Dedication, that's what you need

When I was 16 and struggling with Maths at school, I had private tuition for eight weeks prior to the final exam. I worked hard and passed the exam with a B grade. But more than any vital life-skills of decoding simultaneous quadratic equations or working out how high a window cleaner's ladder extended up the outside wall of a house, it was the Latin aphorism that the tutor – a retired headmaster – had displayed in calligraphic letters in his study that stayed with me:

Meret qui laborat (He is deserving who is industrious).

Now as a teacher myself, I recently taught two students – both aged 16 – for a year on a course to prepare them for the Cambridge First Certificate exam in English. They both also passed their exam with very good B grades. The course wasn't a breeze, and the two of them had to work hard over many months. One of them is now beginning an apprenticeship to become a watchmaker. I'm sure he'll be excellent at it.  

All of this set me thinking about how we measure success. It seems to me that in the UK over the last 15 years or so, from an educational perspective, people have been preoccupied with quantifying achievement. Former UK prime minister Tony Blair famously wanted 50% of young people to go to university. This policy has proven to be a damaging experiment in social engineering which, in our tougher economic times, is confirmed by the lack of appropriate career opportunities for thousands of graduates. Secondly, tuition fees, debt and the resulting market in tertiary education really are causing many young people to consider whether a degree is worth it. Factor in the recent worrying stories concerning vocational training and employment schemes and you might begin to wonder who actually cares about young people and their potential.

Yet over the past fortnight, we have marvelled at people's potential and achievement in London. Some media outlets have looked into the backgrounds and/or education of Team GB athletes (55% of them are currently at university or are graduates). Others prefer to draw up a medals table of the UK further education and higher education institutions attended by athletes. I could understand if people were using such statistics to highlight potential problems concerning the equality of opportunity for athletes, though in the case of the medals table at least, this doesn't appear to be the motivation.

So what about the medalists from more modest backgrounds? Jade Jones is 19 years old. Is her Olympic gold medal worth less because she left school at 16 to take up taekwondo full time? Is 20-year-old Laura Trott less deserving of her two Olympic golds because she also left school (a specialist sports college) and seemingly went straight into cycling? We need to focus more on people's individual achievements rather than where they came from. For me, the lasting legacy of London 2012 is simply that in spite of their backgrounds, in sport or elsewhere, young people can achieve anything if they have the support of their families, friends and communities – and if they have the desire and determination to succeed.

Enjoy the silence

In case you haven't noticed, a 116-year-old event began in my home country last Friday. And unlike comedian Stewart Lee, because I don't stand to make any money from it in any way, I believe I'm allowed to name the event. Obviously I'm talking about the London 2012 Olympic Games. It kicked off with an incredible opening ceremony – a social event where a group of us eventually managed to spot a mutual friend strutting her stuff with the 7500 other volunteers on the night. As a result of this creative spectacle, the armchair cynic in me has been unexpectedly silenced. Ever since, I've come to largely overlook the widely reported empty stadia, security concerns and ticket chaos; and focus instead on a different truth: the simple fact that an army of athletes and others have gone to superhuman lengths to stage this festival of sport for our viewing pleasure.

Regrettably, certain UK media outlets and politicians apparently believe the opening ceremony was left-wing propaganda – which is utterly ludicrous. Following their logic, you'd be forgiven for thinking that the event had been created to rival Riefenstahl. Of course, these critics stop short of saying what cultural or historical aspects they would have preferred: perhaps a reminder of one newspaper's apparent support for Oswald Mosley and his fellow fascists in 1930s Europe; or how prior to 1833, the British Empire had been built on the back of slavery? The commentators' intended party-political point is non-existent. The opening ceremony was simply one man's vision to reflect the positive aspects of a nation's history and to recognise the diverse factors and events that constitute its current multicultural identity. Deny that and you denigrate the vital contribution of the country's population.

However, the wider issue, carrying on from my previous post about swearing, concerns a gradual shift towards people publicly saying what was previously unspeakable. It doesn't seem to matter whether you're a politician, polemicist or prominent sports star; people seem suddenly prepared to abuse the Internet to peddle bigotry to the masses. Perhaps the ability to post messages instantly from a mobile phone encourages people to broadcast the kind of ugly opinions they would previously have shared with their friends or kept to themselves. What is clear is that sometimes, as my favourite Depeche Mode lyric goes, "words are very unnecessary; they can only do harm".