A Gift From Above

I know that Twitter is occasionally like the online staffroom – that safe haven where teachers and staff can (quite rightly) get things off their chest. And I know that what staff quite often want to get off their chest is the latest initiative that is causing their workload to resemble the never-ending story –except that at the end of term you won’t be flying atop a massive flying rodent with a moustache. Occasionally, the staff room is also the place to (whisper it) BITCH about senior leaders.

It is this element of the staffroom/Twitter comparison that I find the most uncomfortable. Not just because I am pathetically needy and want everyone in the real and virtual work to think that I’m great. Nor because it is necessarily untrue.

No, I find it most uncomfortable because

  1. Nothing I say about the virtues of my leadership or the fantastic Heads I know will stop others from thinking ‘Yeah but what do you know, you’re a Head…you probably wouldn’t know a successful lesson if it kicked you in the Ed Balls*: you’re too busy chasing the Ofsted golden ticket of outstanding like some deranged OmpaLumpa in a suit: you disgust me.’
  2. Nothing I say will make those depressed, deflated or damaged teachers feel better.
  3. Nothing I say will improve YOUR SLTs.

So what’s a Head to do?

Well, all I will say is this:

If you truly see absolutely no value in the people who are leading your school then you should leave. I know, I know: that’s not fair; it’s not you who should have to leave it’s them. But face it, if you’re in a situation where their exit looks unlikely then why put yourself through it? Please don’t say ‘for the sake of the children’. Again, I know that sounds mean and callous but the damage being done to them by poor leadership is greater than the good they have with you for one year. If you want to feel valued as a teacher you must work in a place where you feel valued and where that sense of worth is reflected back onto the SLT. It is the strategic direction of the school that impacts most heavily on the achievement and future achievement of children. I truly believe this.

As a teacher I worked in a school where the thought of me ‘not’ being there for the children sickened me. They were disadvantaged, didn’t see the point in school and were deemed so unlikely to succeed it would break your heart. It was a privilege to teach them and to see them succeed. But when the leadership of the school began to crumble I could see that no matter what I did, no matter what magic I achieved in the classroom: it wouldn’t have a lasting impact. Except maybe in years to come some of them might think back and say that they quite enjoyed my lessons but that isn’t good enough.

So I left. Did I run away? Did I let those children down? Maybe. But not as much as those getting paid a lot more than me let them down. I saw a window of opportunity where I could have a greater impact on more children for a sustained period of time and I took it. And I’ve never looked back-partly because it was too painful.

Ok, let’s cheer things up.

If you really don’t want to leave then try this: Even though I’m a wonderful leader to the point where I’m probably written into most staff members’ last will and testament, I do think that ensuring a school’s leadership team are effective, strategic, good at their job and nice to people is pretty darn important.

So to achieve this in my current school my SLT are at this very moment creating a code of conduct for SLT. I am very happy to share its current daft with you fine people. It is a draft based on discussions we have had about taking the school forward and represents what we want to say about ourselves and hopefully what others will say about us.

You will see that the draft is in two colours: the black writing is the official document and the red writing is the official document but in plain English. I call this version the ‘idiot’s guide to SLT’ and we’re using it to make sure that everyone in SLT gets it…because you can’t be too sure!

SLT Code of Conduct idiot’s guide

So, read it, tell me what you think.  If you like it why not photocopy it and leave it in the Head’s office or under their windscreen wipers or use it as their screensaver. All I know is that I’m proud to be a school leader. I think I’m good at it. I think I can unify and lead a load of people in a direction that could help children achieve. But I also respect the job too much to risk it being ruined by some of the behaviours described on Twitter in recent months so I won’t let it happen and here is how I intend to start.

*I appreciate Ed Balls is a rather old education reference but I could hardly have used Tristram Hunt could I…that would be rude.

MOT – Motivate Our Teachers…or Mad Old Tristram?

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Image from @MartinShovel

It’s a bloody outrage, how dare he? I’m not a car! I don’t need more hoops to jump through. Yeah, yeah, yeah whatever. As with any idea that could affect how the cogs of education turn, @TristramHuntMP’s suggestion that teachers should have a licence to teach was devoured on twitter and the blogosphere quicker than a teacher’s packed lunch on the first day back after the holidays. It wasn’t helped that his proposal had been abbreviated into an over simplistic idea that provided an easy target for pretty much anyone with access to the internet and at least one opposable thumb.

Let’s get the basics out of the way: There will always be those who feel hard done by and who live their lives eternally bothered by the fact that their job warrants scrutiny by people other than themselves. Those people should largely be ignored. Criticise by finding faults/flaws and suggesting better alternatives not by screaming ‘It’s not fair.’ So if you have read what Hunt has suggested and object in principle to the profession seeking out robust quality assurance and methods of self-improvement then maybe it’s time you just went away.

Now let’s focus on the idea – there are some good thoughts hidden in what Hunt said but in my humble opinion they are either not good enough or facsimiles of what already happens in schools up and down the country.

He talked about teachers being ‘motivated’ and ‘passionate’ as if these were equal to competency in the classroom. It was as if the media-savvy side of his brain was thinking ‘They’re not going to like this so if I just go on for ages about how teachers are important and passionate – and I mean really go on about it – I might be able to slip the idea in and they won’t mind.’ Don’t insult us: yes passion is a great motivator but we all know that sometimes it can count for bugger all. As the saying goes: just because a cat has kittens in the oven, that don’t make them biscuits.

What I’m sure he meant to say is: ‘If you’re not a motivated teacher – passionate about the profession and determined to reflect and develop your skills in order to become a highly effective practitioner so all children achieve when they are in your lesson – then you shouldn’t really be in this profession.’

In fact he sort of did say this too but annoyingly I think the weakest part of Hunt’s statement was introducing this ‘licence’ as the way of guaranteeing teachers engage with professional development: ‘If you’re not willing to re-engage in re-licencing to update your skills then you really shouldn’t be in the classroom.’ This does make it sound like it is the process of the re-licence that will keep teachers qualified which I believe is wrong at worst or a distortion of school’s robust appraisal processes at best.

We already have performance management and now a teacher’s appraisal is linked to their pay. If this is done well the Head will ensure that this establishes a culture where teachers proactively engage with their own development in a way that not only meets the needs of the school at that time but also improves their personal approach to teaching. So…do we need a licence to prove it?

Ah yes, but what about those schools where performance management is just a tick boxing exercise and the teachers don’t respect the views and judgements for the senior leadership team? Well, I hate to break it to you but a licence ain’t going to change either of those problems. The biggest problem there is the leadership: it is your job leaders to create that positive culture where reflections are not attacks and improvements are individualised rather than regurgitating the latest initiative of the week. Putting in an extra layer of accreditation through a teaching licence seems to me to be either fixing a problem that isn’t there or an inadequate way to patch up failing schools.

The most noble part of Hunt’s statement was the notion that teachers should be valued as a profession to the same degree as Doctors and Lawyers. I and I’m sure everyone in education would agree that we should be as valued because we ARE professionals. But surely the point here is the perception of our professionalism rather than the nature of it? If (and I know it’s a big ‘if’) but IF schools are led effectively everyone in that organisation can hold their heads up high. If Hunt has an issue with unqualified teachers working in schools, well, address that issue on its own and leave the rest of us out of it.

So I thank you Mr Hunt for your efforts and you at least gave me something to write about this Sunday.  If you are desperate to develop this idea you can count on me to engage with it positively. But you haven’t got long, the election’s coming soon and I’ve got my car booked in for its MOT next month and that hunk of junk has got less chance of passing than Gove being asked to appear in the new series of Blackadder.

I, teacher

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Whatever doesn’t get you sacked…only makes you stronger.

There may be some (many) NQTs out there who found the Autumn terms tough. Even the most naturally gifted teacher or bright-eyed bushy-tailed young Buck can find the reality of being an actual full time teacher really hard. That’s partly because it is. Teaching is an incredibly hard job and it’s only in your first proper term that you realise how sheltered you were from the day-in day-out pressures of the job whilst you were training. But it’s also because you haven’t been doing it for that long. So before you spend the final night of your holidays not sleeping as you worry about whether you will be able to jump back onto the merry-go-round or worry that you are just not cut out for this profession read this. Here I dig deep into my memory archives and share with you some of the most incompetent parts of my NQT year. Why? Because I guarantee you have not done anything this bad and it turned out alright for me so you will be fine.

When I graduated and became a teacher they had literally just introduced those English, Maths and ICT tests you had to do in order to get your qualified teaching status. Now as I am not a great auditory learner I didn’t quite get the full message during the lecture where they explained it. All I came away from it thinking was: ‘I’ve got three years to do them’.

So I happily applied for a job, got the interview and got the job. I taught happily for about two months before the Head called me into her office where the Chair of Governors was also waiting. She had received a call from the council saying that there was an unqualified teacher employed as a qualified teacher working in the school. Now, it was a small school so she only had four people to really choose from: the deputy, the SENCO, the Early Years leader and the NQT (I’m pretty sure I was the only one she bothered bringing into her office). What she now had to do was to decide whether I was committing fraud on purpose or just an idiot. Thankfully it didn’t take me too long to convince them of the latter but it was a rather intense meeting where I was facing the very real possibility of losing my job. I apologised, had my pay docked until I had paid back the difference to the local authority and promptly took the tests (and passed). I carried on teaching there for four years.

After I was a proper qualified teacher (by then I even had the certificate to prove it) I settled into the rhythms of teaching. One morning I woke up and I looked up at my skylight and thought: ’Gosh, it’s incredibly light out there.’ At that exact moment I heard the flat buzzer go off – who on earth could that be so early? I stumbled out of bed to answer the buzzer and as I opened my bedroom door I saw that my flatmate had beaten me to it. The voice at the other end was asking if I was in, my flatmate replied that of course I wasn’t in because I was at work….no I wasn’t the voice replied. I looked at my watch and saw that it was 9:50am. By this point I was beginning to work out why it was so light in my bedroom and the voice was explaining to my house mate that she was the Deputy Head, I wasn’t in work so if I was in fact here I should put some trousers on and meet her downstairs quickly.

Again I had to explain to my Head that I was simply an idiot who had slept through his alarm. I practically had to give a blood test and urine test to prove to everyone else that I wasn’t hung-over. They amusingly presented me with an alarm clock the next day and I had to bribe my class with watching a video on Friday afternoon if they vowed not to tell their parents. I carried on teaching there for four years.

I took my class to a local bookshop (for some reason? I actually can’t remember-perhaps an author was there). I had asked one of the parents to come with us and it was she who informed me on the way back that some of the children had taken some gift cards from the store. I asked them to empty their pockets and after I had counted them all up I told the children that collectively they had stolen £450 from the store. I hadn’t done a proper telling off before so I went to town on them. There were tears, I may have mentioned criminal records and I got the parents in and demanded that the children write apology letters to the manager. Afterwards, I inspected the gift cards and saw that they weren’t actually vouchers but promo cards – never mind I thought trying to sound convincing, in principle they stole and I was right to tell them off. I rang the store manager who didn’t seem to mind saying that they get taken all the time and are worthless and there was no need for me to return them. Finally my Head called me in as the parent volunteer had spoken to her and raised the point that I hadn’t sent out any letters about the trip and therefore hadn’t got any parent’s permission. ‘I know it’s a local visit,’ she said, ‘But you still have to tell the parents you’re taking their child on a bloody trip!’ I carried on teaching there for four years.

So there are just three appalling examples of my ineptness during my first year of teaching – I haven’t even mentioned my teaching which when I look back now was pretty appalling. I spent my first year as a teacher caught between feeling elated that I was doing this job followed by daily waves of panic, thinking I was out of my depth. Why have I written this?  Because if there are any new or newish teachers out there who are feeling out of their depth or worried that they have made mistakes that will haunt them forever; you can now relax because you’re not THIS much of an idiot. So get a good night’s sleep and take on Term 3 with confidence and gusto; just for goodness sake…set you alarm.