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At the chalkface: Toxic

I tried to dismantle the fizzy drinks machine and got detention. I gave condescending, useless sermons on class, culture and diet. How could parents foist poison on their own children?

Many years ago I was walking down a main street in Stockholm. I saw a machine at the roadside.

“What’s that for?” I asked my Swedish companion. “It measures lead.” The reading was about two per cent. “Why don’t we have them in London?” “It would be very high. They don’t want you to know,” he said smugly. “It damages the brain, especially children’s brains.” Ah.

“It’s murder.” Ah.

Was this why so many pupils were barmy? Their inner city brains were poisoned? Why were teachers even bothering? It wasn’t our fault we couldn’t control raging nutters. No pedagogy cuts through lead.

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