Reservoir horologists

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You’re asking me how the watch is made. For now just keep an eye on the time.

Alejandro Gillick [Sicario – 2015]

Leading a school is like taking a dog for a walk in the rain. You know the dog needs exercise so you vow to commit to the walk no matter what the conditions are like outside. You prepare, in advance, for every eventuality you can think of to safeguard both yourself and the pooch along the way. During the walk, you try to remain in control of the lumbering beast that is pulling away at every opportunity whilst getting distracted by everything around it. At some point during walkies you let the dog off the lead, assuming it can be trusted, and, before you know it, it has let you down in some unbelievably stupid manner that is going to take a lot of explaining when you get home. Finally, you return from the walk (which has taken far longer than you anticipated), wet, muddy, totally exhausted and your pockets full of excrement.

If you’re wondering what the dog represents in this metaphor, take your pick. Either way, it’s messy.

I suppose, where the metaphor falls down is that neither before nor during a dog walk do you have a variety of stakeholders scrutinising every step you make. No one is interested in how you take the dog for a walk; all anybody will care about is whether the dog a) eats; b) treads on; c) tries to have sex with, anything of theirs that they hold dear. The same cannot be said for running a school.

There are a plethora of folk whose sole desire is to check whether a school is doing their job. They concern themselves with what schools and their leaders are up to. They come in, look around, see what’s going on, ask a few questions…all in the hope that you won’t be left standing with any more poo in your pocket than is reasonably necessary. Knowledgeable, helpful, and always offering a considered word to the wise. These people know when to stand back and wait for the chips to fall. They recognise that outcomes, although not the be all and end all, are still vital signs.

For others, however, the end result seems to be the last thing on their mind. Some checkers seem to have an obsession with the how you’re doing it rather than what good it has done. The outcomes are almost irrelevant, as in, good outcomes can be ignored and written off as an accident or not worth exploring, whilst bad outcomes merely support their overwhelming sense of entitlement to get stuck in.

And by getting ‘stuck in’ I mean they have a desire to not only understand, but to be involved in and therefore (in their minds) improve, every minute detail of school operations. Every system is in danger of being dissected, analysed, advised upon, added to and stitched back together so that it resembles a Frankenstein’s monster of what went before it. A mishmash of people’s opinions, biases, past glories and, worst of all, easy to evidence ideas that they can check up on later.

These critical friends/challenge partners/ball breakers/accountability gibbons needlessly delve into elements of school business that they genuinely need not concern themselves with and, in a desperate bid to grasp the big picture, end up looking through the wrong end of the telescope. The concept that the school, having been successful in some areas, could therefore be successful in others, is alien. Areas to develop are proof that the school has not yet done enough and so why shouldn’t schools be treated as though they have done nothing at all. Trust, acknowledgement, respect, professional courtesy are not terms these people are comfortable with, plus, it’s easier to ‘challenge’ by being destructive. And too often that all important ‘c’ word is misunderstood by those that bandy it around the most.

And this is where the pace of school life is a real detriment. For these people are often not actually based in schools so they have a distorted, time-lapsed view of school progress. They are concerned that whilst they were away the school moved things on – but that wasn’t part of the plan – although they are equally alarmed when things take time. These people are pro-actively reactive. Over-fixating on grappling with how the school is meant to work and panicking when things don’t go smoothly; at times, blaming schools for life getting in the way of their best laid plans, or judging decisions that they weren’t part of too harshly. They are ultimately ignorant of schools’ complexities, for, in a land of grey, they are only armed with a black or white brush. For them, schools will never be able to do enough but they will expect the earth.

They are the blind watchmakers, fumbling around the inside mechanism and yet unable to tell the time.

Teach the future…today!

Expert: Look into my crystal balls.

Policy Maker: Brilliant, I love this. You literally have no idea how much this will help me out in tomorrow’s meeting.

Teacher: I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

Expert: Let us look and see what the future holds.

Policy Maker: Let me see, let me see, let me see! Am I in a bigger office?

Expert: Let’s see. Ooh, the future is very different.

Teacher: Is it? Is it really? And how exactly?

Expert: Oh, the jobs of the future are very different to the ones of today.

Policy Maker: Oh no, really? Are there still policy makers?

Expert: I think so.

Policy Maker: Thank goodness. What else?

Teacher: Yes, what else?

Expert: Well, there are robots.

Teacher: Robots?

Expert: Yes. There are maybe robots.

Teacher: And what are these robots doing?

Expert: Well, it’s difficult to say, it’s the future. But there are definitely maybe robots.

Policy Maker: Are they making policies?

Expert: No.

Policy Maker: Oh thank goodness.

Expert: Who knows what they’re doing, but they’re doing something. Something that we used to do, so who knows what we will be doing instead.

Teacher: Well, you’re the one with the crystal balls. Can’t you be a little bit more specific?

Expert: People are living longer.

Teacher: Obviously.

Expert: But who knows how many of them will have jobs? Maybe the robots will do most of the jobs that we currently know about? Maybe only 50% of the human population will be able to earn enough money to live on?

Policy Maker: To be fair, the chancellor is doing a pretty good job of covering that himself without the needs of robots. They’re not foreign robots are they?

Teacher: So what skills, aside from robot maintenance, do you see being utilized within the workforce?

Expert: Skills that we could not possibly understand.

Teacher: Well this was fun, I’m off now to have a conversation with people who aren’t idiots.

Expert: But skills that we must prepare our children for?

Policy Maker: Good point.

Teacher: Hang on.

Expert: There is a real need for joined up thinking.

Policy Maker: Joined. Up. Thinking…

Teacher: Whoa there! Let’s begin with some actual thinking first; we can move on to joined up thinking when we’re good and ready.

Expert: Schools are acting too slowly. They are behind the curve.

Teacher: What curve?

Expert: The curve of the future. Schools are not teaching the skills of the future.

Policy Maker: I knew it.

Teacher: I’m sorry. What skills for what jobs?

Policy Maker: The jobs that the robots aren’t doing?

Teacher: Which are?

Expert: People will live to be over a hundred in the future. They may need to find work in forty different types of jobs spanning ten different careers before they retire to die.

Policy Maker: Schools should be equipping our children with these skills.

Teacher: What bloody skills?

Policy Maker: A portfolio of skills.

Teacher: That doesn’t mean anything.

Expert: We should be asking the children.

Policy Maker: Brilliant. Yes. Schools should be asking the children about what skills they think they’ll need in the future. We’ll call it the ‘future skills portfolio’.

Teacher: Stop saying portfolio.

Expert: You must get this right.

Policy Maker: Yes. Schools must get this right. Or else the future will be their fault.

Teacher: And if the future is fine?

Policy Maker: Then I have done my job.

Expert: And as long as there’s a future, I’ll always be an expert.

(If you think I’m joking)

Work-life balance

Before I start, you should probably know this is not a post about actual work-life balance. I will not be telling you about some wonderful new existence I have found this year, allowing me to be Headteacher and father of the year. The way I have managed my workload has not miraculously allowed me to run a successful school and indulge my lifelong passion of building full scale Viking longboats at the weekend. This will also not be a post about how work-life balance is a myth and if you’re not constantly planning, teaching, marking, assessing, reviewing, targeting, blogging or endlessly tweeting some sort of edu-babble then you’re not a proper teacher.

No, this is not one of those blog posts.

This is a post all about school.

This is a post about a Head’s school work-life balance. As in, the balance between engaging with school work and engaging with school life. These two things are not the same. And in my brief career as a Head, I have predominantly focussed on the former: my school work.

By this I mean doing very important headship stuff. The thing is, very important headship stuff often does not require you to leave your office. I can evaluate my school’s effectiveness from my desktop. All I need is data, senior leaders’ monitoring notes, behaviour logs, teachers’ plans and pupils’ books and I can not only tell which way the wind is blowing but in which direction we need to set sail. Once this is done I can busy myself with all manner of external expectations that need attending to. SEF writing, SDP planning, local authority core visit preparing, HMI monitoring visit planning, audits, updates, the list (believe me) goes on.

Occasionally I do have to actually leave my office: conduct a walkthrough, observe a lesson, go to the toilet, do an assembly, have a meeting in a different room. Sometimes, I even have to leave the school to go to meetings. And when at these meetings I spout accurate and insightful descriptions of the state of my school.

There are other times when you have to spring into action! An urgent call to arms is issued and you stride forward. You deal with a crisis. You come to the rescue. Occasionally you make things worse, but on the whole, you do some good and everybody is reminded that you’re the Head for a reason.

This is all incredibly important stuff and this is all school work for a Head.

What you realise, after a while, is that it’s all work and no life. It’s as if the brain is deaf to the beat of the heart. You know how your school works but you’ve forgotten what makes it tick.

Now, normally, at these times, Heads will go crazy. They’ll suddenly outline to the staff some ineptly thought out, incredibly trendy idea that they alone are going to map out across the school. They’ll decree that this is the future and that soon, the school will have turned a corner. They normally keep it up for about a fortnight. After that, the combination of being so actively ‘present’ around the school has taken its toll and the paperwork starts piling up in the office. They quickly retreat back into their cave and start writing a head’s report until their blood pressure goes back to normal.

I have decided that I don’t want to do that. So I’m going for a subtler approach. I’m just going to get out more. I’m going to teach every class once a term. Now when I say teach, I mean a half an hour activity based around a set of ideals that are important to my school. I’m not going to say what exactly, because you’ll accuse me of being in denial and that it sounds like an ineptly thought out trendy idea.

The point is, I’m going back into the classroom at a pace that I can cope with. I’ll experience behaviour management up close and personal, I’ll notice things about the children that I’ll be able to chat to the teachers about. It will make me understand the job they have this year better. I am in no way expecting them to learn anything from me! (I’ll get that out the way now, so you can lower that raised eyebrow straight away) But it will provide me with a greater context through which to support and challenge the teachers throughout the year.

It will also mean I get to know the children better in a different professional capacity. They only know me as the Head who either bores them in assembly, tells them off when they’re naughty, calms them down when they’re upset, fixes things when they go wrong or makes them laugh because I’m bored! They’re now going to know me as a…’teacher’ seems too strong a word but I suppose I hope they’ll see me as someone who can teach, a bit.

I honestly think this will help my school. Not because the concept behind me going back into classrooms is going to revolutionise what we do, but because it’s going to get me back doing a bit of planning, creating a few resources, thinking about differentiation. In short…stop me from being just a Head.

I love the school work of a Head but it’s time I enjoyed a bit of the school life as well.

Postscript

Oh, a few details regarding the opening paragraph that I should probably clear up. I couldn’t win father of the year because I have no children and I don’t even know what a Viking longboat is. Sorry.