MY VIEW Madeline McDonald: Mutinous mutterings as homework rears its ugly head at the evening class

We plot mutiny in the tea break, remembering to drop 20p into the saucer to pay for tea and biscuits. We could be in an Agatha Christie novel, where genteel manners mask dark deeds.

Our evening class tutor has informed us that we must all submit a piece of homework before we finish the course. No tutor has demanded this before and, despite him explaining that it is a government requirement, the sense of outrage is palpable. What are we doing here on a dark winter’s evening if not broadening our minds? We could be slumped in front of the telly with a glass of wine, but here we sit on the hard chairs of the village hall, learning more about local history or the wonders of astronomy, getting our tongues round a foreign language, or even trying our hand at macramé.

Despite their public pronouncements, governments of all colours hate the idea that learning can be fun. The idea that someone might want to know a few words of Spanish before jetting off on holiday is anathema to the bloated education industry. Under some grand scheme of awards for all, education officials envisage evening-class students slogging their way through 50 or so accredited modules and saving the certificate from each one. Do that, and they’ll give you an external degree in time for it to adorn your coffin. Some people really do want to catch up on a degree, and that’s what the Open University is for

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Personally, I reckon that a few thousand people willing to take the trouble to say please and thank you in a foreign language contribute more to the sum of human happiness than one person who speaks it like a native.

What we are not is a bunch of recalcitrant youngsters herded into higher education because there are no jobs on offer and the government hasn’t a clue what else to do with them – apart from charging them astronomical fees for what is often mediocre tuition. By all means, crack the whip and oblige them to put pen to paper to prove that they’ve been listening.

Don’t crack the whip over a bunch of well-informed amateurs. That’s what evening class devotees are, amateurs in the old-fashioned sense of exploring a subject for the love of it. Many of us, especially the older generation, missed out on university but have lively minds, and already find it insulting to tick boxes on forms so that officialdom can monitor our so-called progress.

As time creeps on, our tutor suggests wily ways to meet the homework requirement. “Two pages will do,” he coaxes. “You could print out a photograph with a caption, and that’s one page.” To no avail. Sedition spreads over the teacups and, as fee-paying customers, we dig our collective heels in.

The course ends and we bid our goodbyes with a cheery, “See you next time.” Just don’t expect us to hand in homework.