Ellie Loughnan @ELoughnan

Tamworth Football Club are appealing for supporters who were in the car park during Tamworth FC Vs. Alvechurch FC in the Birmingham Senior Cup on Tuesday 3rd February 2026 at 8:58pm. If anyone in the car park has dash cam footage to check or if anyone witnessed anything please report it to the Police using the Police Reference Number: 21260017785. Club Contact Information: Email: [email protected] Phone Number: 0182765798.

I have an unusual request! Is there a school in the Tooting/South London area in possession of the Read Write Inc Fresh Start materials that they would be willing to loan to another school for 3 months starting in January 2026? This is all in the interest of research!

@jasonwillems @Rainmaker1973 Agree completely Am interesting perspective on this that’s worth a read (irony): open.substack.com/pub/jmarriott/…

A message from a Kindergarten teacher: After forty years in the classroom, my career ended with one small sentence from a six-year-old: “My dad says people like you don’t matter anymore.” No sneer. No malice. Just quiet honesty — the kind that cuts deeper because it’s innocent. He blinked, then added, “You don’t even have a TikTok.” My name is Mrs. Clara Holt, and for four decades, I taught kindergarten in a small Denver suburb. Today, I stacked the last box on my desk and locked the door behind me. When I started teaching in the early 1980s, it felt like a promise — a shared belief that what we did mattered. We weren’t rich, but we were valued. Parents brought warm cookies to parent nights. Kids gave you handmade cards with hearts that didn’t quite line up. Watching a child sound out their first sentence felt like magic. But that world slowly slipped away. The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe. My evenings used to be filled with construction paper, glitter, and glue sticks. Now they’re spent filling out digital reports to protect myself from angry emails or lawsuits. I’ve been yelled at by parents in front of twenty-five children — one filming me with his phone while I tried to calm another child mid-meltdown. And the kids… they’ve changed too. Not by choice. They arrive tired, anxious, overstimulated. Their tiny fingers know how to swipe a screen before they can hold a crayon. Some can’t make eye contact or wait in line. We’re expected to fix all of it — to patch the gaps, heal the trauma, teach the curriculum, and document every move — in six hours a day, with resources that barely fill a drawer. The little reading corner I once built, full of soft beanbags and paper stars, was replaced by data charts and “learning metrics.” A young principal once told me, “Clara, maybe you’re too nurturing. The district wants measurable results.” As if kindness were a weakness. Still, I stayed. Because of the small, holy moments that no spreadsheet could measure — a whisper of, “You remind me of my grandma.” a shaky note that read, “I feel safe here.” a quiet boy finally meeting my eyes and saying, “I read the whole page.” Those tiny sparks were my reason to keep showing up. But this last year broke something in me. The aggression grew sharper. The laughter in the staff room turned to silence. The light went out of so many eyes. I watched brilliant teachers — my friends — vanish under the weight of burnout, their joy replaced by survival. I felt myself fading too, like chalk on a board that’s been wiped one too many times. So today, I began my goodbye. I pulled faded art off the walls and tucked thirty years of handmade cards into a single box. In the back of a drawer, I found a letter from a student from 1998: “Thank you for loving me when I was hard to love.” I sat on the floor and cried. No party. No applause. Just a handshake from a young principal who called me “Ma’am” while checking his notifications. I left my rocking chair behind, and my sticker box too. What I carried with me were the memories — the faces of hundreds of children who once trusted me enough to reach out their hands and learn. That can’t be uploaded. It can’t be measured. It can’t be replaced. I miss when teachers were partners, not targets. When parents and educators worked side by side, not in opposition. When schools cared more about wonder than numbers. So if you know a teacher — any teacher — thank them. Not with a mug or a gift card, but with your words. With your respect. With your understanding that behind every test score is a heart that cared enough to try. Because in a world that often overlooks them, teachers are the ones who never forget our children.

#Afghanistan: Nationwide internet shutdown by Taliban has extremely serious human rights ramifications across the country. It curtails free flow of information crucial to everyday activities, incl. access to essential services from health & education to banking. Women & girls already excluded from public life are especially affected. We call for immediate reconnection.

Fantastic from Brighton, this. A massively important message delivered very well.

If you got married in #Bristol today, I spotted you sharing a lovely embrace as I walked behind you this evening. I hope you like the photo and that you have a lifetime of love and happiness ❤️

98 months since we lost 72 loved ones in the Grenfell fire. As work starts next month to dismantle the Tower, we ask you to continue to keep Grenfell in your hearts and minds until some form of Justice comes 💚

I will never get tired of seeing the joy in this, but also the importance of making things more wheelchair accessible is the lesson here!

What do you think about difference in the UK today? We’re running a short, anonymous survey on attitudes to connecting across differences - part of a Lottery-funded project exploring the UK’s social fabric. Takes <10 mins. Share your view 👇 form.typeform.com/to/QcUDjFca #UKVoices

On the 28th June, Rekindle hosted our first-ever Campfire: Reimagining Education event at the People’s History Museum - a gathering of a community ready to reflect, challenge, connect, imagine and take action, centred around the work of our six researchers.

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@RekindleSchool Heard it went brilliantly! 👏

Some 100 private jets will fly to Venice for Jeff Bezos' wedding, and I recycle yoghurt cup lids.

Today is Windrush Day. Thank you to all the people who came from the Caribbean & made Britain richer. May we never forget who Britain called upon in its hour of need, but most of all, may we never forget those awaiting justice for the utmost betrayal that is the Windrush scandal

A family including 2 kids are today homeless and Currently outside Lambeth Council. They’ve been trying to contact Lambeth Council today for assistance but haven’t had any help. I was told they were refused entry by staff into the Civic Centre building. They’ve been directed to Brixton Police station instead. Please RT 🙏🏽

On the 9th anniversary of her killing, all I want is for Jo’s death not to have been in vain. To be remembered as a moment when we realised the dangers of polarisation, extremism & hate. It doesn’t feel like that at the moment- but she wouldn’t want us to give up. #MoreInCommon

This time next year, Grenfell Tower will have disappeared from the London skyline. We thank the thousands who joined us to to mark the 8 year anniversary, giving us the hope that you won't let Grenfell be forced out of sight and out of mind before Justice comes 💚

Walk with us tomorrow, Saturday 14 June for the 8th anniversary. 8 years on. No arrests. No justice. The tower is a stark reminder of what happened that night but the government has decided it's time to bring it down. 💚

A new creative community project for care leavers aged 25 and beyond — a space to create, connect and reflect on your own unique journey through art. Email us at [email protected] to get involved. 💙