Chapter One: Learning can be lovely

Read by Julia Silver

I have a very specific tutoring niche. I love to work with primary-age students who need a more personalised approach—those gentle souls struggling in boisterous classrooms who crave an opportunity to learn in a calm and reassuring space.

Give me a timid 9-year-old suffering with maths anxiety, and I’ll give them the time and space to really explore and experiment with mathematical thinking.

Give me an under-stimulated 11-year-old eager to go beyond the confines of the curriculum, and we will create an awesome research project together.

Give me a 7-year-old who has gaps in their learning from a curriculum that is too fast-paced and an environment that is too distracting, and we will slow right down and take as much time as necessary to build solid foundations.

I’ve tutored on and off since I was 17, but when, at 31, my third child was born, I decided to try to make a career of it. As a qualified teacher in a close-knit community, word spread quickly about my tutoring. Within two weeks, I’d filled my schedule. And even more excitingly, I was hopeful that I could make a real difference to these young people.

At first, it was delightful. While my own children were sleeping or settled with a babysitter, the students came to my home, shuttled back and forth by eager parents. I’d open the front door and warmly welcome the child in, waving their parents away with a confident smile.

Coming to me for tutoring was probably good fun. My home is an inviting and encouraging learning environment.

On the bookcase, The Gruffalo and Elmer the Patchwork Elephant nestle amongst hundreds of much-loved and well-thumbed children’s books. The cupboards are stacked with Numicon and Kinetic Sand, playing cards, dice, and modelling clay. The walls are covered with sticky notes and magic whiteboard paper.

If we’re counting, it will be with coloured pegs.
If we’re writing, it will be with scented gel pens.

This is my way of creating a playful and welcoming environment that students can relax into and enjoy. It’s my way of demonstrating that learning can be lovely, which is what my tutoring is all about.

I use play-based, open-ended activities to bring back the natural love of learning that we all felt in our earliest years.

We usually sat across a corner of my kitchen table—the student at the head of the table, and me on the mustard yellow bench seat against the wall. I always started with an enthusiastic “I’m so glad to see you!” or “How’s your day been so far?”

I gave them a little time to chat, trying to really see and hear them—to connect with them and how they felt right there in the moment.

Then I’d share my schedule for the session. I like to combine maths and English to keep things fresh and to build on strengths as well as weaknesses. For ease of planning and a sense of continuity, at least one of these activities tends to be a long-term project, such as a book we’re reading together or a longer piece of writing.

About halfway through, I’d stop to put some biscuits on a plate and pour a glass of juice for the student, who by then would be deeply engaged in an independent task. Sometimes, I’d put on some quiet instrumental music whilst they worked.

For the final activity of the session, we’d do something lighter—some maths games or comic poetry—as they nibbled on a petit beurre.

When they left, it would be calmly and with a smile. It was an enjoyable hour in a quiet home with a friendly and reassuring adult. If nothing else, I provided a welcome respite from the crowded classroom.