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Salient. Victoria University of Wellington Students' Newspaper. Volume 31, Number 22. September 17, 1968

The Uniformed

page 4

The Uniformed

Photo of four school boys in uniform

It was once possible, in New Zealand, to criticise Americans in general, and American foreign policy in particular, without being called 'irresponsible', or 'a traitor', or an 'uninformed member of the long-haired brigade'. Newspaper editors could, and did, take the Eden line on SEATO. They quoted 'The Times' on 'the somewhat nebulous SEATO.' They wrote of 'the folly of thinking only in terms of formal arrangements or pacts, such as SEATO.' They preferred 'an intensification of economic help to the most needy countries and a development of patient, frank explanation of motives and intentions.' They wrote of 'the hotheads in Washington'.

Not the ideal time, you might think, for the publication of a book by an American author condemning New Zealand's secondary school system. And you might remember the outcry when Dr. David Ausubel called our secondary school system 'the most anachronistic segment of New Zealand Life'; when he called the secondary school 'the most authoritarian, tradition-bound, and hierachically organised institution in New Zealand society'; when he wrote of the 'small minority of brutal martinets in the post-primary teaching profession (who) tend to wield an influence far out of proportion to their actual number in determining the disciplinary tone of the secondary school'. Loyal Kiwis defended their alma mater. Lovingly, they recall the Hoggings that made them what they are today. Let no jumped-up new arrival dare to criticise! What about Little Rock? What about the Blackboard Jungle? Even Grogzone's learned journals joined in unholy alliance to put 'The Fern and the Tiki' in its place. They sourly noted its invective, its jaundiced undercurrents, its choleric interpretations, its cathartic rancour.

And two years later a commission on education listened to or read 400-odd submissions, dropped a few in the rubbish bin, parcelled the rest up into 320 recommendations, and loaded them into the 900 page Currie Report. Then this vehicle, driving slowly and vaguely but oh so solidly down both sides of the road, demolished Ausubel's ramshackle framework before you could say Heath Robinson.

To illustrate the Currie Report driving technique. Ausubel wrote. 'The secondary school and its characteristic attributes—corporal punishment, the prefect system, school uniforms, segregation of the sexes, exaggerated deference to the masters, military drill —tend to enjoy the status of sacred cows.' Said the Currie Report, 'Criticisms crop up from time to time over such things as school uniforms, prefects, military training, corporal punishment, school government, and other matters relating to the control of pupils. The basic accusation is that in these things secondary schools arc too authoritarian.' The Currie Report mentioned no names here, but it obviously had Ausubel in its headlights. And in fact it didn't demolish Ausubel, but turned aside from what looked like an awkward obstacle and in its answer drew attention to home circumstances: '… the situation in the schools is no more than a reflection of the situation in the homes.' From the highway of educational reform the Report drove off into the byways of sociology.

Not that all of its 320 recommendations dodge the issue. Some do point the way, although they are vague as to an expected time of arrival. 'Bluntly put', said the Report, 'our provision for education is not enough.' Fine words, but not blunt enough for the powers-that-be who find the Currie Report on educational expenditure as easy to ignore as Unesco reports on the same subject- (Ausubel put it bluntest and best: 'New Zealanders annually spend on T.A.B. betting about 80% of what it costs to operate all the schools and universities in the country.') And schoolteachers would be more than happy to see the Report's recommendations on pupil/staff ratio implemented.

the uniform

Notwithstanding, the Report steers well clear of controversy. Ausubel, on the school uniform, complained that it 'stifles most of the urges towards feminine individuality.' Uniforms? Not a fundamental problem, said the report. And that trouble spot was avoided. But the most cursory glance at a school prospectus shows that school uniform is anything but unimportant. It's the keystone of the system. It takes pride of place in the prospectus Boards of governors go into secret conclave about it daily. As the uniform-defenders say, the uniform has builtin security and simplicity, it 'creates a spirit of unity among its wearers and sets a standard for the organisation it represents … it serves a big purpose in society … there's no denying that.' And if a headmaster does deny that, calling school caps 'a Victorian convention', be sure some member of the Headwear Manufacturers' Association will soon put him in his place. For the Grogzone School regulations must be respected.

• The wearing of other brand-named garments may be approved provided these are Otherwise Entirely Identical In Every Respect (sic) with the officially approved garments'.

• 'The only corect wool is X brand no. 999 5-ply knitting wool.'

• 'Raincoat must be to approved pattern of Grogzone High School crimson of double-proofed nylon.'

The hierarchy, in its wisdom, allows dispensations:

• 'If the hose are home-knitted, the stripes in the top must be of regulation width, pattern, and colour.'

• 'A black-oiled japara may be worn as an alternative to the navy-blue raincoat for boys.'

But as the schoolboy said. 'It could be a sloppy joe and Stoney Burkes, it'd still be a bloody uniform ' And his parents plaintively ask for some sort of price control on school uniforms They arc spending up to 150 dollars on a uniform. They petition the school about compulsory school shirts of wool and thick woollen socks. They write letters to the paper, because, 'we do not even like to voice a complaint at school meetings for fear our child becomes known as 'a child whose mother made a fuss at the last meeting'. And they get precisely nowhere.

What's the result of this accent on uniformity of clothing and hair styles? For parents, there's the expenditure. For the pupils, there's a lesson in mindless uniformity and blind acceptance of rules. Many imbibe this lesson. As adults, they will say, '… his appearance is a credit to him and to his school.' It doesn't matter what you feel like. It hardly even matters what you do. As long as you look all right. Socks two inches below the knees, hair two inches above your collar, and you'll be right. Some don't learn the lesson, and rebel. On one side crushing restriction, on the other side adolescent rebellion. Two buttocks of the same bum. All in the name of a minority of pupils who would 'abuse the wearing of mufti.' Segregation of the sexes and exaggerated deference to the masters are still with us. So is the prefect system. 'Prefects are largely staff-appointed monitors', wrote Ausubel. They are still monitors, though some are now student-appointed. Some schools, (moved by Currie Recommendation 6/28, '… investigate the possibility of introducing school councils…') have school councils. There is little evidence that these councils are more than a sop to reform. When Waikato students aimed to set up a secondary schools' association they were, according to newspaper reports, opposed by college principals. Recently, when a newspaper reporter asked headmasters about the introduction of rugby league he was told:

• 'We are not strong enough numerically.'

• '… we are not in a recognised rugby league district …'

• '… no reason to diversify our sports away from those usually regarded as traditional ….'

• 'We have not considered the matter. Goodbye.'

There is no evidence that school councils have been asked to consider the matter, either. Then or since. Self-government might be a valuable training for youth about to enter a democracy. But not in Grogzone.

liberal studies

There's a more recent sacred cow in the herd. Ausubel might be pleased about it. It's called 'liberal studies'. Some people thought that education was supposed to deepen moral consciences, sharpen aesthetic sensitivities, and cultivate the intellect and the faculty of reason, anyway. But Mr Kinsella says that it's a new thing, and that there's a great need for it. So a third of our secondary schools do 'family life' programmes. 70 to 80 schools do 'citizenship programmes'. 5.000 pupils met their local marriage guidance councils last year. Ausubel would ask, I imagine, how there can be 'liberal studies' when the curriculum is still examination-dominated. The Education Department makes liberal noises, it talks of 'examinations which take the sparkle out of education'. But alterations to School Certificate, that pinnacle of the mass dropout system, are admitted to be short-term, the 'tidying up of a few anomalies'. Ausubel might question the possibility of an understanding of music and the fine arts, when there's a shortage of specialist teachers, and when, as I wrote in a previous article, qualified students are turned away from the art schools. There's no break in the vicious circle. Some Grogzone pupils must continue to go through their five years' schooling without setting foot in the art room. How can there be true education where school life centres around the impersonal morning exercise in lip-service and mass hypocrisy called 'assembly'? Or when 'liberal studies' becomes a synonym for 'lectures from visiting speakers at the end of term'. Boys like sport, but girls prefer dancing? Is sufficient provision made for the girls' needs? Finally, the Education Department is reviewing the Terms and Holidays Regulations, for 'Most schools would prefer to break up earlier as they desire all possible time to prepare pupils for examinations but find incentive dies when these are over.' Can liberal studies work inside the examination strait-jacket? If the answer is yes, then can the liberal studies preached outweigh the restrictive conformism practised elsewhere in the school?

Colour secondary schools grey, as long as their pupils are abject conformists, dragged up to be units of production for 'absorption in to the labour market', and not to be real people. Colour them dull grey, while we expect teachers to be virtuous time-servers Colour the school dull grey, while the school is a 'preparation' for life, and not life itself Colour it dull grey, while pupils lose their vitality and enthusiasm in the restrictions of the classroom and a tarted-up uniform.

How would I change the colour? I'm not at all sure that I could. 1 shall explore the possibilities in my next article. With an extra five copies of it to go to the Educational Training and Research Committee the National Development Council Ho-Hum.