The Ultimate Reply to Seymour's Truancy Plan

by Rebecca Thomas

The White Witch Retreats

The first ever parent prosecuted for not sending their child to school didn't turn up to their court hearing.

I can't help but smile at the poetry of it.

I'm not saying this parent deserves a medal. But if somebody starts a Givealittle page to buy them Turkish delight and a hot chocolate, I'd probably chip in. Not because attendance isn't important. Simply because the universe occasionally delivers satire so perfect that the rest of us should acknowledge the craftsmanship.

This week has already felt like a strange turning point. Ginny Andersen's challenge to the SMART Tool had Erica Stanford and David Seymour looking like they'd either bitten into a lemon or accidentally chewed a wasp at the Principals' Conference.

The live clip here

Then came the attendance crackdown's first day in court. And the parent didn't attend. You almost have to admire the commitment to the theme. It does make me wonder whether some parents are sending this Government one final, sweet, unprintable message.

Perhaps Narnia really is beginning to thaw.

The White Witch's grip is weakening. The ice is cracking around the Beehive. Somewhere Mr Tumnus is waiting to be released. Aslan is quietly growing his mane back. And for the first time in a long while, I can almost feel Christmas breathing through the education sector again.

Not Christmas itself, mind you. Just that faint scent on the wind that tells you winter might not last forever.

As weary as I am heading towards the end of Term 2, and as much as it sometimes feels like every battle has been fought with a teaspoon against a bulldozer, I have to admit something unexpected.

I feel hopeful. Not wildly optimistic. Not dancing-through-the-meadow hopeful. Just less stone-like. Less as though I've spent the last eighteen months watching winter settle into the bones of education while being repeatedly assured it was actually sunshine.

It's a strange feeling.

One moment you're marking reports, chasing attendance, managing behaviour, writing support plans, covering staff shortages, preparing for Matariki, trying to remember what day it is and wondering whether your coffee is keeping you alive or simply delaying the inevitable. The next, a few cracks appear in the ice and suddenly you realise you can feel movement underneath it after all.

Because there was something beautifully symbolic about the government's first truancy prosecution ending with the parent failing to attend the hearing. The universe occasionally has a sense of humour so perfect that even satire can't improve it.

For months education has felt like living in Narnia under the White Witch. Endless winter. Endless mandates. Endless declarations about what schools should be doing, while those actually standing in classrooms quietly wondered whether anybody had noticed the children.

And then, all at once, the thaw begins. Ginny Andersen challenges the SMART Tool.

The cracks widen. The first prosecution arrives. The parent doesn't show up. The cracks widen some more.

Somewhere Mr Tumnus is probably peeking out from behind a tree wondering if it's safe to come back yet. Meanwhile Aslan appears to be finding his mane.

Which is fortunate, because many of us are heading into Term 3 with ERO looming on the horizon like a double-barrelled sawn-off shotgun.

I suspect the inspection process itself won't change much. There will still be spreadsheets. There will still be data walls. There will still be conversations where people nod thoughtfully while discussing things nobody has ever witnessed occurring in a real classroom.

But if the ice is genuinely beginning to melt, perhaps the initial maiming process will feel a little less stingy.

Perhaps there is comfort in knowing that not every decree is landing exactly as intended. Perhaps there is comfort in seeing that the people being governed occasionally have ways of communicating their feelings without writing lengthy submissions.

Or perhaps I'm simply tired.

Either way, for the first time in a while, I can smell Christmas on the wind.

And after a very long winter, that feels like hope.