinary little school were also too few with the budget being so poor, and what staff they had were not equally qualified enough to satisfy the most disconcerted amongst their set. What were they to do?
The magical fairies that once granted the wishes of the good people of St Boris’ No longer existed. Well not since the EYFS unit was built to accommodate the 30 hours “free” childcare fiasco. So, only real solutions from ordinary non-magic folk would do.
“We know!” The staff cheered. “We will live by ‘the values’ and be honest. We will share our concerns and our struggles and just as before, when we clapped and cheered and painted rainbows we will work as a community to do the best for our children despite the sorry and the pain.
Oh how wrong they were! Times were strange. “No, I don’t want a place for my child!” meant “Yes, yes I do!” The people remained fixated on the carefully woven (yet ill thought out) words of the mighty puppet leader. Trust grew weak, people spied on their neighbours with a less than neighbourly attitude (and no concept of flexible working hours), brows became furrowed and all in the land, but the puppet and his master, sighed.
Any easier to understand?