My last school visit

Yesterday, I did my final school visit. I’ve done hundreds over the years, in every type of school and in many countries all over the world, from Europe to China, India, various parts of south-east Asia and the Middle East. Yesterday, I finished on a high at Harrow School and found myself speaking in the same theatre where Winston Churchill addressed the school after a WW2 bomb had blown a hole in the roof.

So, why am I not doing any more? It’s not that I don’t enjoy them. Often, I do. I get a buzz standing on a stage and holding an audience and sharing the things that I’m so fascinated by. Often I don’t enjoy them, and we’ll say no more about those. (Yesterday was not one of the latter.)

Here’s why I am no longer doing them.

The cost-benefit analysis

There is an immense cost and no corresponding benefit.

The costs are to me (energy, sleep, health, time) and to the school (money - I’m not cheap - as well as also time and energy.

The benefits to me are income and (usually) a feeling of a job well done.

The benefits to the school are as follows:

• They know they did something to try to help the students’ self-knowledge, brains and mental health. However, in practice, there is little that one person can say in one hour (if I’m lucky) that will really make a difference. So, most often very little benefit, if we’re honest. (Correct me if I’m wrong.)

• Perhaps a small number of students will get real value because I happened to come at the right time and say the right thing and they heard it. One girl once wrote to me afterwards and thanked me for “settling [her] mind”. Once.

I’m afraid it doesn’t stack up: the school pays a lot of money and does not get a lot of value. There’d be much greater value in buying a class set of one of my books.

I REALLY WISH SCHOOLS WOULD DO THAT!

That would be incredibly useful: the gift of a book for each student in the year group would cost less than inviting me to the school and the students would have that book for themselves, forever, to dip into when they wanted it. My goodness, that would be amazing for everyone. (Actually some schools have done this.)

I’m exhausted by these talks

Really exhausted. I can explain it in terms of cost-benefit analysis and that makes sense. But really that doesn’t portray how tired I get. I spend so much time preparing - working out what the school wants, what they are like, what the students might need (how can I know?), how much I can fit in, what will work, what is Plan B if it doesn’t? I plan the journey, sometimes with physically exhausting combinations of trains and delays and walks and waits on cold platforms. I arrive and am (often) not given coffee, or space, or the loo, or what we’ve agreed. The geography of the auditorium needs navigation and is often really difficult, with poor acoustics or tech that doesn’t work. Sometimes the students ask no questions or aggressive questions or a series of pointless questions such as whether I know JK Rowling or David Walliams or Roald Dahl. I feel exposed, watched, judged.

Of course, often these negatives don’t happen and everything goes swimmingly but - and here’s the thing - whatever happens, it is never enough. In my head I have never done it well enough and the following night I do not sleep because everything I think I didn’t do well enough is shouting at me relentlessly.

Last night was a case in point and today I am absolutely floored.

I have more I want to give and do

Doing school talks is stopping me writing, draining my health, and preventing me from spending my remaining years being both useful and happy. I want to be useful to my family - four small grandchildren - and happy in my veg garden, walking and running with my husband, writing books and speaking to people who want to hear me. I don’t want to retire - I still have useful work to do and thoughts and knowledge to share and people to help, but I don’t think I best do that by visiting schools.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth, the thing that’s hard to say and hard to hear: I don’t think teenagers want to hear me any more. I think the best way I can reach them is through my books and, fortunately for me, I have a wonderful and supportive army of people who gently and skilfully ease those books into the hands of young people: librarians.

You are my heroes and now it’s over to you!

Passing the baton to librarians

Next weekend I’m giving the opening keynote at a conference of librarians for young people: The Youth Libraries Group conference in Glasgow. (You see, I’m still speaking to people who want to hear me…)

These librarians, in schools and public libraries, are completely brilliant at guiding young people towards the books that will help them.

So, here’s the deal: I write the books and you do the talking. I stop wearing out my heart and my shoe leather and get to live longer and write more books.

Sounds good to me!

My thanks to every school that has spent time and money booking me over the years, to every student who has listened and heard what they needed to hear, and to every librarian who has ever pressed one of my books into the hands of a young person who needs it.

It’s now over to you.

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I’m still more than happy to give talks to parents and professionals online. Do check out my speaking page. I will also still do occasional online Q&As for schools.

And DO consider suggesting that, instead of booking me to speak your school buys a set of books for a year group. I can almost certainly sort you a discount. Just ask me!