A few Fridays ago, audible gasps came from where the teaching assistants and special needs teachers hangout in the staffroom: our special needs coordinator had gone into hospital and wouldn’t be back for months.
Discomfort percolated through our team as a long list of her duties was read through: child-protection issues, vulnerable students, cases of bullying, and health and care plans.
The SEND teacher was the obvious choice to step in, but with her own job too, she needed as much help as she could muster. With a weary sigh, a long-standing TA said: “OK.” She was appointed as deputy Sendco.
From our sick boss’ hospital bed, emails barked out expectations to TAs and it was like she was still at work. But the texts faded into cyberspace and we looked to our deputy Sendco for instructions.
Within a few weeks, the school was in a different place.
You see, once the initial shell shock depleted, our team pulled together concentrated on what’s important: our SEND pupils. Extra responsibility did mean extra stress for our TA extraordinaire, but it was also an opportunity for management to appreciate her skills.
It’s ironic that the lowest-paid workers in the school bear the brunt of a crisis. By Christmas, the school will have saved thousands of pounds - the TA is not being paid a deputy Sendco’s salary.
What can we take from this situation? The Sendco being off sick shouldn’t have created such a crisis. Had there been an evaluation of TAs’ skills with training in place and a temporary up-the-ladder salary to match, the initial panic wouldn’t have arisen. But while schools know they can rely on the goodwill of TAs in times of “crisis”, the required funds and training are never going to materialise.
One thing is for sure: TAs are consistently thrown a “one size fits all” approach. It shouldn’t take a crisis for their skills to be recognised.
Incidentally, our still-sick Sendco, among others, was keen to tell TAs how the school couldn’t function without us.
The writer is a learning-support assistant in the UK
A few Fridays ago, audible gasps came from where the teaching assistants and special needs teachers hang out in the staffroom: our special needs coordinator had gone into hospital and wouldn’t be back for months.
Discomfort percolated through our team as a long list of her duties was read through: child-protection issues, vulnerable students, cases of bullying, and health and care plans.
The SEND teacher was the obvious choice to step in, but with her own job too, she needed as much help as she could muster. With a weary sigh, a long-standing TA said: “OK.” She was appointed as deputy Sendco.
From our sick boss’ hospital bed, emails barked out expectations to TAs and it was like she was still at work. But the texts faded into cyberspace and we looked to our deputy Sendco for instructions.
Within a few weeks, the school was in a different place.
You see, once the initial shell shock dissipated, our team pulled together to concentrate on what’s most important: our SEND pupils. Extra responsibility did mean extra stress for our TA extraordinaire, but it was also an opportunity for management to appreciate her skills.
It’s ironic that the lowest-paid workers in the school bear the brunt of a crisis. By Christmas, the school will have saved thousands of pounds - the TA is not being paid a deputy Sendco’s salary.
What can we take from this situation? The Sendco being off sick shouldn’t have created such a crisis. Had there been an evaluation of TAs’ skills with training in place and a temporary up-the-ladder salary to match, the initial panic wouldn’t have arisen. But while schools know they can rely on the goodwill of TAs in times of “crisis”, the required funds and training are never going to materialise.
One thing is for sure: TAs are consistently thrown a “one size fits all” approach. It shouldn’t take a crisis for their skills to be recognised.
Incidentally, our still-sick Sendco, among others, was keen to tell TAs how the school couldn’t function without us.
The writer is a learning-support assistant in the UK
A few Fridays ago, audible gasps came from where the teaching assistants and special needs teachers hangout in the staffroom: our special needs coordinator had gone into hospital and wouldn’t be back for months.
Discomfort percolated through our team as a long list of her duties was read through: child-protection issues, vulnerable students, cases of bullying, and health and care plans.
The SEND teacher was the obvious choice to step in, but with her own job too, she needed as much help as she could muster. With a weary sigh, a long-standing TA said: “OK.” She was appointed as deputy Sendco.
From our sick boss’ hospital bed, emails barked out expectations to TAs and it was like she was still at work. But the texts faded into cyberspace and we looked to our deputy Sendco for instructions.
Within a few weeks, the school was in a different place.
You see, once the initial shell shock depleted, our team pulled together concentrated on what’s important: our SEND pupils. Extra responsibility did mean extra stress for our TA extraordinaire, but it was also an opportunity for management to appreciate her skills.
It’s ironic that the lowest-paid workers in the school bear the brunt of a crisis. By Christmas, the school will have saved thousands of pounds - the TA is not being paid a deputy Sendco’s salary.
What can we take from this situation? The Sendco being off sick shouldn’t have created such a crisis. Had there been an evaluation of TAs’ skills with training in place and a temporary up-the-ladder salary to match, the initial panic wouldn’t have arisen. But while schools know they can rely on the goodwill of TAs in times of “crisis”, the required funds and training are never going to materialise.
One thing is for sure: TAs are consistently thrown a “one size fits all” approach. It shouldn’t take a crisis for their skills to be recognised.
Incidentally, our still-sick Sendco, among others, was keen to tell TAs how the school couldn’t function without us.
The writer is a learning-support assistant in the UK
