Morlette Lindsay (1958 – 2016)
Morlette was a wonderful human being - kind, thoughtful and brave. The fortitude she showed in her battle with cancer was humbling - she was always smiling and asking after everyone apart from herself.
Morlette was passionate about the benefits that writing together could bring. She formed and led the NWP group for students and teachers at the Institute. She organised two LATE/NWP conferences at the British Library: Writing Britain, 2012; Writing, Whodunit? 2013; and, in 2015, one more conference at Goldsmiths and yet another to coincide with the British Library's 'Gothic' exhibition.
She believed in teachers strengthening themselves through collaboration - always fortified by the delights of her generously stacked tea trolley! She hosted group leaders at the Institute where she was a passionate advocate of what 'voiced' writing could bring. On one such occasion she wrote movingly about her South African grandmother's rolling-pin. She knew that writing 'touchstones' were often key to releasing energy and uncovering values - in this case the fight against apartheid. Morlette so championed the NWP cause that she was about to embark on a PhD looking into the agency and effects generated by teachers' writing groups. Tragically, declining health thwarted her plans.
Writing about her brings her back - and, despite the pricking of my eyes, she is smiling. That's how I remember her. And she will be remembered. Today, 4 Nov 2016, at the Institute, there will be a celebration of her life. Morlette's attention to others and her deep belief in the goodness of human beings gave those who met her the confidence to become their best. She lit lights that will never go out.
Simon Wrigley
Morlette was passionate about the benefits that writing together could bring. She formed and led the NWP group for students and teachers at the Institute. She organised two LATE/NWP conferences at the British Library: Writing Britain, 2012; Writing, Whodunit? 2013; and, in 2015, one more conference at Goldsmiths and yet another to coincide with the British Library's 'Gothic' exhibition.
She believed in teachers strengthening themselves through collaboration - always fortified by the delights of her generously stacked tea trolley! She hosted group leaders at the Institute where she was a passionate advocate of what 'voiced' writing could bring. On one such occasion she wrote movingly about her South African grandmother's rolling-pin. She knew that writing 'touchstones' were often key to releasing energy and uncovering values - in this case the fight against apartheid. Morlette so championed the NWP cause that she was about to embark on a PhD looking into the agency and effects generated by teachers' writing groups. Tragically, declining health thwarted her plans.
Writing about her brings her back - and, despite the pricking of my eyes, she is smiling. That's how I remember her. And she will be remembered. Today, 4 Nov 2016, at the Institute, there will be a celebration of her life. Morlette's attention to others and her deep belief in the goodness of human beings gave those who met her the confidence to become their best. She lit lights that will never go out.
Simon Wrigley
John Yandell wrote Morlette's obituary which appeared in the Guardian: www.theguardian.com/education/2016/sep/20/morlette-lindsay
The following tribute was also written by John Yandell who worked with Morlette at the Institute.
Morlette died on 26 August, after a six-year battle with cancer.
I first met her when she arrived, in January 1986, as a supply teacher at the school where I worked in Tower Hamlets. It was the second day of term: the teacher whom she was replacing had lasted a day. But Morlette was made of sterner stuff. She spent the next twenty years teaching in three different secondary schools in Tower Hamlets. She joined the English team at the Institute of Education in 2006, initially on secondment from George Green’s school until, in 2008, her appointment to a substantive lecturer post. At the Institute, Morlette worked mainly on the Secondary English PGCE.
Before moving to the UK, Morlette had been teaching in a so-called ‘coloured’ school in South Africa, at a time when the struggle against apartheid was at its most intense. The tales she told of protecting her students from police raids became, in Morlette’s telling, stories of hope, of pedagogic relationships forged in small acts of solidarity. She was an incurable optimist, not out of naïveté but out of conviction. She looked injustice, bureaucratic stupidity and institutional malevolence squarely in the face, and remained absolutely determined that right would prevail – and resolute that she would do all in her power to make it so.
She was an inspirational teacher. What made her so was the obvious warmth of her affection for her students, both in school and at the Institute. She made it her business to get to know each of them as individuals, and to do all in her power to enable them to flourish. She inspired her students because she loved them – and they knew it.
Morlette’s lectures were magnificently memorable, idiosyncratic performances – full of energy and enthusiasm, glittering with the practical wisdom of the hugely experienced teacher that she was, and pressing the whole of the English and Drama PGCE cohort into an array of meticulously choreographed activities. At first glance, these lectures could seem unstructured, but this was not at all the case: they were very carefully shaped, delivered with the artful artlessness and sense of timing of a stand-up comedian. They were very moving, and very funny – particularly when she donned her clownishly oversized pair of ‘critical spectacles’ – the lenses through which she advised us all to scrutinise the latest initiatives, the fads and fashions of education policy.
Morlette was a vitally important part of the leadership of the London Association for the Teaching of English (LATE). Here, as in every other part of her life, her involvement was characterised by an extraordinary generosity: she worked selflessly to ensure that each conference was a success, that events were inclusive and new teachers were encouraged to join, that the catering was properly organised (and properly abundant).
Morlette was the most resourceful person I have ever met, and one of the most dynamic. She was always looking for new opportunities for creative work, new projects in which she could involve her students (and her colleagues). She set up and sustained a thriving Teachers as Writers group (and this was to be the focus of her doctoral research, had she lived longer). She organised events at London Nautical School (the last school where she worked), involving large numbers of student teachers from the Institute, who would, under Morlette’s guidance, run Shakespeare workshops, interview the London Nautical pupils about their reading, and collaborate with the pupils in the making and editing of short films.
Morlette was also, throughout her working life in the UK, an active and committed trade unionist. In those early days at Stepney Green School, Morlette joined the National Union of Teachers. Immediately, she set about recruiting other teachers and organising them. She became an officer of the local union branch, the East London Teachers’ Association, a regular delegate to the NUT’s annual conference, and a member of the Socialist Teachers’ Alliance. Morlette was interested in getting things done, and in involving as many other people as possible. She worked tirelessly and her enthusiasm was a powerful recruiting tool. In more recent years, Morlette was an equally active member of UCU, ever-present and ever cheerful on Institute of Education picket lines.
We join Morlette’s husband, Bill, and son, Daniel, in mourning her. She will be sadly missed.
John Yandell
The following tribute was also written by John Yandell who worked with Morlette at the Institute.
Morlette died on 26 August, after a six-year battle with cancer.
I first met her when she arrived, in January 1986, as a supply teacher at the school where I worked in Tower Hamlets. It was the second day of term: the teacher whom she was replacing had lasted a day. But Morlette was made of sterner stuff. She spent the next twenty years teaching in three different secondary schools in Tower Hamlets. She joined the English team at the Institute of Education in 2006, initially on secondment from George Green’s school until, in 2008, her appointment to a substantive lecturer post. At the Institute, Morlette worked mainly on the Secondary English PGCE.
Before moving to the UK, Morlette had been teaching in a so-called ‘coloured’ school in South Africa, at a time when the struggle against apartheid was at its most intense. The tales she told of protecting her students from police raids became, in Morlette’s telling, stories of hope, of pedagogic relationships forged in small acts of solidarity. She was an incurable optimist, not out of naïveté but out of conviction. She looked injustice, bureaucratic stupidity and institutional malevolence squarely in the face, and remained absolutely determined that right would prevail – and resolute that she would do all in her power to make it so.
She was an inspirational teacher. What made her so was the obvious warmth of her affection for her students, both in school and at the Institute. She made it her business to get to know each of them as individuals, and to do all in her power to enable them to flourish. She inspired her students because she loved them – and they knew it.
Morlette’s lectures were magnificently memorable, idiosyncratic performances – full of energy and enthusiasm, glittering with the practical wisdom of the hugely experienced teacher that she was, and pressing the whole of the English and Drama PGCE cohort into an array of meticulously choreographed activities. At first glance, these lectures could seem unstructured, but this was not at all the case: they were very carefully shaped, delivered with the artful artlessness and sense of timing of a stand-up comedian. They were very moving, and very funny – particularly when she donned her clownishly oversized pair of ‘critical spectacles’ – the lenses through which she advised us all to scrutinise the latest initiatives, the fads and fashions of education policy.
Morlette was a vitally important part of the leadership of the London Association for the Teaching of English (LATE). Here, as in every other part of her life, her involvement was characterised by an extraordinary generosity: she worked selflessly to ensure that each conference was a success, that events were inclusive and new teachers were encouraged to join, that the catering was properly organised (and properly abundant).
Morlette was the most resourceful person I have ever met, and one of the most dynamic. She was always looking for new opportunities for creative work, new projects in which she could involve her students (and her colleagues). She set up and sustained a thriving Teachers as Writers group (and this was to be the focus of her doctoral research, had she lived longer). She organised events at London Nautical School (the last school where she worked), involving large numbers of student teachers from the Institute, who would, under Morlette’s guidance, run Shakespeare workshops, interview the London Nautical pupils about their reading, and collaborate with the pupils in the making and editing of short films.
Morlette was also, throughout her working life in the UK, an active and committed trade unionist. In those early days at Stepney Green School, Morlette joined the National Union of Teachers. Immediately, she set about recruiting other teachers and organising them. She became an officer of the local union branch, the East London Teachers’ Association, a regular delegate to the NUT’s annual conference, and a member of the Socialist Teachers’ Alliance. Morlette was interested in getting things done, and in involving as many other people as possible. She worked tirelessly and her enthusiasm was a powerful recruiting tool. In more recent years, Morlette was an equally active member of UCU, ever-present and ever cheerful on Institute of Education picket lines.
We join Morlette’s husband, Bill, and son, Daniel, in mourning her. She will be sadly missed.
John Yandell
Teaching with Morlette
Laura Ovendon, group leader of NWP Halifax, taught with Morlette at the London Nautical school. On Friday 4th of November, in the Institute of Education, at the gathering for the celebration of Morlette's life and work, Laura read this tribute.
Job-sharing with Morlette was a delight. Over copious pots of tea in the holidays we would plan teaching sequences on Rushdie’s Haroun and the Sea of Stories, Gleitzmann’s Once, Merchant of Venice, Greek Myths, London Poems and one of our favourites a Y7 unit 'My Language History'. And at the beginning of each academic year, Morlette would come in on her 'days off' and we would team-teach so that the students saw that we really were a team - and it gave us both wonderful opportunities to observe and informally assess our groups.
Morlette’s skill in responding to pupils’ oral contributions in a discussion was truly one of an expert, always acknowledging their responses without closing down a line of enquiry. That is a skill many teachers can only work towards. I admired her diagnostic marking, her feedback to students and the way she often engaged in a written dialogue with them.
She cherished every child’s language heritage and this was reflected in our Y7 unit 'My Language History'. The pupils would interview their families in order to investigate languages, expressions and stories which were valued at home. We continued to do this despite the pressure in schools to stick to the dominant rhetoric of only valuing Standard English.
Her background in drama was also an asset in our classroom. It was wonderful watching her dramatic entrance into our Y7 class, disguised in hat and scarf as the character Khattum Shud in Rushdie’s Haroun and the Sea of Stories to then be interviewed by the pupils in role. Or for the GCSE Spoken Language unit, Morlette would set up Y10 dramatic scenarios which the pupils would then improvise. We did this to make the pupils aware of their own innate ability to switch registers when needed - even if they didn’t realise they were doing it. These teaching strategies empowered each and every pupil in our classes.
To prepare these words I looked back at our email exchanges and Morlette’s positive attitude and humour radiated throughout:
Of our new Y7s she wrote: They were not always good at listening to each other so I think they need to practise this.
When we took part in a Grammar for Writing research project, Morlette wrote:
I did mark a few more Y8 books and what has been interesting is to see how many of them have reflected and set their own targets based on the marking. Oh and some lovely creative writing from one of them in the park saying that the wasp that had been making Anthony nervous looked set to suck Ms Lindsay’s brain out. Not sure about this creativity lark!
Or her letter to our Y11s when she was convalescing after her first operation:
Dear Y11s, You may not believe me but I am actually missing you lot - having a laugh as well as getting angry with you when you are not listening to me. I have a fine pair of crutches at the moment and have become quite fast at moving on them!
Or giving me advice on how to deal with a tricky parent:
Show charm and give reassurance and if possible ask hotmail or whoever her provider is to take away her email account - (sorry but can't resist the suggestion) - but before email would she have bothered writing this all in a letter, put it in an envelope and put a first class stamp on it? I think not.
Not sure if this is of any help but I think affirmation of her interest in her son and keenness to be involved would flatter her - I think she needs reassurance that she is a good parent. And once she has that she may calm down - most people just want you to agree with them.
in the run up to an English subject review, Morlette would reassure me:
We are going to lick all this review stuff, never fear!
And when the report said my leadership was only ‘satisfactory’, her response was:
We have a wonderful expression in Afrikaans - Papier is geduldig - a direct translation is 'Paper is patient' - in other words it accepts any rubbish you write on it - and that sounds just about what they have done in their write up. As Zelda says so often to Felix in Once, a line I would like to say to them: "Don't you know anything?"
Unlike me, Morlette was a phenomenal organiser of trips and events and she did it all so efficiently! Trips to the National Gallery, the British Library, Shakespeare workshops at LNS, filming on the Southbank or creative writing in the park, Morlette made use of everything London had to offer. She encouraged me to presenting at LATE with her, joining NATE secondary committee, become involve in the NWP or sign up for a fantastic intergenerational project with the EMC called Age to Age. She made me push myself.
Without Morlette’s influence I wouldn’t be the teacher I am today and I miss her wisdom and encouragement.
Job-sharing with Morlette was a delight. Over copious pots of tea in the holidays we would plan teaching sequences on Rushdie’s Haroun and the Sea of Stories, Gleitzmann’s Once, Merchant of Venice, Greek Myths, London Poems and one of our favourites a Y7 unit 'My Language History'. And at the beginning of each academic year, Morlette would come in on her 'days off' and we would team-teach so that the students saw that we really were a team - and it gave us both wonderful opportunities to observe and informally assess our groups.
Morlette’s skill in responding to pupils’ oral contributions in a discussion was truly one of an expert, always acknowledging their responses without closing down a line of enquiry. That is a skill many teachers can only work towards. I admired her diagnostic marking, her feedback to students and the way she often engaged in a written dialogue with them.
She cherished every child’s language heritage and this was reflected in our Y7 unit 'My Language History'. The pupils would interview their families in order to investigate languages, expressions and stories which were valued at home. We continued to do this despite the pressure in schools to stick to the dominant rhetoric of only valuing Standard English.
Her background in drama was also an asset in our classroom. It was wonderful watching her dramatic entrance into our Y7 class, disguised in hat and scarf as the character Khattum Shud in Rushdie’s Haroun and the Sea of Stories to then be interviewed by the pupils in role. Or for the GCSE Spoken Language unit, Morlette would set up Y10 dramatic scenarios which the pupils would then improvise. We did this to make the pupils aware of their own innate ability to switch registers when needed - even if they didn’t realise they were doing it. These teaching strategies empowered each and every pupil in our classes.
To prepare these words I looked back at our email exchanges and Morlette’s positive attitude and humour radiated throughout:
Of our new Y7s she wrote: They were not always good at listening to each other so I think they need to practise this.
When we took part in a Grammar for Writing research project, Morlette wrote:
I did mark a few more Y8 books and what has been interesting is to see how many of them have reflected and set their own targets based on the marking. Oh and some lovely creative writing from one of them in the park saying that the wasp that had been making Anthony nervous looked set to suck Ms Lindsay’s brain out. Not sure about this creativity lark!
Or her letter to our Y11s when she was convalescing after her first operation:
Dear Y11s, You may not believe me but I am actually missing you lot - having a laugh as well as getting angry with you when you are not listening to me. I have a fine pair of crutches at the moment and have become quite fast at moving on them!
Or giving me advice on how to deal with a tricky parent:
Show charm and give reassurance and if possible ask hotmail or whoever her provider is to take away her email account - (sorry but can't resist the suggestion) - but before email would she have bothered writing this all in a letter, put it in an envelope and put a first class stamp on it? I think not.
Not sure if this is of any help but I think affirmation of her interest in her son and keenness to be involved would flatter her - I think she needs reassurance that she is a good parent. And once she has that she may calm down - most people just want you to agree with them.
in the run up to an English subject review, Morlette would reassure me:
We are going to lick all this review stuff, never fear!
And when the report said my leadership was only ‘satisfactory’, her response was:
We have a wonderful expression in Afrikaans - Papier is geduldig - a direct translation is 'Paper is patient' - in other words it accepts any rubbish you write on it - and that sounds just about what they have done in their write up. As Zelda says so often to Felix in Once, a line I would like to say to them: "Don't you know anything?"
Unlike me, Morlette was a phenomenal organiser of trips and events and she did it all so efficiently! Trips to the National Gallery, the British Library, Shakespeare workshops at LNS, filming on the Southbank or creative writing in the park, Morlette made use of everything London had to offer. She encouraged me to presenting at LATE with her, joining NATE secondary committee, become involve in the NWP or sign up for a fantastic intergenerational project with the EMC called Age to Age. She made me push myself.
Without Morlette’s influence I wouldn’t be the teacher I am today and I miss her wisdom and encouragement.