Dear, lovely, sensible Anthony Browne, Children’s Laureate, had to put his two pennyworth into the Authors in Schools debate. I suspect he would rather have not got involved, but his position means that the press will come to him first for a comment. I think he mediated his way through the minefield quite well and managed to not upset anyone in the process.
He says that authors and illustrators aren’t special and that children need to know that we were the same as them once. That’s true, but it’s not true. When you meet Anthony Browne and look deep into his eyes, you see his famous character, Willie, staring back at you. Like a dog owner that looks like his pet, Tony either started out looking like a Gorilla or he grew to look like one.
That is the true inspiration to children – to let them know that they can’t walk straight into a TV presenter’s job or become a pop star celebrity without working for it or having a grain of talent. Programmes like Britain’s Got Talent encourage the view that you just walk onto a stage, do a turn and become famous. It works for BGT to promote the show in that way. We never see the work and sacrifice that all those winners have put into their acts already.
Tony says that children are creative and that they stop drawing and painting and writing as they grow up and become self-conscious and fall prey to peer-pressure. That too is the reason why Anthony Browne is special. He fought through all that teenage rubbish and remained true to himself – original – creative.
I know how hard it is. “No son of mine is going to be a namby-pamby artist!” my father yelled, when I suggested going to art school. I fought through, but a bit of encouragement at that time might have saved me twenty years of struggle. I had one Bank Manager who said it was, “nice that I could make a bit of money out of my hobby,” but he wasn’t going to approve a temporary overdraft, even though I had a fistful of publishing contracts from major publishers in my hand to show him. He would rather have seen me and my young family lose our home.
Anyone who rises above the ordinary is special. They have to be to get there. They have to believe that they are special too – otherwise there is no point going on. They may be self-effacing and humble, but deep inside is a burning belief in who they are and what they do. And these are the people who are heroes to children – that children look up to and emulate. These people should be honoured guests. But how can they be when, after you have ascertained whether they are prepared to make the time to come and visit your school, the first question you ask them is, “can you prove to me that you are not a paedophile?” It’s just not the kind of question you ask of an honoured guest.
Asking the question proves nothing. Those who wish to do harm to children will always find a way, no Quango will ever stop that. This law came about because of the panic over school caretaker, Ian Huntley. The Police knew all about him. The laws were there to protect Jessica Chapman and Holly Wells, but someone decided that the Data Protection Act was more serious. So Now we have a massive quango and database collecting information on the innocent, spreading suspicion throughout the education system. Whereas we used to have a system that checked up on the guilty. The new system will just push potential child-harmers out of the schools and into the domestic setting, which is not checked by law and which is the setting in which 99% of harm occurs.
Anthony Browne, believe me, you are special. And so was the trust that we have lost behind the security fences and video entry phones that schools hide behind today.