Author: theprimaryhead

How the mighty have fallen

theprimaryhead8 Comments

It happens to the best of us I suppose. You reach a point where if you allow yourself to stop, take a breath and reflect on the situation you’re in, you immediately feel like climbing under a table, breathing into a brown paper bag and perhaps, should the urge take you, quietly vomiting into a shoe. This is why you shouldn’t stop of course. Just keep on going. Just relentlessly chug away like a demented robot who has overridden its self-destruct button happily busying itself unaware of course that it’s about to burn out.

But, because I am not a robot and neither are you, we all occasionally stop and that can often seem like a huge mistake.

Today, I read a reference someone had written for me, about me, for when I applied for my current job. Now, before you start to worry, I don’t make it a habit of reading my own references. I don’t take them home on a Friday, pour myself a glass of wine and regale myself with how great I am. (That would be madness and besides, I have a blog for that.) No, I had in fact been asked to provide a reference for an old colleague and I thought before I start, I should read a successful one (well I got the job didn’t I?) to look at the basic structure of the thing and steal some sentence openers otherwise I was in danger of starting every line with the words ‘And another thing they do well…’

As I read my own reference two feelings began to emerge. One was that I appeared to be the most amazing Deputy the world has ever seen and the second was that I sort of remembered who this person was but felt it certainly wasn’t the current ‘me’.

Again, don’t worry: I know I wasn’t the most amazing Deputy in the world. But I was pretty good. And reading back this distillation of my four year stint I kept thinking: ‘Wow, I did a lot and I did it well.’ Then, thinking about my current job and everything that I’m in the middle of doing I couldn’t help but think: ‘What the hell happened to me?’

How did this cool, calm and collected leader who went from one success to another turn into this husk who seems to be staggering to life raft to life raft narrowly missing open mouthed sharks, sea snakes and floating pieces of excrement?

I do not know.

Then I read my reference again. And as a little treat, I read it again. Then it began to dawn on me. Reading back all of my achievements I began thinking back to those times and how I felt when I was actually there doing it. In retrospect, it all went so smoothly; at the time though, well that’s a different tale.

I remembered all the frustrations and challenges that were part and parcel of success. I remembered the feelings of self doubt on the journeys home, the conversations with the Head saying: ‘What the hell are we doing? Nothing’s working, I mean nothing we are doing is bloody working!’ Because when you’re in the thick of it the dream you had that started the ball rolling, always seems far, far away. Like when you dream you’re running a race and the closer you get to the finishing line the further away it gets. (I’ve never actually had that dream, but I’m sure more sporty people have and the metaphor sort of fits so I’ll ‘run’ with it.)

When you look back though, the success that you achieved for your school tower over the stress and torment it took to get there. So, I realised I hadn’t changed, I hadn’t gone from hero to zero: I’m just doing what everyone else is doing: fighting on. And sometimes it is a fight and sometimes it feels like you’re losing. But we all know it’s going to be worth it – whatever it is you’re personally fighting for, whatever it is that is keeping you from sleeping, you know that your hard work, determination and belief will win in the end. And when the next person writes your reference they’ll focus on everything you achieved and the way in which you refused to be ground down when it got tough.  Hopefully they’ll miss out the bit where they found you underneath the table being sick into a shoe and jabbering on about sea snakes otherwise you’re really stuffed.

So keep going and when you do stop and it feels like it’s all too much, just remember: this ain’t the first time and if you keep doing your job, it won’t be the last.

 

No 1 on the wing

theprimaryhead1 Comment

So I went to prison on Friday. Not for my crimes against blogging but to meet an offender who was involved with the theft of my school’s laptops over a year ago. It was part of a restorative justice programme and I was invited to meet him and explain how I felt about the crime.

I’ll admit it, I felt a little bit fraudulent about the process. This was not a personal crime: I didn’t feel violated and it didn’t affect me personally so I wasn’t entirely sure I would be able to provide the offender with the required amount of anger to restore justice. But as I’d never been to prison before I thought I’d sign up and give it a go.

I had a pre-process meeting with a police officer who would lead the conversation and he took me through what the prison visit would consist of. He also went through what I would say and took notes in case I dried up on the day. I had to really think hard about what I wanted to say – in terms of being authentic and what I thought I should say in order for the process to work. I mean the actual fact that the laptops were awful and the break-in gave me a chance to improve ICT provision probably wasn’t the right message to pass on so I settled on the following:

· I did have to improve internal security on the school site which many parents were concerned about. (I had only been the Head for a month before the robbery happened and straight away I was telling parents that they would be unable to breeze through the school as and when they wanted because I was putting timed locks all over the place– and this tainted my ‘honeymoon’ period somewhat.)

· I had planned to improve the playground but had to spend that money on the internal security as well as improved laptop cages so, one of my big ‘pledges’ had to be put on hold.

· Time…this all took time and took up governor meetings and it was boring and tedious and not what I wanted to spend my first few months in headship doing.

· Staff stay late when we rent out the school hall in the evenings and now they were understandably anxious about an intruder suddenly appearing in their room.

So I turned up at the prison, handed in my keys, phone, showed my ID and we walked through a sort of security air lock room to get through to the prison site and went into the room. The offender was then brought in (I had been asked how I wanted to greet him – I went for a ‘Hello’ and a handshake) and sat down and the process began.

What struck me first, was how young and nervous the offender looked and very soon I found myself talking about the burglary itself. It turns out that he was not one of the people that broke in but was a ‘handler’. There were 15 laptops stolen, he was given 4 to stash (a year after they were stolen) and then tried to sell them on to, as it turned out, some undercover policemen who were taking part in ‘Operation Harvest’. He was serving a 21 month sentence….21 months in prison for trying to sell four crappy laptops.

I asked him how much he intended to sell them for: he reckoned £250 for the lot. He seemed a bit surprised when I told him that it had cost the school around £25,000 to get the security doors done, laptops replaced, networked, new security cages and locks. We both agreed that the cost of the illegal activity in terms of his incarceration and my budget going on security rather than a new playground hadn’t really been worth the potential financial gain. (I also didn’t have the heart to tell him that he was deluded if he thought he would make £250)

I asked him if he felt differently about the stolen laptops when he realised they were from a primary school. He said that at the time he was gutted because it meant they were actually stolen (this wasn’t the first time he had ‘handled’ goods but in the past he could just about lie to himself that the goods were kosher). This time he couldn’t do that and he knew one hundred percent that he was doing something wrong. That worried him. Although he admitted at the time it worried him because it was more likely he would be unable to sell them / get caught. Once in prison, he said he felt bad about the children missing out on ICT – you can read as much honesty as you wish into that last sentiment but again, he seemed genuinely shocked when I said it took over nine months to restore ICT provision (he had estimated a fortnight).

Then he talked about his sentence, the life he had left behind and his plans following his probation. This was, for me, the most interesting part. He talked about how he was now ‘Number one on the wing’. This effectively meant he was head prefect. If other inmates had problems with their cells or life inside, they would go to him and he would liaise with the screws, sorry, prison wardens. He helped set the menus, helped serve and clean up. As he was talking about this his whole body language changed. He sat up, he smiled and he looked proud. He enjoyed the responsibility and the respect it got him.

When he is released he will have many check-ups as he begins to rebuild his life on the straight and narrow. Life will feel very restricted. I reflected and said that it was just another chance for him to show responsibility like he is now as ‘Number one on the wing’. I also said that everyone’s life consists of being checked up on – I didn’t bore him about Ofsted and SIO visits and SATS and HMI and pupil premium and PE and pupil premium plus and universal free school meals and parentview – but I did say that my life is full of rigour and checks and it is dealing with these successfully that gives me a sense of pride. If he embraces these as opportunities to succeed at, he too will feel the pride he currently feels, and he will be in a better place to look after his three year old son, his finance, his ill mother and his deaf brother. We agreed that he had lot of reasons to make it work.

Now, I’m not saying that at this point in the conversation he looked at me and said ‘My God, you’re right, I never thought of that before: I’m a changed man! Thank you!’ But I think it resonated…a bit. Just as he left, we shook hands and he apologised for his crime and I accepted his apology and wished him luck. He gets out a day before my birthday…I’m not planning on inviting him to my birthday party but I will think of him: I hope he’ll be out of prison and I hope he’ll be more than number one on the wing.

Judge Me!

theprimaryhead6 Comments

Lesson judgements: how valuable are they? A different question to how ‘valued’ are they? (Which if you believe what you read on Twitter the answer is um, well, what’s the least valued thing you own? Well smash it to pieces with a hammer and chuck it in the sea and you kind of get the idea.) I do however find them valuable. I don’t consider a lesson judgement to be the sealed fate of a teacher but they can help support an evolving picture of teaching and learning in someone’s classroom. They can also be the springboard for a quality discussion about a lesson that can lead into deeper discussions about pedagogy and teaching styles which for me is a welcome break from talking about pay policy, universal free school meals and whatever changes have been made to the new renewed just published finalised next draft of the Ofsted inspection framework.

On this particular matter of being pro-lesson judgements you are going to have to imagine that when I discuss the judgement with the teacher it is done nicely, appropriately and fairly. I appreciate that is a pretty big ask but just run with it.

Putting it bluntly (and this is not meant to represent the manner in which I offer my feedback and judgement) I think it is good for teachers to know:

a) How that individual lesson stood up against whatever observation criteria you are using in order to provide some kind of ‘benchmark’.

b) How that lesson contributes to the other evidence used to make a judgement of quality of teaching over time.

c) That I know what I’m talking about.

Anyone who has had to give a less than ‘good’ judgement during feedback will know that it is at those times that reason c) seems the most important. It’s one thing for a teacher to feel rubbish (because we all do when we’re told any part of our practice is not good) but at least they can be told by someone they trust. And again, you’re going to have to take my word for it that I know a thing or two about teaching…seriously just go with me here.

I think in reality, it is reason b) which has become vitally important to get across very, very loudly and clearly when feeding back and sharing a judgement. Not only because I feel that the most important judgement is that of quality of teaching over time rather than quality of teaching within an hour but also because it is the one reason that teachers tend not to hear no matter how clearly you try to make it. (Talk about a positive sandwich; teachers tend to need an extra side order of happy chips with an extra thick affirmative milkshake with a cherry on top – even then they’ll still focus on the hair that was found in the middle of the first bite)

So in case I haven’t made my thoughts clear: I like judging lessons.

But…

          But…

                       But…

Something happened recently that made me adapt my opinion. I haven’t changed my mind – I still think dissecting a lesson in order to make a judgement is still a perfectly sound and effective way of developing teaching BUT I’m wondering if it is more effective to share this with teachers when it isn’t about their teaching.

Let me explain: during a recent set of interviews, a teacher joined me in the lesson observations section. Throughout the lessons we were able to discuss what was happening and I was able to challenge the teacher into considering why a lesson had ‘tipped’ into RI or had become inadequate. Afterwards, the teacher reflected and said how they had found it interesting to see the process of judging lessons ‘from the other side’ and how by being detached from the teaching they were able to see more clearly the points at which during an individual lesson, judgements begin to get formed.

What followed was a short discussion about how these individual lessons could impact upon pupil achievement if the quality of the teaching remained at that level for a sustained period of time. Suddenly it became clear why an RI lesson needs to be analysed and issues addressed so that key pupils make progress rather than get left behind. The teacher said it was a genuinely interesting and valuable experience and possibly more so than their own observations.

So I began to wonder if it would be beneficial for all teachers to see all ranges of lessons done by other teachers. There would be no emotional attachment that can cloud key messages, opportunities to consider the impact of repeated exposure of unsuccessful lessons on pupil progress and the chance to compare particular lesson traits with your own. It’s a safe way to make strong judgements that can really support teachers improve and develop their own teaching.

It sounds ideal; there’s just one problem. How can I make sure teachers see unsuccessful lessons? Well I could constantly interview and select the worst candidates: not sure HR would approve. I could set up peer observations across the school and hope that most of the lessons are appalling – not sure that’s a particularly healthy way to run a school. Or I could teach. I could deliberately teach poor lessons and invite teachers to observe me and together we could identify why my lesson was not good. Although I am an outstanding teacher and like to think my staff agree and consider me to my a wise and knowledgeable  professional who knows how to successfully move every child on: I probably could force myself to teach inadequately time and time again. (Now, call me paranoid but I sense you are all finding that bit quite easy to believe!)