Autumn with Fadeke.
It’s Autumn half- term week and there are more people than usual on a weekday in the local park. Children are in the playground, riding their bikes, kicking a ball about or just enjoying the beauty of the green space and the trees.
When I shop for vegetables and fruit at this time of the year, I cannot help but create an arrangement of squashes, small striped pumpkins and other brightly coloured vegetables and flowers on the sideboard gracing the best space in my sitting room. The display is reminiscent of many happy years I spent as a primary school teacher, when the children and I made what we lovingly called the ‘Nature Table’. At some times of the year it looked rather bleak but in the autumn our collection was vivid and abundant.
Now retired from the classroom, my nature table at home is created around a stunning sculpture, thirty-six centimetres high and extremely heavy, which the artist entitled: ‘Proud of my New Dress’. Before the sculpture came into my possession she travelled around to various art museums across Europe. I named her Fadeke, after a little girl from my class when I first started teaching in 1974.
I must have taught hundreds and hundreds of children and young people across a career spanning thirty plus years. So many of them made an impression on me and Fadeke was certainly one of them. She was five years old; confident, imaginative and very talkative. So imaginative was she that teaching her to read was - well - challenging to say the least. Most of the rest of the class duly progressed as they learned to recognize phonics, whole words and sentences, in line with what I’d studied about helping children to read.
Fadeke threw all that aside, being far more interested in looking at the pictures on each page. Hardly surprising really when one considers that the stolidly cheerless activities of Peter and Jane left her distinctly unimpressed. She would come up to my desk when it was her turn to read alone and instead of looking at the words, she created her own narrative:
-Why does Peter have all the fun and Jane doesn’t?
- She always has to watch when he climbs trees and rides his bike. That’s not fair!
-Do you think her mum made that dress? I don’t think she likes it much.
- If Jane came to play at my house, we could have a lovely time.
- Do you think she would like to come to my house Miss?
The blank page awaits as the writer ponders how to describe the weird, perplexing images which flutter around in one’s mind. The process and symmetry of an engaging narrative does not always come easily and you can be assured that someone will be quick to point out if you’ve made a mistake regarding facts, timelines and all the rest.
I recently googled the meaning of Fadeke’s name in Yoruba: ‘pampered with royalty’. I knew she was from a Nigerian family but little more. Reflecting on it now, the name was absolutely perfect and befitting of who she was and what she brought to my world.
I would love to know what Fadeke is doing now. I like to think that she is royally presiding over a large charitable organization, using her imagination, confidence and drive to help others.
When I shop for vegetables and fruit at this time of the year, I cannot help but create an arrangement of squashes, small striped pumpkins and other brightly coloured vegetables and flowers on the sideboard gracing the best space in my sitting room. The display is reminiscent of many happy years I spent as a primary school teacher, when the children and I made what we lovingly called the ‘Nature Table’. At some times of the year it looked rather bleak but in the autumn our collection was vivid and abundant.
Now retired from the classroom, my nature table at home is created around a stunning sculpture, thirty-six centimetres high and extremely heavy, which the artist entitled: ‘Proud of my New Dress’. Before the sculpture came into my possession she travelled around to various art museums across Europe. I named her Fadeke, after a little girl from my class when I first started teaching in 1974.
I must have taught hundreds and hundreds of children and young people across a career spanning thirty plus years. So many of them made an impression on me and Fadeke was certainly one of them. She was five years old; confident, imaginative and very talkative. So imaginative was she that teaching her to read was - well - challenging to say the least. Most of the rest of the class duly progressed as they learned to recognize phonics, whole words and sentences, in line with what I’d studied about helping children to read.
Fadeke threw all that aside, being far more interested in looking at the pictures on each page. Hardly surprising really when one considers that the stolidly cheerless activities of Peter and Jane left her distinctly unimpressed. She would come up to my desk when it was her turn to read alone and instead of looking at the words, she created her own narrative:
-Why does Peter have all the fun and Jane doesn’t?
- She always has to watch when he climbs trees and rides his bike. That’s not fair!
-Do you think her mum made that dress? I don’t think she likes it much.
- If Jane came to play at my house, we could have a lovely time.
- Do you think she would like to come to my house Miss?
The blank page awaits as the writer ponders how to describe the weird, perplexing images which flutter around in one’s mind. The process and symmetry of an engaging narrative does not always come easily and you can be assured that someone will be quick to point out if you’ve made a mistake regarding facts, timelines and all the rest.
I recently googled the meaning of Fadeke’s name in Yoruba: ‘pampered with royalty’. I knew she was from a Nigerian family but little more. Reflecting on it now, the name was absolutely perfect and befitting of who she was and what she brought to my world.
I would love to know what Fadeke is doing now. I like to think that she is royally presiding over a large charitable organization, using her imagination, confidence and drive to help others.
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