Story 3. Mr Glancy… part one
Some lessons are fairly generic, you know, someone provides you with information and if it matters to you, you retain it - hey presto, you’ve learned something. Other lessons are about experience. You learn how to do something or how something feels by doing it. Experience is a very enjoyable and satisfying kind of learning - as long as it’s an experience you want. But the best kind of learning to me, is gaining insight to how your own mind works. And the best part of this learning, is discovering a way to apply what you learned about yourself. The following story marked the beginning of my understanding of how a brain can work at its best. Spoiler alert, play has a role! It’s taken me nearly half a century to accept how essential play is, not just for the child I was, but for the adult I am. Our ambitious and competitive culture doesn’t hold much space for play. Not for adults. I’m changing that for myself and I hope to change it for others.
My lesson began in 1978 and I was in grade five. Mr Glancy our ‘home group’ teacher, taught us almost every subject, except perhaps music. He covered English, maths, PE, art… you name it… Mr Glancy orchestrated the day his way - and we were grateful for that. He was the best teacher I ever had. Our whole class had a good energy. Now as I write this, it’s the first time I’ve reflected that all the kids in Mr Glancy’s class were respectful to each other - even when upset. We’d sort it out like little diplomats. It’s probably the only class like that in all my schooling (and I went to quite a few schools, we moved a lot). Respect is slightly off-topic, but it bares mentioning. Mr Glancy treated us with a natural respect - just people he was guiding, not ‘underlings’ - so being respected felt like a standard to live up to.
Anyway, Mr Glancy had a superpower aside from respecting kids. I don’t know what you would call it… so I’ll describe it for you. Almost every day started with sports or some physical activity like a game of Red Rover. On top of that, every day we did something creative and mostly self-directed. I remember losing myself in those times of creativity. For me it was drawing and painting, which I loved. What we ‘produced’ wasn’t the point - are you sitting down? It wasn’t even graded! The point was being creative and challenging ourselves. In regular subjects, Mr Glancy set goals and pushed us hard. He expected a certain ‘buy in’ from us and knew how to get it. I even found myself actually trying at maths, which I’d always been afraid of. He believed in us, so we tried to live up to his belief. The year went fast. Time flies when you’re having fun. But there was a cloud on the horizon.
Our school was open-plan. All the classes could see and hear each other. The classroom across from us was the next year level. Their teacher was very different. I don’t recall her name, but she yelled regularly and angrily. It seemed like every single day, some poor kid copped a verbal smack-down from her. I saw Mr Glancy looking across, concerned. My classmates would silently look at each other, awkward but relieved to be at a safe distance. While that poor class was next to us physically, they were miles away in culture. I was just hoping I would not end up in her class the following year. But that’s exactly what happened.
Continued in Mr Glancy Part Two…