PERFORMING IN SECONDARY SCHOOLS

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I've only ever done a couple of performances in secondary schools, but early in 2006 I made the decision, as a late starter in this field (40 years late!), to be 'available for performance' in 2006/7.

My experience in other performance contexts teaches me that I do as much, and possibly more, 'teaching' through performance than through workshops.

Therefore, my preferred option is a hall-based performance - with my own head-set microphone and amp system - lasting between 45 minutes and an hour. The students can see/feel the poems being performed.

Thus far, however, my main work in secondary schools has been in the form of workshops. I've never bothered with pictures of me leading workshops - you've seen one, you've seen them all.

WORKSHOPS can take many forms:
* WRITING DAYS for mixed age groups, the simple condition for entry being that participants like to write. Selection for such workshops has nothing to do with SAT's or projected GCSE/A Level grades.

WRITING DAYS don't have to be as described above. They can be organised for any group of students whom the school think might benefit.

* 1-HOUR (approx) CLASSROOM-BASED SESSIONS. Please bear in mind, however, that I can't work magic in classrooms where the children don't really want to be there!

You may have other ideas, and I should be happy to discuss them with you.

HAVING said all of which, two of my favourite poems from secondary schools were, if you like, accidents! Both were from boys, and they came up to me, at separate times, later in the day after I'd performed some of my poems. During my performance I talk about why and how I write the poems and the boys and their teachers had picked up on this.

The poems are simple, direct and disarmingly honest . . . .

The first poem is by Darren, a Y9. He said that he never wrote anything in English lessons! The poem paints an entirely appropriate picture: I can just see him in class - and, I would imagine, his increasingly desperate teacher!

I sat,
Like a cabbage,
Stuck to my chair.
I thought I was busy -
But nothing was there.
She said,
"Get the paper -
It's over there."
But all I did
Was
Sit there and stare.
Then I said to her,
"Over where?"
She said,
"On that table,
Over there."

The other poem was from a sixteen-year-old whose projected GCSE English grade was, apparently, somewhere between an F and a G.

Surprise, surprise, Alan lives on a farm, and you can tell where his soul is as he writes.

It was a sunny day
So I thought I would get on the land.
It was nice and dry,
So dusty you could not see.

I got to the field,
So white and still in the sun.
I put down my drill
And revved it up to the proper speed.

I said Good night
In the brightness of the light.