During an IM conversation with my lovely sister today, we somehow ended up talking about childhood hymns.

Oh no, wait, now I remember. I said “hello” and she was away from the computer, and then I shut the window and wandered off and when I got back it was to an IM from her saying “hello?” which I thought was an opening, except she of course was responding to my opening and…well, a lot of greetings ensued, concluding with me saying “Good MORning Mr ROBertson” which is what we used to have to say - well, chant - in primary school every morning in assembly - Mr R being the headteacher (I nearly wrote “Prime Minister” there - good grief) at the time. The second part of the couplet was “Good MORning EVrybody” - and let me assure you, a more unwelcoming greeting one can scarcely imagine than a hundred children of varied origin and age shouting at you in the morning.

Anyway, this then led on to a discussion of the hymns - well, songs, really - which we had to sing in primary assembly. The school was in the middle of a multiracial, multifaith area, and as such, we couldn’t really sing anything too religious, so instead we had a lot of nice stuff about peace and love and things - Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream, Peace is Flowing Like A River (but we didn’t sing “captives”: we sang “people”) Love Is Like A Magic Penny, Blowin’ In The Wind, Where Have All the Flowers Gone? - that sort of thing, all projected via OHP onto the back wall of the main hall.

Incidentally, one of my earliest indications that I was, in fact, a big girly swot, was when I was selected by the headmaster, aged about ten (that’s me, not the headmaster - they liked them with a little more experience back then) to be the assembly monitor which, in a state school wholly unencumbered with such concepts as prefects and so on, was pretty much the only honour available. In my prestigious girly swot role as assembly monitor, I occasionally got to choose the song for the day from a big stack of acetates mounted on white card frames, wheel out the OHP in front of the wall, find the corresponding score in Alleluya: 77 Songs for Thinking People and prop it open on the piano ready for the music teacher to hammer out when the time to sing arrived.

But the best bit of the job, undoubtedly, was the selection of the filing-in and filing-out music. A big box tape player the size of my CPU lying on its side, which lived on top of the vaulting horse, and which with today’s technology could probably be fitted into a cufflink, played music as all the kids filed into the hall. And the assembly monitor got to pick the tune from a box of tapes which included Pachabel’s Canon, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and the one that I selected every morning for a month before Mr R asked if we couldn’t have something else for a change.

Seems he wasn’t a big Hill Street Blues fan. Neither was I, to be honest - too young, for a start - but the theme song featured prominently on a compilation of Channel 4 Theme Music - which ought to tell you what year it was, at least.

As an aside to this aside, I badgered my piano teacher to show me how to play the theme song, because I loved it so much. He refused and refused and refused, prefering to teach me boring things like Down In A Coalmine which was basically a thinly-disguised scales exercise and I was having none of it.

His name was Piotr, and he smelled of garlic, had hairy hands, and gave out nasty boiled sweets at the end of each lesson. Eventually he relented and taught me the first five bars, which I subsequently drove my family crazy playing againandagainandagainandagain. See also Walking In The Air, The Entertainer and Peace Is Flowing Like A River (I liked the left hand part that went “do-DO do-DO do-DO do-DO”)

Where was I? Oh yes. 77 Songs for thinking people and the children they are supposed to look after for seven hours a day.

So Anna and I got into this discussion about one particular song we used to have to sing - Black and White. I’m sure you’ve come across it before:

The ink is black, the page is white
Together we learn to read and write
Read and write
And now a child can understand
This is the law in all the land
All the land
The ink is black, the page is white
Together we learn to read and write
Read and write

And so on.

Well, we got to wondering whether you would in fact be able to sing that any more in an inner London school, or whether you’d need to modify it to be more (or less) inclusive.

Here’s the conversation which ensued:

Anna: the page is black?
Meg: no, the INK is black
Anna: the ink is white
Meg: the page is, I think you’ll find, white
Anna: it would work either way - these gel pens are a revelation
Meg: true enough
Anna: the page may have been white in the old days, but I think we can afford to think outside the box now. Why *shouldn’t* the page be black?
Meg: True, true. Or indeed yellow, or off-whitish beige, for that matter. Though I can’t help thinking that yellow ink on an off-whitish beige page might be somewhat illegible. But perhaps that’s a metaphor for….something.
Anna: I believe all coloured and non coloured inks AND pieces of paper can work together in perfect harmony. And disabled paper also. Also multi-sexual paper, which deserves the same rights.
Meg: Shame we’re completely excluding those with learning difficulties, really. I mean, we’re basically saying that if you can’t read or write, you’re fucked. Not very inclusive at ALL.
Anna: damn.
Meg: also, i believe the in term is not “multi” but “non” these days - not multiracial, *nonracial* - so a nonracial school is one in which race is not an issue, no matter how many there are(n’t). Hence I think we should be aiming for a totally non-literate society, in which neither the colour of the ink nor the page, nor in fact the ability to read (or write) matters.
Anna: Alright. How about:
Anna:

The zebra is of colour, the zebra is of european extraction, together we learn to look at the zebra

(or does that exclude those with sight difficulties? Maybe that should be

together we are free to look at, or not look at the zebra, as is fitting to our needs and abilities

)
Meg: Too wild horse-centric. How about:

There is no page, there is no ink / together or seperately, as individual circumstances dictate, though not in a top-down model of government, but rather in a truly democratic fashion, we absorb life skills which will help us be fully functioning members of an egalitarian society without forcing anyone to learn anything against their will / against their wiiiiill.

Anna: Oh yes, that’s very good, although I’d like a little more emphasis on citizenship and community responsibility
Meg: Yes, but you’ve also got to respect an individual’s rights in respect of non-participation.
Anna: True.
Anna:

If I had a timeslot for mediation and group awareness and teambuilding therapy, I’d mediate and build group awareness and teambuilding skills in the morning, I’d build them in the evening, all-over this non-racial nor sexual maulti-age all inclsive community…

That should cover the curriculum holes I was seeking plugged, if I can say that without offending women.
Meg:

Would you be conveyed in a manner of your choice which may include (though by no means exclusively) walking, wheeling, public transportation, limping, dragging, crawling, car-pooling and/or riding on the alternative side which should not be deemed to be improved or preferable to the existing side, and is different only in geographic terms rather than socio-economic ones, and which bears little import to this particular example except to demonstrate difference (in addition it should be noted that were the situation reversed, the same would be true) if you were made aware of, through visual, aural or olfactory cues, or by way of other non-sensory signals not specified here but available on request from your local equal opportunities office (wheelchair access through side door) a person of undetermined gender, age, race, sexual preference, religion, wealth and/or employment status in the process of crying*? *NB: Please note that this hypothetical situation does not obligate the audience to act on any particular situation and cannot be made legally liable for EITHER acting OR not acting in the first instance, regardless of whether awareness can be proven.

Anna:

Hypothetically, I would like to present a situation in which, I as non-submissive nor lower-status supplicant might be lacking in the nessecary heating or clothing apparatus to maintain correct body temperature, and also, deficient in the financial and material wealth that may ensure a replete compliment of clothing, meaning that I approached you, non-confrontationally, non-sexually and in an entirely non-predatory way, naked. I would, in this instance, be seeking support in any way that you could proffer, although I respect your right to refuse financial aid, and make no political judgement on such issues as fuel prices or state benefit and clothing allowance, believing that you are free to decide on these matters yourself.

Anna discovered recently that our old primary school has been demolished.

In a way, this is unsurprising, because it occupied a prime piece of Notting Hill real estate, which was frankly wasted on children. But it’s also sad because it means we’ll never get a chance to try out our alternative song book - 77 songs for people who think too much.

Any other submissions you think we ought to include?