IF I'M being honest, much of what I write is based on gut instinct, prejudice and, on occasion, sheer bile.
In a break from tradition, this week's rant is validated by research, albeit of an admittedly pseudo-scientific nature.
OK, it's not my proudest moment, in that I have to rely on someone who is the chief executive of the Centre for Confidence and
Well-being to support my case, but there is more than a ring of truth when Dr Carol Craig says children are being over-praised and developing an "all about me" mentality.
Based on anecdotal experience, I concur with Dr Craig that corporate congratulation programmes are an impediment to learning. Kids know if they play their praise-cards right, they will be honoured for behaviour and achievement most independent observers would consider to be, at best, a tad ordinary.
With the happy-clappy brigade tightly holding their ankles, these narcissistic youngsters are dipped into a pool overflowing with gratuitous self-esteem, surfacing with an inflated notion of self-worth and an inability to cope with failure, the obverse of success.
Naturally, the praise police will Taser critics such as Dr Craig and yours truly, but it's a harder job to silence the anti-praise stance of the president of the American Psychological Association, Martin Seligman.
He contends that schools damage children by viewing self-esteem as a cause of success, rather than the result of achievement. I couldn't agree more. Schools are full of kids with a rubber handle on reality, a dire consequence of being told from day one they are special.
I've listened ashen-faced as a barely literate and numerate girl has told me she is going to be a primary teacher. When I've been picky and pointed out her projected Foundation awards in English and maths means achieving that goal is as likely as Sir being signed up for a centre spread in Cosmopolitan, I'm invariably met with the classic line: "Shut it! Ma careers oafficer said ah kin be anything ah want tae be."
Maybe I'm wrong and the careers officer is right – it would certainly help to explain the awful spelling and grammar of young people coming up from the primary schools.
Chalkies are growing weary of work-shy, know-nothing students who demand to sit Highers, despite objective evidence that they do not possess the ability or resilience to succeed at that level. When they do not pass an NAB (an internal assessment that counts towards the Higher award), it's Sir's fault. After all, he had the temerity not to give in to demands that he divulge the content beforehand to ensure their well-deserved success.
Unbelievably, these confident dolts have the chutzpah to come to Sir's door to ask what is in the prelim.
After years of being told by well-meaning parents, and insincere teachers, that they are wonderful, these SQA candidates cannot cope with the frustration that accompanies failure. In extreme cases, the individuals appear as if about to spontaneously combust but, in the end, break down in a torrent of snot and tears.
My objection to the praise superbug that is eating away at our education system is the arrogance of its proponents, who would like to think that before they enlightened the profession, classrooms were praise-free zones.
How absurd! Good dominies have always encouraged those under their tutelage. To my mind, a "well done" from my chemistry teacher enjoyed greater currency than any amount of smiley faces stamped on to a kid's jotter these days by a trendy schoolmistress.
Savvy staff and pupils are acutely aware institutionalised praise is both vacuous and patronising. Songs of praise hit too many bum notes for my liking.
