This week we are excited to collaborate with two internationally recognised and outstanding Scottish cultural organisations: Room 13 from Fort William and Jupiter Artland on the outskirts of Edinburgh. Our event is part of the brilliant Firestarer festival curated by the Scottish Government. We will gather 30 people at Jupiter for an afternoon of brainwash proofing in an attempt to be the architects of a new education system. Here’s some more information:
One of our associate practitioners, Jack Stancliffe, is about to start a collaboration with a school involved in our ‘What you shouldn’t do in a school’ project. We asked him to reflect on the journey ahead . . . .
Some rules have been written down for centuries, others exist in folklore, whilst a few are conveniently made up on the spot. Rules have the capacity to liberate or constrict. They help us understand who we are and pave the way for what we will become. But are we all clear on the rules that govern our classrooms, staffrooms and playgrounds? What if we started to question them – to discover what you should and shouldn’t do at school???
Recently Hidden Giants devoted a morning to work with the entire staff of a large primary school – a school the size of three, four or five primary schools.
We asked the staff to place themselves into their teams – their own notion of who they worked with, in their perceived role(s) within the school. We saw a group of 40 people immediate disperse and rearrange themselves into specialist areas.
Maybe your brain doesn’t wander like mine but I recently considered the question: would a butterfly make a good teacher in a caterpillar school?
Recently, we invited 29 educational professionals from an inner-city primary school, to go for a silent walk with us. The purpose of the walk was to facilitate a conversation around the curriculum, and teacher agency. But what actually happened was completely unexpected. As seasoned educational facilitators, practitioners and consultants, we knew it was something amazing.
I first read Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone when I was 22 in a backpackers’ hostel somewhere in Canada. I could perhaps be a little embarrassed to reveal that I was reading Harry Potter at the age of 22, but the reality was up until that point I had never found reading enjoyable. Throughout school, college and university I experienced reading to be perfunctory, just about tolerable, and always dictated by someone else.