Representing the Community
There are plans afoot in Powys to reorganise primary schools. Refurbish some, rebuild others, and close still others. My own children's school (Llanigon) is sadly in the latter category. No great surprise to anyone really; the student population has been hovering around the 20 mark for a couple of years now, and financially, that isn't viable long term. I could rant at length about the circumstances that have contributed to this state of affairs, but I'll refrain.
Unfortunately, the promises made to us by the Council that the school will not be closed until new facilities have been completed seem to be being broken, and they want to shut the school next year, and move the kids to Hay on Wye school, which is already over-crowded and with buildings in desparate need of replacement, on the promise that the new school will be ready in 2015.
Assuming they are right, it means that our kids will have to move schools twice in two years (current research indicates that moving schools can set a primary school age child's educational development back by up to 6 months per move), and in the interim, they will have to settle into a school that is already over-crowded and in a poor state of repair. Oh, and one that had a rat infestation last year. However, there's not much chance that they are right. The plans for the new school are being fiercely contested, and the conclusion is anyone's guess right now.
Anyway, there was a meeting of parents and governors last night, and without actually wishing to be, I was proposed, seconded and unanimously voted to be the chair of the parent's protest committee, in the space of about 3 seconds. I did point out that I am extremely unreliable and easily distracted (a point that She Who Must was kind enough to endorse for me), but it was pretty much a done deal, and as I was always intending to be involved in some way, there didn't seem much point in whining about it.
All of which has led me to spend much of this evening on the rather melancholy task of drafting a letter saying why they should delay the closure a bit longer. Not save it mind you; much as I and all the other parents would love to do so. That ship has sailed realistically, so all we can do is try to delay the inevitable.
It's a lovely school, and it breaks my bloody heart.
Unfortunately, the promises made to us by the Council that the school will not be closed until new facilities have been completed seem to be being broken, and they want to shut the school next year, and move the kids to Hay on Wye school, which is already over-crowded and with buildings in desparate need of replacement, on the promise that the new school will be ready in 2015.
Assuming they are right, it means that our kids will have to move schools twice in two years (current research indicates that moving schools can set a primary school age child's educational development back by up to 6 months per move), and in the interim, they will have to settle into a school that is already over-crowded and in a poor state of repair. Oh, and one that had a rat infestation last year. However, there's not much chance that they are right. The plans for the new school are being fiercely contested, and the conclusion is anyone's guess right now.
Anyway, there was a meeting of parents and governors last night, and without actually wishing to be, I was proposed, seconded and unanimously voted to be the chair of the parent's protest committee, in the space of about 3 seconds. I did point out that I am extremely unreliable and easily distracted (a point that She Who Must was kind enough to endorse for me), but it was pretty much a done deal, and as I was always intending to be involved in some way, there didn't seem much point in whining about it.
All of which has led me to spend much of this evening on the rather melancholy task of drafting a letter saying why they should delay the closure a bit longer. Not save it mind you; much as I and all the other parents would love to do so. That ship has sailed realistically, so all we can do is try to delay the inevitable.
It's a lovely school, and it breaks my bloody heart.