July 7

In the morning, I have my weekly lesson with a young boy who needs help with his English, mainly spelling.  One thing my mum was very keen for me to do was train as a remedial teacher and I did consider it for a while.  If I had done, I would probably be in great demand as there is such a need for remedial assistance in schools.

I have never been a good speller. Part of the reason, I think, is because I moved schools quite a bit in my early years and the lack of continuity affected my learning.  However, perhaps I would never have been a good speller anyway.  When I was ten, I was sent for remedial lessons at school.  I remember my mum being worried that this was a sign that there was something wrong with me or that I was a bit slow.  I was an avid reader as a child and loved writing, but my spelling was atrocious and would always let me down.

The lady I was sent to was an absolute godsend for me; she taught me more than I think any other teacher ever did and I looked forward to my weekly lessons with her so much that I was quite devastated when I was told I didn't need them any more.  Her room was on the far side of the playing fields, away from everyone else and there was a great sense of freedom, running across the field, away from my teacher and the rest of the class.

My remedial teacher had lots of exciting things like word games and I remember little tiles with letters and vowel pairs such as 'ie' and 'ei' that I had to use correctly when making words.  I don't remember writing at all, although I may be wrong, but I feel the technique was aimed at taking the pupil away from writing and rather concentrating on how the words were put together.

I was a very messy, clumsy child with a tendency to day dream and not listen to instructions so inevitably I got into trouble for doing the wrong thing.  I don't have many particularly happy memories of primary school and only recall being very anxious, but my memories of my remedial lessons are all very happy. I believe the teacher had the ability to look deep inside each child and bring out the best in them. She kept all her games in different boxes and small suitcases and always insisted we put everything away properly.  One day, I was trying to cram everything back as quickly as possible and force down the lid and she made me stop and do it all over again. Her words have stayed me and I still recall them on so many occasions: 'Bryony, if it all came out of there, it will go back in.'  I've even repeated these words to my own children when seeing them try to do the same thing.

Unfortunately, that teacher later died of Alzheimer's.  It was a very sad way for someone extremely clever, knowledgeable and patient to end their life.