How professional are medical students?

At the end of last year, we ran a survey to find out more about the professional values of the UK’s medical students. Over 2,500 students took part to tell us what they thought.

We asked if students thought it was OK to dodge train fares when money was tight, if it was acceptable to go back to a patient’s home for a coffee, and if it was appropriate to complain about a lecture on Facebook. We also asked for views on raising concerns and patient safety.

Students have a good understanding of professionalism

Our new report brings together the responses we got. It shows that broadly, most students have an understanding of professionalism that matches what we would expect from future doctors. Also, we can be cautiously reassured by students’ views on raising concerns about patient safety and acting within their competence.

The report highlighted some very interesting themes.

Female students are more likely to view unprofessional behaviour as unacceptable than male students.

There is some variation by year of study – e.g. first year students are more likely to view buying prescription-only drugs online to aid study as unacceptable as those in other years.

More students think it is acceptable or mostly acceptable to dodge a train fare than it is to be critical of a lecture or lecturer on social media.

These are just a snapshot of the survey outcomes, which we expect to be of great interest to medical students and others involved with undergraduate education.

How will the report change the guidance we give to students?

We’re now working with the Medical Schools Council to review the guidance we give to medical students and medical schools on fitness to practice and professionalism.

 We want to deliver guidance that supports students to understand the professional standards expected of them, both now and as a doctor. We’ll use the student survey report, along with feedback from medical schools and others, to help draft new guidance, which we will then be consulting on, later this year.

BBC news, May, 2015

Medical education… in a cold climate

As winter draws closer, we turned our attention to another cold climate – the challenging financial situation facing the UK’s health system.

At our annual education conference in London, we discussed how to keep the focus on high quality education and training in this environment. The event attracted around 200 delegates from all areas of medical education and training, including students, trainee doctors, GPs, consultants and SAS doctors, undergraduate and postgraduate deans, trainers, patient representatives, and employers.

The event was chaired by BBC medical correspondent, Fergus Walsh, who facilitated a series of lively discussions, including about whether every hospital should be a training environment.

One of the highlights of the day was a discussion about training in the public spotlight with Dr Keir Shiels, one of the doctors featured in the BBC3 programme Junior Doctors – Your Life in Their Hands, and Dr Shreelata Datta, who until recently co-chaired the BMA Junior Doctors Committee.

Alice Rutter, a 4th year medical student at Sheffield University and deputy chair of the BMA Medical Students Committee said, 'The GMC conference was a great opportunity to meet the people who are influencing our education at a national level, and a very interesting day. Looking at undergraduate education in the context of postgraduate and international medical education highlighted many of the similarities and differences, and where knowledge could be shared to develop and improve, for example with feedback and placement based assessments.'

To catch up on everything that happened at the conference, including viewing footage from the day, go to the 2011 GMC Education Conference webpage.

If you are interested in coming to next year’s event, email us at gmcstudentnews@gmc-uk.org.

BBC news, July, 2016

UNIT XII

Charlotte Brontë (April 1816 – March 1855) is an English novelist and poet, the eldest of the three Brontë sisters who survived into adulthood and whose novels have become classics of English literature. She first published her works (including her best known novel, “Jane Eyre” published in 1847) under the pen name Currer Bell. The most important works: “Shirley”, published in 1849, “Villette”, published in 1853, “The Professor”.

Jane Eyre

It is the story of a young, orphaned girl, who lives with her aunt and cousins.

Mrs. Reed hates Jane and allows her son John to torment the girl. Even the servants are constantly reminding Jane that she’s poor and worthless. At the tender age of ten, Jane rises up against this treatment and tells them all exactly what she thinks of them. She’s punished by being locked in "the red room”. After this they send her away to a religious boarding school for orphans—Lowood Institute.

At Lowood the students never have enough to eat or warm clothes. Jane finds a pious friend, Helen Burns, and a sympathetic teacher, Miss Temple. Under their influence, she becomes an excellent student, learning all the little bits and pieces of culture that made up a lady’s education in Victorian England: French, piano-playing, singing, and drawing.

Later Jan leaves the school and becomes a governess.

The governess job that Jane accepts is to tutor a little French girl at a country house called Thornfield. The owner of the house is the mysterious Mr. Rochester.

One evening when Jane’s out for a walk, she meets Rochester, when his horse slips and he falls. Jane and Rochester are immediately interested in each other.

On the day of Jane and Rochester's wedding, during the church ceremony two men show up claiming that Rochester is already married. Rochester admits that he is married to another woman, but tries to justify his attempt to marry Jane by taking them all to see his wife.

His wife is Bertha Mason, the "madwoman in the attic" who tried to burn Rochester to death in his bed and stabbed her own brother.

Jane leaves Thornfield for good. But later learns that Rochester is wounded. She goes back and finds out that Mr. Rochester searched for her everywhere and, when he couldn’t find her, sends everyone else away from the house and shuts himself up alone. After this, Bertha set the house on fire one night and burned it to the ground. Rochester rescued all the servants and tried to save Bertha, too, but she committed suicide and he was injured. Now Rochester has lost an eye and a hand and is blind in the remaining eye.

Jane offers to take care of him. What she really hopes is that he'll ask her to marry him—and he does.

Chapter V

Five o’clock had hardly struck on the morning of the 19th of January, when Bessie brought a candle into my closet and found me already up and nearly dressed. I had risen half-an-hour before her entrance, and had washed my face, and put on my clothes by the light of a half-moon just setting, whose rays streamed through the narrow window near my crib. I was to leave Gateshead that day by a coach which passed the lodge gates at six a.m. Bessie was the only person yet risen; she had lit a fire in the nursery, where she now proceeded to make my breakfast. Few children can eat when excited with the thoughts of a journey; nor could I. Bessie, having pressed me in vain to take a few spoonful’s of the boiled milk and bread she had prepared for me, wrapped up some biscuits in a paper and put them into my bag; then she helped me on with my pelisse and bonnet, and wrapping herself in a shawl, she and I left the nursery.  

As we passed Mrs. Reed’s bedroom, she said, “Will you go in and bid Missis good-bye?”

“No, Bessie: she came to my crib last night when you were gone down to supper, and said I need not disturb her in the morning, or my cousins either; and she told me to remember that she had always been my best friend, and to speak of her and be grateful to her accordingly.”

“What did you say, Miss?”

“Nothing. I covered my face with the bedclothes, and turned from her to the wall.”

“That was wrong, Miss Jane.”

“It was quite right, Bessie. Your Missis has not been my friend: she has been my foe.”

“O Miss Jane! Don’t say so!”

“Good-bye to Gateshead!” cried I, as we passed through the hall and went out at the front door.

The moon was set, and it was very dark; Bessie carried a lantern, whose light glanced on wet steps and gravel road sodden by a recent thaw. Raw and chill was the winter morning, my teeth chattered as I hastened down the drive. There was a light in the porter’s lodge: when we reached it; we found the porter’s wife just kindling her fire: my trunk, which had been carried down the evening before, stood corded at the door. It wanted but a few minutes of six, and shortly after that hour had struck, the distant roll of wheels announced the coming coach; I went to the door and watched its lamps approach rapidly through the gloom.

“Is she going by herself?” asked the porter’s wife.

“Yes.”

“And how far is it?”

“Fifty miles.”

“What a long way! I wonder Mrs. Reed is not afraid to trust her so far alone.”

The coach drew up; there it was at the gates with its four horses and its top laden with passengers: the guard and coachman loudly urged haste; my trunk was hoisted up; I was taken from Bessie’s neck, to which I clung with kisses.

“Be sure and take good care of her,” cried she to the guard, as he lifted me into the inside.

“Ay, ay!” was the answer: the door was slapped to, a voice exclaimed “All right,” and on we drove. 

###

Lulled by the sound, I at last dropped asleep; I had not long slumbered when the sudden cessation of motion awoke me; the coach-door was open, and a person like a servant was standing at it; I saw her face and dress by the light of the lamps.

“Is there a little girl called Jane Eyre here?” she asked. I answered “Yes,” and was then lifted out; my trunk was handed down, and the coach instantly drove away.

I was stiff with long sitting, and bewildered with the noise and motion of the coach. Gathering my faculties, I looked about me. Rain, wind, and darkness filled the air: nevertheless, I dimly discerned a wall before me and a door open in it; through this door I passed with my new guide, she shut and locked it behind her. There was now visible a house or houses—for the building spread far—with many windows, and lights burning in some; we went up a broad pebbly path, splashing wet, and were admitted at a door; then the servant led me through a passage into a room with a fire, where she left me alone.

I stood and warmed my numbed fingers over the blaze, then I looked round; there was no candle, but the uncertain light from the hearth showed, by intervals, papered walls, carpet, curtains, shining mahogany furniture: it was a parlour, not so spacious or splendid as the drawing-room at Gateshead, but comfortable enough. I was puzzling to make out the subject of a picture on the wall, when the door opened, and an individual carrying a light entered; another followed close behind.

The first was a tall lady with dark hair, dark eyes, and a pale and large forehead; her figure was partly enveloped in a shawl, her countenance was grave, her bearing erect.

“The child is very young to be sent alone,” said she, putting her candle down on the table. She considered me attentively for a minute or two, then further added—

“She had better be put to bed soon; she looks tired. Are you tired?” she asked, placing her hand on my shoulder.

“A little, ma’am.”

“And hungry too, no doubt: let her have some supper before she goes to bed, Miss Miller. Is this the first time you have left your parents to come to school, my little girl?”

I explained to her that I had no parents. She inquired how long they had been dead; then how old I was, what was my name, whether I could read, write, and sew a little: then she touched my cheek gently with her forefinger, and saying, “She hoped I should be a good child,” dismissed me along with Miss Miller.

The lady I had left might be about twenty-nine; the one who went with me appeared some years younger: the first impressed me by her voice, look, and air. Miss Miller was more ordinary; ruddy in complexion, though of a careworn countenance: hurried in gait and action, like one who had always a multiplicity of tasks on han; she looked, indeed, what I afterwards found she really was, an under-teacher. Led by her, I passed from compartment to compartment, from passage to passage, of a large and irregular building; till, emerging from the total and somewhat dreary silence pervading that portion of the house we had traversed, we came upon the hum of many voices, and presently entered a wide, long room, with great deal tables, two at each end, on each of which burnt a pair of candles, and seated all round on benches, a congregation of girls of every age, from nine or ten to twenty. Seen by the dim light of the dips, their number to me appeared countless, though not in reality exceeding eighty; they were uniformly dressed in brown stuff frocks of quaint fashion, and long holland pinafores. It was the hour of study; they were engaged in conning over their to-morrow’s task, and the hum I had heard was the combined result of their whispered repetitions.

Miss Miller signed to me to sit on a bench near the door, then walking up to the top of the long room she cried out—

“Monitors, collect the lesson-books and put them away!”

Four tall girls arose from different tables, and going round, gathered the books and removed them. Miss Miller again gave the word of command—

“Monitors, fetch the supper-trays!”

The tall girls went out and returned presently, each bearing a tray, with portions of something, I knew not what, arranged thereon, and a pitcher of water and mug in the middle of each tray. The portions were handed round; those who liked took a draught of the water, the mug being common to all. When it came to my turn, I drank, for I was thirsty, but did not touch the food, excitement and fatigue rendering me incapable of eating: I now saw, however, that it was a thin oaten cake shared into fragments.

The meal over, prayers were read by Miss Miller, and the classes filed off, two and two, upstairs. Overpowered by this time with weariness, I scarcely noticed what sort of a place the bedroom was, except that, like the schoolroom, I saw it was very long. To-night I was to be Miss Miller’s bed-fellow; she helped me to undress: when laid down I glanced at the long rows of beds, each of which was quickly filled with two occupants; in ten minutes the single light was extinguished, and amidst silence and complete darkness I fell asleep.

The night passed rapidly. I was too tired even to dream; I only once awoke to hear the wind rave in furious gusts, and the rain fall in torrents, and to be sensible that Miss Miller had taken her place by my side. When I again unclosed my eyes, a loud bell was ringing; the girls were up and dressing; day had not yet begun to dawn, and a rush light or two burned in the room. I too rose reluctantly; it was bitter cold, and I dressed as well as I could for shivering, and washed when there was a basin at liberty, which did not occur soon, as there was but one basin to six girls, on the stands down the middle of the room. Again the bell rang: all formed in file, two and two, and in that order descended the stairs and entered the cold and dimly lit schoolroom: here prayers were read by Miss Miller; afterwards she called out— “Form classes!”

A great tumult succeeded for some minutes, during which Miss Miller repeatedly exclaimed, “Silence!” and “Order!” When it subsided, I saw them all drawn up in four semicircles, before four chairs, placed at the four tables; all held books in their hands, and a great book, like a Bible, lay on each table, before the vacant seat. A pause of some seconds succeeded, filled up by the low, vague hum of numbers; Miss Miller walked from class to class, hushing this indefinite sound.

A distant bell tinkled: immediately three ladies entered the room, each walked to a table and took her seat. Miss Miller assumed the fourth vacant chair, which was that nearest the door, and around which the smallest of the children were assembled: to this inferior class I was called, and placed at the bottom of it.

Business now began, the day’s Collect was repeated, then certain texts of Scripture were said, and to these succeeded a protracted reading of chapters in the Bible, which lasted an hour. By the time that exercise was terminated, day had fully dawned. The indefatigable bell now sounded for the fourth time: the classes were marshalled and marched into another room to breakfast. How glad I was to behold a prospect of getting something to eat! I was now nearly sick from inanition, having taken so little the day before.

The refectory was a great, low-ceiled, gloomy room; on two long tables smoked basins of something hot, which, however, to my dismay, sent forth an odour far from inviting. I saw a universal manifestation of discontent when the fumes of the repast met the nostrils of those destined to swallow it; from the van of the procession, the tall girls of the first class, rose the whispered words—

“Disgusting! The porridge is burnt again!”

“Silence!” ejaculated a voice; not that of Miss Miller, but one of the upper teachers, a little and dark personage, smartly dressed, but of somewhat morose aspect, who installed herself at the top of one table, while a more buxom lady presided at the other. I looked in vain for her I had first seen the night before; she was not visible. Miss Miller occupied the foot of the table where I sat; and a strange, foreign-looking, elderly lady, the French teacher, as I afterwards found, took the corresponding seat at the other board. A long grace was said and a hymn sung; then a servant brought in some tea for the teachers, and the meal began.

Ravenous, and now very faint, I devoured a spoonful or two of my portion without thinking of its taste; but the first edge of hunger blunted, I perceived I had got in hand a nauseous mess - burnt porridge is almost as bad as rotten potatoes; famine itself soon sickens over it. The spoons were moved slowly: I saw each girl taste her food and try to swallow it; but in most cases the effort was soon relinquished. Breakfast was over, and none had breakfasted. Thanks having been returned for what we had not got, and a second hymn chanted, the refectory was evacuated for the schoolroom. I was one of the last to go out, and in passing the tables, I saw one teacher take a basin of the porridge and taste it; she looked at the others; all their countenances expressed displeasure, and one of them, the stout one, whispered—

“Abominable stuff! How shameful!”

A quarter of an hour passed before lessons again began, during which the schoolroom was in a glorious tumult; for that space of time it seemed to be permitted to talk loud and more freely, and they used their privilege. The whole conversation ran on the breakfast, which one and all abused roundly. Poor things! it was the sole consolation they had. Miss Miller was now the only teacher in the room: a group of great girls standing about her spoke with serious and sullen gestures. I heard the name of Mr. Brocklehurst pronounced by some lips; at which Miss Miller shook her head disapprovingly; but she made no great effort to check the general wrath; doubtless she shared in it.

A clock in the schoolroom struck nine; Miss Miller left her circle, and standing in the middle of the room, cried—

“Silence! To your seats!”

Discipline prevailed: in five minutes the confused throng was resolved into order, and comparative silence quelled the Babelclamour of tongues. The upper teachers now punctually resumed their posts: but still, all seemed to wait. Ranged on benches down the sides of the room, the eighty girls sat motionless and erect: a quaint assemblage they appeared, all with plain locks combed from their faces, not a curl visible; in brown dresses, made high and surrounded by a narrow tucker about the throat, with little pockets of holland (shaped something like a Highlander’s purse) tied in front of their frocks, and destined to serve the purpose of a work-bag: all, too, wearing woollen stockings and country-made shoes, fastened with brass buckles. Above twenty of those clad in this costume were full-grown girls, or rather young women; it suited them ill, and gave an air of oddity even to the prettiest.

I was still looking at them, and also at intervals examining the teachers—none of whom precisely pleased me; for the stout one was a little coarse, the dark one not a little fierce, the foreigner harsh and grotesque, and Miss Miller, poor thing! looked purple, weather-beaten, and over-worked—when, as my eye wandered from face to face, the whole school rose simultaneously, as if moved by a common spring.

What was the matter? I had heard no order given; I was puzzled. Ere I had gathered my wits, the classes were again seated, but, as all eyes were now turned to one point, mine followed the general direction, and encountered the personage who had received me last night. She stood at the bottom of the long room, on the hearth, for there was a fire at each end; she surveyed the two rows of girls silently and gravely. Miss Miller approaching, seemed to ask her a question, and having received her answer, went back to her place, and said aloud—

“Monitor of the first class, fetch the globes!”

While the direction was being executed, the lady  moved slowly up the room. I suppose I have a considerable organ of veneration, for I retain yet the sense of admiring awe with which my eyes traced her steps. Seen now, in broad daylight, she looked tall, fair, and shapely; brown eyes with a benignant light in their irids, and a fine pencilling of long lashes round, relieved the whiteness of her large front; on each of her temples her hair, of a very dark brown, was clustered in round curls, according to the fashion of those times, when neither smooth bands nor long ringlets were in vogue; her dress, also in the mode of the day, was of purple cloth, relieved by a sort of Spanish trimming of black velvet; a gold watch (watches were not so common then as now) shone at her girdle. Let the reader add, to complete the picture, refined features; a complexion, if pale, clear; and a stately air and carriage, and he will have, at least, as clearly as words can give it, a correct idea of the exterior of Miss Temple—Maria Temple, as I afterwards saw the name written in a prayer-book entrusted to me to carry to church.

The superintendent of Lowood (for such was this lady) having taken her seat before a pair of globes placed on one of the tables, summoned the first class round her, and commenced giving a lesson on geography; the lower classes were called by the teachers: repetitions in history, grammar, &c., went on for an hour; writing and arithmetic succeeded, and music lessons were given by Miss Temple to some of the elder girls. The duration of each lesson was measured by the clock, which at last struck twelve. The superintendent rose—

“I have a word to address to the pupils,” said she.

The tumult of cessation from lessons was already breaking forth, but it sank at her voice. She went on—

“You had this morning a breakfast which you could not eat; you must be hungry:—I have ordered that a lunch of bread and cheese shall be served to all.”

The teachers looked at her with a sort of surprise.

“It is to be done on my responsibility,” she added, in an explanatory tone to them, and immediately afterwards left the room.

The bread and cheese was presently brought in and distributed, to the high delight and refreshment of the whole school. The order was now given “To the garden!” Each put on a coarse straw bonnet, with strings of coloured calico, and a cloak of grey frieze. I was similarly equipped, and, following the stream, I made my way into the open air…

###

…But at that moment the summons sounded for dinner. All re-entered the house. 

After dinner, we immediately adjourned to the schoolroom: lessons recommenced, and were continued till five o’clock.

The only marked event of the afternoon was, that I saw the girl with whom I had conversed in the verandah dismissed in disgrace by Miss Scatcherd from a history class, and sent to stand in the middle of the large schoolroom. The punishment seemed to me in a high degree ignominious, especially for so great a girl—she looked thirteen or upwards. I expected she would show signs of great distress and shame; but to my surprise she neither wept nor blushed: composed, though grave, she stood, the central mark of all eyes. “How can she bear it so quietly—so firmly?” I asked of myself. “Were I in her place, it seems to me I should wish the earth to open and swallow me up. She looks as if she were thinking of something beyond her punishment—beyond her situation: of something not round her nor before her. I have heard of day-dreams—is she in a day-dream now? Her eyes are fixed on the floor, but I am sure they do not see it—her sight seems turned in, gone down into her heart: she is looking at what she can remember, I believe; not at what is really present. I wonder what sort of a girl she is—whether good or naughty.”

Soon after five p.m. we had another meal, consisting of a small mug of coffee, and half-a-slice of brown bread. I devoured my bread and drank my coffee with relish; but I should have been glad of as much more—I was still hungry. Half-an-hour’s recreation succeeded, then study; then the glass of water and the piece of oat-cake, prayers, and bed.

Such was my first day at Lowood.

Brontë,Charlotte, Jane Eyre, Foreign Languages Publishing House, Moscow, 1952, ch. V, p.p. 57-72.

Notes.

Gateshead – a town in England opposite Newcastle. The towns are joined by seven bridges across the river of Tyne.

Highlander – a resident of the Scottish mountains.

a.m. – time before noon, ante meridiem, 

p.m. – time after noon, post meridiem.

занимались арифметикой.

Ø TRANSLATION TIPS

Emphatic constructions.

A). Translate the following sentences from the

inversion.

1.”Good-bye to Gateshead!” cried I, as we passed through the hall and went out at the front door. 2….the eighty girls sat motionless and erect; a quaint assemblage they appeared, all with plain locks combed from their faces… 3.”Were I in her place, it seems to me I should wish the earth to open and swallow me up’. 4. I was puzzling to make out the subject of a picture on the wall, when the door opened, and an individual carrying a light entered. 5. Poor things! It was the sole consolation they gad. 6.Never have I heard such wonderful music. 7. Not only did they buy the house for their children, but they redecorated it. 8. Seldom do I go out since I started working for this company. 9. Only after the examination did I realize the importance of the subject. 10. Not only was the car slow, it was also absolutely uncomfortable. 11.

1. What he was referring to was what may be called the psychological magic of words, their power to affect the thinking, feeling and behavior of those who use them.2. What make the political clash dangerous are the national divisions within the country.3. What is needed is not an effort to make people unprejudiced, but rather to remind them that they are unprejudiced.4. What is doubtful is the survival of the party’s influence.5. What they object to is the way in which the firm proposed to sack them.6. It is up to the individual to decide whether or not he or she smokes. 7. But what ought to be stopped is the effort, using every possible form of persuasion, to start young people on a course which can end in a great suffering and premature death.

D). Translate constructions with if reconstructing their emphatic character.

1. Some people plan innumerable journeys across the country for the fun of linking up impossible connections. My hobby is less tedious, if a strange, I am a mine of information on the English countryside.2. Should a driver drink? Or put it another way –should a drinker drive? Road conditions to-day demand a clear, alert mind. I remain adamantly of the opinion – if an old-fashioned one – that in a properly adjusted social environment one nip of liquor means no driving, if only for an hour or two per nip.3. And then there would be a row again which was so exhausting, if nothing else.4. He learned this lesson well, if none other.5. They were alike in this claim, if in little else.6. I was curious to know them, and to discover what, if anything, of the Creole existed in me.7. That was a big, if not the biggest, demonstration.

JMEDIA LOG

Schools versus communities

Jul 2016

Saturday 30^th

posted by Morning Star in Editorial

THE case of Michaela Free School, which was revealed to be placing children in “lunch isolation” if their parents fell behind with paying lunch money, reveals so much about what is wrong with recent education policy.

Obviously, there is the shocking nature of the approach itself, and the underlying values it suggests. The idea that the best response to parents who struggle to keep up with the cost of school lunches is to punish and stigmatise their children is both vindictive and counterproductive. It is an approach that would be more at home in Victorian London than a 21st-century capital.

Unfortunately, this condescending and divisive approach to the parent community does not seem to be out of character for the Michaela School. When the school opened in 2014, they wrote to new parents with the following message:

“I am certain you will want to meet our high standards. It won’t always be easy. When your child’s black shoelace is broken and you are rushing to work and only have a white shoelace to give them, you may find yourself wishing that you had sent your child to a school that would make an exception to the uniform once in a while. You’ll then remember that we have high standards for a reason: to ensure your child has access to an extraordinary education.”

This may have come as a shock to a number of local parents who, according to the local press, had not expressed a preference for the school and its archaic approach to uniform and discipline but had been allocated a place after missing out on their first six preferences.

The school’s “back to the past” approach also extends into teaching and learning and it boasts of teachers who “believe in imparting knowledge, benchmarking and healthy competition,” an educational approach that seems to be modelled on the assembly line, not the creative and critical process of educating young minds.

This may leave you wondering who is actually running our schools. And well you may ask. Some readers may be familiar with the name Katharine Birbalsingh. She was the darling of the Tory right after she gave a speech at the 2010 Conservative Party conference, attacking the state education system and providing ideological justification for the destructive reforms we have faced since.

She was promptly sacked, having named and shown photographs of children at the school as part of her tirade and having made comments the school deemed “insulting” to her colleagues. Now she’s in charge at the Michaela School.

It may be an extreme example but it highlights a number of wider issues. First, the whole free school project means there is little or no control over who is running our schools. The fact that someone sacked for political abuse of their position can just set up their own school and carry on is a disgrace.

Morning Star Jul 2016 Saturday 30th

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