ABSTRACT
This is a bit embarrassing. I am always aware, when sprawling around in this space, that I am not a teacher. Quite wanted to be, eyed up a couple of postgraduate certificate in education courses – but bottled out. So I exist here only as parent, journalist, school governor, intrusive novelist and general hanger-on to the coat-tails of education. If you mighty teachers are rugby legend Jonah Lomu, hammering up and down the pedagogical field against all odds, I am the spotty fan with a rattle in the back row of the stands. It is not my place to tell you what to think.
