Hugh Reilly: So it's no break for me – and it's no break for them

Published on Tuesday 14 April 2009 20:04

MY CURRENT holidays started with a bang, or rather a thud, when my toned, 15-stone frame crashed to the floor following a shocking tackle by a five-a-side "mate". A trip to casualty confirmed my worst fears; there was no fracture in my shoulder, just muscle damage, therefore I would have to return to school after the Easter break.

The pain was such that I honestly believed nothing could make me feel any worse, but a visit to my ailing mother soon cured me of that thought. Her voice rendered virtually inaudible by a severe chest infection (a plus point), the old bat coughed up enough spores to infect my sensitive lungs.

With only fitful sleep due to shoulder pain and pulmonary seizures, I was not in the best of form when I arrived at the Carlisle horse-racing course with my two nags – ie, my girlfriend and common law mother-in-law. I have to say that, in terms of spectating time, my bets provided good value. While other racegoers caught only a fleeting glimpse of their horses as they thundered past the grandstand, my pre-race "certainties" moved at a pace that suggested they were sitting for an equestrian artist.

To counter my growing feelings of self-pity, I endeavoured to conjure up images of people who were worse off then me – eg, teachers who tutor. I found it a humbling experience to think that, while I had been playing football and enjoying the sport of kings, other teaching professionals were spending their vacation revising SQA coursework with teenage clients. For a few dollars more, these desperado dominies offer hope to the good, the bad and the ugly who failed the examination prelims.

In most cases, the slow learners/fast forgetters tend to blame Sir for their lack of success, and earnestly seek academic salvation in the shape of a tutor deity. The tutor God does not reveal Himself in a burning bush; a neat, handwritten ad pinned on the Asda noticeboard, adroitly positioned between the sofa for sale and the bargain garden shed, is the preferred strategy to bring the Good News of His availability.

There is a sliding scale of deliverance from catastrophic examination failure. Tutors of so-called high-tariff subjects, such as maths and physics, command hourly rates of 35 (even 40 if the frazzled parents have three cars parked in the monoblocked driveway). Teachers of modern studies, history, graphic design and other low-octane disciplines can ask for 25 (but will accept a tenner). In recent times, tutors of Cinderella subjects such as PE, home economics and art have seen a significant boost to their out-of-school earnings, thanks to the introduction of the national minimum wage legislation.

It's an undeniable truth that a tutor generally improves the level of a child's attainment, but this is hardly an unexpected outcome of one-to-one tuition. After all, a celebrity who wishes to lose some flab doesn't opt for joining the local branch of WeightWatchers – she employs a personal trainer.

A worrying aspect is that there is no regulation of the tutoring industry. Tutoring must be the only employment where an adult does not require a disclosure check before working with a child. It's a frightening thought that a parent may be dropping off their cherub at the home of a sex offender. Just last week, Christopher Killen, 47, a music teacher, confessed to sharing a shower in his house with a girl he was supposed to be teaching drumming. Admittedly, eco-friendly mums and dads may have approved of his water-saving credentials, but had the girl's parents looked into Killen's background, they would have discovered that, in 2007, he had given shelter to a fellow music teacher who was being investigated by education officials over concerns about his relationship with a female pupil.

Some tutors are deserving of my respect. A sincere thanks to those freelance professionals who have inadvertently helped to improve my pupils' SQA results. You know who you are.