I’m a big fan of using empathy to whip the rug out from under ’em. Looking at a situation from the aggressor’s angle is the last thing that a student spoiling for a bust-up anticipates. It’s not about being nice. It’s nice to be nice, but it’s nicer to have a couple of tricks tucked in your bra to ensure a quiet life in the classroom, so you can get on with the task in hand.

I’ve grown comfortable with my fairy-godmother shtick. But while empathy is a successful approach, it isn’t bulletproof. Every so often, students will not entertain my relentless cheer. I waft in, all sparkles and effort, and they don’t even acknowledge my presence, only looking up from their phones to tell me that English is shit and they’re not doing it. Right. Okey dokes.

What then? Should we keep chirpily chipping away? If a person has rarely been treated with respect, then they might not recognise it - suspicion and hostility might be a logical response.

If the dodgy behaviour hasn’t turned to a hilarious anecdote by the time I reach the staffroom, it’s a warning sign

So when is it time to ditch the happy face and get tough? For me, if the dodgy behaviour of a student or group has not turned to a hilarious anecdote by the time I reach the staffroom, it’s a warning sign. If I’m still recovering from it on the train ride home, it’s a worry. And if it ever, ever makes me cry, then it’s time for a radical change.

I tweeted earlier in the year that I’d had a brief toilet-cubicle weep. There were no other big stresses affecting my performance. I just felt like I was failing as a teacher with one particular group. Doing it wrong.

Setting tighter boundaries

When I started teaching, I spent so much time losing it in loos that I referred to the upstairs lavs as my office. But I’m not new. I’m confident in what I’m doing and pride myself on knowing how to handle the toughest behavioural challenges.

After much reflection, I worked out where I’d gone wrong. I had assumed my students had the same high expectations for themselves as I had for them. They weren’t ready to take responsibility for their behavioural choices and needed clearer, tighter boundaries. For them, at an early stage in the year, kind and gentle was seen as a lack of authority.

Kind and gentle was seen as a lack of authority

After a few awful, weeks I ditched the downtrodden fairy and went in as Ray Winstone (not with the accent, obviously). The students noticed straight away. “You’re different, Miss,” one confused lad ventured, as I laid down the law. I challenged them to defy me, I chucked dissenters out of my lessons, I stood my ground.

And, do you know what? It worked. I have reclaimed the alpha position. I am The Guv’nor. Now that we all understand each other, Ray Winstone can fade and the fairy godmother can slowly return. I’ll be glad when she’s back. I think the group will be, too.

Sarah Simons works in FE colleges in the East Midlands. She tweets @MrsSarahSimons