Over the past year I have tried to create and collate resources which might be useful for primary schools rolling out the new curriculum. Many of these have been shared on this blog, and also on my www.primarycurriculum.me.uk website.
To try to make it easier for schools and teachers to get the key resources, I have now compiled the 12 main documents into a single download. The zip-file pack contains:
- Curriculum overview for Years 1 to 6 for all subjects
- Blank Word Document template for schools to create their own jigsaws (perhaps to share with parents on their websites)
- A detailed booklet breaking down the changes in each of the core subjects by year group, comparing learning objectives against the primary frameworks for English and Maths, and the QCA plans for Science.
- One document each for Reading, Writing and Maths showing all the National…
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A lot of the end of the year is about saying goodbye and wishing everyone a good summer. This should be jubilant or at the very least cathartic – especially when saying farewell to the pupils and parents for the summer. I mean for a start there are the gifts: yes teachers, I know I may no longer fare as well as you with your bottles of wines, your chocolates and your novelty ties or even your garish mugs littered with amusing spelling errers; but I get the handshakes, the comments on what a good year, the very odd card (no I don’t get as many as you although I’ll argue mine mean more because they really didn’t have to send me one) and the surprisingly touching comment ‘I Hope you have a nice holiday because you really deserve one’.
Then there’s the emotional juggernaut that is the Year 6…
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**Disclaimer** It’s not personal. It’s societal. Hold on to your hats. This is a rant.
There is much about the world today that I don’t understand. Big Brother, Celebrity or otherwise, I have never got that. One Direction. Can’t get my head round that. And much of the stuff around children and their upbringing leaves me stumped. Like bras for pre-pubescent girls, or t-shirts with slogans that denote how sexy they are, or small children watching horror movies or playing Grand Theft Auto. Or babies with pierced ears. Or expensive tablets for toddlers for that matter. I don’t get those either.
I used to think that I had it figured. We lived in a community of adults and together we would bring up our young. We were the adults, the parents, not their best friends, and, because we had their best interests at heart there would be early nights, and…
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Early last century in North America, cattle began dying after minor medical procedures. It was quickly discovered that the deaths were the result of the cattle eating mouldy silage that contained a powerful agent which led to the cattle bleeding to death from simple wounds. Twenty years later the specific chemical responsible was isolated for use as a pharmaceutical anti-coagulant and later as a powerful rodent poison. It is for this latter use the chemical perhaps became more well known as Warfarin.
There were two early uses of the drug, one well-documented, one less so. It is theorised that assisted by its tasteless and colourless nature, Warfarin was used to kill Joseph Stalin. A couple of years later, in 1955, President Eisenhower was treated with Warfarin following a heart attack, a use that played some part in saving his life.
I’ve considered many analogies to start this post. Warfarin, radiation, electricity etc etc…
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I love the holidays. That moment when you close the door on your classroom on the last day of the summer term with all that time stretched unfilled before you is like no other. These days, now that I am not just a primary school teacher but a mother with three children of her own (no relaxation of responsibility at three fifteen for me), that last day leaves me sweating with relief. No more school runs. No more remembering lunch money, reading books, PE kits or responding to sudden demands for money for cake sales, cakes for said sales or random fancy dress, let alone forgetting the random items I might need for the mummification of oranges (all a part of the life of your average primary teacher). For six weeks I can hang up the school bags and set my own agenda.
I think it’s one of the things…
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I have been a teacher for 25 years, a Headteacher for 10 years and, at the age of 49, this much I know about what Year 7 pupils’ parents really worry about (and why your keepy-uppy skills really matter!).
I am convinced that the best pastoral care for students from socio-economically deprived backgrounds is a good set of examination results. I thought I’d state that clearly at the outset just in case I get attacked for being blobby and soft and someone seriously suggests that I should be sacked for writing what follows.
You can only be as happy as your unhappiest child. This ubiquitous mantra may have become a cliché, but if you do have children you will know it possesses more than a grain of truth. We worry about our children’s happiness endlessly.
When my sons went to secondary school above everything else I just wanted them to…
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