Like a lot of teachers, I get anxious when observed. I have several stories that could explain why this is, but one stands out.

Let me take you back to the first formal observation of my PGCE. Spoiler alert: it involves gunpowder.

I was enjoying my first placement, despite warnings from the university that I would find it difficult. The department was well led, I had a great relationship with my mentor and the school had a clear behaviour policy that staff adhered to. So I was looking forward to being observed by my university tutor with my top-set Year 8 boys.

I had prepared to within an inch of my life and it was, on paper, a perfect lesson for the era: I had clear learning objectives and a variety of activities. I was ready to go.

Pop!

I thought it best to ignore the unexpected noise and carry on.

Pop!

There was no doubt about it: someone was setting off caps. In my observation lesson. With my university tutor present. Panic set in.

A valuable lesson about lesson observations

Then I remembered school policy and followed it. I issued a warning and carried on with the lesson. Normality resumed.

All was fine until the independent activity when I was wandering around, supporting various pupils with the task.

Pop! And again: Pop!

I had no chance of spotting who it was. The school policy was to issue a whole-class detention if no one owned up after being given the option to do so. So that’s what I did. Lo and behold, the student responsible owned up at breaktime and the detention never happened. I went on to have a fantastic relationship with that class, including the cap thrower.

But there was still the matter of the observation feedback. It focused on one thing: the whole-class detention and how it was always inappropriate to use one.

When I raised the fact that I had followed the school policy, I was told I shouldn’t have: whole-class detentions were always wrong.

I passed the observation (just), and later my PGCE, but in moments such as this, it was tough going. As a PGCE student, you’re responsible to so many people at once, and sometimes the information and advice you are given is conflicting and overwhelming.

What got me through moments like that observation was adhering to school policies. But what got me through my PGCE and into the career I love was reflection. I learned how to pause, take stock and ask myself some useful questions. Is the advice and feedback valid? Does it work in my specific situation?

If the advice is valid, I act on it. If it’s something I don’t think would work in my situation, I look at why that is and try to articulate it. If after further discussion I still can’t see how something would work, I ask to observe someone else doing it.

Observations should be discursive, supportive exercises. They’re about improving practice, not punishing individuals. This experience taught me that early on.

It also taught me to have a sense of humour, something that often comes in handy in teaching - like the time I tripped over my academic gown in chapel and fell on my knees in front of Year 9. But that’s another story.

Heidi Drake is an English teacher at Colchester Royal Grammar School in Essex

This article originally appeared in the 12 March 2021 issue under the headline “An insight on observation to cap them all”