WHEN MR MORPURGO VISITED

A lot of things happen in a person’s life, but only the special events manage to make it into the elite group marked “Memories”.  It is like this too with people, as Caroline Beardmore reports:

I have met a lot of people but I cannot remember them all.  However, I am sure that I will remember Michael Morpurgo’s visit.

The visit consisted of a sort of speech, then questions with a book signing to finish it off.  As 300 girls squeezed their way into the Prissian theatre and took their seats, all eyes turned to the oldish, kind-looking man who sat at a desk on centre-stage.  This was of course Mr Morpurgo.  He focused on the idea of memories, explaining great detail all about the school he went to, the house he grew up in and spoke dramatically of an appalling English teacher he had had when he was just 7.  I write this down because I have been asked to write a summary of his visit to the school.  There was however on catch, it had to be “different” and so I am focusing on this last story because it is the one that dominates my memories of the visit.

As I was saying, he spoke of an English teacher he had had when he was 7.  Every Thursday morning was “Story Morning” when each child was presented with a sheet of paper, a sharp pencil and a topic to discuss which was written on the blackboard.  He explained every aspect of Story Morning to us.  The checking of pencils was a dreaded weekly ritual.  Each child held their pencil so that the tip of the lead just scratched the bottom of their nose.  While the child stood like soldiers on duty, the teacher would weave between the desks bending down to check the length of the pencil’s point.  If the pencil failed the test, the teacher would grab the pencil and sharpen it, all the while glaring down at a 7 year old as if they had committed a deadly sin.

Everyone now sat down with a sharp pencil and a crisp white sheet of paper on their desk.  A word was written in chalk on the blackboard and the exercise was away.  The children would have 45 minutes to write about the subject, there would be no talking and those who did not fill up both sides of the sheet with legible, punctuated joined-up handwriting on the given topic would be punished during break-time.  I can see why people could hate it, but surely an author-to-be would adore such an exercise.

Apparently not, Michael Morpurgo told us and he hated it because it was so dull; there was no time to think about what you wanted to write about and worst of all the subjects were uninteresting.  The example Michael Morpurgo gave us was “Giraffe”.  This could be very interesting, but, as he put it, “If you’ve never seen a flaming giraffe, what is there to write about?”  However, he said, had he seen a real giraffe bending down to drink, widening the gap between its legs so that its long neck could reach the water, he would have happily written pages and pages on the topic “Giraffe”.

His point was that children can be forced to do something, but that it will suck any enjoyment out of the activity.  The only way to make a child enjoy writing was to make them want to do it.  And I can only say that it is too true!  His visit was fantastic and it definitely counts as a lasting memory.

Caroline Beardmore, Year 9

Please click here for further pictures and a report by Aneena Kelay, Year 9