The chef has lost her BBC gig and is now working as a classroom assistant. Why are people laughing at her choice instead of praising her, asks Neil Mackay. Isn’t teaching children one of the most valuable roles in society?

I bore my family to distraction with my obsession for TV cookery shows. Keith Floyd taught me to cook when I was about 14-years-old. I graduated through the ranks of Delia Smith - my Svengali and seer; Rick Stein - go-to for seafood, if somewhat annoying in a posh-boy way; and even the Hairy Bikers, who I loved for the warm wee glow their friendship gave me - plus they were infallible when it came to an old-fashioned pie.

It was great when Nadiya Hussain arrived, fresh from the Great British Bake Off - not a show I’m much fond of, thanks to its insufferable tweeness (and the fact that I’m a C-grade baker at best). She was a font of knowledge on using spices and intriguing recipes. Though I must confess that one or two of her curries left me rather ‘meh’. 

So I’ve kept an eye on what’s been happening to Hussain since the BBC decided in its endless stupidity to get rid of her. Of course, the broadcaster said it has simply chosen “not to commission another cookery show with Nadiya”, but let’s be honest, they hoofed her out the door unceremoniously. And the move was damn stupid.

Hussain filled a real gap in British cookery shows. Where were the modern-day Madhur Jaffreys or Ken Homs of old until she arrived? Like Jaffrey and Hom, Hussain offered authenticity; an approach to cooking which came from her own home, her own family and her own culture. That’s half the point of a good meal - it’s a way of understanding and identifying with other people and places: travel via the tastebuds.

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Some folk feel that axing Hussain was an attack on that great phantasm of the far-right ‘diversity, equality and inclusion’. I couldn’t say. I’m not privy to BBC decisions. I certainly think, however, that it doesn’t help issues around unity in a divided country to bin a well-known, successful Muslim woman for no apparent reason from a popular TV slot.

If Hussain’s past life as a TV cook has some instructive moments for us, then her life post-fame is equally enlightening. Although again, the lessons aren’t particularly appetising.

Hussain told Woman & Home magazine that she was “currently working as a teaching assistant at a lovely little primary school”. The plan is, she says, to “become a teacher”.

Hats off to you, Nadiya. As a young woman, she wanted to go to university, but her parents wouldn’t support her. She eventually earned her degree in childhood and youth studies from the Open University. Now she’s putting her education to good use. 

To me, that’s a wonderful story. She got knocked down and got back up again, this time doing a job that is genuinely useful and important to society. 

'Hussain should be cheered from the rafters' (Image: PA)

Sure, I enjoyed her TV shows, but I’d prefer more classroom assistants and more teachers to more celebrity chefs, any day of the week.

You’d think folk would be cheering on the underdog, right? Wrong. This is Britain in 2026. You only kick folk these days, you don’t celebrate them - unless they’re a total b*****d, of course. 

Hussain came in for the inevitable and disgraceful race hate that marks this country today. But there was another strand, woven into the reaction to her move into teaching: mockery and derision.

Not just of Hussain, but of the job she’d chosen. There were those who delighted in seeing a tall poppy cut down, laughing at her seemingly falling on hard times - though I’m sure she’s just fine financially after all those TV shows and books and could buy and sell her detractors.

Such creatures have always existed. It was the assault on teaching, though, which spoke of a terrible erosion in our values as a society. 

Hussain said people asked her: “Why would you go from being here, right at the top, to being at the bottom?”

That one sentence is an inversion of everything our society should be. Fame is meaningless. I’ve no respect for celebrity. Indeed, I consider it a dirty word: the definition of intellectual squalor and vapidity.

Teaching, however, is perhaps the most noble job available to any citizen. To be given the task of helping raise and educate children is to be entrusted with our future. Yet teachers are treated in the same disposable fashion by society and government as the BBC treated Nadiya Hussain.

Teachers are told what to teach, they aren’t empowered even though they know best; they are given few resources; they have no functioning means of instilling control in schools; they carry the can for any failures in education; and they work long hours, suffer violence and receive a middling wage for their troubles.

I’d pay teachers far more than any oafish politician. If we valued our children, we’d value the people who teach them. Yet we don’t. I recently discussed the policy of non-exclusion in schools with an expert on criminal justice. They supported never expelling any pupil ever - even if they assaulted staff.

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Another of my obsessions - cookery shows aside - is the book Utopia written by Thomas More in 1516. In it, he imagines a world where teachers are among the most valued members of society, and every single adult is responsible for helping teachers educate the young. 

I, for instance, would perhaps be mandated to spend a few weeks annually helping out with English lessons, or media studies. A doctor might assist in biology class. Every single citizen would have a role in mentoring and extra-curricular activities, making schools the centre of civic life.

Instead of utopia, though, we’ve chosen dystopia, where fame is prized and teaching our own children is seen as worthless. If you know any teachers, you’ll understand how much they value classroom assistants. Half the problems in our schools are down to the lack of classroom assistants.

Hussain should be cheered from the rafters. She could have entered the absurd demimonde of the influencer to make a living. Instead, she chose to work with children. The dispiriting response proves what a back-to-front society we have fashioned for ourselves. And hell mend us for that.

Neil Mackay is the Herald’s Writer-at-Large. He’s a multi-award winning investigative journalist, author of both fiction and non-fiction, and a filmmaker and broadcaster. He specialises in intelligence, security, extremism, crime, social affairs, cultural commentary, and foreign and domestic politics

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