Live, Observe, Learn, Repeat

Before we even begin with this little thought exploration, the context is that I did and have left. This ‘writing’ is not primarily about my ‘story’, although aspects of that will inevitably seep in as we go. This is more an intent on the creation of a (kind of) space to consider some matters related to some aspects of what it is to leave the profession.

I’ve read writings by people who have done so (left, that is) and they have stated that it was the best thing they ever did. They now have a new lease of life (whatever one of those is). I have read articles from those who reached a point of having no choice but to leave (as they saw it from their perspective and the context of the time in which they did leave… this group includes me). I have read some of the thoughts of those who are considering leaving. I have read blogs by those who have left but are then not too sure how they feel about it, having done so. I am writing with the last two of these groupings of people in the forefront of my mind. This is for the ‘considering leavings’ and the ‘not sure how I feel about leaving having lefts’.

Firstly, some wider scene-setting relating to the majority of those working within education: Most teachers and school leaders are ridiculously passionate (and will demonstrate this in their own unique and often, rightly, peculiar ways) about facilitating learning and investing in the lives of the children in their schools. There is (usually) a shared aim between the teachers, to actively help those children (in a whole variety of ways which are not just subject-based but include those that are subject-based) to be as prepared as they can be for life beyond the boundaries of the school (both the present boundaries and future boundaries). These aims are irrespective of the individual needs, nationality or the intelligence levels of the children. They are also irrespective of any other differentiation between the children, including any kind of social status.

There is no denying that some teachers and leaders have ventured into the active pursuit of power and control along the way, and that is inevitable. To deny its presence is (to my mind) foolishness. After all, teachers are humans too. Each believes (oftentimes) that their way of doing things is better than that which is being forced upon them by the leaders, who they see as being far removed from any real (and current) experience of being in the classroom (even if this is not the case, but admittedly may often be the case).

There is also the fact that any teacher knows that their own classroom is (kind of) their own little kingdom over which they must rule (in some way or other and all with the flexibility of style and creative approaches of their own taste – or what has been dictated by those pushing for ‘consistency’ across the school) within which they will do as they wish (for as long as that is not criticised and then forcefully adjusted by those popping in for learning walks).

Yes, the pressures of working within education are extreme. We teach the subjects and skills required for the subjects. We are the pastoral support for children and families, and we now also have those who are the so-called first aiders for mental health and well-being. We are the experts in supporting children with additional learning needs and we are the advocates for (and managers of) those who incessantly present challenging behaviours because of a plethora of life scenarios they have experienced to date. We safeguard our children. We are the life skills coaches, including relational coaching for inside school and sometimes for the home too. We encourage positive mindsets, whilst developing the skills of a proactive work ethic and we place an emphasis on effort over attainment. We are judged by each other, by parents, by pupils, by governors, by OFSTED, by SIAMS (if we happen to work in a C of E faith school), by the media (when they feel the need to comment) along with the judgement of all who have been to school themselves or have opted not to because of previously conceived issues with schools in general.

The pressures on school leaders are often even greater (in some ways) than those experienced by teachers, and the whole staff team are (rightly) unlikely to be fully aware of this. If you are a school leader who is considering “profession exiting” soon, here is my take on some of those pressures.

The juggling of budget constraints, the employment of staff, and the management of all staff (but especially those who are under-performing and are refusing to accept there may be ways to develop themselves further, and who are (effectively) backed-up by copious amounts of red tape within all that is the world of Human Resources) are interesting aspects of the role where the chances of striking a balance approved of by all is, well, unlikely.

There are the formal, externally judged processes that are actioned because of the failings of the wider system that end up being (seemingly) the responsibility of the individual school leader which is a tricky pill to swallow. These more formal tribunals tend to run alongside the need to navigate all regular meetings (that must happen so that collaboration can be evidenced) that (in real terms) do nothing to address what ‘is’ but spend time talking a lot about what must be. There are all the practical and calendarised activities (some delightful and other laborious) that must be managed and the day-to-day tasks that are associated with those, including the additional First Aid provision that is inevitably necessary for the parent sprint race at the end of Sports’ Afternoon.

There is the vital need to motivate and encourage staff even though many want to (or insist on) only do things in the ways they want to do them, refusing to even consider another approach, never mind try one, because they are human and don’t like to be seen to be taking advice or direction from anyone. This works hand in hand with the need to frequently assess and keep track of both progress measures of individual children and all groups of children (into whatever groupings are the current foci) along with the quality and quantity of work in books, whilst continuing to inform teachers that worksheets are not the way forward.

These, and all other aspects of leadership, must be actioned with grace and poise (ideally with the demeanour of a gliding (and, where possible, smiling) swan), whilst calmly ensuring all the other aspects of school life that are necessary and those that must be seen to be happening are happening. This (ridiculously) is often occurring while the leader is processing the messages of hate/criticism about them or the school on whatever platform it happens to be on for that day. They deliver (as best they can) what has been given as instruction from those who govern them and whilst (and probably, most importantly) doing and actioning what they believe to be right and best for the school community they have the privilege of leading.

This must all be in place as they stand at the school gate (having checked coffee supplies are in place for staff and guests) exuding positivity and actively welcoming everyone into school, ensuring they have internally steeled themselves for the potential of any imminent personal attacks or threats likely to be ‘incoming’ (either face to face, or via phone or email) from those who (on any particular day) may have an issue with any particular aspect of school life relating to them or their child that is (apparently) the full responsibility of the school leader who must act on it immediately or face a formal complaint to the Chair of Governors.

At many times and with many school leaders, I have witnessed these seeming impossibilities repeatedly executed and delivered with the (as previously mentioned) necessary grace and poise. Those days (or part days) when any leader is feeling on the front foot about any aspect of their job are quite simply some of the most marvellous days (hours) one can live. However, the point is, yes, there is no denying it’s all a tricky balance to strike and one that mostly cannot be struck.

None of this is intended to be a comprehensive list. It is simply just some of what I have experienced as both a teacher and a school leader. I have no doubt, not a single doubt, that (if you are considering leaving the profession) you will have very good reasons for the considering of it as a life choice. And before we go any further, let me be clear that I would never try to talk anyone down from that position. I get it. My demise was less about considering it but was a direct consequence of being broken by both the system and those fighting against me within the system. From my perspective, I only ever aimed to pursue and action what was in the longer-term best interests and preparation for the individuals I worked with, and for the children we work for and with, but not everyone saw that as I saw it. I knew they never could or would see it as I did because the reality is that within any collection of humans there is often a complex dynamic of conflicting and opposing views and ways, even when (sometimes especially when) the overall goals are similar. There is more on my demise in ‘Becoming an Ex-Head’, but that aside, this article isn’t about whether someone should or shouldn’t leave the profession. Every situation is fully unique, and those decisions must be made by the individual at the centre of them.

This writing is, however, about issuing a few reminders that maybe you might connect with if you still teach or may need a reminder about, from back when you did teach. First, let’s be clear; you aren’t/weren’t always right, and you don’t/didn’t always make the best choices, and not all your lessons are/were outstanding; not by anyone’s categorisation of ‘outstanding’. However, I am pretty sure that you do/did positively impact individual children and groups of children. You do/did equip and enable. You do/did work hard to achieve the best you could at the time and in the context and situation. You have made some of the intended positive impact you aimed for when you chose to enter the profession. Yes, as I’ve already mentioned, you’ll have made mistakes too and handled things in ways you’d rather you could change, but you are a human. Anyway, the profession welcomes ‘reflective practitioners’ so it is crucial that you were able to see some things for you to improve on, right?! And yes, the display you created that inspired and was praised, or the concert you facilitated that was met with positive feedback, or that particularly successful community event you organised, yes, you made your mark…and in a good way. That child who overcame whatever it was enough to then be able to independently achieve (even with scaffolding in place) and to feel proud of what they achieved? Yes, you did play your part in that. You make/made your mark in a good way.

It boils down to that, don’t it? Don’t all humans, in one way or another, want to leave a mark to somehow prove it was worth them being here on the planet living the life they live? Whether that is by influencing young lives in education or standing out from the crowd in some way and gaining recognition for that, or being on a grand stage receiving accolades from the many…whatever it is, isn’t there a deep-seated need to give to life itself something perceived to be of worth in some way? I think there is a lot of that and hey, that’s cool, right?

Isn’t that another reason that we teach as we do? Isn’t it about helping the children to find areas in which they excel so they can have something to develop and grow in so they can then bring it or share it? I dare to suggest that, in part, it might be.

For those of us now on the outside, is our impact any less now? I would dare to say it is (likely) different, but not (necessarily) less.

The educational world is both at times hideous but also marvellous. It sometimes destroys and yet it also builds. Given the chance, I’d not trade the time I had within its walls for time I could have had anywhere else. However, now that I’m living outside of its boundaries, there are a few things I need to organise before I can properly move on (and yes, as will become quickly obvious if it wasn’t already, I was ‘primary’): Where shall I store my staple gun (because obviously I’ll be needing it at some point for something)? Do I really need to keep all these post-it notes? (Obviously, I do need them all, yes. No one can ever have too many post-it notes, right?) Is it really necessary for me to devise for myself a daily timetable? (Yes. Unashamedly, yes…for me, it is.)

Anyway, I must go now as I need to get on with writing my life action plan and setting out my priorities for the next term. One key thing to remember (at least for me, if not for you) is that it is possible to take the teacher out of the school, but the teacher cannot avoid the teacher within, as they make their demands, set the next goal, or aim to meet the next already specified objective…and any attempt to silence that internal teacher is, quite simply, a futile pastime. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Where did I put my highlighters?