Staff are burning out and classroom cupboards are bare, hitting students hard. We should feel shock – but also a sinking sense of deja vu
I love my mum,” said last Saturday’s headliner on Glastonbury’s West Holts stage. But then, as the London-born hip-hop artist Loyle Carner prepared for his next song, he got on to the really crucial part. “My mum’s a teacher; my girlfriend’s a teacher,” he said. “The only thing I feel like right now is, teachers are striking and I stand with them.” A cheer began to go up, which then swelled as he reeled off a list of the educators who had helped him on his way, starting with his mother: “All my fucking teachers that lifted me up and saved me.”
The following day, Glastonbury’s Left Field – the big top that has a bill split between evenings of music and daytime debates and discussions – hosted an hour-long event centred on the current wave of strikes. I was in the chair, and the panel included Nusrat Sultana, a teacher and trade unionist from Birmingham who works at an autism-specialist school. She talked movingly about slashed budgets, disappearing staff, the end of school trips, and many of her colleagues’ dire financial situations.
John Harris is a Guardian columnist
