How PFI New-Builds Drain the funds from our School System

When the late unlamented Education Leeds began its cruel and pointless destruction of Leeds schools, I thought, Blimey, have they got shares in construction companies? But I dismissed the thought because, in my naivety, I didn't think that the powers-that-be would work like that.

I thought that they were self-obsessed incompetents who seized upon this or that most recent piece of "educational" research in order to please their masters and mistresses, who were actually also self-obsessed incompetents, but further up the food chain.

Then after the devastation that was the closure of my beloved Foxwood, which seemed to involve a lot of money spent on consultants, the refurbishing of Cross Green to turn it into Copperfields, and a long-winded re-organisation and rehiring of staff, plus the design of and the making of and the purchase of new uniforms, new signage, new this and that with the new logos. . . . .

 . . . . Well after that [that colossal and pointless waste of money in order to save money] I developed an interest in these matters. Over the following years,  I went to just about all the "consultation" meetings in Leeds for closure and mergers. And heyho! How they seemed to involve demolition and rebuilds.

And worse, by now they had invented PFI, so the new builds came with very long and very expensive strings attached: Company A would design (well!) and build the new school. But having kindly put the money up for the building, the company now charges school rent for the next 25 or 30 years after which they may or may not still own it. After that the school may or may not belong to itself. And, and I'm only guessing here, the roof will probably still leak.

And so PFI, also draining the NHS of all it can get, sets about plundering education. Leeds schools are paying rent to shareholders in far-flung countries while having to make TAs and teachers in the UK redundant. Aided and abetted by Ofsted - but that is for another blog and another day.

Now this "rent " was not money that the school was used to paying, and it was not already catered for in the budget. The hook was that a "decaying" old building would be replaced at no initial expense to the school with a brand new one. The fact is that the old buildings were not so unfit for purpose . . .

To make matters even more sinister, the ancillary staff who managed the building such as caretakers and cleaners would no longer be employed by the head and the governors but by the construction firm. The incomes from letting out any rooms for music centres or sports clubs now went directly to construction firms and its shareholders; the inconvenience all rests on the school. If a music teacher wants to run an after-school practice in her or his music room, s/he must book it. What!

Well, we in Leeds have seen enough of these new builds to know that "building schools for the future" was no more than a nice little epithet. I have never forgotten the day that I was at a governors' meeting with members of Education Leeds. They were joking about how many cranes you have at any one time on the Leeds skyline. A shiver ran down my spine! They were proud. They thought their power amusing.

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 I was at the seasonal occasion a few years back when Chris Edwards of Education Leeds told us that this would be his last Christmas at Leeds, and added he hoped we would get all we wanted for Christmas. I openly opined that he had already just done that. But it was too late for Royal Park, Leopold, Askett Hill, Agnes Stewart, Braimwood, Parklands, and the other thirty plus Leeds schools that his improbable regime had put an end to.

Now it seems the population is growing after all and we need some new builds. I wonder how they will be funded!

One day maybe I’ve got the van: A Berlin Wall for the Less Fortunates

One day maybe I’ve got the van; I’m dropping off a large musical instrument at School X; oh no, it’s gates controlled from the school. I’m parking the van, tail end sticking into the bus route of a road, I’m turning the engine off, getting out, going round to the buttons, and, if they've not been vandalised this week, giving whichever arrow seems the most likely a squeeze. No immediate answer. Is the receptionist on the phone, dealing with someone else, did they hear me, did I press the right button? Is there anyone there? I’m back in the van, waiting for the diesel lights to dim before restarting it, before the gates start closing again. My friend, Peter, left his car running once . . . . and then watched an ex-pupil drive off with it. Once I have gained access to the desired car park, I now have a choice between a ten mile hike from the far end, and furthest from Reception, then stagger up with said instrument, or I could put the van into a disabled slot, leave it there while I teach? I can’t do that.

Maybe the caretaker can help? The caretaker, once employed by the school, once part of the education team, now employed by the construction company, and there now only to maintain the building, now answerable elsewhere, now practising "You can't park here"

It was two years ago that the governor from partner school Y, who was conspiring to create an academy out of a school that was trying to remain a school, launched into self-congratulatory rant about how the new academy would be part of and central to the community, and how They would show the community how to come together. I loved the way that the middle classes were offering the Less Fortunate their ideas for passing time. I told him so at this meeting; I told him that I thought the Less Fortunate would be very grateful for all ideas on how they get through their dreary unfortunate lives. I had by now descended to heavy sarcasm: the lowest form of wit, but it went down well with 250 of the Less Fortunate, also at the meeting.

By their very design and construction the new-builds are separating staff from each other, and the community from their children. Peripatetic visitors: once the weekly, “Hey it’s the guitar teacher, Give us some Smoke on the Water, sir [or miss]” are now not allowed to walk unescorted up the corridor to their teaching cupboards [some things never change]. Only when they have offered up their third CRB check of the season, are they now allowed to make this journey on their own, but even then it’s with a huge bright blue ID card with the highly personalised [not!] VISITOR written across it, in a way that prisoners on visiting days must sit at their tables wearing their orange tabards. [Ah, the days when we had time to visit ex-pupils!]

As Head of Department I had to stand in for an absent colleague at School C. I was wearing my music service ID card as usual, which guaranteed that I was criminally vetted. “I’m covering for X,” I told the receptionist whom I’d known, at old and new building, for ten years, “I know my way,” “You have to wait for the Head of Music to escort you up the corridor”, she said. I was shocked and asked her if she didn’t recognise me. And then I went and taught in a cupboard on my own with a group of pupils, none of whom, as it happened, I damaged or abused in any way. Yes the receptionist did recognise me, but rules is rules. A huge Berlin Wall of a wall had been thrown up to divide the chosen ones from regularly visiting professionals, parents, anyone. We were all there with our big blue badges declaring that we were not part of this community. And, do you know, I think that we: the Less Fortunates had been right to be sceptical.

They recall cars don't they - and shoot horses?

When manufacturers discover there's a fault with a model of car, they recall it. And I think that's only right and proper and professional.

Now, although this government's "academy"-building programme has proved to have made no difference to academic standards, but instead is only damaging the emotional well-being of the children and their communities, the powers-that-be [i.e. government, council], strangely enough, carry on chopping up said communities, shuffling round school staff, and allowing some teachers, at the absolute peak of their professional ability to take early retirement, at a time when their experience and expertise are most needed.

When PFI [Private Finance Initiative] school buildings suffer from poor design and poor construction our powers-that-be carry on regardless - no follow-up, no evaluation. [I can't get out of a half-day training session these days without having to fill in an evaluation form!]

Let's be clear about what constitutes poor design: Music [and other] rooms with fixed furniture, with not enough space for the big acoustic instruments, practice rooms on the other side of corridors out of sight of main teaching room, un-sound-proofed practice rooms, "state-of the-art" recording studios with no technicians for back-up; poor acoustics in halls, whistling wind through doors to Drama hall; little or no natural light in practice rooms; outside staircases with concrete floors and metal grill sides [looks like a prison]; open galleries for children to throw things or spit down on others on floors below; inappropriate and undedicated Drama spaces.

And poor construction: uneven walkways between one building and another so the rain collects in puddles and doesn't drain. Roofs have blown off [not just one school]; whole hall floors have to be relaid after two years; flooded music rooms [not just one school]. Within the first month of opening, the whole of South Leeds High School new PFI was flooded, and everyone had to be sent home.

PFI schemes allow private companies to put up the money for the buliding; and then they get to "manage" the site. Also we, the tax-payers then spend 25 years paying back the money for the school we didn't want in the first place.

First casualties are the caretaking, cleaning and dinner staff - now employed separately by the company. Once the ancillary staff were part of the team. Not now. [The untold dinner-lady counsellor stories are legion.] Here is just one story of many:

In November 2009 I was returning two instruments to a newly-built school. The school opened in September; but not yet its outdoor sports facilities or the car park. I drove to the gates that were nearest to the Music department, but they were padlocked. I drove round to the other side of this new school, parked on some double yellow lines, and put the two steel pans inside the nearest doors. Spotting a caretaker, I asked if he could carry them across to the Music Department. "I might be able to do that tomorrow" he advised me. A passing cleaner sighed, and she and I picked up the two very heavy steel pans and staggered across the quadrangle with them.

Now I had just taken two of this school's students to play with my award-winning steelband to play at the Royal Albert Hall. And I would do anything to get inner-city children to achieve this standard of play, and anything to make sure that they managed to get to London. And, as it turned out, I rather think I did. [A thank you letter from the headteacher might have been nice, but a co-operative caretaker would have done.]

Reader, I just managed to drive off the school site before they locked the gates to stop the children escaping at lunchtime. And, it's now April - the students were allowed on the outdoor sports grounds this week, but, eight months after the school opened, there's still no carpark.

By the way, the title of this blog is a totally unecessary allusion to a film about the Depression starring the wonderful Jane Fonda. Well almost unecessary.