You might expect this blog to be about our recent Ofsted inspection. It isn’t – the letter referred to on the home page says enough about that for now. Many thanks to all those parents who have contacted me since the report’s publication.

We learn today that there are those who wish to “consign to history” the traditional forms of address used for teachers: “Miss” and “Sir”. Apparently they are riddled with sexism and expose children to the “prejudices of the previous generation”. The less extreme alternative is to use “Mr Brown” for a male teacher (assuming that is his surname; otherwise it wouldn’t work) or “Ms Smith” for a female teacher. More extreme proponents declare that teachers should be referred to by their first names - “sometimes teachers find they can control students more when they try to stress the similarities between them, rather than trying to keep as distant as possible.” Ah yes, of course, why didn’t I think of that?

As I write this, I remember an esteemed English teacher of mine (some time just after the Boer War as I recall) to whom I still refer as W. A. Thornton. No “Mr” is really necessary; but the thought of calling him “Bill” is so alien it fills me with goosebumps. (That came out wrong: I don’t think you can be filled with goosebumps, but you know what I mean). It is appropriate that he was known to his family by some endearment, which I can’t recall now but which is written on the gravestone in Humshaugh cemetery which I came across a few years ago. But to us he was W. A. Thornton.

Another great English teacher I well remember was Mrs Whately (mother of Kevin who is, I believe, a well-known actor). She didn’t even have a first name, unless it was Mrs.

Bizarrely, she also lived in Humshaugh. I’ve just noticed that slightly spooky coincidence.

Both teachers shaped my mind, or the bits that remain, very significantly: W. A. Thornton by forcing me to read Thomas Hardy’s poems – an obsession ever since those days – and Mrs Whately who took the time to introduce me to Conan Doyle in the first form. Not to Conan Doyle personally, obviously, who died in 1930, but to his books, which are immortal. I owe those two people very great respect. For me, they do not have first names; or if they do, I am not privy to them; and even if I was, I wouldn’t want to be. W. A. Thornton (Mr Thornton at a pinch) and Mrs Whately they will remain.

It might conceivably have been said before but is it not the case that there are some who are happily chipping away at any suggestion of authority? The Monarchy, politicians, the Police, parents, teachers – adults generally – seem to lack the automatic authority they once had. That seems to me to be a bad thing. Although clearly that kind of authority can be seriously abused, it is better to have it in a society than not to have it. Probably much better. It is a relief to see that well over 90% of 3,000 respondents in a questionnaire on this matter (forms of address for teachers) opposed the proposals.

We encountered a strange approach to this question during our recent Ofsted inspection. An inspector informed us during the feedback that he felt our children were “too well-behaved”. He was uneasy that young primary children asked their teacher for permission to leave the lunch table when they were finished so that they could clear their plates away. Surely, he said, children of that age (7 as far as we can tell) were old enough to decide for themselves without asking permission. We were disappointed, although not surprised, to see that that observation had not been included in the Ofsted report.

Respect for authority has almost certainly been on a downward slope since the early 1960s at the latest. A wartime generation – as fatally flawed as any other but characterised nonetheless by an unusual degree of patriotism, selflessness and sense of duty – spawned, as so often happens, a following generation which immediately began to display opposite qualities, partly in a spirit of pure rebelliousness. (There were saints and sinners on both sides of that fence, obviously, and this is exaggeration and over-generalisation to make a point in a few words. And of course I as a child of the sixties sit slap bang in the middle of the dock).

So the decline in authority and respect has been happening for years; but does anyone agree with me that the death-knell sounded when politicians started calling each other by their first names? Surely the great offices of state require real respect just because they are there. But no, we began to hear politicians speaking not of “The Prime Minister” but of “Tony”. Now it is “Nick” or “David” – how long is it before our Prime Minister will be referred to as “Dave”, rather like some obscure TV Channel? And might we elect in future not Mr Miliband but – wait for it - “Ed”? I doubt many would look twice if, when they received their ballot paper, they found they were being invited to vote for Bob the Builder.

Am I alone in thinking that that is just fundamentally not right? And am I beginning to sound like Victor Meldrew? Or Vic, as we like to call him.

Anyway – at Grindon Hall, Mr Lawson remains Mr Lawson, Miss Crockatt Miss Crockatt and Mr Johnson Mr Johnson. These kind of august people have no first names; or if they do, they shall remain secret.

Who agrees? Let me know.

Grindon Hall Christian School

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Pennywell Road, Sunderland, SR4 8PG | T: 0191 534 4444

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