The Heartbreaking Results

Yesterday should have been a day of elation, celebration and recognition for students across the country. Instead, widespread chaos ensued following the Governments last minute decision to change the awarding process for exam results for A-Levels/BTECS.

This is my fourth year as an A Level teacher receiving results. Yet I have never felt so disheartened and emotional for my students as I do now.

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Due to COVID-19, school and college life has been thrown into disarray. Their routines and plans dashed, their social lives hindered and their futures uncertain. To make matters worse, they were bearing witness to the first modern pandemic, where the world watched as a silent killer tore its way across our planet.

In the weeks leading up to lockdown, I tirelessly provided resources for my A Level students to ensure they had what they needed for ‘remote learning’. Once we learned that examinations had been cancelled, there was even more confusion as to what we, as educators, or they, as students, should do next.

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My Y13s suffered a stilted, premature goodbye without reassurance of a reunion. The final hoorahs of a prom, post-exam holiday and build up/relief following exams had been squashed. With tears, we said goodbye, unsure of when (if ever) we were to meet again.

My Y12s, already panicked by the realisation of losing three valuable months of learning (in which it is already difficult to cover the enormous content of the course), were being buried under masses of textbooks, booklets and papers to cover their learning at home.

This stress alone is enough for any seventeen/eighteen year old to endure, let alone having their futures and hopes left in the hands of job-secured government officials.

Once somewhat settled into the obscure routine of remote learning, teachers across the country were asked to provide their predictions for these students. We did. Gladly, although somewhat nervous about holding the key to their futures in our hands. But we know them. We have taught and worked with them. Who better to judge their progress, knowledge and deserving mark than those who have witnessed their journey?

Educators across the country waited in anticipation for the next updates. Daily scouring the news for any school-related information/guidance.

• We watched as the media belittled our careers and bashed us for being safe. Shutting the schools and working remotely in order to protect the students, staff and other workers.
• We worked just as hard, if not harder, adapting lessons, providing support, marking consistently, engaging with students and parents. Have you ever had a zoom call with 30+ 13 year olds? Or tried teaching Macbeth to 12 year olds through emails and computers?
• We provided services for children of key workers and vulnerable students. Working through half terms and holidays to provide childcare along with support, teaching, sport and activities.
• We observed, as again, the media slammed teachers for still having the summer holidays, not getting back into schools quickly enough and not taking government advice lying down.

As Thursday 13th August 2020 approached, parents, students and teachers waited with baited breath for the plans that the government and Ofqual had decided on.

Scottish results arrived and bombed. Educators in England watched as students were left distraught, disappointed and confused. What was our governments next move?

Two nights before results, we learned.

Enter the ‘triple-lock‘ measure. Students would receive a grade which had been estimated through Ofqual and DfE (taking into consideration the centre’s previous attainment and national acquisition of grades), they could instead take a mock grade if this was higher or instead take a grade from sitting the exam for that subject in the autumn.

As a teacher, I was not too worried – it sounded like a good plan. However, my naivety led me to believe that our government and other officials would trust my professional opinion and my predictions for my students.

They certainly did not.

On the day of results, I learned that four of my higher grades had been dashed – three lowered by two grades.

The hypocrisy was startling.

Where was their evidence to support this change or allocation of grade? Lord knows I’ve had to prepare mine for awarding it in the first place.

How can students be put up a grade on the bottom end and yet those at the top be penalised for achieving the best?

My first thoughts were:

• What can I do to help them?
• What if they think I gave them this grade?
• Have I prevented them from moving forward?

Amidst all of the confusion, the process for appealing was also less than straight-forward. I sat, disheartened, as I waited for guidance on what I could do.

If I felt let down by the system, how must they feel?

 

After watching the interview on This Morning with the Education Secretary Gavin Williamson, it reiterated the message that educators are not trusted.

 

The option to award the centre-assessed grades (those from teachers) would lead to “too many inconsistencies” which, in other words means, they believe we would have assigned them way beyond their potential.

To put this into a classroom metaphor, if one student misbehaves, should the whole class be punished for it?

Last year, in my A Level course, there was a discrepancy following the news that some centres had provided the texts in the exam (which they are not supposed to do). Following a rigorous investigation process where I had to click a button saying I did not give them the materials (intense – I know…), it was too risky to consider that some of the best grades achieved had not come from cheating in the exam. Therefore resulting in the entire cohort for that exam having their grades scrutinised and questioned if they had, honestly, worked for it.

 

What can be done now? How are those students, who have lost places, plans and prospects, going to be able to move forward? On what grounds are these decisions justified? Is it fair that the government has manipulated results to fit their statistics and previous years without the realisation of their individuality, a centres progress or the knowledge that the educators have?

 

All I can say for certain is that I am now even more concerned for next Thursday and the results that my Year 11s will receive.

COVID-19 cancelled my wedding:Why 2020 had such high hopes for me.

December 27th, 2017. 

Sitting around the dining table in my Mum’s home, surrounded by my boyfriend’s family and my own, I got engaged.

It was a wonderful moment – if not for the hilarity of me exclaiming ‘I’ve been such a bitch‘ – maybe referring to the *subtle* hints I’d dropped for a while as I’d become convinced that he was not interested in marriage.

From that moment, I became overwhelmed and thrilled at the idea of our wedding: the dress, the venue, the music, the photographers and so on. 

Over the last two and a half years, we’ve booked and tested all things wedding-related. Dress bought. Bridesmaids sorted. Hair and make up. Waistcoats. Decor. Food, Venue. 

The list never ends!

 

On the week of March 2nd (my birthday), we went into town and purchased our wedding rings – one the final and most significant moments leading up to our August date.

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The following week, we received a call to notify us that the rings were ready. I decided to not venture into Cheltenham town centre – the races were on and town was always bombarded by herds of tweed-covered drunkards. Plus, parking would be a nightmare.

How foolish.

By Monday – the world as we knew it, stopped.

Lockdown took away the many things we didn’t realise we took for granted. Visits to the shops, popping into the supermarket for one or two items, visiting friends at a bar or coffee shop, hugging those nearest and dearest.

It changed my job – from teaching teenagers seven hours a day, to reaching out to them through a keyboard and screen.

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From March to May, we prayed and hoped that our wedding would come out ‘the right side’ of this. That there could still be a chance. Perhaps it’ll pass by then? We still had five months, right?

 

March came and went.

April followed suit.

 

Where I should have been enjoying hair and makeup trials, I spent aimlessly looking through my Pinterest board of ideas.

Our invitations became scattered. Some sent early on. Others halted by the possibility it may not go ahead.

May arrived and swept past without a trace.

As discussions in Westminster revealed themselves to be plans for a much longer period of lockdown, my hopes of being an August bride were fading fast.

Those closest to me tried to approach the topic of postponing the wedding. Giving me hope and advice for when to rebook, what the benefits would be and why it’s the wisest decisions.

But, along with the emotional turmoil that lockdown had brought, I couldn’t face it.

Anytime I imagined waiting another twelve months for the day I’d already waited nearly three years for, I’d become overwhelmed with sadness.

Luckily, my parents realised how monumental this was and decided that we should meet (socially distanced of course) face-to-face to discuss our options.

On the drive there, I felt comfortable enough to finally open up about this with my partner.

Next year would be the wisest.

Twelve months of waiting was the least we could do to protect those we love.

 

So, the date of my planned hen do will approach and pass.

Our ‘wedding’ would be only three weeks away.

 

For now, COVID-19 has taken so much from so many.

We will beat it and I will walk down the aisle…in 2021.

 

But not like this.

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Two books that helped me understand my students better: The Kite Runner/Counting by 7s

A passion of mine is reading. I love images being placed into my conscientiousness and then allowing my imagination to bring them to life using words on the page as a guide. I love it so much that I write. My degree (supposed specialism) is in Creative Writing. University life for me was book-ended (pun intended) with radio play writing, poetics and prose. Yet, in the hustle and bustle of daily life, sadly, the stack of books I continue to purchase sits gathering dust.

One silver lining the COVID-19 lockdown has is that it has provided a perfect opportunity for me to dive into my books, head first.

Relishing in reading has reminded me of the relief and escape that words on a page provide – even more so when so much of our current situation is focused on bright screens and a static setting.

Whilst I could spill for hours on my reading list; those completed and those to go, I thought that reflection on two of my favourite novels – ones that have brought something extra with them. More than just enjoyment and emotion. They’ve brought me closer to understanding and empathising with some of my students.

I’ve picked these two to share:

Counting by 7s by Holly Goldberg Sloan

This book was recommended and kindly lent to me by a work colleague. When I read the blurb, I was not as excited as I am when approaching a horror or a historical fiction, yet I can honestly say I was blown away. The narrative, whilst not overwhelmed with events, encompasses such complexity in characters and the writing is wonderful.

The protagonist, Willow, is a conundrum in herself. Thought not explicitly stated, she possesses tendencies bordering on autism – this is what I found the most compelling and enjoyable to read.

In my teaching career, I’ve had many students with SEN (Special Educational Needs) and these can range from the mild to the more extreme. Though we are provided with support plans and strategies on how to teach them effectively, it can still be uncharted territory for someone like myself who has had limited interaction with this condition.

Yet, Counting by 7s allowed me to witness the world through Willow’s eyes, see the methodology and processes by which she lives her life. Readers witness her struggles, her challenges and her successes. And this is what struck a chord with me. I was able to empathise and understand more of the needs of similar students. I found that I had a huge amount of respect for them, for their individual obstacles which so many others overcome without thinking. I found myself celebrating their abilities, ones that others could not easily acquire. It allowed me to further differentiate work to suit these traits and talents. One such student, has an impeccable memory of bus timetables for the area. Every bus. Every time. Every transfer – you name it. Prior to this book, I would find it extremely difficult to get him to access certain tasks and practise certain skills – yet, by embracing this interest and devotion, I found that manipulating tasks to encourage and utilise this knowledge made it more interesting, accessible and manageable for him.

Counting by 7s is a must-read for any parent or teacher, or anyone interested in a narrative which contains heartache, happiness, community and empathy.

 

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

Hosseini is a fantastic writer and is one that doesn’t have any trouble maintaining my interest or readership. The Kite Runner is one of my favourite novels, even when reading through tear-filled eyes where words becomes black patterns on a page.

The background to the novel, Afghanistan, Russian invasion and tension between Shia and Sunni muslims, is one that I was completely alien to. Although a part-time history buff, I had never explored the history of Afghanistan or the turbulent times that had disrupted the peace there.

Amir and Hassan begin the narrative with their electric, close-knit friendship despite their difference in class and Islamic practises/beliefs. Their bond flows through the narrative, bringing heart-wrenching sadness and overwhelming joy amidst a background of war.

I didn’t expect this book to hit me as hard as it did.

Following threads of narratives and characters escaping war, a country’s fight for peace along with the Taliban, Al-Qaeda and other violent groups, I found so many correlations with a student I had at the time.

During my first year as a teacher, I had a student brought into my tutor group. He was a young man, had survived travelling from Afghanistan and sadly, was the only one here. I won’t go into his story, but his background wrenched at my heartstrings. Yet, he was so eager, smiley and excited for the world around him.

In The Kite Runner, I found out the difference between Shia and Sunni muslims. My student was Sunni. Due to this, he hadn’t been allowed to go to school. Hassan, in the novel, is also Sunni. This shared belief allowed me to empathise with my student, understanding the world he had arrived from.

The tellings of war and depictions of misplacement in the novel also allowed me to visualise and sympathise with his own history. The violence and sadness threaded into the novel and its characters correlated with his own journey.

By reading Hosseini’s novel, I could try to comprehend more of his story and the reality of it – more than just the tales of displacement and migration slapped across the tabloids.

In his face I saw the stories of Hassan and Amir. In his passion and smile, I saw the childhood anecdotes of theirs. I was able to imagine the Afghanistan he knew and the troubles he mentioned.

This student remains, to this day, someone who I feel extremely honoured to have taught. To teach a refugee is one thing, to try and understand them, empathise and support them, is another.

I’m lucky enough and honoured to teach four others almost daily. Whilst having different backgrounds and cultures, I never forget the stories of Amir and Hassan, using their voices to help me support four more young students in a new situation and culture.

 

 

 

Being a Teacher: Remotely

My current working day is one that I never thought I’d experience.

As a teacher, through training and on the job, you never expect to be working digitally all the time.

Despite this, I’d like to think my IT skills are quite competent .… maybe even advanced… but nevertheless, it’s odd.

Several elements of the job cannot be done remotely.

Behaviour? Now surely would be the dream of teachers – no Low Level Disruption. No phones. No gum. No dicking messing about. For once, the childless part of me is smugly grinning inside as I have visions of parents realising what it is like to educate their children. Then I remember to not be an ass (sort of). But I miss it. And I feel peculiar admitting that. I miss the students answering me back with a smart-arse remark. I miss the temper tantrums that even teenagers have. I miss the daily battles that educators find themselves dealing with.

One glorious thing that has arisen from this, is that the students who are the ones who keep their heads down and complete what’s asked – it’s their time to shine. I have dealt with students I don’t have the opportunity to encounter as often. The ones whose names are drummed into your head immediately due to tellings off. They are flying. And I couldn’t be happier for them. What an exceptional group they are.

My use of technology is growing daily. More than I could have anticipated when I set out on the road to become a teacher.

I have a visualiser. A Godsend in school. Annotating a poem? Easy. Displaying work and thought process? Forget about it. Nowadays thought it’s doubling as a camera to capture more than just pieces of paper.

I’ve come to make Youtube videos. I know. I teach Media Studies and study vloggers – note. I am not and never will be a vlogger – but I find the temptation to make supportive materials and be as close as I can to explaining to students too much to bear. So, enter in my lowly Youtube channel with no thumbnail and no snazzy video editing software. More than once have I been seen slamming the wall in response to my slow Wi-Fi router and glitchy screen recorder. Many video clips never made the cut due to incessent cursing. Never have I realised my inability to string together concise ideas on the spot.

But whilst doing this, I realised something about myself – teaching is who I am.

During videos of arguably dull boring poetry analysis and annotations (though to me, this is as thrilling as a football game for my partner), I find myself still cracking terrible jokes, explaining things in the same way I would in a classroom, teaching the way I always have.

Despite the virus, despite the distance, my role to the students remains the same.

I realise how much I took for granted a job, that isn’t just a job, it’s a way of life.

I miss the strolls through a busy corridor, smiling at students and greeting them. Saying hello to those who you no longer see regularly, bringing a smile to faces looking downcast.

I even miss the stress, yet electricity, of sports day minding. Students rallying for tutor groups and seeing everybody pitching in – literally.

Keyboards and monitors can’t replicate the buzz and hum of classrooms, the inane questions that throw off your train of thought and the laughter brought about by poorly executed jokes.

I miss it.

Mental Health in Lockdown: A Personal View

Let’s first clarify that everybody has mental health. Just like physical or emotional health, mental health is critically important for everyone. Regardless of creed, colour or class. The feelings we have, positive and negative contribute towards our mental well-being along with daily experiences.

However, in these strange and unprecedented times, mental health has become a forefront focus for many people – and not just those who have mental illnesses or difficulties.

I’ve had experiences with my own mental health over the years and, sadly, the majority of these were not welcome or enjoyable to say the least. During this lockdown, I’ve found it incredibly difficult to maintain and manage my mental health and so I thought, in the notion of openness and casting away taboos, to share my own thoughts and remedies, it may resonate or aid even just one person. Letting them know, they’re not alone.

In my role as a teacher, I realise how much I took the social aspect of my job for granted.

Everyday I would be surrounded by students and colleagues – admittedly, not every interaction with students is positive – but, even in dark moments, their light and optimism can cast away any negativity.

I also realise how active my job is. I rarely have the opportunity to stand still or become bored. There’s always a feeling of a million to-do’s and never completing any list of tasks. Surprising situations and sudden distractions add to an already overwhelming mix.

And I love it.

Now, working from home, I still have the benefit of having tasks to do and speaking with colleagues however I miss the hubbub of my old life.

In my days at home, a few troubling thoughts and occurrences demonstrate just how difficult I am finding the lockdown in regards to my mental health.

Sleep

My sleeping routine has always been inconsistent and chaotic. Yet, now it has become even more unpredictable and difficult to manage. Now, before you think I’m probably not helping it…I have tried every trick in the book. Lavender? I basically bathe in the stuff. Screens? No TV in our bedroom and I’m an avid reader. Anxiety? I wear a bloody gumshield to aid my bruxism and have hypnosis tracks. See? Done it. Been there. T-Shirt and all.

The trouble with a lack of sleep is the overbearing weight it places on you during the day. No energy. No motivation. Just pure fatigue. Thinking is difficult. Moving and doing anything remotely physically, even more so.

To aid this, I ensure I avoid napping if possible. Routine and structure. Writing my thoughts in a journal and spending time outside if I’m able.

Body Image

As I said earlier, my job is very active. I’ve even had to run on occasion. Stress and timings mean there’s less time for snacking and sitting around. However, without the active nature of my daily job routine, I’ve become likened to a slug.

I’m ashamed to admit that I hate exercise. I like dancing but the thought of a gym or raising my heart rate causes me to burst out in a cold sweat.

Despite this, I eat well (most of the time…) and love healthier foods. But right now, even this can be difficult to access – even the thought of travelling out and being around people who have no concept of social distancing makes me nervous.

After a few weeks of not having my usually quite active lifestyle, I feel as though my thighs have become loaves of dough, my stomach resembling a large jelly and my skin starting to revert back to my acne-ridden teenage years.

These perceptions of self have a real impact on a person’s mental health. I struggled to see myself as anything but a blob and felt disgusting. Even reverting to tears on occasion.

So why am I sharing this? Why didn’t I suck it up and go for a run?

And there lies a misconception of mental health. Yes, I could do something about it I suppose. But there’s a feeling of futility about it. A lack of energy feeds into it. A struggle to be around others. So on, so forth.

Sharing these personal experiences will hopefully reassure some who feel similar that they are not alone. And, in the midst of a global pandemic, these feelings are expected and normal.

Alongside these personal struggles, teachers nationwide are also under stress from the constant discussion surrounding reopening of schools. The thought of being thrust into the frontlines is terrifying. I sincerely admire those on it. But with the ever-changing and untrustworthy reports of schools and opening, the uncertainty is a lot to take in. Similarly, people across the world will be facing stress and anxiety with jobs, finances and economical worries – all of which is unclear, unpredictable and in unchartered territory.

But, remember.

There will be light at the end of the tunnel. I have never seen a sense of community like what we have right now. Although we may be separated and apart, we will be together again.

Wall-E Warning: How my childhood films are coming back to bite us in ass…

I’m not sure about you, but the recent series of events (global pandemic) has given me A LOT of time to catch up with my old friends, sofa and TV. Luckily for me, it seemed as though my wishes had indeed come true, and Disney had heard my call – Disney+ arrived and welcomed me with bundles of nostalgia.

To understand the magnitude of this, I have to explain myself.

Not only am I a fan of disney.

I am THE FAN.

Some humilating examples to support my point:

• At my 7th (?) birthday party, I was offered the chance to sing a song. It was disney. No backing track available. Sang the whole song. A capella.
• I had many barbies, notably many Disney ones (Ariel/Li Shang etc)
• Fangirled hard at the ripe old age of 21 waltzing around Disneyland with Mickey ears on.
• Get emotionally unstable when I visit Notre Dame. Still struggle to fight the temptation to bust out into ‘God help the Outcasts’ whenever I’m in a church.

You get the gist.

Well, with my new found love following unhealthy relationships with every other available streaming app, I hunkered down and started to reminisce, basking in the songs of my childhood. Memories of princess outfits and favourite tapes flooded my mind. Sequels I thought I’d lost to the VHS collection at my Mum’s. Amongst the stunning collection, a few notably stood out in light of the current climate and global situation.

As I’m writing, WALL-E is dancing across my screen. The lovable robot tasked with clearing the Earth of disposed garbage left by us. In the midst of this, the leftovers of the human race are confined to space and in the clutches of an obesity crisis. It struck me, as an adult older viewer than I was at my first viewing, that this film speaks a harsh truth about us a race. Our lack of care for the Earth, our attitude towards disposable items and our naivety towards an unlikely ‘Plan B’. Not only that, but our reliance on machines (she says, tapping at her phone) and technology in general – okay, a bit of a leap in relation to the controlling robot in the film, but you see my point.

WALL-E wasn’t the only film that entertained me yet struck a contemporary chord.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame (one of my all time favourites) also was extremely poignant. Not for the obvious reasons of lockdown and isolation, but for the way in which people diminish those less fortunate. Most strikingly, the attitudes towards the ‘gypsies’ – one can hardly dismiss the likeness of this and the current migrant scenarios across the globe. In fact, I think Lord Frollo is essentially an allegory for many peoples attitudes towards migrants (sorry, got a bit English teacher-ish there). But the main striking idea was how these fictional storylines and characters were somehow replicated in our current scenario. One would only have to listen to God help the Outcasts to see the parallel.

So only two main ones because I’d be here all night as I think those two ideas hit home for me. If a simple child-orientated film can make me feel so unjust, ashamed of a race and aim to alter my ways, what else could they do?

In essence, I think that I’m just a die-hard Disney fan, looking for a bigger meaning. But, at the end of the day, anything that makes me want to be a better person and better species, is worth £5.99 a month for sure.

Are you stepping into my shoes? My advice to parents taking over the roles of teachers:

As a teacher, I know the sounds of enthusiastic parents when the school term starts – the relief of having some time without teenagers about the house, less chaos and the freedom that term-time brings. However, I also know the familiar groans that start to rumble a week into a long break, summer holidays or a snow day.

But today, now, isn’t an ordinary or scheduled break. And to make matters worse, parents are having to take on an extra role (as if they don’t have too many already) – mine.

Photo by Lina Kivaka on Pexels.com

I’ve been in the teaching profession now for five years. Before that, I racked up many years of being a moody, unsatisfied, arguable and intolerable teenager (I’d like to think I also had some shining moments…looks to Mum hopefully). I have been on the front line in teenage warfare; defended myself against the tyrades of verbal slander and protected myself against the threat of online social media bashing. Right now, my heart sincerely goes out to those taking up arms in preparation for this fight, because – believe it or not – teaching ain’t easy.

teaching ain’t easy

So, am I here to just dwindle on about my thoughts? No. I actually thought I’d try to help and pass on some words of limited wisdom. Here are some top tips for teaching tyrants:

• Routine
  • Routine is key. Having a system keeps kids prepared for what is expected and keeps their attention focused on what is happening that day. Whether it is a full out itenary for each day or even just one feature that reappears daily (think Joe Wicks PE lessons or a cheeky spelling test), this will ensure kids are familiar and not thrown any surprises.
• Lesson Format
  • Teachers usually format their lessons – I’d say 90% of the time, mine follow this system (10% descends into chaos). Typically, a small starting task like a quiz, spelling test or even some bullet points on what they looked at previously helps. This benefits them in recalling information, getting into the swing of the topic AND provides you with some extra time to sort the rest of that sh*t out. This then leads into a main knowledge task (might be some reading, a technique or something new to learn) and then practising this (e.g. reading an article and then answering some comprehension questions to prove what they’ve learnt). Then finish with simply revisiting and acknowledging what they’ve done/learnt – my favourite and go-to is to get them to create a sentence using a specific amount of words to tell me what they’ve learnt (i.e. write an 8 word sentence showing me what you’ve learnt). Now, this is not realistic for all parents, all the time. But worth knowing how we style it out so that you can implement/acknowledge this at home.
• BREAKS
  • Ever tried getting a room of thirty-odd sixteen year olds to focus on a Friday afternoon? Or just before lunchtime? Kids are prone to procrastinating and having short intervals between each topic/learning time will benefit them. Allowing their minds to reset and have time to stop, focus on things they enjoy before then returning to work, can make all the difference. It’s also good to mimic their school day – allowing for breaks around the same time etc. (This helps in the long run so we don’t end up with students who have become accustomed to 2pm naps).
• Do not fear the Internet
  • Understandably, there is a growing fear and anxiety of the internet and its impact on kids today. Obviously, apps like TikTok and Snapchat aren’t going to make the biggest impact in children’s learning today however, the internet is bursting with resources, support and information that is a welcoming sight in the never-ending tunnel of isolation. Youtube has some great videos from teachers and other organisations focusing on everything from skills in certain subject areas to full lessons – also, including visuals will mean that it mixes it up for the kids (and gives you a well deserved coffee break). There are also plenty of resources on social media – Twitter is fantastic for it.
• Ask for help
  • Teaching ain’t easy. Don’t be afraid to reach out to people you know for help/guidance. They’ll know where to guide you, offer resources and help out in any way they can – the teaching community have stamped all over COVID-19 with their camaraderie. Use us.
• Enjoy it
  • One thing that this terrible scenario has gifted us all with is time. Time together (in isolation). Spend this time reading with your kids, sharing their learning. Remember, it’s not all about textbooks – teach them to cook a meal/life lessons/nature etc. One of the best things about my job is the consistent joy I find in seeing ‘lightbulb’ moments, sharing in a student’s success and building bridges to take them further in life. I could not be happier that others will get to see this side of education.

I could not be happier that others will get to see this side of education.

So there. Some vague tips on teaching at home. I salute all parents and pass on my baton – it’s over to you guys.

 

What it’s REALLY like being a teacher in a pandemic

CORONAVIRUS

COVID-19

I’m sure we are all too aware that there’s a pandemic consuming our world, our country, our social network and our everyday lives.

I’m sure we’re also well aware that the reaction, on and offline, is one of utter panic and confusion. We all seemed to be trapped in a black hole, our minds thinking “am I suddenly in the sequel to I Am Legend?” (If so, I was expecting to be dressed in more leather, somehow possess a gun and not be focused on how much food is in my freezer).

Instead, we’ve been collectively thrust into the modern day pandemic. One that seems to be driven by fear, assumptions of the apocalypse and embellished with the beauty that is fake news.

In my eyes, it’s as though this has been heading our way for some time.

• The NHS has suffered cuts upon cuts to its staffing and budget.
• The Earth has been abused by years of climate change.
• And people? They’re seeming to lose their sense of community by the day as the individual interaction flies out of the window and is replaced by fingers on anonymous keyboards.

But could we have imagined this?

My day-to-day life, on the surface, does not appear to have changed by any drastic measure. My alarm still rings out at 6am. I still get dressed and drive to work. I still see kids daily.

However.

My days have all but descended into something entirely different.

Instead of the normal lesson layout, we pause for discussion about the new information released about the virus and the latest contingency plans. Students enquire about family members, school work and share their worries openly – they seek reassurance and comfort in probably one of the most testing and uncertain times they’ve ever experienced.

Instead of marking books, I’m forming lessons and work to be completed without me as schools close their doors tomorrow.

Instead of coming home and focusing on smaller matters, work and personal, I’m battling crowds in supermarkets, discussing wedding re-arrangements, informing my partner (who’s self-isolating) of the outside world and, mostly, fretting. Fretting for myself, my partner, my family and most significantly, my students.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Until yesterday’s announcement on school closures, I was concerned how education was going to continue to survive as more and more staff would be required to isolate. However, everyday that I went to work, the sheer dedication and collaboration of staff reminded me how proud I am to be in this profession. Teachers are sticking together to look after students. We take each others classes. Set each others work. Update those who can’t be in themselves.

Students have surprised me even more.

With the announcement of cancelled examinations for this academic year, up and down the country teachers and educators empathised with their students who would not get the opportunity to prove themselves nationally against their peers and receive a grade demonstrating their hard work over the last few years. We walked in this morning, preparing ourselves for disheartened students – quietly asking “what do we tell them?” – and seeking advice from anyone who might have an answer.

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Yet, the students, as hard as it must have been, battled on. Through some early tears and heartfelt concerns, the day began to focus more on their achievements and future, rather than the loss of such opportunities to prove themselves.

Now, don’t forget, there were groups of students celebrating at the cancellation of exams – I myself would have done at 16 years old – confident and satisfied at the support from colleges, universities and other future destinations in holding and honouring their places. Many shirts were signed. Photos taken. Tears shed and hugs felt. For a moment, the pandemic that existed beyond the school walls had been defeated, and inside the school buildings there was only pure joy.

Despite the day being plagued with many realisations that –  no, I am not dreaming, this is not June – swamped me from time to time, I thoroughly enjoyed sitting back and observing the energy expressed from these young adults who are facing the most complex and unique challenges for a generation. The community of a school is one not to be beaten. The sheer dedication, care and devotion to students is the underbelly of a school. The lengths staff go to and are prepared to go to are testament to that.

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Even though this unsure time brings with it an overwhelming host of personal concerns, swarms of selfish panic-shoppers and national uncertainty, it also draws together the qualities that make us such a wonderful species – humanity, compassion, empathy and generosity. With that, I’m extremely lucky to work in a profession where I see these moments regularly and even more so in the depths of a global pandemic.

The Incredibly Overwhelming Anxiety of Climate Change and Mortality

The world will potentially be at an irreversible stage when I’m thirty seven years old.

Whether it’s the heightened pressure of Climate Change requirements or news exposure due to the Global summit in Paris or the lead up to the General Election, either way, this unsettling news has meandered into every nook and cranny of my life.

Social media is the main source of the anxiety-promoting news. This influx of seemingly trustworthy news combined with the opinions of my peers, means that the results can be dire.

Twelve years. Twelve years (nearly eleven) is the supposed time we, as a collective race and planet, to try to prevent and change our way of existing in order to better the future.

As a twenty-five year old, with arguably a whole future ahead of her, it can become utterly oppressive to consider the idea that my children, grandchildren and so on, will have their way of life changed so drastically due to the last few generations. But what can I do?

In young adults and teenagers, it’s no surprise that this global threat causes a more severe level of anxiety – higher than personal image, perception from others and self-worries. The notion or possibility that there might be no point in excelling in a career, a family or other individual gains whilst the planet dies before our eyes, is an extremely morbid thought.

I’m a self-confessed sufferer of existential anxiety.

I cannot fathom the idea of my own mortality. The idea of death. Not existing.

This, coupled with the crisis our generation faces, causes extreme stress as the fatality of the Earth and our race is metaphorically on our shoulders.

I’m hugely grateful that I’m surrounded, at work and home, by people who are striving in raising awareness and protesting against higher powers who are more responsible and at liberty to act against climate change.

The hope that, eventually, the powers that be recognise and act accordingly against the dangers facing our planet, is a welcome breath of fresh air.

All I, and we, can hope, is that eventually is sooner rather than later.

Preferably, within eleven years.

The Lessons We Teach (that aren’t on the curriculum map)

One of the biggest concepts I try to explain about teaching, is pouring knowledge out of your head and praying that it is going into young minds.

For example, today I taught A Level Media Studies, discussing theoretical perspectives on our perceptions of DVD covers, then a lesson on creating and using photoshop. Following that, a journey back to 1914, the First World War and propaganda, finally finishing in 1794 to analyse Blake’s “London”.

Exhaustion from time travel was not listed in the job description.

In between these exceptional talented original inspiring lessons, there are intricate moments where we, as educators, step out of the curriculum maps and year plans, the SOWs (Schemes of Work) and orders from above, to educate on wider issues. The lessons that aren’t written into the syllabus.

During my visit to the Western Front with Year 9 learning about Brooke’s “The Soldier”, we debated patriotism and discussed the meaning of being British. We shared perceptions of Britain – Brexit was one word suggested by a student. How apt – and worked together to form a national identity. Even more fitting and enriched by the wealth of backgrounds in the room, including a Cambodian student who told me that their favourite feature was “the beautiful countryside“.

In my A Level lessons, we talked about their futures. I took time to talk with them about their possible routes and goals, reflecting on my own and giving advice about university, working and making your way in the modern world.

By the end of the day, my GCSE class were crawling through C18th London and discussing possibilities that our society hasn’t changed much since Blake’s outrage in 1794. We envisioned ourselves as poverty-stricken peasants in France, enraged by the aristocrats and their wealth, finally coming to a conclusion – the Revolution. They understood equality. We communicated about what an ideal society looks like and how to look after everyone in it.

These small moments, pockets of real life, are not only crucial to making past literature and modern skills relevant in the world of 2019, but also teaches them the lessons* that aren’t on their timetables.

These ‘extra curricular’ elements to my job add so much wealth to being a teacher. It clarifies that we aren’t just people in front of a blackboard whiteboard. We aren’t just markers of books and makers of resources. We’re humans. Teaching littler humans. About being human.

*examples of ‘lessons’ I’ve taught over the years:

• Romeo and Juliet: breastfeeding. Explaining the role of the Nurse being a ‘Wet Nurse’ (cue giggles from Male students) and explaining the roles of mothers and wet nurses in the 16th century. Have to discuss that without weaning both the child and breasts, milk can continue to produce. Can include questions on method- cabbage leaves mentioned.
• Shakespeare: he’s dead. Long dead. No he wasn’t gay. He did have a life.
• First World War: did not involve fighting Nazis. Didn’t have tanks.
• General: use of communication before phones. Letters. Morse code. Reporting. Yes carrier pigeons are a thing. (No you can’t train and bring one to school)
• Romeo and Juliet: Juliet marrying at thirteen. Explaining periods and puberty being a crucial factor in determining girls for marriage in history. No Romeo was not a paedophile.
• Glue: no a Pritt stick will not give you a glue sniffing addiction.