Moving on by Sandra Horn
This month has seen the usual joyful preparations for World Book Day. I’m long out of it all now, but still in touch, in various ways, of the doings of younger colleagues – delightful photos and stories of happy and less happy school visits. I thought I might feel a pang or two, but no. Anticipation of a day in a school was always part-happy, part-angsty. I’ve had every kind of welcome from staff, from the top end of kind and courteous to offhand and downright rude on one or two occasions – and I see from other children’s writers that it is not uncommon. I’ve sat ignored in staff rooms and on one unforgettable occasion was accosted furiously with this: Her: ‘My sister writes stories.’ Me: ‘That’s great!’ Her: ‘Hers are VERY good’ (not-quite hidden message: not like the rubbish you write.) Me: ‘Have they been published?’ Her: (with raging contempt for me) ‘No.’ I remember thinking, once or twice, ‘Good grief! These oafish people are teaching our children!’ ...