Opinion

Chris Donnelly: Silent classrooms are a consequence of the developing nightmare we are all going through

Chris Donnelly

Chris Donnelly

Chris is a political commentator with a keen eye for sport. He is principal of a Belfast primary school.

Chris Donnelly
Chris Donnelly Chris Donnelly

The minister of education’s decision to close the schools from Monday has finally brought certainty to a situation that had threatened to get out of control.

I have a degree of sympathy for the position Peter Weir found himself in. There is no reason to doubt the integrity of the medical advice he was receiving that informed his stance, but it became clear by the end of last week that an imminent move to shut the schools was required to protect children, staff and their wider families as fear and anxiety tightened its grip, and it is unfortunate that his indecision led to many school leaders and boards of governors having to unilaterally take decisions to effectively close schools early in advance of clear ministerial direction.

Whilst the doors of our schools have finally shut to the children, it is very much the case that learning must still go on.

Teachers will continue to spend their days and nights getting familiar with the process of managing remote learning, trying to make this experience one that retains some degree of the intimacy characterising the special relationship enjoyed by a teacher and the children who share the same space and experiences for five days per week throughout three quarters of the year.

Schools are incredibly resourceful institutions and there is a wonderful culture of collegiality and professional affinity which has ensured that, already, principals and teachers have wasted no time in sharing ideas and practices with one another in the hope of helping us all do our best for the children and their families in these uncertain times.

Yesterday, one local head-teacher shared an image on Twitter of a letter left tied to the school’s gate by a pupil earlier that morning, the first day of the closure. In it, the Year 9 student beautifully articulated the prevailing sense of fear and uncertainty whilst lamenting the impending loss of all the little things – the school bus journey, sound of the bells and playground, time with friends and teachers - which collectively make the school experience such a defining one in our lives.

Our Primary 1 children, and their parents, will have memories of their first year in school cut short, and Primary 7 children will be denied the experience of auditioning, practising and performing in end of year shows and leavers’ ceremonies that are precious occasions for children, parents and teachers. Great uncertainty surrounds the plight of children who were destined to sit GCSE and A Level exams that can have such a crucial bearing on their future career prospects.

Without diminishing their importance, school life is much more than worksheets and directed learning activities. In any given day, the life and spirit of my school can be heard in the sound of the violin and African Drum lessons; in the excited shouts of the children engaged in basketball, netball, hurling or handball sessions; in the voices of the children reciting new words learned with their Spanish and Irish tutors; in the nurture sessions with children requiring help to develop their social and emotional skills; in the beaming smiles of children proudly receiving certificates and praise from their teacher; and in the thoughtful words and kind gestures of support provided by Primary 7 helpers to the wide-eyed Primary 1 boys and girls in the Foundation playground.

The silent classrooms, corridors and playgrounds are a consequence of the developing nightmare we are all enduring, and all will have reason to rejoice when school life returns to normal.

:: Chris Donnelly is a columnist and principal of St John the Baptist Primary School, Belfast.