The Launch of Mooge and an Appreciation of Teachers
You go to school to learn and that is certainly what happened when I, a little older than your average pupil, launched Mooge: The Prehistoric Genius. I had the privilege of joining two primary schools for a two day launch-fest: Mayflower Primary School near Harwich (23 June) and Sprites Primary Academy near Ipswich (24 June). Wow! What an experience for someone new to writing children’s books. This is a diary-like recollection of those two days, with some pictures the kids drew for me:
Like a good pupil I do my homework, practicing my lines, preparing my presentations, polishing material. I even shave so as not to scare the children. But schools don’t let strange new writers in front of their children with out some preparation too. A full, two day programme has been drawn up, allocating my time and location, ensuring I earn my keep. In fact, it isn’t just my duties that need arranging. Years 3 to 6 will be working on some Mooge learning activities at points throughout their day, each form teacher bringing their own style and interpretation to the task.
I start with assembly, witnessing the military-like discipline and organisation needed to run a school. You never appreciate this when you’re a child, but classes arrive in order, sitting in sequence. Try organising 250 people of any age group to do this, let alone children. Yet the pupils arrive in silent columns, are guided to their position and stand patiently until the order to sit is announced. Staying quiet and still is not in the nature of children, but, under the watchful eye of their teachers, they manage it well, their curious eyes upon the stranger pacing on stage. They’re all there to hear me read some chapters from Mooge. Fortunately, I’ve practiced and happen to know the words of Mooge quite well. The Mayflower kids seem a little bemused to start with, perhaps not forewarned a man was going to be rhyming at them. A silly illustration from Mooge appears on the big screen. There is some giggling and secretive chatter. They relax: I relax. At Sprites the pre-mood feels different. I suspect I’ve been bigged-up to them during registration. They’re laughter is immediate. I’m an old hand by day two and feel I own the stage. I even act out some of the scenes as I read (note to self: best to decline a role in any TV version of Mooge). It’s a success and the prize Mooge T-shirts go down a treat.
As the applause dies down, this author dares to think he can relax for a bit. Oh, how naive! There is no time to stop and relax at school. I have my class allocation and follow the now buzzing procession back to their classroom, through the corridors displaying impressive class projects. It is lesson one of the day. The teacher politely excuses herself, leaving me in the capable hands of two classroom assistants: this is an opportunity to complete some reports for her. While about thirty sets of eyes watch me closely, I explain our learning activity. We’re going to be writing a new Mooge rhyme on the origins of musical instruments. This is my first insight into the dynamics of a classroom. You have the engaged and disengaged, the shy and the cheeky, the smart and the underdeveloped. Over the two days, I see this everywhere and learn there is no such thing as a generic lesson. Each child needs to be reached, the message individually tweaked to stimulate interest. This is time consuming and explains why discipline is so important. When I get the kids to read out the completed rhyme at the end of each lesson it’s pleasing to see the eager hands sticking up to volunteer.
A gifted artwork from a pupil, obviously taken with Mooge
For the older years, I try out a different activity. We’re going to better understand the prehistoric era by seeing how the inventions and discoveries impact on that most modern of things, a game console. Again, some kids take to the exercise like a duck to water, while others need encouragement and direction. I explain I’m not looking for right or wrong answers, but just want them to justify their decisions. I’m surprised and impressed by some of the responses. As some children finish before others, the noise rises. It feels a little more chaotic. I learn another lesson: a classroom is a chemical compound of all the personalities. As external factors are introduced they react. The teacher maintains the temperature and other controls. If you take your eye off the mixture it will boil over or explode and you won’t get the product you wanted - engaged and educated children.
This recreation of Mooge’s book cover by a pupil earned him a ‘well done’ rosette. Thoroughly deserved!
When lunchtime comes I find myself in a place which often brought fear when a school child myself: the canteen! Memories of the smell of boiled cabbage flood back; of torturous meals where you had no choice but to eat all the liver or swede dolloped on your plate; of the subtle artform of spreading food around your plate to meet the ‘clean’ threshold, allowing you to escape to the playground. Thankfully, those days are gone. The hard working dinner ladies remain but they offer you choice and I tuck into my delicious wrap on day one, followed by a tasty chicken tikka masala on day two. On that first day I find some relative quiet in the staff room. The conversation revolves on teaching, just an odd word on social interests. On day two my teacher companion gobbles down his plate in the canteen as children join us with questions and jokes and I realise I’m not going to be afforded time to saviour my meal and digest it properly. Soon we’re patrolling the playground, surrounded by the universal cacophony of children playing, engaging with the emboldened, watching out for the over exuberant. A shy girl tells me she really liked my book, another that she enjoyed it because it rhymed. I spot two winners of a Mooge T-shirt still wearing them over their uniform in the heat and smile. This is what it’s all about! But no time to stand still. We march to the office, collecting papers for the afternoon, while the wayward young, sent there as a consequence of undesired behaviour, are spoken to in a firm but explanatory manner, each conversation a lesson. Teachers stick their head in: a question fired, assurance sought. Every situation different but dealt with in a supreme show of multi-tasking. Lunch is over. We go again!
Two pupils’ sketches
It’s the older children in the afternoon. More developed, more independent. Some have been drawing pictures of Mooge, while others have written their own rhymes. I’m gifted some art work and then some want autographs. How flattering. I try to explain I’m not famous but they make me feel like a star. In one class the teacher has been trying out the comprehension and grammar test for Mooge. He’s got his class experimenting to see how humans may have moved heavy objects before the invention of the wheel. I feel thrilled that a collection of silly rhymes led to this moment of learning: one question feeding curiosity, experimentation leading to answers.
Three o’clock. It’s the kids’ home time. Parents congregate at the pick up points, some will be wanting to engage with a teacher about their kid. I’m allowed to offer my book for sale to those that didn’t pre-order a copy. There’s a healthy little queue on both days and I gratefully sign the books, noticing other kids pointing my way, talking to their parents, perhaps sharing their memories of an enjoyable day. It has been a good few days and I’m exhausted. But it’s not over for the teachers. Sprites are running their after-school clubs. We walk past the cooking club, our rumbling stomachs recognising the appealing aroma of pizza - the teacher appears later joking about the mystery of how it all ended up on his clothes. Gym club takes place in the hall, film club in one of the classrooms. All the kids are having fun. This goes beyond the curriculum, into the heart of the community.
This pupil’s sketch of Mooge says it all!
With one final trip to the office the day is over. It’s gone half five. I can catch my breath. This isn’t like the office I work in. For every minute of the working day, the teacher needs to be switched on. Those unpredictable packages of energy called children, don’t allow for rest or distraction. Even when they’re not in the room, they’re the focus. I drive home tired but satisfied. I’ve learned a lot and Mooge has been accepted with open arms by its intended audience. That night I sleep well, with an increased admiration and appreciation of our teachers.
My thanks to all at Mayflower and Sprites.
Nate
26 June 2022