Gervase Phinn: An inspector calls

I was once dragooned into inspecting music in a secondary school. The lead inspector, an HMI with a science background, asked me if I would take on the task, explaining that our music specialist colleague was ill and could not join us and there was no-one on the team sufficiently confident or capable enough to inspect the music department.
By The Newsroom
Published 15th Jan 2010, 13:01 BST
Updated 15th Jan 2010, 13:02 BST

"Neither am I," told him.

"But you play the piano."

"Yes, but –"

"And you have directed musicals in schools."

"Yes, but –"

"And have performed yourself in comic operas."

"I know, but –"

"And enjoy classical music."

"That does not mean –"

"The thing is, Gervase," he explained, "I did tell the headteacher that there was no music specialist on the team and she said the head of department would be very disappointed that no-one would be observing his lessons. It is his last term and he so wanted to be inspected before he retired."

Well, that's a rarity, I thought – a teacher actually wishing to be inspected.

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The lead inspector continued. "Clearly the head of music is a very able man, a very popular and committed teacher and the students perform really well in the examinations. He's been in the school all his professional life. The headteacher feels that his is one of the best departments in the school and it would be a pity if some mention was not made in the final report. And, of course, it would be good for the head of music to retire with a confirmation from Ofsted of his excellent teaching – to leave on a high, so to speak."

I reluctantly agreed and, having studied the section on music in the Framework for Inspection, the following morning I observed the first music lesson of the week. The classroom was bright, orderly and well-equipped, the students were attentive and knowledgeable and the teaching was excellent. I had no reservations in assessing the lesson as one of the very best.

"I am so pleased I got someone who knew what he was talking about," the head of music told me later in the staffroom. "You hear all these stories of school inspectors with little or no idea of the subjects they are inspecting." I smiled weakly. "Were you at the Royal College of Music by the way?" he asked. "That's where I studied." I shook my head. I felt it politic not to inform him that my expertise was gleaned from a Grade 3 pianoforte examination and from the fact that I could play any tune in the key of D. I also knew four chords on the ukulele and, at a pinch, could play When I'm Cleaning Windows.

The team of inspectors attended the head of music's final concert, a rousing and an emotional affair. Prior to the performance, we were detained by the headteacher until the school hall was full with parents, staff and students and the instrumentalists had assembled on stage. Then, as we were led by her down the central aisle to the front to sit on the front row, the band struck up with Colonel Bogie. The head of the music department glanced in my direction and smiled. I have an idea he knew.

Related topics:Ofsted