Robots can’t do angry parents and nosebleeds

Some say that school receptionists could be replaced by artificial intelligence – but they overlook the fact that this essential, multi-tasking role most definitely requires the human touch
24th February 2017, 12:00am
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Robots can’t do angry parents and nosebleeds

https://www.tes.com/magazine/archived/robots-cant-do-angry-parents-and-nosebleeds

I read a TES news story the other day about a report recommending that school receptionists be replaced by artificial intelligence (“The best thing about the teacher-bots of the future is that they won’t accept the ‘blame-poverty-or-a-broken-home’ defeatism”).

I really can’t see it catching on in primary schools. Quite apart from the glitches that seem to plague all technology that enters the building, I have yet to meet a computer that can simultaneously staunch a nosebleed, counsel a divorcing parent and take delivery of three forgotten violins and a lunchbox.

In short, manning the school office is no easy task - and it is not just about the paperwork. The school receptionist is the first point of human contact for all visitors. In theory, automated sign-in screens might negate the need to have a real person on the door, but in practice what mostly happens is the human has to talk the visitor through the procedure from behind their sliding window and then has to come out when the paper printing the ID sticker jams for the 17th time.

Technology is also no safeguard against key stage 2 teachers who click the wrong box on their online register. It is not a computer who ends up pacifying the panicked parent demanding to know why she’s had a text asking why Tom’s not in school since he was there at 8.45am when she left him (do this twice in a week and only Milk Tray will save you).

The secretary gives support to staff that a computer could only dream of

There can also be few jobs with such a high rate of admin interruptus. A school secretary is lucky to get two minutes into any task before being interrupted by a pair of five-year-olds holding an envelope or a parent phoning to check if Friday is an Inset day.

The secretary also provides support for staff that a computer could only dream of. When you were under a particularly militant leadership phase, it wasn’t a computer who nipped into your classroom after lunch and whispered, “Darth Vader has left the building - pass it on”.

I’ve known many great school secretaries but none quite as good as Julie. Julie had worked at the school for years and she was its beating heart. She organised staff nights out, smoothed the running of concerts and parents’ evenings, booked coaches and trips, made tea and sorted cover for sick staff. She knew every parent and child. When the person running the after-school Lego group cancelled, Julie calmly took over; when a bout of PTA infighting threatened the Christmas fair, Julie stepped in and organised it herself.

At the end of one very busy week I remember the deputy saying, “Don’t let me go home without telling the caretaker that the cleaner’s called in sick.” She was interrupted by the sound of hoovering. Yet again, Julie had everything under control. You won’t get that from a computer.


Jo Brighouse is a primary school teacher in the Midlands. She tweets @jo_brighouse

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