A dear teacher friend, long since departed, used to sigh as he left the staff room, “I’m off once again, to cast artificial pearls before real swine.” We knew what he meant. Teenagers in the real world have always been genetically programmed to resist – at least initially – both learning and the advice of those older and perhaps wiser than themselves. In the 1950s and 1960s, especially in the selective schools like the one I attended, we still ‘played up’ weak or eccentric teachers. The threat of physical punishment, either officially with the cane, or more immediately via a clip round the ear or a glancing blow from a board duster, was ever present. More crushing, however, was some barbed comment from a sarcastic master who knew how to wound with words.

To move on to modern times, the process of turning teachers into entertainers has been a long and largely dishonorable one.Teachers as entertainers? Really? Sadly, by the time I left the profession in 2012, a successful lesson - at least in the eyes of those ultimate predators, the Great White Sharks of OFSTED – needed all the prerequisites of a successful stand-up comedian or Oscars host. There had to be pace, but not so fast as to baffle the handful of unfortunates wearing a ‘Special Needs’ placard round their neck. I exaggerate, of course. There was no Jewish yellow star, but they knew they were special because they had been told they were, and you knew they were special because you had to identify them in your lesson plans. So, pace was necessary. Tone of voice, eye contact, choreographed movement around the classroom – sorry, delete ‘classroom’, substitute ‘learning environment’ – were all boxes to be ticked. Subject knowledge? Well, perhaps, but not entirely essential, as engagement was everything. After all, pupils – whoops, students, oh shit, I meant learners – finding out things for themselves was the Green-Eyed Yellow Idol at whose feet all ambitious teachers worshipped.

So this has precisely what to do with Wisbech? There has been a recent spate of petty crime carried out by a group of teenagers the press and social media referred to as a ‘biker gang’. Now, I don’t know about you, but a in my language, a biker gang is a ferocious pack of hairy and tattooed individuals, their bodies bristling with piercings and bearing the scars of initiation ceremonies. They hurtle round the place on Harley Davidsons, necking back quarts of Jack Daniels, and sharing their leather-clad women with each other. The pathetic bunch who were pictured throwing plants about in Museum Square – and may be responsible for other acts of  vandalism in the town – are far from fearsome, but let me tell you what would happen to any citizen who dared tackle them face to face.

The most immediate response would be a volley of obscenities screamed in their as-yet-unbroken voices. Next, and this would not take very long, given the knee-jerk immediacy of Facebook and Instagram, the unfortunate person who chastised the lads would be named, shamed, and visited by a posse of furious mothers, usually accompanied by their current boyfriends and assorted wider family members and their unpleasantly aggressive dogs. Fathers? Don’t be silly – Dad, even if he could be identified, is probably far away and well out of it.

Assuming our unwise Wisbechian survives this onslaught with teeth and limbs intact, there will soon be a knock on the door, and hitherto hidden members of the Cambridgeshire Constabulary will be there to inform our citizen friend that his righteous anger at the pimply vandals was a serious criminal offence, and the Crown Prosecution Service are going hell-for-leather to avenge the momentary discomfort of the lads on their bikes who were merely expressing themselves by throwing clods of earth and painstakingly nurtured plants at each other.

I wrote about schools earlier in this piece. Long ago, when I was still at the chalkface, there was an initiative, probably dreamed up by a socialist academic at a minor university. The thrust of it was that we were letting our youngsters down because we were neglecting their self esteem. Naturally, the Self-Esteem myth was gobbled up by educationalists across the land, along with other bizarre schemes such as Christ-free Christmases, teachers basically replacing parents, gender-neutral toilets, the banning of red ink used in marking books, children sitting on interview panels for new teachers and sports days where no-one was actually allowed to win races.




 

I suspect that the Acne Avengers who  wrecked floral displays, vandalised The Castle and made malicious 999 calls have all had their own self-esteem boosted continually since they were out of nappies. They have been told that they are special, and that doing whatever they want to do, irrespective of its effect on others, is their God-given right, and is part of their creative self expression. They – and their disfunctional families – will know their rights down to the last semi-colon; they will, however, be unable either to pronounce or understand the slightly more important word – responsibilities. The worst part of this sorry saga? Recently, voters in this country opted for a change; they wanted independence, the recognition of hard work, a country where energy, determination and integrity was rewarded, and a return to fair but vigorous treatment of people who were antisocial, destructive and self-obsessed. Faced with this, the entire criminal justice, social care and educational establishments are heading off at 90 mph – in the opposite direction. Spare a thought, however, for the devastated and heartbroken Wisbech families who suffered the full might of The Law, when they were given. "strong words of advice." Sometimes, you genuinely couldn't make it up.

We are finally here! We have made it! The great day has arrived – it’s January 1^st 2020 and at last the Great 2020 Vision is here. It’s real, and we can reach out and touch it! Remember how it started?
“The Wisbech 2020 Vision was announced in 2012. Its aim is to regenerate the town and its surrounding area - making it "a great place to work, live and visit."

There were lofty ambitions:

• Agreeing a deal with a local developer to re-start the Nene Waterfront scheme (2013)
• Becoming part of the national Healthy High Streets programme (2014)
• Approval of £300million investment for A47 improvements, including the Guyhirn Roundabout (2014)
• Constantine House being made wind and weather-proof (2015)
• Receipt of a £2million grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund to improve buildings on Wisbech High Street
• A successful devolution deal, resulting in the launch of the Cambridgeshire and Peterborough Combined Authority
• £6.5 million towards a feasibility study of a Wisbech Garden Town which could deliver 8,000-10,000 new homes, better transport links, jobs and improved educational facilities
• £10.5 million towards Wisbech transport improvements.

What happened? The Nene Waterfront Scheme? A busy marina, bustling with energy, boating traffic, cafés, Wisbech open for business and saying a big “hello’ to the world? Not exactly. The Boathouse. Over-priced and under-used. That’s it, and that’s all.

The Healthy High Streets programme? My goodness, that worked wonders, didn’t it? Along with the £2million grant that went straight into the pockets of consultants. The only thing that has changed is the window display in Evisons. No, I’m only joking – I love the shop, but it’s still 1957.

The A47? Wow what a difference that has made! And as for the refurbished roundabout at Guyhirn, how did we ever get by in the old days?

Constantine House? A result of sorts, but not through any effort by the 2020 Vision luminaries. The building was eventually re-roofed and made watertight, largely as a result of pressure from Mike & Viginia Bucknor, with help from an active social media campaign. Other members of the Town Council did nothing other than rubbish the efforts to make the building less of an eyesore.

The Cambridgeshire and Peterborough Combined Authority. Now that really has made a difference. There can’t be a man woman or child in Wisbech who goes to sleep at night without whispering a silent prayer to Mayor James Palmer and his tireless work to make Wisbech a better, safer and more prosperous town.

The Garden Town? Again, another £6.5 million of taxpayers’ money diverted into the offshore bank account of Messrs Bluff, Spynne and De Ceeve – that well-known firm of consultants and creators of fatuous feasibility studies.

Wondering why Bluff, Spynne and De Ceeve have an offshore tax-free account? Simple – the further payment of £10.5 million to ‘improve Wisbech transport infrastructure’ pushed them into the top tax bracket, so what else could they do?

Let’s cut the satire and be plain. The High Street is the same mess it always was. Transport links are on a par with rural Albania. The town centre is fine if all you want is a cup of coffee, a new ‘phone or a scratch ‘n’ sniff fully immersive experience of street drinking, urination and defecation. In short, eight years of committees, pledges, consultations and visions have produced precisely this, expressed perfectly as a mathematical fraction:

What a bitter contrast there is between the national mood and the state of play here in The Fens! I am delighted that we now have a proper government that can actually govern, and a Prime Minister with energy and ideas. But in Wisbech? Not so much. At county, district and town level we have apathy, complacency and a parnem et circenses approach which seeks to bamboozle the public by pushing one or two expensive vanity projects at the expense of genuine dynamism and change. What we are being offered is elaborate icing - on a cake which is made of sawdust.