Every year, I dread the health and safety audits for the departments.
They’re fiddly, box ticking and time consuming.
Much of the satisfaction in completing them is down to not having to do them again for another 12 months.
Risk assessing in a pandemic
But when it comes to the return to school, risk assessment takes on new authority. It has the power to keep us all safe.
In the run-up to our school’s phased return, there was a lot of consultation, and staff were asked if they were prepared to come in.
Those who were vulnerable would continue to provide guided learning from home. There were several models suggested before the final one agreed - not easy when government advice is also evolving.
The email attachments to get through before leaving home were substantial, but all seemed logical and clear.
Feeling daunted
So I was surprised to find myself feeling daunted.
Reading 1666: Plague, War and Hellfire by Rebecca Rideal hasn’t helped; between February and September 1665, 100,000 Londoners died of bubonic plague.
The book is a shocking narrative of local and national government incompetence.
And perhaps watching The Salisbury Poisonings was not the best idea either - another salutary lesson in how quickly contamination can spread, which left me worried about picking up infection and transporting it to my community.
Neither these accounts nor the daily briefings left me any more confident in government advice about when it would be safe to return to school.
But what really spooked me was the advice in our school’s risk assessment that teachers and students should avoid public transport altogether.
Transport troubles
Living on the Isle of Wight, I have to cross the Solent to get to school.
The hovercraft is the most direct crossing; but it’s also a 10-minute ride in closer proximity to people than two metres.
That’s why it was very reassuring to attend the Hovercraft User Group so I knew what to expect as the group had discussed the new protocols for passengers to keep them and their connections safe.
On Wednesday, I sat in the waiting room, suitably distanced from other passengers and stifled by my face mask.
The crossing was smooth and efficient. The staff were as friendly as always, and very clear in their instructions.
On-site experiences
I had timed my journey to be in school for as short a period as possible, as advised by the senior leadership team.
Walking through the school gates was unnerving, with no students in sight and the proliferation of yellow tape.
The caretaker popped his head out of the bunker to arrange some urgent Inset on the procedures and later I signed to say I had understood.
I also had to change out of my travelling clothes and put them in a double-lined bin bag. (I had already been advised to wash these at the hottest possible setting when I got home.)
There was plenty of hand sanitiser and cleaning equipment in each classroom. The cleaners were prompt and efficient, and everything ran like clockwork. There could be no doubt that the students were being kept as safe as possible.
Their behaviour was impeccable; and, though initially hesitant, they were soon engaged in the lesson. It was amazing how normal it felt.
Caring for staff
Risk assessments for obviously hazardous events such as travel to school and conduct on site are clearly necessary.
But, cynically, I wonder whether the documents are more for the benefit of insurance companies than about the health of teachers.
Public discourse about education has highlighted the risks to the mental health and wellbeing of pupils “left behind”.
Of course these aspects are vitally important. It’s clear that if the economy is to revive and children’s mental health is to stabilise, we need schools to return to normal. And for pupils, the risks from Covid-19 are very low.
But what really concerns me is that the welfare and protection of teachers is often only an afterthought - if that.
Teachers are absolutely central to the welfare and education of pupils. As soon as schools turned to online learning there should have been thorough assessments of the risks of constant exposure to screens.
No one at macro level seems to have had any thought for the ever-longer hours that teachers have had to work at home, marking online and preparing lessons, on top of the time spent screen-to-screen with classes.
All these take their toll. Too many teachers have experienced problems with posture, back and neck injuries as they work well into the night and weekends. Migraine and tension headaches can last days, and return every week.
Each new stage of government intervention has added to the burden.
The avoidable risk of burnout
If the government and political commentators now expect teachers to give up even part of their summer holiday as well as cover weekends and evenings to help some students catch up into the autumn term, on top of an already excessive workload, then there will certainly be casualties.
What we face now is the very avoidable risk of teachers burning out.
Teachers are not infinitely expandable, even if the loudest voices in education consider them expendable.
Proper risk assessments that take account of working practices and limit the overload - now, those would be documents worth having.
Yvonne Williams is a head of English and drama in a school in the South of England
