Maya Angelou’s famous quote “Don’t bring negative to my door” has set me one of the biggest challenges I’ve encountered since I started writing about education.
A big part of me wants to vent, rant and rail, to shout from the rooftops: “The profession I love is broken!” There are so many reasons to do so.
This week, I attended an Education Support Partnership roundtable event in Westminster at which the findings from its Teacher Wellbeing Index were presented.
I’m not brave or strong enough to read it cover-to-cover - dipping in and dipping out, with breaks to look at otter videos on YouTube helps to keep the howling at bay.
By coincidence, I also sent a tweet on Saturday evening: ‘UK teachers - am working on a piece for @tes on toxic school (low morale, high turnover, inhumane treatment)…’ I wanted to pick up a few case studies for my Tes pieces and anticipated hearing from five or six teachers for some in-depth research. There is no other word to use than stunned when I say that this is far and away the most popular tweet I’ve ever written (despite stiff competition from the otter).
My inbox has been flooded with more than 200 messages (and counting) from teachers citing experiences of toxic working environments. Teachers feeling persistently and systematically belittled, humiliated, mistrusted, doubted. Stories of suicide attempts, support plans that are anything but supportive, racism, sexism, being shouted at, (in)voluntary redundancies, mysterious disappearances of colleagues, removals, broken relationships at home, tears in the car… And occasionally, one which raises a wry smile. Clacking heels, Stepford wife dress codes and the head who banned staff from rolling their eyes during staff briefings.
Balancing negativity and positivity
Every few minutes, my inbox pings with a new message. I’m working as fast as I can to acknowledge individuals and thank them for their trust and honesty, but it’s going to take me weeks to properly read and absorb their words.
Negativity around teaching is something I always seek to challenge. I aim to write one positive article for every negative one. However, the word “negativity” implies a self-indulgence and possibly an insincerity. I can tell you that the hurt and the rage spilling out of my inbox are anything but insincere. I have always believed that, in order to move forward, we need to shine a light into the darker corners of the profession, and this is something I will do in future pieces, as I have in my book.
At yesterday’s event, a hugely respected colleague spoke of how sometimes it was necessary to hit the peak of a crisis before things would change. “It’s time to say enough!” was the heartfelt response.
Yes, but how? If you’re actually on the ground, stopping to vomit on your way to work because you just can’t face it, with the goblin-piles of marking eyeing you while you try to enjoy a few hours off over half-term and the prospect of another bloody scrutiny when you get back to work…how do you reclaim your sense of autonomy, self-respect and professional pride? When the profession is facing a “devastation of agency” in the words of Dr Tim O’Brien, how the hell do you start to sift through the mess and find a way forward?
Of course, there isn’t a silver bullet. But that word, agency holds one of the keys to moving forward. After all, we have to hand people the power to make us feel less than good enough. Can we take that power away, I wonder? Yes, but how? Here are a few ideas.
Finding a way forward
We could simply walk away from the profession, as thousands are doing. If you’ve read the stories I have, you’ll have a great deal of sympathy with this.
We could walk away, like many of the broken teachers who’ve written to me have, from the institution and the people who have crushed us, remembering always that there are so many good people and good places out there.
We can remind ourselves and each other that the small things, the thank yous and the sorrys and the good mornings cost nothing but go a very long way indeed.
This one’s trickier, but we can also challenge poor practice and unreasonable behaviours. I have colleagues who do this consistently. They are never rude, never unprofessional but always stand up for their values and have thus established themselves as truly respected and valued.
As leaders, we can ensure staff have safe spaces in which to be heard. Being heard is one of the most powerful things of all. When people call the Education Support Partnership, they are frequently on the verge of actually breaking - it’s important to catch issues early and remove the shame around seeking help. Teaching is an emotionally demanding job. We all need help sometimes.
And as to the policymakers and the powers that be, some active engagement with actual teachers and actual schools is well overdue. Seriously. Come and visit. Join us on break duty. Help us explain quadratic equations. Enjoy the experience of being in a classroom. Find time for a wee…
The risk of an event like yesterday’s is that, lovely as it is to have a great chat with some educational heroes, there is little real impact on the lives of real teachers. This time, though, I didn’t get this sense. We’re going to need 47,000 more teachers by 2024. The teacher crisis has hit crunch time.
Despite the ongoing urge to howl, I feel truly humbled and privileged to have a voice at this time.
I do think there’s new hope: a new sense of excitement and action born of the realisation that enough is truly enough. So engage with us, members of the Department for Education. Talk to us. Let’s work together. There’s no point, as Adrian Bethune says, complaining that there’s traffic. We are the traffic. Let’s sort this mess out together.
Dr Emma Kell is a secondary teacher in north-east London and author of How to Survive in Teaching
