Yesterday I watched Professor Dylan Williams put theory into practice in an 'experimental' classroom in a mixed ability classroom of 13-year-old students in a comprehensive school.
Here are three of his ideas. They are simple but they are highly effective. Your students - and perhaps even you - will be reluctant to leave their comfort zones.
But if a technique improves their learning and our teaching we have a duty at least to give them a 'go'.
1. HANDS DOWN – NOT UP
The most common, time-honoured practice in the classroom goes like this. The teacher asks a question. Those students who are confident they know the answer put their hands up. The teacher selects one of them. The student answers. The answer is correct. The teacher asks another question. More or less the same hands go up. The procedure is repeated until the question-answer session is over. Behaviour has been good. A few of the students are content because they have been acknowledged by the teacher. Most of the students have are content because they have been left alone to slumber or daydream until the end of the session. The teacher is content because he has put a lot into the session, and good order has been maintained. But most of the students have learned very little, or at least whether they learned anything or not hasn’t been assessed.
Run the same session again but this time do not allow hands up. The question is asked but this time a student cannot predict whether or not he will be asked to answer. He doesn’t know if the teacher’s finger will point at him. He has to stay alert in case it does. He has to prepare some kind of response even if it’s only “I don’t know,” but if he says he doesn’t know, this will give the opportunity for the teacher to teach the point again. A collective groan will go up. The student is now under peer pressure to respond with something related to the question. And the students himself no longer has the refuge of withdrawing from the class.
Of course the students who do know they answer (these are the students who usually do) are becoming frustrated and annoyed. Why aren’t they being selected to answer? The teacher knows they know the right answer, so why is she bothering with those students who rarely know the answer, who rarely given any kind of answer, who simply want to be left alone? And it’s not fair because now the teacher is deliberately not choosing them to answer.
Run the same session again. Do not allow hands up. Give them time to think out their response but make your choice of student random. How? Several ways are possible. Get a set of lollipop sticks. Write the first name of each student on a lollipop stick. Stick the stick in a jar. Ask the question. Give a little thinking time. Pull out a stick. It’s that student’s turn to answer. When the student has given an answer, pop the stick back in the jar. Next question. Next random selection.
You will still get complaints. Individual students will still feel under pressure. So... pull two lollipop sticks from the jar. Either student can answer. Or both students can support each other in answering the question. Take even more of the pressure from yourself by getting students to draw the sticks when you ask a question.
Prepare for resistance, reluctance and resentment. Few people like change, and that includes teachers as well as students. You’ve all been in a reasonably comfortable routine. Why change things? Because not enough learning has been going on. And you, as a teacher, want to maximise the learning, maximise the engagement of your students, and maximise your own enjoyment. Routine is the great deadener. Take chances. Go for something different. And in this case the hands-down approach will work as long as you stick to it for long enough.
2. INVOLVE EVERY STUDENT
In the ideal classroom we would like to engage every student, and there’s a simple low technology way we can do this. Get your students into the habit of using the mini whiteboard. Mini whiteboards are popular in junior schools but they can be used just as effectively with learners of any age.
Let’s take a straightforward example. You are revising French vocabulary. You call out an English word. Each student writes down the French word on their mini white board. At your signal they hold up their white boards. Students who have no idea leave the boards on the desk. You can make a quick assessment how well that item has been learned, whether it should be taught again, and which students need more revision. Of course, students can work as individuals, in pairs, or in small groups. The key is that every student in the class is being given the opportunity to respond.
Another example. You are teaching algebra. You want to check learning. You write a series of equations on the main whiteboard. After each equation, you give students time to work out their answers on their whiteboards. They then show their responses. You get a lot of relevant information about your students’ learning immediately, and you can plan appropriately.
Another example. You are revising important cases. You ask your students to note down on their mini whiteboards which case you are referring to as soon as they can identify it, and then turn their boards face down on the desk. You begin giving key facts about the case. As each student identifies the case, they note the name down, and turn over their boards. The competitive element adds to the fun.
Using mini whiteboards is a simple but highly effective technique. They should be available in every classroom for students of all ages and of all abilities. Involve and engage all of your students.
3. INSTANT FEEDBACK
Wouldn’t it be useful if we could have instant feedback about how well our students have understood a new idea or concept? There is a simple way we can get it.
Get coloured card: green, red and yellow. Cut them up and make sets of three cards, each of a different colour. Make sufficient sets for your largest class. Hand a set to each student.
When teaching a concept, pause regularly and ask your student to hold up the coloured card that shows how well they think they are understanding the concept. Green = fine. Yellow = not sure. Red = not very well.
Adapt your teaching to suit their learning needs. Think of other ways you can use this ‘traffic light’ system. Remember regular feedback from your students will make you a better teacher.
4. COMMENTS NOT GRADES
Most teachers spend hours writing comments on students’ work. They add a grade or level and return the work to the students who immediately look at the grade, glance at the comments, and then forget or ignore the comments. Students are ‘hooked’ on grades, addicted, brain-washed into believing only the grades are really important. And like any drug, the over-use of grades distorts and undermines the learning process.
Consider not giving grades or levels when work is returned. Put the focus on constructive, helpful comments that guide students into appreciating the merits of their work and understanding how it can be improved. Avoid negative comments because your students will simply interpret them as meaning the work is worth only a poor grade and therefore has little merit.
Prepare yourself for disbelief, resentment and protest, particularly amongst students who usually get high grades. They are likely to be more addicted to grades and levels than students who usually get lower grades. The more able students are often the most seriously addicted; they have learned to work for the reward of the grade rather than the pleasure of doing good work for its own sake.
Make sure that you and your students ‘do something’ with the comments you have taken so much time to produce. Invite your students to discuss why they received the comments you gave their work. Place your students in pairs or small groups to discuss the comments they received and why the comments were fair and reasonable. Several of your comments should invite/instruct your students to do something with the work, e.g. rewrite the second paragraph making it more descriptive; rewrite the first part of the story as a dialogue rather than a narrative; select 10 words and offer synonyms for these words; make 5 similar equations, solve them, then test me (the teacher) on them. Comments are largely a waste of time unless they move the students farther on.
You do not have to abandon grades completely. You, as the teacher, should be keeping a record of the grades given. But decrease the frequency you give out grades. You can perhaps let your students know that a summative overall grade will be given at the end of each month. This will enable students to track their progress in a more meaningful way than a grade/level for every piece of work they hand in.
Be prepared for protests from other teachers as well as from many of your students. Many of them, particularly managers, are as addicted to ‘grade addiction’ as the students. But few things distort and undermine the learning process as grades and National Curriculum levels. The time is long overdue for us to wean our students and ourselves off them.
Wednesday 29 September 2010
Tuesday 28 September 2010
LOTS OF GENUINELY FREE STUFF
I am not going to recommend any website unless I am convinced:
(a) the resources are genuinely free
(b) they are of high quality
(c) they are really useful
It's worth having a look at www.revisionstation.co.uk
No registration / No payment / No subscription required
Just good old fashioned free stuff.
(a) the resources are genuinely free
(b) they are of high quality
(c) they are really useful
It's worth having a look at www.revisionstation.co.uk
No registration / No payment / No subscription required
Just good old fashioned free stuff.
FREE RESOURCES IN PSYCHOLOGY - LAW - SOCIOLOGY
Just a reminder that you can have teaching resources for PSYCHOLOGY, LAW, and SOCIOLOGY by emailing me at
educationmatters@teachers.org
educationmatters@teachers.org
Friday 24 September 2010
BE A GREAT TEACHER NOT JUST A GOOD ONE
BE A GREAT TEACHER NOT JUST A GOOD ONE
What makes the difference between good teaching and great teaching?
1. Build Confidence - ‘Believe in yourself’
Build confidence in your students. Inspire confidence and optimism. Convince them they can achieve success. Celebrate success individually and as a group. They can learn to be good enough at anything. Your students have to be able to trust you. Respond seriously to children. Never be judgemental or mocking. Never get a laugh from the group at an individual’s expense. Confidence comes gradually; it takes time. Make building confidence a priority.
2. Don’t be afraid to make difficult decisions
Some decisions are difficult to make but if they are the right decisions, make them and stick to them – unless they turn out to be the wrong decisions. Along with your responsibility, you need to have the authority to make potentially difficult decisions in the classroom. You know what you want your group or individuals to achieve – make the decisions that will help them achieve their goals. When you know what’s right, go for it.
3. Help develop those around you – and yourself
Great teaching means leadership, and leadership involves leading. Help develop the people around you whether they are children or adults, and at the same time don’t neglect to develop yourself. Keep pushing their boundaries, and pushing your own. Get out of your comfort zone regularly. Give lots of constructive feedback. Everyone wants to do it better next time. Everyone has got strengths. Share yours, and learn from the strengths of those around you. Make the most of each other.
4. Communicate well
Being able to communicate well is the essence of great teaching. If it does not come to you naturally, work at it until it does – even if it means getting out of your comfort zone. Encourage those around you, especially your students, to enjoy communicating. Remember ‘you’ are the message, and so is the environment you create for your students. When students come into your learning zone, they should feel it is a warm, welcoming place where they can feel at home. And your learning zone should quickly become their learning zone. Make it easy for others to communicate with you. Start by listening. Help others clarify and express what it is they want to communicate.
5. The best teachers are non-conformists
Being a ‘non-conformist’ does not mean running around causing mischief for its own sake. But it does mean questioning the status quo, looking at how things can be improved, trying other ways of doing things, taking risks, and seeing teaching and learning as an adventure. Non-conformists are willing to look at changes; they enjoy trying out new ideas; they welcome innovation that works. Good teachers get bored easily; they are on the lookout for trying to do the same things differently, and this enthusiasm communicates itself to their pupils who also become more and willing to try doing the same things differently.
6. Enjoy the company of others
You are going to spend most of your life in front of young people, so if you don’t enjoy the company of young people, find another career. Teachers tend to be natural communicators, but if you’re not, it is something you can work of. We can all become who we want to be by behaving as if we were who we want to be until being who we want to be comes as naturally as being who we used to be. If you want to be a kind person, be kind to those around you until ‘being kind’ is ‘you’. Bounce ideas off those around you, colleagues and children. It’s a lot more fun than only bouncing ideas off the walls of your mind.
7. Keep an eye on the bigger picture
There’s a world beyond your classroom. There’s a world beyond your school. There’s a world beyond education. There’s a world. Look outside your world. Look and see what other teachers are doing, what other educators are doing, what you can bring in from the world to your classroom, to your pupils. You, as a teacher, are the most important link your pupils have with the big, wide world out there. You are there to help open their minds, to help them make sense of the world out there, and their place in it. You are not just there to teach ‘your’ subject; you are there to teach them the world, and you start by teaching them – you.
What makes a ‘great’ teacher?
The single most important factor determining the quality of education a child receives is the quality of his teacher/teachers. It is not the ‘school’, not the curriculum, not the resources and facilities, not the management, not the leadership – it is the quality of the teacher.
Great teachers
set high expectations for all their students. They don’t give up on any of their students.
are well-prepared and well-organised. They know what they want their students to achieve and they know how to help them achieve these goals.
engage and enthuse students, individually and as a group. The teacher’s enthusiasm is contagious. Teaching and learning are fun; work becomes play becomes success.
care about their students as people. They form strong, appropriate relationships with their students. They are warm, caring, and accessible while always remaining objective.
are masters of their subject, love their subject, and can communicate both knowledge and love of their subject. A great history teacher is a historian.
communicate frequently with parents. They are part of the network of support for every child in their care.
spend as much time learning as they do teaching.
What makes the difference between good teaching and great teaching?
1. Build Confidence - ‘Believe in yourself’
Build confidence in your students. Inspire confidence and optimism. Convince them they can achieve success. Celebrate success individually and as a group. They can learn to be good enough at anything. Your students have to be able to trust you. Respond seriously to children. Never be judgemental or mocking. Never get a laugh from the group at an individual’s expense. Confidence comes gradually; it takes time. Make building confidence a priority.
2. Don’t be afraid to make difficult decisions
Some decisions are difficult to make but if they are the right decisions, make them and stick to them – unless they turn out to be the wrong decisions. Along with your responsibility, you need to have the authority to make potentially difficult decisions in the classroom. You know what you want your group or individuals to achieve – make the decisions that will help them achieve their goals. When you know what’s right, go for it.
3. Help develop those around you – and yourself
Great teaching means leadership, and leadership involves leading. Help develop the people around you whether they are children or adults, and at the same time don’t neglect to develop yourself. Keep pushing their boundaries, and pushing your own. Get out of your comfort zone regularly. Give lots of constructive feedback. Everyone wants to do it better next time. Everyone has got strengths. Share yours, and learn from the strengths of those around you. Make the most of each other.
4. Communicate well
Being able to communicate well is the essence of great teaching. If it does not come to you naturally, work at it until it does – even if it means getting out of your comfort zone. Encourage those around you, especially your students, to enjoy communicating. Remember ‘you’ are the message, and so is the environment you create for your students. When students come into your learning zone, they should feel it is a warm, welcoming place where they can feel at home. And your learning zone should quickly become their learning zone. Make it easy for others to communicate with you. Start by listening. Help others clarify and express what it is they want to communicate.
5. The best teachers are non-conformists
Being a ‘non-conformist’ does not mean running around causing mischief for its own sake. But it does mean questioning the status quo, looking at how things can be improved, trying other ways of doing things, taking risks, and seeing teaching and learning as an adventure. Non-conformists are willing to look at changes; they enjoy trying out new ideas; they welcome innovation that works. Good teachers get bored easily; they are on the lookout for trying to do the same things differently, and this enthusiasm communicates itself to their pupils who also become more and willing to try doing the same things differently.
6. Enjoy the company of others
You are going to spend most of your life in front of young people, so if you don’t enjoy the company of young people, find another career. Teachers tend to be natural communicators, but if you’re not, it is something you can work of. We can all become who we want to be by behaving as if we were who we want to be until being who we want to be comes as naturally as being who we used to be. If you want to be a kind person, be kind to those around you until ‘being kind’ is ‘you’. Bounce ideas off those around you, colleagues and children. It’s a lot more fun than only bouncing ideas off the walls of your mind.
7. Keep an eye on the bigger picture
There’s a world beyond your classroom. There’s a world beyond your school. There’s a world beyond education. There’s a world. Look outside your world. Look and see what other teachers are doing, what other educators are doing, what you can bring in from the world to your classroom, to your pupils. You, as a teacher, are the most important link your pupils have with the big, wide world out there. You are there to help open their minds, to help them make sense of the world out there, and their place in it. You are not just there to teach ‘your’ subject; you are there to teach them the world, and you start by teaching them – you.
What makes a ‘great’ teacher?
The single most important factor determining the quality of education a child receives is the quality of his teacher/teachers. It is not the ‘school’, not the curriculum, not the resources and facilities, not the management, not the leadership – it is the quality of the teacher.
Great teachers
set high expectations for all their students. They don’t give up on any of their students.
are well-prepared and well-organised. They know what they want their students to achieve and they know how to help them achieve these goals.
engage and enthuse students, individually and as a group. The teacher’s enthusiasm is contagious. Teaching and learning are fun; work becomes play becomes success.
care about their students as people. They form strong, appropriate relationships with their students. They are warm, caring, and accessible while always remaining objective.
are masters of their subject, love their subject, and can communicate both knowledge and love of their subject. A great history teacher is a historian.
communicate frequently with parents. They are part of the network of support for every child in their care.
spend as much time learning as they do teaching.
IMPROVING BEHAVIOUR - THEIRS AND OURS
IMPROVING BEHAVIOUR - THEIRS AND OURS
Like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, that other great amateur educator, I want to begin with a confession: in a forty-year career in teaching, I have had very few disciplinary problems. This assertion may damn me from the outset amongst some colleagues, but I am stuck with it because it is true. And it is not because of my dazzling charisma. Even less my professional expertise. It is because I possess two natural attributes - an inexhaustible sense of humour and fundamental affection for young people.
Teaching makes me laugh even on days when I feel I won't or can't. I deem it a privilege to spend my working life amongst children, not for any altruistic reasons, but because they daily confirm the absurdity of the human condition. One thing that children do not do is to take life too seriously; the thing that most adults do is to take life far too seriously.
I mention this because you may think I am being flippant when I am being deadly serious, and being earnest when I am simply cynical. Children are by experience, if not by nature, cynical; understandable when so much of their lives is governed by adults; children are neither by experience nor by nature sarcastic; they fail to appreciate sarcasm because they instinctively abhor it; they know that sarcasm hurts, and children recoil from emotional hurt.
Cynics are on the side of the angels because they include themselves in the criticism; cynics have the gift of smiling, if wryly, at human nature. Those who offer sarcasm want to stand outside the glasshouse throwing pebbles; they hurt, they rarely heal.
This is not all throat-clearing. I am being deadly serious. If you have a weak sense of humour and little affection for children, don't get into teaching; if you are already teaching, get out. For your sake as much as the children's.
But if you like children and you have a sense of humour, you are well-equipped for a great career in the noble profession.
Just a minute
The qualities mentioned are necessary but not sufficient to cope with all the behaviour problems that will arise in the schools where you work. You owe it to yourself and the children to develop your expertise in lots of areas, not least how to understand how behaviour problems arise and how they can be defused. There are days when your sense of humour will be stretched wafer-thin, your affection for the children thin as a butterfly's wing. It is then you need your expertise to carry you through the day, the week, the fortnight before Christmas when the term seems as endless as those dank and dismal nights.
Don't worry
You don't have to carry around the strategies in your portable computer, briefcase, hold-all, or plastic carrier bag. Do the right things long enough, and consistently enough, and doing the right thing becomes part of who you are. Because doing the right thing is an affective methodology; it changes you right long with changing them. Strategies become attitude, and you become the attitude.
I have heard it neatly described: unconscious incompetence - conscious incompetence - conscious competence - and then the Holy Grail of Unconscious Competence. You do the right thing because that's who you are.
Little of this is woolly liberalism. But it is not the opposite. The phrase Tough Love comes to mind. When a dialogue between children and an adult takes place, always bear in mind that there should be at least one adult taking part, and that adult has to be you. It is your responsibility to set reasonable standards or behaviour, and it is your responsibility to ensure that these standards are met. And sometimes you will have to be bloody-minded to ensure it happens; but bloody-mindedness must exercised within the context of affection.
No matter what you have to do for a child for his own good, make sure he understands that you like him and will always like him. Even when your handing out a three-day fixed exclusion, do it with a sincere smile, wish him well, and stress you are looking forward to seeing him back in school when he has paid the price for his transgressions. Keep in mind this aphorism from T.S. Elliot: Teach us to care and not to care. Better still: a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, but he should do it with a smile.
I have a fixed rule in dealing with children. No matter how hard I have to be, the conversation must end on a positive note, and if possible "leave them laughing when you go." I do not want to leave a child smouldering with unresolved resentment; I want him to be listened to; his point of view, his explanation understood; then, if sanctions are in order, I want him to understand that imposition of the sanction will not impair our friendship - consequences, if not Karma, are simply the way of the world.
Do not be put off by the word friendship. I am not talking about emotional, personal friendship, which is usually inadvisable in the student/teacher relationship. I am talking about the friendliness that all human beings should have for all other human beings. If you want to have friends, be friendly. That is trite because it's true. So nod to kids in the corridors. Return their smiles. If asked, look at their Sanction Cards - they are trying to show you that they are trying to be good; reward them with praise. Do not damn with faint praise. Take an interest in what they are doing, even if only for a moment; then they will take an interest in what you are doing, even if only for a moment.
Dealing with learning difficulties is by and large straightforward. Identify the difficulty, marshal your resources, point them at the difficulty, monitor the effectiveness of the strategies, adjust where necessary, and voila! you've done your job whether the outcomes are successful or not.
Dealing with behaviour difficulties is fraught with frustration and failure, but the rewards of turning round a youngster with behaviour difficulties are infinitely satisfying. And if not you - who? if not now - when?
During their school lives many children will exhibit behaviour difficulties; it's part of growing up. In the majority of these cases the behaviour is mild, manageable and transitory. There are a number of youngsters for whom the difficulties are persistent, debilitating and deep-rooted; and the causes of the difficulties are as varied as the youngsters themselves.
And here's a statement that may have you gasping in disbelief if not demanding a refund:
NO CHILD CHOOSES TO BEHAVE BADLY
Any child who is behaving "badly" is trying to tell us something. He is trying to tell us that his life is out of kilter, out of balance, and he doesn't know how to get it back on even keel, if it ever was on even keel. Most children with long-term behaviour difficulties are exhibiting learned behaviour, and, unless the child is clinically damaged, he learned it in the home. Or least he did not learn appropriate responses in the home. Very young children need security, safety, warm, affection and appropriate role-models; if they have them, there are unlikely to be long-term behaviour difficulties in school. If they did not have them, the school may spend years limiting the damage that was done, damage which expresses itself in the child's inability to feel comfortable with the world and himself any where.
The one thing all children need is a home they want to go to at the end of the school day. It matters little if this is the traditional two-parent home, single-parent home, or foster carers. If a child want to get home at the end of the day, most behaviour problems are likely to be short-term in nature. If not… we still have to help them cope, and cope with them in school.
Whatever the causes, children - and let us never forget they are damaged children - who are difficult to deal with often become unwanted and rejected by the majority of the teaching staff. The reasons for rejection are easy to understand. Such children often:
- disrupt the education of other pupils;
- wreck the atmosphere in the classroom;
- adversely influence pupils who are easily influenced;
- undermine the authority of teachers;
- exhaust and demoralise teachers.
How easy it would be if we could suspend, expel, or slam the doors in the faces of difficult children who do not even appreciate the enormous efforts we are making on their behalf. But we can't and, unless we have exhausted all other strategies, perhaps we shouldn't.
How often do we hear the cry in the staff room:
"Why can't he just behave like everybody else?"
If we listen closely enough, we may realise that this cry is an echo of another:
"Why can't I just behave like everybody else?"
And that cry is coming from the damaged child himself. Above all, a child with serious behaviour problems would like to be just that: the same as his peers around him. He is crying silently for normality, and normality may well be the one thing he has never experienced in his life.
When you are really angry with such a child, ask yourself this question:
"Would you like his/her life?"
What do many such children have in common?
Low self-esteem and the fear of being ridiculed by their peers.
This makes change for them so difficult. At least in their trouble-causing, attention-seeking role they have established an identity, they are somebody. They are terrified to lose that role, for if they do, they may simply disappear.
The aim of everybody involved with such a child is to establish for him the possibility and reality of a different role, a role where success offers recognition and the raising of self-esteem. No child wants to fail.
You can't change behaviour overnight - not even your own. There is no magic wand. The patience of the proverbial saint is required. It will be two steps forward and one step back for a long time. And it will be slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. But as long as you are moving forward that is progress.
Make a start by changing your own behaviour. In the face of provocation, do not give him what he expects: confrontation. Offer him patience, understanding, a calm consistent approach, and a sense of humour. Do not fight on his ground; you won't win, for he has had years and year of practice. He is addicted to confrontation; don't feed his addiction.
Above all, shut up and listen.
What the child is saying may not be what he is desperate to tell you. Only when he has reached silence will he find the emotional space to listen to you. And as often as not, he will not need you to tell him what to do; he has been working that out for himself.
In fact, rarely tell a child what to do. That is not your role. Your role is to clarify the options open to him, and their consequences, then stand back and let him choose the option himself. Of course, you will explain that he is not allowed to endanger himself or other people, and if necessary discuss why such a course of action is not an option. Demonstrating that his safety and the safety of others constitute the prime directive will draw him towards you, not push him away.
There is risk in this strategy. It would be less risky to shout or threaten the offender into silent, resentful compliance. Slap him in detention. Send him to a higher authority. Pass the buck. Suspend him. Expel him. He will have understood nothing, he will have learned nothing, but at least you've shelved the problem - for the time being.
But if you do use confrontation and coercion, and if you are a good human being, you are left with a problem, something has been damaged - your self-esteem. Because you are left with that feeling of helplessness all good teachers feel in the face of failure. And often when we are doing what is manifestly the right thing - expelling the trouble-causer - we still have that nagging feeling of failure. You have failed him, the school has failed him, his family has failed him, society had failed him… let's hope the Young Offenders' Institution can save him. Cynicism or sarcasm? I leave it to you.
What I am interested in is self-esteem.
Ah, self-esteem, I spoke that word as if a wedding vow, but I was so much younger then, I'm younger than that now.
A few years ago, I came across a letter in the Times Educational Supplement. The letter was so powerful that I cut out a section of it, blew it up on the photo-copier, made about twenty copies on card, laminated them, and stuck them up all around the school. This is what is says:
One of the most important classroom studies ever carried out... was done in the 1960s by Rosenthal and Jacobson and their results became known as the Pygmalion Effect.
In the study, at the beginning of the school year each class teacher in a school was given a list of half a dozen names and told that in tests previously conducted these pupils had revealed a very high learning ability. In fact, these names had been chosen at random, but when tested again later all these pupils had made far greater progress than others in the class and, when questioned, the teachers were full of praise for their motivation to work and excellent behaviour compared with the rest.
These students had come to perform better because the teachers had cause to have high expectations of them. An environment had been created in which they could feel themselves to be more successful and more worthy. Teachers' attitudes are a key instrument in building their students' self-esteem.
Self-esteem is at the heart of the matter. An often misunderstood term, associated with conceit, a true, healthy level of self-esteem brings with it the confidence to overcome, or at least cope, with all the challenges life may bring. If we take responsibility for helping to build the self-esteem of all children and young people in every classroom in the country, we should transform society in a generation. Murray White, Cambridge
Okay, fine, how do I make a start? I've got a boy in my class who causes merry hell. I've tried persuasion, I've tried punishment, I've tried a big carrot and a small stick, I've tried a small carrot and a humungous stick. Nothing works. Who does this kid think he is to mess up my classes?
Why not find out who he is?
Read his school file.
Discuss difficult children at subject department meetings.
Are your colleagues experiencing similar difficulties?
What are they doing about it?
Discuss the child with his Form Tutor.
Form Tutors must be key figures in the lives of the children in their
tutor groups. If they aren't, they are not doing their job properly.
Read his Special Needs file.
I am still amused by the colleague who gasps,
"I didn't know he was on Ritalin. What's Ritalin anyway?"
Discuss the child with your SENCO.
Are there general strategies in his Individual Education Plan?
Does the IEP include an Individual Behaviour Plan?
Phone the child's home if the behaviour is persistent.
Enrol the support of parents whenever possible.
Make it clear to the parents you are concerned about their child's welfare just as much as about the disruption of the class.
Discuss the problem with the child himself.
Be honest, open and frank.
"Look, I've not been enjoying this class for the last couple of weeks…
What is it I need to do so that you can get on with the work -
so that you can enjoy the class?"
Look at that last paragraph again.
"What is it I, the teacher, need to do….?"
I have deliberately shifted the responsibility from the child :
"What is it I need to do so that you…?
This is deliberate. It takes the burden from the shoulders of the child. It allows for creative discussion about what is going wrong. It becomes a shared responsibility. The teacher has the opportunity to hear some things he might not want to hear but which he needs to hear. ("Well, you never seem to know what we're doing... sir." Or "You're always late for class and I get into trouble when…." Or "Don't get mad, sir, but I always think you're picking on me." )
Most solutions will not involve negative criticisms of the teacher, but if the cap fits... get another one. They may include: "I hate sitting next to a girl." (school policy) Or "I hate writing stuff down." (learning difficulty) Or "Dad's walked out on us again." (domestic trauma) Or "I'm getting bullied and you teachers ain't doin' nuthin' about it." (Never mind, we will sort out your grammar.) Or "They've moved me to new carers, and I miss the old ones really badly."
The relationship moves towards that of people sharing experiences. Child and adult begin to talk to each other, not at each other. The child is given a way out; and that is what we are there for - to give children a way out of what are essentially self-destructive habits.
"Oh, yes, but I'm too busy for all that."
"Too busy coping with disruptive brats who wreck my lessons."
"But what if the same disruptive brats saw you as a friend rather than as the enemy?"
Effective teachers reflect regularly on their relationship with their pupils, both as a class and as individuals. Effective teachers reflect on their own classroom management and planning. Effective planning produces greater control, and greater control produces an effective environment for teaching and learning.
Underlying many behaviour problems are learning difficulties. Enable the child to access the curriculum, achieve and make progress and there is usually a significant reduction in disruptive activities.
I read somewhere recently that 80% of learning difficulties are caused by stress; take the stress out of the situation and children can learn a lot more easily. I have no idea what the exact figure is, but I am sure it is very high. Sit and observe any small group of SEN children; they can't learn until they are comfortable; they can't learn until the fear of failure has been reduced or eliminated; they can't learn unless the targets set are reachable. This does not mean we should dumb down to them; they hate that just as much; it does mean that tasks should be commensurate with their ability, with a wee bit of extra challenge. Success = raised self-esteem = happiness = the desire to learn more.
Of course many "bad" boys and girls have no learning difficulties whatsoever, but lots of them do. They are, perhaps, the easiest to reach. All the need is the sweet scent of success in their nostrils, and it is our job as teachers to provide them with those opportunities to experience success.
After all, if a child finds there is little he can do successfully in class day after day, week after week, he will find something else to pass the time. Link this to the deflation of self-esteem and he might as well cause trouble, if only to demonstrate that he is in the classroom. The hostility addressed towards the teacher is an expression of his own self-perceived failure.
If learning difficulties have not been addressed for years, it is hardly surprising that a student becomes depressed, disenchanted, demotivated and disruptive at secondary school. For him school becomes synonymous with inadequacy. And perceived inadequacy breeds resentment, and resentment breeds anger, and anger breeds disruptive behaviour. We need to break that circle, and the earlier the better.
Schools need to be creative in their approach to individual pupils, by ensuring each gets what he needs, and not what satisfies administrative ease or league tables. We need to drive it home to pupils, parents, and to far too many teachers that there are lots of ways of being successful in life. If my frozen pipes burst in the great thaw, I want a plumber, not a teacher with a degree and a fistful of certificates. And if it's a choice between being a happy pig and a dissatisfied Socrates - pass me the apple sauce.
Like Jean-Jacques Rousseau, that other great amateur educator, I want to begin with a confession: in a forty-year career in teaching, I have had very few disciplinary problems. This assertion may damn me from the outset amongst some colleagues, but I am stuck with it because it is true. And it is not because of my dazzling charisma. Even less my professional expertise. It is because I possess two natural attributes - an inexhaustible sense of humour and fundamental affection for young people.
Teaching makes me laugh even on days when I feel I won't or can't. I deem it a privilege to spend my working life amongst children, not for any altruistic reasons, but because they daily confirm the absurdity of the human condition. One thing that children do not do is to take life too seriously; the thing that most adults do is to take life far too seriously.
I mention this because you may think I am being flippant when I am being deadly serious, and being earnest when I am simply cynical. Children are by experience, if not by nature, cynical; understandable when so much of their lives is governed by adults; children are neither by experience nor by nature sarcastic; they fail to appreciate sarcasm because they instinctively abhor it; they know that sarcasm hurts, and children recoil from emotional hurt.
Cynics are on the side of the angels because they include themselves in the criticism; cynics have the gift of smiling, if wryly, at human nature. Those who offer sarcasm want to stand outside the glasshouse throwing pebbles; they hurt, they rarely heal.
This is not all throat-clearing. I am being deadly serious. If you have a weak sense of humour and little affection for children, don't get into teaching; if you are already teaching, get out. For your sake as much as the children's.
But if you like children and you have a sense of humour, you are well-equipped for a great career in the noble profession.
Just a minute
The qualities mentioned are necessary but not sufficient to cope with all the behaviour problems that will arise in the schools where you work. You owe it to yourself and the children to develop your expertise in lots of areas, not least how to understand how behaviour problems arise and how they can be defused. There are days when your sense of humour will be stretched wafer-thin, your affection for the children thin as a butterfly's wing. It is then you need your expertise to carry you through the day, the week, the fortnight before Christmas when the term seems as endless as those dank and dismal nights.
Don't worry
You don't have to carry around the strategies in your portable computer, briefcase, hold-all, or plastic carrier bag. Do the right things long enough, and consistently enough, and doing the right thing becomes part of who you are. Because doing the right thing is an affective methodology; it changes you right long with changing them. Strategies become attitude, and you become the attitude.
I have heard it neatly described: unconscious incompetence - conscious incompetence - conscious competence - and then the Holy Grail of Unconscious Competence. You do the right thing because that's who you are.
Little of this is woolly liberalism. But it is not the opposite. The phrase Tough Love comes to mind. When a dialogue between children and an adult takes place, always bear in mind that there should be at least one adult taking part, and that adult has to be you. It is your responsibility to set reasonable standards or behaviour, and it is your responsibility to ensure that these standards are met. And sometimes you will have to be bloody-minded to ensure it happens; but bloody-mindedness must exercised within the context of affection.
No matter what you have to do for a child for his own good, make sure he understands that you like him and will always like him. Even when your handing out a three-day fixed exclusion, do it with a sincere smile, wish him well, and stress you are looking forward to seeing him back in school when he has paid the price for his transgressions. Keep in mind this aphorism from T.S. Elliot: Teach us to care and not to care. Better still: a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, but he should do it with a smile.
I have a fixed rule in dealing with children. No matter how hard I have to be, the conversation must end on a positive note, and if possible "leave them laughing when you go." I do not want to leave a child smouldering with unresolved resentment; I want him to be listened to; his point of view, his explanation understood; then, if sanctions are in order, I want him to understand that imposition of the sanction will not impair our friendship - consequences, if not Karma, are simply the way of the world.
Do not be put off by the word friendship. I am not talking about emotional, personal friendship, which is usually inadvisable in the student/teacher relationship. I am talking about the friendliness that all human beings should have for all other human beings. If you want to have friends, be friendly. That is trite because it's true. So nod to kids in the corridors. Return their smiles. If asked, look at their Sanction Cards - they are trying to show you that they are trying to be good; reward them with praise. Do not damn with faint praise. Take an interest in what they are doing, even if only for a moment; then they will take an interest in what you are doing, even if only for a moment.
Dealing with learning difficulties is by and large straightforward. Identify the difficulty, marshal your resources, point them at the difficulty, monitor the effectiveness of the strategies, adjust where necessary, and voila! you've done your job whether the outcomes are successful or not.
Dealing with behaviour difficulties is fraught with frustration and failure, but the rewards of turning round a youngster with behaviour difficulties are infinitely satisfying. And if not you - who? if not now - when?
During their school lives many children will exhibit behaviour difficulties; it's part of growing up. In the majority of these cases the behaviour is mild, manageable and transitory. There are a number of youngsters for whom the difficulties are persistent, debilitating and deep-rooted; and the causes of the difficulties are as varied as the youngsters themselves.
And here's a statement that may have you gasping in disbelief if not demanding a refund:
NO CHILD CHOOSES TO BEHAVE BADLY
Any child who is behaving "badly" is trying to tell us something. He is trying to tell us that his life is out of kilter, out of balance, and he doesn't know how to get it back on even keel, if it ever was on even keel. Most children with long-term behaviour difficulties are exhibiting learned behaviour, and, unless the child is clinically damaged, he learned it in the home. Or least he did not learn appropriate responses in the home. Very young children need security, safety, warm, affection and appropriate role-models; if they have them, there are unlikely to be long-term behaviour difficulties in school. If they did not have them, the school may spend years limiting the damage that was done, damage which expresses itself in the child's inability to feel comfortable with the world and himself any where.
The one thing all children need is a home they want to go to at the end of the school day. It matters little if this is the traditional two-parent home, single-parent home, or foster carers. If a child want to get home at the end of the day, most behaviour problems are likely to be short-term in nature. If not… we still have to help them cope, and cope with them in school.
Whatever the causes, children - and let us never forget they are damaged children - who are difficult to deal with often become unwanted and rejected by the majority of the teaching staff. The reasons for rejection are easy to understand. Such children often:
- disrupt the education of other pupils;
- wreck the atmosphere in the classroom;
- adversely influence pupils who are easily influenced;
- undermine the authority of teachers;
- exhaust and demoralise teachers.
How easy it would be if we could suspend, expel, or slam the doors in the faces of difficult children who do not even appreciate the enormous efforts we are making on their behalf. But we can't and, unless we have exhausted all other strategies, perhaps we shouldn't.
How often do we hear the cry in the staff room:
"Why can't he just behave like everybody else?"
If we listen closely enough, we may realise that this cry is an echo of another:
"Why can't I just behave like everybody else?"
And that cry is coming from the damaged child himself. Above all, a child with serious behaviour problems would like to be just that: the same as his peers around him. He is crying silently for normality, and normality may well be the one thing he has never experienced in his life.
When you are really angry with such a child, ask yourself this question:
"Would you like his/her life?"
What do many such children have in common?
Low self-esteem and the fear of being ridiculed by their peers.
This makes change for them so difficult. At least in their trouble-causing, attention-seeking role they have established an identity, they are somebody. They are terrified to lose that role, for if they do, they may simply disappear.
The aim of everybody involved with such a child is to establish for him the possibility and reality of a different role, a role where success offers recognition and the raising of self-esteem. No child wants to fail.
You can't change behaviour overnight - not even your own. There is no magic wand. The patience of the proverbial saint is required. It will be two steps forward and one step back for a long time. And it will be slow, slow, quick, quick, slow. But as long as you are moving forward that is progress.
Make a start by changing your own behaviour. In the face of provocation, do not give him what he expects: confrontation. Offer him patience, understanding, a calm consistent approach, and a sense of humour. Do not fight on his ground; you won't win, for he has had years and year of practice. He is addicted to confrontation; don't feed his addiction.
Above all, shut up and listen.
What the child is saying may not be what he is desperate to tell you. Only when he has reached silence will he find the emotional space to listen to you. And as often as not, he will not need you to tell him what to do; he has been working that out for himself.
In fact, rarely tell a child what to do. That is not your role. Your role is to clarify the options open to him, and their consequences, then stand back and let him choose the option himself. Of course, you will explain that he is not allowed to endanger himself or other people, and if necessary discuss why such a course of action is not an option. Demonstrating that his safety and the safety of others constitute the prime directive will draw him towards you, not push him away.
There is risk in this strategy. It would be less risky to shout or threaten the offender into silent, resentful compliance. Slap him in detention. Send him to a higher authority. Pass the buck. Suspend him. Expel him. He will have understood nothing, he will have learned nothing, but at least you've shelved the problem - for the time being.
But if you do use confrontation and coercion, and if you are a good human being, you are left with a problem, something has been damaged - your self-esteem. Because you are left with that feeling of helplessness all good teachers feel in the face of failure. And often when we are doing what is manifestly the right thing - expelling the trouble-causer - we still have that nagging feeling of failure. You have failed him, the school has failed him, his family has failed him, society had failed him… let's hope the Young Offenders' Institution can save him. Cynicism or sarcasm? I leave it to you.
What I am interested in is self-esteem.
Ah, self-esteem, I spoke that word as if a wedding vow, but I was so much younger then, I'm younger than that now.
A few years ago, I came across a letter in the Times Educational Supplement. The letter was so powerful that I cut out a section of it, blew it up on the photo-copier, made about twenty copies on card, laminated them, and stuck them up all around the school. This is what is says:
One of the most important classroom studies ever carried out... was done in the 1960s by Rosenthal and Jacobson and their results became known as the Pygmalion Effect.
In the study, at the beginning of the school year each class teacher in a school was given a list of half a dozen names and told that in tests previously conducted these pupils had revealed a very high learning ability. In fact, these names had been chosen at random, but when tested again later all these pupils had made far greater progress than others in the class and, when questioned, the teachers were full of praise for their motivation to work and excellent behaviour compared with the rest.
These students had come to perform better because the teachers had cause to have high expectations of them. An environment had been created in which they could feel themselves to be more successful and more worthy. Teachers' attitudes are a key instrument in building their students' self-esteem.
Self-esteem is at the heart of the matter. An often misunderstood term, associated with conceit, a true, healthy level of self-esteem brings with it the confidence to overcome, or at least cope, with all the challenges life may bring. If we take responsibility for helping to build the self-esteem of all children and young people in every classroom in the country, we should transform society in a generation. Murray White, Cambridge
Okay, fine, how do I make a start? I've got a boy in my class who causes merry hell. I've tried persuasion, I've tried punishment, I've tried a big carrot and a small stick, I've tried a small carrot and a humungous stick. Nothing works. Who does this kid think he is to mess up my classes?
Why not find out who he is?
Read his school file.
Discuss difficult children at subject department meetings.
Are your colleagues experiencing similar difficulties?
What are they doing about it?
Discuss the child with his Form Tutor.
Form Tutors must be key figures in the lives of the children in their
tutor groups. If they aren't, they are not doing their job properly.
Read his Special Needs file.
I am still amused by the colleague who gasps,
"I didn't know he was on Ritalin. What's Ritalin anyway?"
Discuss the child with your SENCO.
Are there general strategies in his Individual Education Plan?
Does the IEP include an Individual Behaviour Plan?
Phone the child's home if the behaviour is persistent.
Enrol the support of parents whenever possible.
Make it clear to the parents you are concerned about their child's welfare just as much as about the disruption of the class.
Discuss the problem with the child himself.
Be honest, open and frank.
"Look, I've not been enjoying this class for the last couple of weeks…
What is it I need to do so that you can get on with the work -
so that you can enjoy the class?"
Look at that last paragraph again.
"What is it I, the teacher, need to do….?"
I have deliberately shifted the responsibility from the child :
"What is it I need to do so that you…?
This is deliberate. It takes the burden from the shoulders of the child. It allows for creative discussion about what is going wrong. It becomes a shared responsibility. The teacher has the opportunity to hear some things he might not want to hear but which he needs to hear. ("Well, you never seem to know what we're doing... sir." Or "You're always late for class and I get into trouble when…." Or "Don't get mad, sir, but I always think you're picking on me." )
Most solutions will not involve negative criticisms of the teacher, but if the cap fits... get another one. They may include: "I hate sitting next to a girl." (school policy) Or "I hate writing stuff down." (learning difficulty) Or "Dad's walked out on us again." (domestic trauma) Or "I'm getting bullied and you teachers ain't doin' nuthin' about it." (Never mind, we will sort out your grammar.) Or "They've moved me to new carers, and I miss the old ones really badly."
The relationship moves towards that of people sharing experiences. Child and adult begin to talk to each other, not at each other. The child is given a way out; and that is what we are there for - to give children a way out of what are essentially self-destructive habits.
"Oh, yes, but I'm too busy for all that."
"Too busy coping with disruptive brats who wreck my lessons."
"But what if the same disruptive brats saw you as a friend rather than as the enemy?"
Effective teachers reflect regularly on their relationship with their pupils, both as a class and as individuals. Effective teachers reflect on their own classroom management and planning. Effective planning produces greater control, and greater control produces an effective environment for teaching and learning.
Underlying many behaviour problems are learning difficulties. Enable the child to access the curriculum, achieve and make progress and there is usually a significant reduction in disruptive activities.
I read somewhere recently that 80% of learning difficulties are caused by stress; take the stress out of the situation and children can learn a lot more easily. I have no idea what the exact figure is, but I am sure it is very high. Sit and observe any small group of SEN children; they can't learn until they are comfortable; they can't learn until the fear of failure has been reduced or eliminated; they can't learn unless the targets set are reachable. This does not mean we should dumb down to them; they hate that just as much; it does mean that tasks should be commensurate with their ability, with a wee bit of extra challenge. Success = raised self-esteem = happiness = the desire to learn more.
Of course many "bad" boys and girls have no learning difficulties whatsoever, but lots of them do. They are, perhaps, the easiest to reach. All the need is the sweet scent of success in their nostrils, and it is our job as teachers to provide them with those opportunities to experience success.
After all, if a child finds there is little he can do successfully in class day after day, week after week, he will find something else to pass the time. Link this to the deflation of self-esteem and he might as well cause trouble, if only to demonstrate that he is in the classroom. The hostility addressed towards the teacher is an expression of his own self-perceived failure.
If learning difficulties have not been addressed for years, it is hardly surprising that a student becomes depressed, disenchanted, demotivated and disruptive at secondary school. For him school becomes synonymous with inadequacy. And perceived inadequacy breeds resentment, and resentment breeds anger, and anger breeds disruptive behaviour. We need to break that circle, and the earlier the better.
Schools need to be creative in their approach to individual pupils, by ensuring each gets what he needs, and not what satisfies administrative ease or league tables. We need to drive it home to pupils, parents, and to far too many teachers that there are lots of ways of being successful in life. If my frozen pipes burst in the great thaw, I want a plumber, not a teacher with a degree and a fistful of certificates. And if it's a choice between being a happy pig and a dissatisfied Socrates - pass me the apple sauce.
Monday 13 September 2010
FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY
I have written an Introduction To Forensic Psychology but I will not publish it in this Blog because it contains quite a number of graphics, photographs, diagrams, etc. However, if you would like a copy of this Introduction, email me at educationmatters@ teachers.org and it will be promptly yours.
This Introduction to Psychology is ideal to accompany the teaching on Forensic Psychology in any of the GCE A level courses.
I will publish the opening section here to give you an idea of what topics are covered.
FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY
What is forensic psychology?
Forensic psychology involves applying psychology to the field of criminal investigation and the law. The popularity of forensic psychology has grown phenomenally in recent years, partly due to sensationalized portrayals of the field in movies and television, which are not always accurate. Forensic psychologists are often depicted as criminal profilers who are able to almost psychically deduce a killer's next move. In reality, these professionals practice psychology as a science within the criminal justice system and civil courts.
What do forensic psychologists do?
A forensic psychology offers expertise across a wide range of issues related to the criminal justice system. These might include evaluating offender treatment programmes, risk assessment in deciding whether a criminal should be released on parole, providing expert testimony in relation to criminal cases or child custody decisions, advising police on identifying stress and burnout in their officers, or best how to negotiate with hostage takers.
Forensic psychologists must rely on substantial academic research if they are to provide worthwhile advice within the context of criminal or civil justice. This is why anyone seeking chartered status within the British Psychological Society as a forensic psychologist needs to demonstrate academic and research competence in forensic psychology, together with a period of approved supervised practice in the field. By taking this course, you are taking the first step in exploring and studying the work of a forensic psychology.
FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY - TOPICS
1. Approaches to profiling (e.g. the US 'Top down' approach, the British
'Bottom-up'approach and geographical profiling).
2. Decision-making of juries (e.g. minority influence, majority influence and
characteristics of the defendant).
3. Theories of crime including biological and social/psychological influences.
4. Factors affecting the accuracy of eyewitness testimony (e.g. reconstructive
memory, face recognition, attributional biases, the role of emotion).
5. Treatment and punishment of crime (e.g. cognitive therapies, behavioural
therapies and zero tolerance).
1. APPROACHES TO PROFILING
Back to the future - The New York Bomber
In November 1940 a bomb was left at the business premises of the energy utility Consolidated Edison in New York City. The pipe bomb did not detonate (arguably by design) as when it was discovered it was found to be wrapped in a note stating 'CON EDISON CROOKS, THIS IS FOR YOU'. A year later a very similar device was discovered. The bomb investigation team concluded that it had been constructed by the same person. The location of the device indicated that the bomber was probably en route to the Consolidated Edison building once again but for some reason he had to abandon his plan and the device was just left on the street. Up to this point neither incident had been reported in the press.
Three months later as US involvement in the Second World War began the bomber sent a type set letter to the police. In case you can't make it out, it read. 'I will make no more bomb units for the duration of the war - my patriotic feelings have made me decide this - later I will bring the Con Edison to justice - they will pay for their dastardly deeds.'
In fact he didn't make another bomb for nine years.
It was March 1950 when a third unexploded bomb was discovered and it was felt that it was never intended to go off. This was merely the calm before the storm, a fourth bomb exploded at the New York Public Library followed by another shortly afterwards at Grand Central station. In the next six years over 30 bombs would be planted, the vast majority of which detonated.
Public and political pressure on the police force to apprehend the bomber intensified the longer he remained at large. As a result of this pressure Dr James A. Brussel was asked to generate a profile of the bomber in the hope that it would help focus the investigation.
The Criminal profile provided by Dr. Brussel
Male, former employee of Consolidated Edison, injured while working there so seeking revenge, paranoid, 50 years old, neat and meticulous persona, foreign background, some formal education, unmarried, living with female relatives but not mother who probably died when he was young, upon capture he will be wearing a buttoned up double breasted jacket.
Criminal profiling based recommendations:
Brussel suggested that the police publicise their investigation along with the profile description of the bomber. In Brussel's opinion the bomber wanted credit for his work and this arrogance was likely to be his downfall as he may well be tempted to reveal details that would lead the police to his door.
Every major newspaper in New York gave details of the profile and although this resulted in a number of false leads the real bomber phoned Brussel warning him against any further involvement. At the same time administrative staff at Consolidated Edison had been instructed to search their employee files for anyone who appeared to match the bombers profile.
A member of staff came across the file of George Metesky. Metesky had an accident at work and had filed an unsuccessful disability claim against the company. In response to the failed disability claim Metesky wrote a series of letters to the company, one of which referred to their 'dastardly deeds'.
George Metesky was arrested shortly afterwards and immediately confessed. As he was being escorted to the police station it didn't go unnoticed that he was wearing a buttoned up double breasted jacket!
PROFILING
What is criminal profiling?
Criminal profiling consists of analyzing a crime scene and using the information to determine the identity of the perpetrator. While this doesn't directly give you the perpetrator's name, it is very helpful in narrowing down suspects. For example, a profile based on a crime scene provides information that may include the perpetrator's personality, sex, age, ethnic background, and possible physical features such as disfigurements or height and weight. This information can then be used to identify possible suspects, depending on who fits the profile. Personality is one of the most important parts of a criminal profile. Behavior reflects personality. And that is what profiling is all about.
Creating a criminal profile - bottom-up (UK) and top-down (USA)
The phrase top-down refers to an approach which starts with the big picture and then fills in the details. The top-down approach is the preferred method of profiling in the United States. This contrasts with the bottom-up approach which starts with details and creates the big picture. Both of these approaches have been used to build up profiles to aid police in solving crimes and apprehending criminals. Both have strengths and weaknesses. In reality it will depend on the situation and type of crime as to which approach is used.
This Introduction to Psychology is ideal to accompany the teaching on Forensic Psychology in any of the GCE A level courses.
I will publish the opening section here to give you an idea of what topics are covered.
FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY
What is forensic psychology?
Forensic psychology involves applying psychology to the field of criminal investigation and the law. The popularity of forensic psychology has grown phenomenally in recent years, partly due to sensationalized portrayals of the field in movies and television, which are not always accurate. Forensic psychologists are often depicted as criminal profilers who are able to almost psychically deduce a killer's next move. In reality, these professionals practice psychology as a science within the criminal justice system and civil courts.
What do forensic psychologists do?
A forensic psychology offers expertise across a wide range of issues related to the criminal justice system. These might include evaluating offender treatment programmes, risk assessment in deciding whether a criminal should be released on parole, providing expert testimony in relation to criminal cases or child custody decisions, advising police on identifying stress and burnout in their officers, or best how to negotiate with hostage takers.
Forensic psychologists must rely on substantial academic research if they are to provide worthwhile advice within the context of criminal or civil justice. This is why anyone seeking chartered status within the British Psychological Society as a forensic psychologist needs to demonstrate academic and research competence in forensic psychology, together with a period of approved supervised practice in the field. By taking this course, you are taking the first step in exploring and studying the work of a forensic psychology.
FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY - TOPICS
1. Approaches to profiling (e.g. the US 'Top down' approach, the British
'Bottom-up'approach and geographical profiling).
2. Decision-making of juries (e.g. minority influence, majority influence and
characteristics of the defendant).
3. Theories of crime including biological and social/psychological influences.
4. Factors affecting the accuracy of eyewitness testimony (e.g. reconstructive
memory, face recognition, attributional biases, the role of emotion).
5. Treatment and punishment of crime (e.g. cognitive therapies, behavioural
therapies and zero tolerance).
1. APPROACHES TO PROFILING
Back to the future - The New York Bomber
In November 1940 a bomb was left at the business premises of the energy utility Consolidated Edison in New York City. The pipe bomb did not detonate (arguably by design) as when it was discovered it was found to be wrapped in a note stating 'CON EDISON CROOKS, THIS IS FOR YOU'. A year later a very similar device was discovered. The bomb investigation team concluded that it had been constructed by the same person. The location of the device indicated that the bomber was probably en route to the Consolidated Edison building once again but for some reason he had to abandon his plan and the device was just left on the street. Up to this point neither incident had been reported in the press.
Three months later as US involvement in the Second World War began the bomber sent a type set letter to the police. In case you can't make it out, it read. 'I will make no more bomb units for the duration of the war - my patriotic feelings have made me decide this - later I will bring the Con Edison to justice - they will pay for their dastardly deeds.'
In fact he didn't make another bomb for nine years.
It was March 1950 when a third unexploded bomb was discovered and it was felt that it was never intended to go off. This was merely the calm before the storm, a fourth bomb exploded at the New York Public Library followed by another shortly afterwards at Grand Central station. In the next six years over 30 bombs would be planted, the vast majority of which detonated.
Public and political pressure on the police force to apprehend the bomber intensified the longer he remained at large. As a result of this pressure Dr James A. Brussel was asked to generate a profile of the bomber in the hope that it would help focus the investigation.
The Criminal profile provided by Dr. Brussel
Male, former employee of Consolidated Edison, injured while working there so seeking revenge, paranoid, 50 years old, neat and meticulous persona, foreign background, some formal education, unmarried, living with female relatives but not mother who probably died when he was young, upon capture he will be wearing a buttoned up double breasted jacket.
Criminal profiling based recommendations:
Brussel suggested that the police publicise their investigation along with the profile description of the bomber. In Brussel's opinion the bomber wanted credit for his work and this arrogance was likely to be his downfall as he may well be tempted to reveal details that would lead the police to his door.
Every major newspaper in New York gave details of the profile and although this resulted in a number of false leads the real bomber phoned Brussel warning him against any further involvement. At the same time administrative staff at Consolidated Edison had been instructed to search their employee files for anyone who appeared to match the bombers profile.
A member of staff came across the file of George Metesky. Metesky had an accident at work and had filed an unsuccessful disability claim against the company. In response to the failed disability claim Metesky wrote a series of letters to the company, one of which referred to their 'dastardly deeds'.
George Metesky was arrested shortly afterwards and immediately confessed. As he was being escorted to the police station it didn't go unnoticed that he was wearing a buttoned up double breasted jacket!
PROFILING
What is criminal profiling?
Criminal profiling consists of analyzing a crime scene and using the information to determine the identity of the perpetrator. While this doesn't directly give you the perpetrator's name, it is very helpful in narrowing down suspects. For example, a profile based on a crime scene provides information that may include the perpetrator's personality, sex, age, ethnic background, and possible physical features such as disfigurements or height and weight. This information can then be used to identify possible suspects, depending on who fits the profile. Personality is one of the most important parts of a criminal profile. Behavior reflects personality. And that is what profiling is all about.
Creating a criminal profile - bottom-up (UK) and top-down (USA)
The phrase top-down refers to an approach which starts with the big picture and then fills in the details. The top-down approach is the preferred method of profiling in the United States. This contrasts with the bottom-up approach which starts with details and creates the big picture. Both of these approaches have been used to build up profiles to aid police in solving crimes and apprehending criminals. Both have strengths and weaknesses. In reality it will depend on the situation and type of crime as to which approach is used.
GCE PSYCHOLOGY RESOURCES
These are the resources I have made available for free at http://www.psychexchange.co.uk/
This is a great site and absolutely essential for teachers of Psychology.
It costs nothing to join and all of the resources on the site are free.
Finding particular resources through the Search engine on the site is easy.
If you teach Psychology, study Psychology, or just have an interest in some
aspects of Psychology, you really should check out Psychexchange!
JPC's RESOURCES FOR A LEVEL PSYCHOLOGY
WJEC PY4 Revision Course
WJEC PY3 ISSUES IN RESEARCH
WJEC PY2 Part 2 Research Methods REVISION
WJEC PY2 Part 1 Core Studies
WJEC PY1 REVISION COURSE BOOK
PSYA 4 Revision Course Book
PSYA2 Revision Course Book
PSYA1 Revision Course Book
This is a great site and absolutely essential for teachers of Psychology.
It costs nothing to join and all of the resources on the site are free.
Finding particular resources through the Search engine on the site is easy.
If you teach Psychology, study Psychology, or just have an interest in some
aspects of Psychology, you really should check out Psychexchange!
JPC's RESOURCES FOR A LEVEL PSYCHOLOGY
WJEC PY4 Revision Course
WJEC PY3 ISSUES IN RESEARCH
WJEC PY2 Part 2 Research Methods REVISION
WJEC PY2 Part 1 Core Studies
WJEC PY1 REVISION COURSE BOOK
PSYA 4 Revision Course Book
PSYA2 Revision Course Book
PSYA1 Revision Course Book
Friday 10 September 2010
TEN BOOKS I COULDN'T DO WITHOUT
1. SIDDHARTHA by Herman Hesse (Picador)
2. CRIME & PUNISHMENT by Fyodor Dostoevesky (Vintage Classics)
3. THE CLAMOUR KING by David Muirhead (Snowbooks)
4. ARTHUR RIMBAUD Complete Works (Harper Perennial - Modern Classics)
5. PSYCHOVILLE by Christopher Fowler (Warner Books)
6. ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE by Robert Pirsig (Vintage)
7. SPECIAL FRIENDSHIPS by Roger Peyrefitte (Secker & Warburg)
8. ATATURK The Rebirth of a Nation by Lord Kinross (Phoenix)
9. RIMBAUD by Graham Robb (Picador)
10. FREAKS, GEEKS & ASPERGER SYNDROME by Luke Jackson (Jessica Kingsley Publishers Ltd.)
2. CRIME & PUNISHMENT by Fyodor Dostoevesky (Vintage Classics)
3. THE CLAMOUR KING by David Muirhead (Snowbooks)
4. ARTHUR RIMBAUD Complete Works (Harper Perennial - Modern Classics)
5. PSYCHOVILLE by Christopher Fowler (Warner Books)
6. ZEN AND THE ART OF MOTORCYCLE MAINTENANCE by Robert Pirsig (Vintage)
7. SPECIAL FRIENDSHIPS by Roger Peyrefitte (Secker & Warburg)
8. ATATURK The Rebirth of a Nation by Lord Kinross (Phoenix)
9. RIMBAUD by Graham Robb (Picador)
10. FREAKS, GEEKS & ASPERGER SYNDROME by Luke Jackson (Jessica Kingsley Publishers Ltd.)
Wednesday 8 September 2010
COME COME AWAY
And what now? Nobody told me that remembering would be so hard. It can't be done. Words are not right. Words are never enough. They never say what you want them to say. They hide rather than reveal the truth. Words are bricks. They make walls. You can hear muffled noises behind the walls, and you can never, never quite make sense of them. You feel what they should be saying but they aren't. And it's the feeling you want to recapture, remember, relive - now there's an impossibility.
The rain lashing down at Rainham as eleven boys hold out for an improbable victory in the semi-fibal of the Kent Cup. A boy losing his foster home yet again because he had tested them too far, stuffing a stolen photograph of himself and 'his' family into the little hold-all containing everything in the world he owned. Poppies dancing in Flanders fields as little white crosses stretched to the horizon. The sun dropping behind the Belmont cricket ground as a six is belted into the football field giving yet another improbable victory.
Crawling along the corridor in the dorms on the sweltering Suffolk trip flashing torchlight to convince the kids to scramble back into their bunks at one in the morning. Singing our way to and from Disneyland Paris but never actually finding the singing competition while we were there. Directing the panto 'Robin Hood' where the teachers are far more temperamental than the kids. Throwing a wobbly in Rheims and storming off to find a kebab and a few bottles of Efes Pilsen, to return to a warm-hearted welcome hardly deserved. Rounding up the kids in Swanage single-handed because my lovely 'assistants' couldn't resist 'Big Brother' and another glass of wine. Returning to the school on so many occasions; the kids bundling out of the bus smiling hugely as they collapsed in happy exhaustion into the arms of happy parents.
So are we nearly there yet? Who knows? I don't know what the end is. A beginning then? No, not a beginning either. Not a beginning, not an end. Maybe it isn't anything at all. Just another bit of the middle. And what's the point? Don't know that either. This is just who I am. And it's not written for you. It's written for me. It's just a pointer to who I am. But as soon as I write this I realize that this is not who I am - it is only a little bit of history; and it has much truth as any history has. It's the past remembered, not as it was, but as I remember it, or perhaps as I want to remember it. But I've just worked out the point of it all! The point of this little bit of history is to help me escape from my history. And maybe that's what we should all be doing - escaping from our history.
Are we nearly there yet? There's a road sign just ahead. I can just about make it out. It does not say 'retirement'. Retirement could not be further from my thoughts. And since I don't do domestic, I hate gardening, and I never listen to 'The Archers', I have no idea what to do with retirement but give me time and I'll think of something. Come late autumn I'll be back in a classroom, not sure where yet, but I can already hear children laughing so I know all will be well and all manner of things will be well.
I can't quite make out what it says on the road sign but I recognize the boy sitting beneath it. In my mind's eye I see him still - in his summer sandals and Fair Isle pullover. He is always at the edge of the picture, always silent, always thinking, always somewhere else. A dreamer, the boy lives inside his head, by far the safest place. In his head he tells himself stories, and in these stories he is always the hero, and sometimes he wonders if he will be the hero in the unfolding story of his own life. Already he knows he is an outsider, will always be an outsider, yearning for acceptance, believing the ideal exists somewhere, struggling between the spirit and the flesh, struggling to uphold the dignity and value of the individual, and ever and always longing intensely for the union of the physical and the spiritual that will bring him - home.
I reach the sign. I read it. Tears trickle down my face. I am overwhelmed by love. The boy smiles, and his smile reminds me of everything I have ever loved in my life, of everything that is of value and holy. The boy rises. He takes my hand. We walk on down the road, and, as we go, we sing: "Sing we then, comrades, With heart and with voice, Welcome thrice welcome Our bright holiday, Laverocks are murmuring Come let us rejoice, Brooklets are murmuring Come, come away… Come away… Come away!"
And, as we go, I remember... in the end there is nothing left except love.
The rain lashing down at Rainham as eleven boys hold out for an improbable victory in the semi-fibal of the Kent Cup. A boy losing his foster home yet again because he had tested them too far, stuffing a stolen photograph of himself and 'his' family into the little hold-all containing everything in the world he owned. Poppies dancing in Flanders fields as little white crosses stretched to the horizon. The sun dropping behind the Belmont cricket ground as a six is belted into the football field giving yet another improbable victory.
Crawling along the corridor in the dorms on the sweltering Suffolk trip flashing torchlight to convince the kids to scramble back into their bunks at one in the morning. Singing our way to and from Disneyland Paris but never actually finding the singing competition while we were there. Directing the panto 'Robin Hood' where the teachers are far more temperamental than the kids. Throwing a wobbly in Rheims and storming off to find a kebab and a few bottles of Efes Pilsen, to return to a warm-hearted welcome hardly deserved. Rounding up the kids in Swanage single-handed because my lovely 'assistants' couldn't resist 'Big Brother' and another glass of wine. Returning to the school on so many occasions; the kids bundling out of the bus smiling hugely as they collapsed in happy exhaustion into the arms of happy parents.
So are we nearly there yet? Who knows? I don't know what the end is. A beginning then? No, not a beginning either. Not a beginning, not an end. Maybe it isn't anything at all. Just another bit of the middle. And what's the point? Don't know that either. This is just who I am. And it's not written for you. It's written for me. It's just a pointer to who I am. But as soon as I write this I realize that this is not who I am - it is only a little bit of history; and it has much truth as any history has. It's the past remembered, not as it was, but as I remember it, or perhaps as I want to remember it. But I've just worked out the point of it all! The point of this little bit of history is to help me escape from my history. And maybe that's what we should all be doing - escaping from our history.
Are we nearly there yet? There's a road sign just ahead. I can just about make it out. It does not say 'retirement'. Retirement could not be further from my thoughts. And since I don't do domestic, I hate gardening, and I never listen to 'The Archers', I have no idea what to do with retirement but give me time and I'll think of something. Come late autumn I'll be back in a classroom, not sure where yet, but I can already hear children laughing so I know all will be well and all manner of things will be well.
I can't quite make out what it says on the road sign but I recognize the boy sitting beneath it. In my mind's eye I see him still - in his summer sandals and Fair Isle pullover. He is always at the edge of the picture, always silent, always thinking, always somewhere else. A dreamer, the boy lives inside his head, by far the safest place. In his head he tells himself stories, and in these stories he is always the hero, and sometimes he wonders if he will be the hero in the unfolding story of his own life. Already he knows he is an outsider, will always be an outsider, yearning for acceptance, believing the ideal exists somewhere, struggling between the spirit and the flesh, struggling to uphold the dignity and value of the individual, and ever and always longing intensely for the union of the physical and the spiritual that will bring him - home.
I reach the sign. I read it. Tears trickle down my face. I am overwhelmed by love. The boy smiles, and his smile reminds me of everything I have ever loved in my life, of everything that is of value and holy. The boy rises. He takes my hand. We walk on down the road, and, as we go, we sing: "Sing we then, comrades, With heart and with voice, Welcome thrice welcome Our bright holiday, Laverocks are murmuring Come let us rejoice, Brooklets are murmuring Come, come away… Come away… Come away!"
And, as we go, I remember... in the end there is nothing left except love.
LEADERS OF THE PACK
Sixth Formers, more than most children, are pack animals. They have an instinctive need to be together; they become unhappy and neurotic when separated or isolated for any length of time. They have a well-developed social system that establishes orderly relations amongst their members, and this system must have an order and a process of communication that helps to promote order. They will not integrate with younger or older members of their kind unless compelled to, and even then they will return to the security of the pack at every opportunity. It should also be understood that Sixth Formers, like all teenagers, know everything about anything they don't have to study.
Sixth Formers quickly organise themselves into 'dominance order', commonly known as the 'pecking order'; this in itself provides a form of security. At the head of the hierarchy a leader occupies the 'alpha' position, the ultimate dominant individual, either the male or female, who directs the activities of the pack. And that leader can only be a Head of Sixth Form, an adult respected and accepted by the pack, who directs their energies and enthusiasms into productive channels.
Sixth Formers are tremendously insecure as they leave behind the security of childhood and begin to navigate the weird, wonderful and often incomprehensible world of adults. Without an alpha leader, Sixth Formers will drift, disengage and eventually depart. They need regular contact in class and outside the classroom with a leader and a group of teachers with whom they can bond. To ask 16, 17 and 18 year olds to behave like the rest of the students around them is asking them to identify with the very body they were so desperate to leave.
Let me repeat, leadership of the pack is a matter of supreme importance. The leader of the pack initiates the play/learning pattern, which direction the pack will travel, when to rest and when it is time to hunt. A well-established leader rarely has his authority challenged. He/she directs pack activities and also takes the initiative in reacting to novelty and change. The leader should be neither despotic nor democratic but a skilful combination of both.
I am intensely grateful that my final years in full-time teaching were devoted to the Sixth Form, and to my tutor group, and I will always think of them as 'JP's children'. I am also hugely grateful to the headteachers who allowed me this privilege, and the freedom to exercise this privilege as I saw fit.
Sixth Formers quickly organise themselves into 'dominance order', commonly known as the 'pecking order'; this in itself provides a form of security. At the head of the hierarchy a leader occupies the 'alpha' position, the ultimate dominant individual, either the male or female, who directs the activities of the pack. And that leader can only be a Head of Sixth Form, an adult respected and accepted by the pack, who directs their energies and enthusiasms into productive channels.
Sixth Formers are tremendously insecure as they leave behind the security of childhood and begin to navigate the weird, wonderful and often incomprehensible world of adults. Without an alpha leader, Sixth Formers will drift, disengage and eventually depart. They need regular contact in class and outside the classroom with a leader and a group of teachers with whom they can bond. To ask 16, 17 and 18 year olds to behave like the rest of the students around them is asking them to identify with the very body they were so desperate to leave.
Let me repeat, leadership of the pack is a matter of supreme importance. The leader of the pack initiates the play/learning pattern, which direction the pack will travel, when to rest and when it is time to hunt. A well-established leader rarely has his authority challenged. He/she directs pack activities and also takes the initiative in reacting to novelty and change. The leader should be neither despotic nor democratic but a skilful combination of both.
I am intensely grateful that my final years in full-time teaching were devoted to the Sixth Form, and to my tutor group, and I will always think of them as 'JP's children'. I am also hugely grateful to the headteachers who allowed me this privilege, and the freedom to exercise this privilege as I saw fit.
YING YANG
Being in the presence of hurt, bewilderment and shock is also inevitable in supporting those adults who called on my counsel as a Union representative. And it is a hurt that never heals regardless of the outcome. In all my years as a union rep never once did I come across a teacher or other member of staff who had acted maliciously or for personal gain. Yes, we can all be foolish, we can all be forgetful, we can all be careless, and we can all take every precaution and still have something go wrong. We can all mistakes - we are all human. And we are among the most vulnerable because we spend our days with children, the uniquely vulnerable.
Acting as a union rep can be a lonely business because so much has to be held in confidence, so much cannot be explained to others, so much remains secret, and nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets - and our sins against others. And yet it is a privilege to be called upon to support a colleague, to be asked for counsel, to be respected and trusted. And to reassure those in pain that this too shall pass, that all things must pass, and that as long as one can look in the mirror and like the person one sees that all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.
So onto the Sixth Form I went... at last to play the lawyer I was born to be, for it was my mother who often said to me, "You could start an argument in an empty house," to which I countered, "Yes, and I'd win the argument too."
Joining the Sixth Form is like coming home. I'm back in the classroom doing what I was born to do - make children laugh, for the soul is healed by the laughter of children. I find myself not only laughing but singing and dancing. Like Monsieur Manet I am restored to life. I shake my head, try to remember where I am and what I'm doing - St. Andrews? San Francisco? Romsey? Geneva? Istanbul? Barcelona? San Remo? Cambridge? No! I am in Whitstable. And what am I doing? Teaching in the Sixth Form! The adrenalin courses through me. It's a long time since I've been this wired. Another awfully big adventure has begun. The learning curve is steep. At times I feel I'm mounting stairs on my hands and knees, but that's fine since I'm upwardly mobile in the only sense that matters: "And I'm on my knees looking for the answer - Are we human or we dancer? You've got to let me know?"
Recently a member of staff said, "My daughter says she's never had a teacher like you." I took that as a compliment. How many students come into their class to find their teacher singing and dancing along to The Killers' "Are we human or are we dancer?" at full blast:
And so long to devotion
You taught me everything I know
Wave goodbye, wish me well
You've gotta let me go.
What's the point? I'm not sure there is any, but it's important for me to show the kids that their teacher is a man who dances - who saves lives, who carries the wounded from the battlefield, yes, but who also loves to do things that are completely pointless and beautiful, and for which the kids themselves are the only explanation, if explanation were needed. Wearing my fool's cap, I could suggest that dancing, like all our behaviour is the symbolic representation of our earliest tactile being in the world, 'the ritualistic acting out of vanished realities', and in truth one gets so wearied of playing Apollo it is a relief to let the mask slip and once again become Dionysus. Never forget it is women who are the grown-ups; men are forever boys.
Damn this mystical side of me. It takes me every now and again and leaves me hanging from the window by my finger tips, the backside out of my trousers, and - as my gran would put it - away with the fairies. But once in a while you have to do something foolish, even if only to prove you're still alive, and if you look back on your life and ask 'What did I do?', it means that you didn't do anything.
The learning curve in the Sixth Form is steep, but the teaching is easy peasy. My energy and enthusiasm communicate themselves contagiously, though I am sometimes discomfited when a student comes in and announces, "What you told us yesterday is wrong. It doesn't mean that at all. I checked it." What cheek! What nerve! What delight! I fix the impertinent wretch with a frozen smile. "Listen, you. It means whatever I say it means, and if you say it means something else that's entirely up to you. Anyway, that's what the Sixth Form is all about - independent learning. But if you're absolutely sure you know what it means, share it with the rest of us, especially me." Laughter all round. I didn't need to study Law to learn and appreciate the doctrine of vicarious liability. Unless I'm actually off on a 'frolic of my own', when the sh*t hits the fan, it's the governing body, the LEA and Kent County Council who will be splattered while I remain as fragrant as ever.
Yes, restored to life. Most days I'm back on the tennis court by 3.40. I take on a football team again. Off I go with school trips to Dorset, Suffolk and Disneyland Paris. Saturday mornings I'm off with the school choir to wherever it is we are going. And all the time I am writing, writing, writing, and once again getting paid for it. A couple of years later I glance at Amazon and discover I've written Striving for Excellence (Special Needs), Homework 2001, Literature for Life, Drama in Action, Fast Track to SATS, The Passion and the Poetry... and on my publisher's site all of these and workbooks on Educating Rita, Animal Farm, Romeo & Juliet, and others I'd forgotten I'd written.
Writing for me is a form of release and relaxation, as well as providing resources for our own students. It takes me back to those heady years as a junior reporter when I roamed the streets of Dundee - or romped through the Highland Show (my first encounter with a real live cow) and the Edinburgh Festival (where Marlene Dietrich had me thrown out of her dressing room) - determined to secure copy for the Courier & Advertiser and The Evening Telegraph before the deadline.
Who knows where this road would have taken me - for am I not a son of 'jute, jam and journalism'? - had it not been for a siren call from that haunted town by the northern sea. O, Mr. Vice Chancellor, you have much to answer for in luring me to St. Andrews when all I wanted was five hundred words and a natty photograph for the Fife editions of D.C. Thomson's newspapers. That hand on my knee was surely the hand of destiny.
Acting as a union rep can be a lonely business because so much has to be held in confidence, so much cannot be explained to others, so much remains secret, and nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets - and our sins against others. And yet it is a privilege to be called upon to support a colleague, to be asked for counsel, to be respected and trusted. And to reassure those in pain that this too shall pass, that all things must pass, and that as long as one can look in the mirror and like the person one sees that all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.
So onto the Sixth Form I went... at last to play the lawyer I was born to be, for it was my mother who often said to me, "You could start an argument in an empty house," to which I countered, "Yes, and I'd win the argument too."
Joining the Sixth Form is like coming home. I'm back in the classroom doing what I was born to do - make children laugh, for the soul is healed by the laughter of children. I find myself not only laughing but singing and dancing. Like Monsieur Manet I am restored to life. I shake my head, try to remember where I am and what I'm doing - St. Andrews? San Francisco? Romsey? Geneva? Istanbul? Barcelona? San Remo? Cambridge? No! I am in Whitstable. And what am I doing? Teaching in the Sixth Form! The adrenalin courses through me. It's a long time since I've been this wired. Another awfully big adventure has begun. The learning curve is steep. At times I feel I'm mounting stairs on my hands and knees, but that's fine since I'm upwardly mobile in the only sense that matters: "And I'm on my knees looking for the answer - Are we human or we dancer? You've got to let me know?"
Recently a member of staff said, "My daughter says she's never had a teacher like you." I took that as a compliment. How many students come into their class to find their teacher singing and dancing along to The Killers' "Are we human or are we dancer?" at full blast:
And so long to devotion
You taught me everything I know
Wave goodbye, wish me well
You've gotta let me go.
What's the point? I'm not sure there is any, but it's important for me to show the kids that their teacher is a man who dances - who saves lives, who carries the wounded from the battlefield, yes, but who also loves to do things that are completely pointless and beautiful, and for which the kids themselves are the only explanation, if explanation were needed. Wearing my fool's cap, I could suggest that dancing, like all our behaviour is the symbolic representation of our earliest tactile being in the world, 'the ritualistic acting out of vanished realities', and in truth one gets so wearied of playing Apollo it is a relief to let the mask slip and once again become Dionysus. Never forget it is women who are the grown-ups; men are forever boys.
Damn this mystical side of me. It takes me every now and again and leaves me hanging from the window by my finger tips, the backside out of my trousers, and - as my gran would put it - away with the fairies. But once in a while you have to do something foolish, even if only to prove you're still alive, and if you look back on your life and ask 'What did I do?', it means that you didn't do anything.
The learning curve in the Sixth Form is steep, but the teaching is easy peasy. My energy and enthusiasm communicate themselves contagiously, though I am sometimes discomfited when a student comes in and announces, "What you told us yesterday is wrong. It doesn't mean that at all. I checked it." What cheek! What nerve! What delight! I fix the impertinent wretch with a frozen smile. "Listen, you. It means whatever I say it means, and if you say it means something else that's entirely up to you. Anyway, that's what the Sixth Form is all about - independent learning. But if you're absolutely sure you know what it means, share it with the rest of us, especially me." Laughter all round. I didn't need to study Law to learn and appreciate the doctrine of vicarious liability. Unless I'm actually off on a 'frolic of my own', when the sh*t hits the fan, it's the governing body, the LEA and Kent County Council who will be splattered while I remain as fragrant as ever.
Yes, restored to life. Most days I'm back on the tennis court by 3.40. I take on a football team again. Off I go with school trips to Dorset, Suffolk and Disneyland Paris. Saturday mornings I'm off with the school choir to wherever it is we are going. And all the time I am writing, writing, writing, and once again getting paid for it. A couple of years later I glance at Amazon and discover I've written Striving for Excellence (Special Needs), Homework 2001, Literature for Life, Drama in Action, Fast Track to SATS, The Passion and the Poetry... and on my publisher's site all of these and workbooks on Educating Rita, Animal Farm, Romeo & Juliet, and others I'd forgotten I'd written.
Writing for me is a form of release and relaxation, as well as providing resources for our own students. It takes me back to those heady years as a junior reporter when I roamed the streets of Dundee - or romped through the Highland Show (my first encounter with a real live cow) and the Edinburgh Festival (where Marlene Dietrich had me thrown out of her dressing room) - determined to secure copy for the Courier & Advertiser and The Evening Telegraph before the deadline.
Who knows where this road would have taken me - for am I not a son of 'jute, jam and journalism'? - had it not been for a siren call from that haunted town by the northern sea. O, Mr. Vice Chancellor, you have much to answer for in luring me to St. Andrews when all I wanted was five hundred words and a natty photograph for the Fife editions of D.C. Thomson's newspapers. That hand on my knee was surely the hand of destiny.
LET ME NOT BE MISUNDERSTOOD
"I'm just a soul whose intentions are good."
Let me not be misunderstood. It was heart-breaking to leave Special Needs behind. Five marvellous years with so many marvellous people. So much fun, so much laughter, so much good. And what I left behind would be the better for being imperfect, inadequate and vulnerable to distortion. Remember me, if at all, as a soul whose intentions were good, and, that given, by all means let me be misunderstood. Who says some things are impossible. The people in my SEN department did the impossible every day, and did it with glorious good-humour.
Let me not give the impression that being SECNO for five years was an unalloyed pleasure. One is in the presence of grief, bewilderment and hurt too often for that, as parents, guardians, teachers, social services and a host of others try their best to support the neediest of children. To their immeasurable credit, this school, no matter how named, in which you now serve has always kept its doors open to these children while others have closed the doors in their faces.
This is a privilege not a burden. And to help some of those children get through a day, a week, a term, a year, five years of schooling counts as much as helping academically and emotionally secure children achieve their five, six, seven, eight, nine starred GCSEs. They are all children; they are all of equal worth. Understandably, it is my SEN waifs and strays that will always have a particular place in heart. They are the ones with whom I shared so many tears, so much laughter. I remember all of them. I miss them. I salute them.
And I can give no more profound advice than that given by a boy with Asperger's: "... whatever you are doing, believe in yourself, keep your nose to the grindstone and your head above water. If you find yourself sinking then stop, take a breather and remember it isn't over until the fat lady sings!" (Luke Jackson, age 13)
Let me not be misunderstood. It was heart-breaking to leave Special Needs behind. Five marvellous years with so many marvellous people. So much fun, so much laughter, so much good. And what I left behind would be the better for being imperfect, inadequate and vulnerable to distortion. Remember me, if at all, as a soul whose intentions were good, and, that given, by all means let me be misunderstood. Who says some things are impossible. The people in my SEN department did the impossible every day, and did it with glorious good-humour.
Let me not give the impression that being SECNO for five years was an unalloyed pleasure. One is in the presence of grief, bewilderment and hurt too often for that, as parents, guardians, teachers, social services and a host of others try their best to support the neediest of children. To their immeasurable credit, this school, no matter how named, in which you now serve has always kept its doors open to these children while others have closed the doors in their faces.
This is a privilege not a burden. And to help some of those children get through a day, a week, a term, a year, five years of schooling counts as much as helping academically and emotionally secure children achieve their five, six, seven, eight, nine starred GCSEs. They are all children; they are all of equal worth. Understandably, it is my SEN waifs and strays that will always have a particular place in heart. They are the ones with whom I shared so many tears, so much laughter. I remember all of them. I miss them. I salute them.
And I can give no more profound advice than that given by a boy with Asperger's: "... whatever you are doing, believe in yourself, keep your nose to the grindstone and your head above water. If you find yourself sinking then stop, take a breather and remember it isn't over until the fat lady sings!" (Luke Jackson, age 13)
ALL CHANGE YET AGAIN
My seven-year-itch arrived two years early. The team remained wonderful, the kids even more so. But I had changed. I could plead burn-out. In reality it was boredom. The Scots have a word for it. I was 'scunnered' - too much of a good thing had blunted, dulled and finally destroyed my appetite for the endless round of meetings, consultations and conferences that bedevil the SENCO's life. Meat and drink to some, but to me as welcome as rancid haggis. We'd set up a system that worked. If only it would run itself and allow me to do what I'm born to do: work with kids.
Nor was boredom the only engine of change; there was also an arrogance born out of boredom. The Scots have a word for it. The word is 'puddock' - someone who rises in arrogance, only to fall flat on his face - and I was making a right puddock of myself on far too many occasions. I can pinpoint the moment I knew it was over. Carer and child had just left our office. I turned to my 'partner' - "Did I actually say what I think I said?" She nodded. "Did I just behave the way I think I behaved?" She nodded. "It can't go on like this, can it?" She shook her head, "No, it can't."
A dark night of the soul was followed by a bright dawn. Though the sky was unsure of its mood, I was not. I was light-hearted. I had made the right decision. I sought the headteacher.
"I can't be SENCO anymore."
"You sure?"
"Yep, absolutely sure."
"Ok then. What do you want to do now?"
"I'm leaving. I'm going to go and work in Canterbury."
"No, you're not. You're staying here. CCW needs you." Although the headteacher bore but a passing resemblance to Lord Kitchener, he'd used precisely the same ploy. To be needed! What human being or donkey can resist that carrot?!
"Develop what?"
"Go and develop the Sixth Form. We're losing too many students. Go and find out what they want and give it to them." The headteacher looked me straight in the eye and gave me a firm handshake. I knew he must be hiding something.
This is an opportune moment to record that every headteacher I have worked with has, to me personally, been fair and generous, at times absurdly so. In return, my advice has always been available, and the more they have heeded my advice, the more effective they seemed to become. I say 'seemed' since the relationship between my advice and their effectiveness was, as ever, correlative rather than causal.
Off I trotted and returned with the news that I'd be teaching GCE Psychology and English Language and Literature in September, the latter because, as the Head of English put it, "Nobody else wants to do it." As Holmes himself nearly put it, having eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, was what we were left with.
The headteacher decided to include the impossible with, "And add A Level Law. The academic kids will like that."
Momentarily flustered, I blurted, "I haven't opened a Law book in my life," to be met with, "If you decide to do it, you'll manage. Off you go. I've got some hot potatoes to sort out."
Nor was boredom the only engine of change; there was also an arrogance born out of boredom. The Scots have a word for it. The word is 'puddock' - someone who rises in arrogance, only to fall flat on his face - and I was making a right puddock of myself on far too many occasions. I can pinpoint the moment I knew it was over. Carer and child had just left our office. I turned to my 'partner' - "Did I actually say what I think I said?" She nodded. "Did I just behave the way I think I behaved?" She nodded. "It can't go on like this, can it?" She shook her head, "No, it can't."
A dark night of the soul was followed by a bright dawn. Though the sky was unsure of its mood, I was not. I was light-hearted. I had made the right decision. I sought the headteacher.
"I can't be SENCO anymore."
"You sure?"
"Yep, absolutely sure."
"Ok then. What do you want to do now?"
"I'm leaving. I'm going to go and work in Canterbury."
"No, you're not. You're staying here. CCW needs you." Although the headteacher bore but a passing resemblance to Lord Kitchener, he'd used precisely the same ploy. To be needed! What human being or donkey can resist that carrot?!
"Develop what?"
"Go and develop the Sixth Form. We're losing too many students. Go and find out what they want and give it to them." The headteacher looked me straight in the eye and gave me a firm handshake. I knew he must be hiding something.
This is an opportune moment to record that every headteacher I have worked with has, to me personally, been fair and generous, at times absurdly so. In return, my advice has always been available, and the more they have heeded my advice, the more effective they seemed to become. I say 'seemed' since the relationship between my advice and their effectiveness was, as ever, correlative rather than causal.
Off I trotted and returned with the news that I'd be teaching GCE Psychology and English Language and Literature in September, the latter because, as the Head of English put it, "Nobody else wants to do it." As Holmes himself nearly put it, having eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, was what we were left with.
The headteacher decided to include the impossible with, "And add A Level Law. The academic kids will like that."
Momentarily flustered, I blurted, "I haven't opened a Law book in my life," to be met with, "If you decide to do it, you'll manage. Off you go. I've got some hot potatoes to sort out."
SANITY WOULD DRIVE ME CRAZY
The truth is, I've never been right in the head. But who has? Who is? I may not charge windmills, but at least I dream of charging them. The truth is, no SENCO can succeed if he is not daft enough to attempt the impossible on a daily basis. And so like a latter day Don Quixote, I took up my sword and lance, mounted the faithful Rocinante, and, backed from the rear by the somewhat befuddled Sancho Panza, set out to defend the helpless and destroy the wicked, though it was often difficult to determine which was which; and all in the name of the fair Dulcinea del Toboso, whom I envisioned as a fair princess, though, in truth, she spent most of her days labouring over hot potatoes.
Twenty four fair ladies, two squires, and I am off to set the world of Special Needs aright. Oh, those Thursday mornings when the entire team settled round a table and shared the nuggets we'd dug from the gold mines of information. Nothing is more reliable than gossip. And, joy of joys, the meetings ran themselves leaving me little to do but dunk another ginger snap into my Tetley tea and ponder how I could screw another Statement out of the LEA, for with another Statement I could purchase yet another LSA to sustain my dream of empire. Oh, how I loved to take issue with the LEA who were as naught to a Scot who could happily take issue with his own shadow. Incensed with indignation I blazed through Clover House like a comet!
And to those who say I did it only because I could finish at 3.30 each day, or zoom off to the footie at 2, or have afternoon tea in the Tudor Rooms, I say... well, why not? I had a staggeringly diverse and brilliant team; they did not need me leaning over their shoulders breathing down their necks; they did not need to second-guess what would or would not please me; they did what they thought was right, and more often than not what they thought was right was right.
I am fortunate enough to have worked with many good managers, the best of whom told me, "Paul, get the best people you can for the job. Set out the targets and goals clearly. Then let them get on with it. You are there to advise and support, not to do the job for them." Anyway it's pointless trying to tell me what to do. I never appear in anybody's movie but my own, and I never take anybody else's direction but mine. Anything else becomes a Mexican stand-off and, believe me, I don't blink.
Over the five years do we fail or do we succeed at making something special in providing for Special Needs at SWNS? We may not wholly succeed but we do not wholly fail, and, anyway, on the way to failure at something great, one sometimes succeeds at doing something good. We did not succeed on the first OFSTED inspection, some six weeks after I took over, but the Inspector for Special Needs took me into a room, sat and me down and said, "Don't tell anyone I'm doing this, but here's what you need to do." Unfortunately, the next hour was devoted to the school's special needs, not mine. She sat me down and drew up a ten-point plan I should implement over the next few months. Her final comment: "You've got the team to do it. Now get on with it." So wherever you are, dear lady, I send you my heartfelt gratitude.
In our second OFSTED inspection we are rated 'outstanding', in the depth and quality of provision not only for the students we officially support but for the school in general. Yet I am not entirely happy. You see, my 'partner' and I have set up the most marvellous systems of assessment, analysis, individual education plans, global needs and global strategies, solution-focussed approaches, school-based reviews, and a framework for the future. (If you must yawn, at least yawn discreetly.) The Inspector more or less ignores these: (a) on the grounds that he doesn't like computers, and (b) it's what we do for the kids that matters. So much for assessment for learning! No matter what he says I shall continue to weigh the piglets though it makes no difference to the taste. Who knows, they might even come to enjoy it. The truth is, this gentleman of certain years is fixated on our literacy and numeracy groups, or rather on the fair damsels who teach them so admirably. Hour after hour, class after class, he sits amongst them declining my invitation to inspect our new all-singing all-dancing data base. Spit! So don't sing the virtues of OFSTED to me. Each OFSTED inspection has its own agenda; and if it is not my agenda, stuff it! When I want OFSTED's opinion, I'll give it to them.
OFSTED is, of course, no longer as we knew it. OFSTED inspectors now remind me of nothing so much as bluebottles buzzing busily round a pasture frantically searching for a cowpat. The greatest of things can hang by the slenderest of threads, and to have the reputation and future of a school hang on a judgement arrived in what amounts to a day-and-half visit is unreliable, invalid, mean, cruel and unspeakable. By definition one cannot speak of the unspeakable; therefore I will remain silent - but not forever, and not for long.
Twenty four fair ladies, two squires, and I am off to set the world of Special Needs aright. Oh, those Thursday mornings when the entire team settled round a table and shared the nuggets we'd dug from the gold mines of information. Nothing is more reliable than gossip. And, joy of joys, the meetings ran themselves leaving me little to do but dunk another ginger snap into my Tetley tea and ponder how I could screw another Statement out of the LEA, for with another Statement I could purchase yet another LSA to sustain my dream of empire. Oh, how I loved to take issue with the LEA who were as naught to a Scot who could happily take issue with his own shadow. Incensed with indignation I blazed through Clover House like a comet!
And to those who say I did it only because I could finish at 3.30 each day, or zoom off to the footie at 2, or have afternoon tea in the Tudor Rooms, I say... well, why not? I had a staggeringly diverse and brilliant team; they did not need me leaning over their shoulders breathing down their necks; they did not need to second-guess what would or would not please me; they did what they thought was right, and more often than not what they thought was right was right.
I am fortunate enough to have worked with many good managers, the best of whom told me, "Paul, get the best people you can for the job. Set out the targets and goals clearly. Then let them get on with it. You are there to advise and support, not to do the job for them." Anyway it's pointless trying to tell me what to do. I never appear in anybody's movie but my own, and I never take anybody else's direction but mine. Anything else becomes a Mexican stand-off and, believe me, I don't blink.
Over the five years do we fail or do we succeed at making something special in providing for Special Needs at SWNS? We may not wholly succeed but we do not wholly fail, and, anyway, on the way to failure at something great, one sometimes succeeds at doing something good. We did not succeed on the first OFSTED inspection, some six weeks after I took over, but the Inspector for Special Needs took me into a room, sat and me down and said, "Don't tell anyone I'm doing this, but here's what you need to do." Unfortunately, the next hour was devoted to the school's special needs, not mine. She sat me down and drew up a ten-point plan I should implement over the next few months. Her final comment: "You've got the team to do it. Now get on with it." So wherever you are, dear lady, I send you my heartfelt gratitude.
In our second OFSTED inspection we are rated 'outstanding', in the depth and quality of provision not only for the students we officially support but for the school in general. Yet I am not entirely happy. You see, my 'partner' and I have set up the most marvellous systems of assessment, analysis, individual education plans, global needs and global strategies, solution-focussed approaches, school-based reviews, and a framework for the future. (If you must yawn, at least yawn discreetly.) The Inspector more or less ignores these: (a) on the grounds that he doesn't like computers, and (b) it's what we do for the kids that matters. So much for assessment for learning! No matter what he says I shall continue to weigh the piglets though it makes no difference to the taste. Who knows, they might even come to enjoy it. The truth is, this gentleman of certain years is fixated on our literacy and numeracy groups, or rather on the fair damsels who teach them so admirably. Hour after hour, class after class, he sits amongst them declining my invitation to inspect our new all-singing all-dancing data base. Spit! So don't sing the virtues of OFSTED to me. Each OFSTED inspection has its own agenda; and if it is not my agenda, stuff it! When I want OFSTED's opinion, I'll give it to them.
OFSTED is, of course, no longer as we knew it. OFSTED inspectors now remind me of nothing so much as bluebottles buzzing busily round a pasture frantically searching for a cowpat. The greatest of things can hang by the slenderest of threads, and to have the reputation and future of a school hang on a judgement arrived in what amounts to a day-and-half visit is unreliable, invalid, mean, cruel and unspeakable. By definition one cannot speak of the unspeakable; therefore I will remain silent - but not forever, and not for long.
SENCO? WHO - ME? YES - YOU!
The year is 199something-or-other. I'm standing at the door of my English classroom ushering in my Year 10 'low ability' set; all boys. I'm slightly nervous; no, I'm very nervous. Sitting at the back of my classroom is a tiny but formidable lady dressed in pink. Barbara Cartland! No - an OFSTED inspector, and she is here to inspect me. As each boy comes in, he hands me the equivalent of an SSP - 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12... I need one more boy to complete the set. I turn to the class, wave a handful of SSPs, and quip, "Well, if Benny comes in on SSP, we'll have the full deck." At that moment Benny falls into class gasping, "Sorry, sir, detention, sir," and hands me his SSP.
The theme of the lesson is 'Crime and Punishment'. This turns out to be well-chosen since the inspector is not only an ex-headteacher but a local magistrate. Oddly enough, this is the only occasion in my brilliant career I've been inspected in class by OFSTED. In the end, I gave up preparing one-off, all singing-all dancing lessons and relied on the WYSIWYG approach. This has served me well; I haven't exhausted myself and no inspector has been disappointed since none has ever shown up.
My inspection went well, but that of the school did not. We avoided special measures but were held to have significant weaknesses. The bells of change went ding-a-ling-a-ling. Of course in education change is inevitable - except from vending machines - and all around us managers girded their loins and got on with it. Some managed by walking faster than the rest of the staff, some by staring at computer screens; some managed by conceptual thinking, some by delegation to their secretary; some managed by reorganisation, some by staying one step behind the boss; some managed by complete ignorance, and some by smiling and wearing nice suits.
As ever, I avoided management and anything that smacked of a career opportunity; I'd refused to wear a suit when getting married, and I certainly wasn't going to wear one now. I even hope to resist wearing a suit when I'm laid out for theta final rest. Who wants to spend eternity in a suit? As W.A. says: Eternity is a long long time, especially as you get near the end of it.
Up in the staff room goes a notice: SENCO required. I haven't much idea what a SENCO is or does, but frankly I'm bored with running the English department, possibly because my deputy seems as happy as a piglet in mud running it for me. I need a fresh challenge, even if it involves a stupid risk, for as the great man himself says, "Taking stupid risks is what makes life worth living," and even if it involves jumping off a cliff, I may have time to build wings on the way down.
I scribble off a few lines to the headteacher and am duly summoned to her office. "Are you serious?" she asks me. "I think I am," say I. And 15 minutes later, that is that. Out with the old, in with the new. I scamper down to my Deputy. I extend my hand. He shakes it, then warily asks, "What's this about?" I fix him with my glittering eye and quoth, "You, my lad, are, after Easter, Head of English, and I'm off to be SENCO."
"Are you serious?" he asks, as ever declining to take me as seriously as I take myself. "You - Special Educational Needs Co-ordinator?"
"I am! That I am!" I insist. "Now have you booked the lunches?" This being a Friday the English Department trots off together for a pub lunch over-looking Tankerton Slopes.
SENCO! Special Needs! And all mine. It's enough to make a cat laugh. Without pressing the analogy too far, I felt like Charlie Chaplin in 'The Great Dictator' spinning the globe on his middle finger. Not that I had that much to dictate to. Five or was it six staff in the Special Needs department? A big empty room in the then Art Block. But I had only three hours a week classroom teaching, and as far as I knew only a handful of kids on the Special Needs Register. Oh well, che sera sera, I trill, in perfect imitation of Doris Day, as I skip down Smokers' Alley. I've no idea where this decision will lead, but does anyone ever know where anything will lead? To that question, the answer is always No.
There follows five intensely happy years. My 'staff' know what has to be done; they've only been waiting to be given the chance to do it. I recall the departing SENCO saying, "Well, you're the last person I'd've given the job to, but now that you've got it 'Good luck'." I don't need luck; I need the team I've inherited. The procedure is simple - they tell me what needs to be done and that's what we go ahead and do. When you recognise talent, give it its head. Set the guidelines and let the folk get on with it. People love freedom, responsibility, autonomy together with a 'boss' whose hand is lightly on the tiller when required. Backs are straighter, heads held higher, footsteps lighter. Nothing crushes the spirit as much as micro-management.
Easy-peasy, then? No, not at all. GM status, or rather non-GM status, has opened the floodgates, and within two or so years our 17.5% has jumped to over 35% on the SEN register. We could well be over the Event Horizon, endlessly falling into a Black Hole from which there is no escape. We are also into the Age of Accountability, an Ice Age of the Soul, where everyone is terrified of 'getting it wrong', and exhaust themselves filling in endless forms to demonstrate it 'wasn't my fault'. And with the doubling of SEN kids comes an exponential increase in the paperwork required. An administrative Hell was upon me!
The question was, what was I going to do about it? Well, I'll tell you what I did about it. I found someone who could do it far better than I could. Serendipity. You see, there are always capable women at hand, and, though the devil's never far behind, I've always thrown myself on the kindness of women. It is no secret, except to the vast majority of men, that the way to a woman's heart is to look utterly helpless.
Within a few months, I'd augmented the team from six to twenty six, including two capable gentlemen as tokens of their gender. Amongst my ladies I found one in particular who could take on the administrative tasks I hated and do them with spectacular competency. But of course competency is never enough. My 'partner' - for that's what we were - had to put up with me and my mildly manic-depressive disposition. Ah, but these were the manic years, so much to do, so little time to do it, and so much support around us with which to do it.
The theme of the lesson is 'Crime and Punishment'. This turns out to be well-chosen since the inspector is not only an ex-headteacher but a local magistrate. Oddly enough, this is the only occasion in my brilliant career I've been inspected in class by OFSTED. In the end, I gave up preparing one-off, all singing-all dancing lessons and relied on the WYSIWYG approach. This has served me well; I haven't exhausted myself and no inspector has been disappointed since none has ever shown up.
My inspection went well, but that of the school did not. We avoided special measures but were held to have significant weaknesses. The bells of change went ding-a-ling-a-ling. Of course in education change is inevitable - except from vending machines - and all around us managers girded their loins and got on with it. Some managed by walking faster than the rest of the staff, some by staring at computer screens; some managed by conceptual thinking, some by delegation to their secretary; some managed by reorganisation, some by staying one step behind the boss; some managed by complete ignorance, and some by smiling and wearing nice suits.
As ever, I avoided management and anything that smacked of a career opportunity; I'd refused to wear a suit when getting married, and I certainly wasn't going to wear one now. I even hope to resist wearing a suit when I'm laid out for theta final rest. Who wants to spend eternity in a suit? As W.A. says: Eternity is a long long time, especially as you get near the end of it.
Up in the staff room goes a notice: SENCO required. I haven't much idea what a SENCO is or does, but frankly I'm bored with running the English department, possibly because my deputy seems as happy as a piglet in mud running it for me. I need a fresh challenge, even if it involves a stupid risk, for as the great man himself says, "Taking stupid risks is what makes life worth living," and even if it involves jumping off a cliff, I may have time to build wings on the way down.
I scribble off a few lines to the headteacher and am duly summoned to her office. "Are you serious?" she asks me. "I think I am," say I. And 15 minutes later, that is that. Out with the old, in with the new. I scamper down to my Deputy. I extend my hand. He shakes it, then warily asks, "What's this about?" I fix him with my glittering eye and quoth, "You, my lad, are, after Easter, Head of English, and I'm off to be SENCO."
"Are you serious?" he asks, as ever declining to take me as seriously as I take myself. "You - Special Educational Needs Co-ordinator?"
"I am! That I am!" I insist. "Now have you booked the lunches?" This being a Friday the English Department trots off together for a pub lunch over-looking Tankerton Slopes.
SENCO! Special Needs! And all mine. It's enough to make a cat laugh. Without pressing the analogy too far, I felt like Charlie Chaplin in 'The Great Dictator' spinning the globe on his middle finger. Not that I had that much to dictate to. Five or was it six staff in the Special Needs department? A big empty room in the then Art Block. But I had only three hours a week classroom teaching, and as far as I knew only a handful of kids on the Special Needs Register. Oh well, che sera sera, I trill, in perfect imitation of Doris Day, as I skip down Smokers' Alley. I've no idea where this decision will lead, but does anyone ever know where anything will lead? To that question, the answer is always No.
There follows five intensely happy years. My 'staff' know what has to be done; they've only been waiting to be given the chance to do it. I recall the departing SENCO saying, "Well, you're the last person I'd've given the job to, but now that you've got it 'Good luck'." I don't need luck; I need the team I've inherited. The procedure is simple - they tell me what needs to be done and that's what we go ahead and do. When you recognise talent, give it its head. Set the guidelines and let the folk get on with it. People love freedom, responsibility, autonomy together with a 'boss' whose hand is lightly on the tiller when required. Backs are straighter, heads held higher, footsteps lighter. Nothing crushes the spirit as much as micro-management.
Easy-peasy, then? No, not at all. GM status, or rather non-GM status, has opened the floodgates, and within two or so years our 17.5% has jumped to over 35% on the SEN register. We could well be over the Event Horizon, endlessly falling into a Black Hole from which there is no escape. We are also into the Age of Accountability, an Ice Age of the Soul, where everyone is terrified of 'getting it wrong', and exhaust themselves filling in endless forms to demonstrate it 'wasn't my fault'. And with the doubling of SEN kids comes an exponential increase in the paperwork required. An administrative Hell was upon me!
The question was, what was I going to do about it? Well, I'll tell you what I did about it. I found someone who could do it far better than I could. Serendipity. You see, there are always capable women at hand, and, though the devil's never far behind, I've always thrown myself on the kindness of women. It is no secret, except to the vast majority of men, that the way to a woman's heart is to look utterly helpless.
Within a few months, I'd augmented the team from six to twenty six, including two capable gentlemen as tokens of their gender. Amongst my ladies I found one in particular who could take on the administrative tasks I hated and do them with spectacular competency. But of course competency is never enough. My 'partner' - for that's what we were - had to put up with me and my mildly manic-depressive disposition. Ah, but these were the manic years, so much to do, so little time to do it, and so much support around us with which to do it.
TO MEET OR NOT TO MEET? DON'T MEET!
I've inevitably become something of an expert on meetings after what seems a lifetime of staff meetings, governors' meetings, department meetings, RAL meetings, union meetings, CPD, leading from the middle, leading from the front, leading from the rear, and leading from "where the hell are we now?" meetings. But I'm rarely able to forget that Rome did not create an empire by having meetings. The Romans did it by killing all those who opposed them, though I've never understood a policy that dictates beatings until morale improves. Meetings generally ensure that a problem shared is a problem multiplied, but at least a meeting ensures that everyone has a fair chance at being incompetent.
Meetings blether on about teamwork and ownership, a neat way of never having to take the blame yourself. They are also a way of avoiding responsibility; never forget what you don't do today will become someone else's responsibility tomorrow. Be patient! Responsibility is like swine flu: it's vastly over-rated, and if you wait long enough it will either fade away or pass you altogether. Sit there, quietly, but with the attentive expression of a dumb dog alert in case a biscuit is on offer. Above all, never argue with idiots. They drag you down to their level, and then beat you with experience. Incidentally, no offence where none intended.
Now let's get something straight: I am neither advising nor telling people what to do. I accept that if you've got lots of managers you've got to find something for them to manage! What's the point of being a Chief if you're doing exactly the same as the Ten Little Indians? But so much energy is drained from the art and act of teaching that students end up with precious little of YOU if your energies and enthusiasms have been drained away by the vampires of bureaucracy.
I have been incredibly fortunate that at the Nottidge/CCW I've been pretty well left to my own devices, though perhaps not for the reasons I've taken pleasure in. Generally, I've been pointed like an Exocet missile at the problem and left to get on with it. On reflection, that's the approach adopted towards me in every school where I've taught. Does that say more about me than it does about the schools?
This does not mean I've always got things right; I'm only human (discuss) and I get things wrong; it's part of the package. I can only hope I've done more good than harm. And what is the test of that? For me it isn't 5 A*-Cs, important though that may be, but it is men and women after 20 years, sometimes after 40, coming up to me with a big smile saying, "You won't remember me, but...." Ah, but I do. It is the person not the output that matters to me. If I've made someone's world just a bit happier, job done! Yes, what I shall miss most about teaching is laughter, and above all the laughter of children.
I have promised practical advice so... Whenever I have led a Department, I have made it my practice to write the minutes in advance. Then at the meeting I read out the minutes that we then discuss and amend as agreed. AOB is usually coffee and biscuits at which the real work gets done. Everyone trots off happily while I remain to a create an Agenda whose outcome is the Minutes we have agreed on. The following morning I send copies of the the Agenda and the Minutes to all involved, including my line manager who is delighted that everything, as usual, is in excellent order.
Meetings blether on about teamwork and ownership, a neat way of never having to take the blame yourself. They are also a way of avoiding responsibility; never forget what you don't do today will become someone else's responsibility tomorrow. Be patient! Responsibility is like swine flu: it's vastly over-rated, and if you wait long enough it will either fade away or pass you altogether. Sit there, quietly, but with the attentive expression of a dumb dog alert in case a biscuit is on offer. Above all, never argue with idiots. They drag you down to their level, and then beat you with experience. Incidentally, no offence where none intended.
Now let's get something straight: I am neither advising nor telling people what to do. I accept that if you've got lots of managers you've got to find something for them to manage! What's the point of being a Chief if you're doing exactly the same as the Ten Little Indians? But so much energy is drained from the art and act of teaching that students end up with precious little of YOU if your energies and enthusiasms have been drained away by the vampires of bureaucracy.
I have been incredibly fortunate that at the Nottidge/CCW I've been pretty well left to my own devices, though perhaps not for the reasons I've taken pleasure in. Generally, I've been pointed like an Exocet missile at the problem and left to get on with it. On reflection, that's the approach adopted towards me in every school where I've taught. Does that say more about me than it does about the schools?
This does not mean I've always got things right; I'm only human (discuss) and I get things wrong; it's part of the package. I can only hope I've done more good than harm. And what is the test of that? For me it isn't 5 A*-Cs, important though that may be, but it is men and women after 20 years, sometimes after 40, coming up to me with a big smile saying, "You won't remember me, but...." Ah, but I do. It is the person not the output that matters to me. If I've made someone's world just a bit happier, job done! Yes, what I shall miss most about teaching is laughter, and above all the laughter of children.
I have promised practical advice so... Whenever I have led a Department, I have made it my practice to write the minutes in advance. Then at the meeting I read out the minutes that we then discuss and amend as agreed. AOB is usually coffee and biscuits at which the real work gets done. Everyone trots off happily while I remain to a create an Agenda whose outcome is the Minutes we have agreed on. The following morning I send copies of the the Agenda and the Minutes to all involved, including my line manager who is delighted that everything, as usual, is in excellent order.
LET'S DO THE ODYSSEY!
Head of Drama and Second in English... prancing around in the Hall instructing children to be trees, suspension bridges, the Eiffel Tower or whatever crackpot idea comes into my head. "And today we will dramatise... 'The Odyssey'!" and not a lesson plan in sight. The children happy, fulfilled, exhausted. And, as I bark out increasingly eccentric commands, the headteacher sails like a stately Spanish galleon into the Hall saying, "Now that's the voice of a real teacher!"
Today the same children accost me in the High Street with joyous shouts of "Bong!" - my way of gaining their attentive silence during drama activities.
To this is added a gifted set of young athletes generously handed over to me by the P.E. department after I have announced to them that I am the Brian Clough of schools' football. More Spain than Holland, these Year 7 boys skip their way to the final of the Under-12s Kent Cup under a full moon at the Belmont Stadium before 500 paying customers. They lose but it is recorded in the Kent Schools' Football Association Handbook 1990 that 'they emerged cheerful from the dressing room at the end of the game to reflect positively on an enjoyable season.'
Losing hurt, but not much in the grand scheme of things. What mattered was they enjoyed their football, played fairly at all times, took pride in themselves, and laughed, win or lose, all the way home. And how had it been done? Through their skills, commitment, application, enthusiasm - and not a little tough love kindly applied though rarely necessary.
The same bunch of lads sweeps me along into the cricket season and then proceed to sweep all before them, including the grammar schools. Unknown to me, they are already accomplished young cricketers, attached either to Chestfield or Whitstable Cricket Club, and receiving proper coaching twice a week. This produces that rarest of anomalies, a successful Scottish cricket manager, though I am regularly to be seen running to the P.E. department begging them to explain the LBW rule to me 'one more time'.
I am not always successful in my judgements and recall being frowned at severely by members of staff, including a Deputy Head, when I umpired the annual staff-student cricket match at the Belmont. The words were unspoken but, o, how they rang in the air: "JP, you cannot be serious!" But my finger was raised, and my raised finger is the Law - whichever finger it may be! Realistically, you cannot expect kilted men to take seriously a sport that requires players to assume such indecent postures.
The football, if not the cricket, goes on and on and on... till at the age of 61 I find myself one wet, cold, blustery, muddy afternoon as darkness falls, trying to run up and down the infamous Nottidge slope waving a whistle and dragging my gammy leg behind me. We troop from the field looking like monkeys caught in the rain, and I make a decision. Next morning I inform the Head of P.E., "That's it. Count me out in September." And one of the happiest chapters in my life as a teacher closes.
I describe my involvement in sport at some length because it encapsulates my attitude and approach to teaching: fun, confidence, preparation, discipline (preferably self-discipline), consistency - not conformity! - and the application of tough love as and when required. I have no time for targets, goals, statistics, forecasts, assessment for learning, and all the pernicious twaddle that has smothered the joy of teaching. I pay it lip-service when I have to but in my heart, and more to the point in my intellect, I know how destructive and corrosive it is. I have sat through too many CPD sessions and Staff Meetings observing the glazed stares of the huddled, or the twitching of the apprehensive, who, like cows sniffing the air of an approaching storm, sense imminent disaster.
I tick all the 'smiley faces' anyway because I know those who are presenting have the best of intentions, and, as the Bible says, 'sufficient unto the day are the evils there of.' I do not see it as my function to add even more at the end of the day. Yet, so many who witnessed my flare-ups at meetings failed to understand their nature - it was not rage, it was desperate boredom. Few teachers ever drop dead from overwork, but many quietly curl up and die when half way through a meeting, particularly when the outcome is to have a follow-up meeting.
Today the same children accost me in the High Street with joyous shouts of "Bong!" - my way of gaining their attentive silence during drama activities.
To this is added a gifted set of young athletes generously handed over to me by the P.E. department after I have announced to them that I am the Brian Clough of schools' football. More Spain than Holland, these Year 7 boys skip their way to the final of the Under-12s Kent Cup under a full moon at the Belmont Stadium before 500 paying customers. They lose but it is recorded in the Kent Schools' Football Association Handbook 1990 that 'they emerged cheerful from the dressing room at the end of the game to reflect positively on an enjoyable season.'
Losing hurt, but not much in the grand scheme of things. What mattered was they enjoyed their football, played fairly at all times, took pride in themselves, and laughed, win or lose, all the way home. And how had it been done? Through their skills, commitment, application, enthusiasm - and not a little tough love kindly applied though rarely necessary.
The same bunch of lads sweeps me along into the cricket season and then proceed to sweep all before them, including the grammar schools. Unknown to me, they are already accomplished young cricketers, attached either to Chestfield or Whitstable Cricket Club, and receiving proper coaching twice a week. This produces that rarest of anomalies, a successful Scottish cricket manager, though I am regularly to be seen running to the P.E. department begging them to explain the LBW rule to me 'one more time'.
I am not always successful in my judgements and recall being frowned at severely by members of staff, including a Deputy Head, when I umpired the annual staff-student cricket match at the Belmont. The words were unspoken but, o, how they rang in the air: "JP, you cannot be serious!" But my finger was raised, and my raised finger is the Law - whichever finger it may be! Realistically, you cannot expect kilted men to take seriously a sport that requires players to assume such indecent postures.
The football, if not the cricket, goes on and on and on... till at the age of 61 I find myself one wet, cold, blustery, muddy afternoon as darkness falls, trying to run up and down the infamous Nottidge slope waving a whistle and dragging my gammy leg behind me. We troop from the field looking like monkeys caught in the rain, and I make a decision. Next morning I inform the Head of P.E., "That's it. Count me out in September." And one of the happiest chapters in my life as a teacher closes.
I describe my involvement in sport at some length because it encapsulates my attitude and approach to teaching: fun, confidence, preparation, discipline (preferably self-discipline), consistency - not conformity! - and the application of tough love as and when required. I have no time for targets, goals, statistics, forecasts, assessment for learning, and all the pernicious twaddle that has smothered the joy of teaching. I pay it lip-service when I have to but in my heart, and more to the point in my intellect, I know how destructive and corrosive it is. I have sat through too many CPD sessions and Staff Meetings observing the glazed stares of the huddled, or the twitching of the apprehensive, who, like cows sniffing the air of an approaching storm, sense imminent disaster.
I tick all the 'smiley faces' anyway because I know those who are presenting have the best of intentions, and, as the Bible says, 'sufficient unto the day are the evils there of.' I do not see it as my function to add even more at the end of the day. Yet, so many who witnessed my flare-ups at meetings failed to understand their nature - it was not rage, it was desperate boredom. Few teachers ever drop dead from overwork, but many quietly curl up and die when half way through a meeting, particularly when the outcome is to have a follow-up meeting.
Tuesday 7 September 2010
WHAT REALLY MATTERS
For those of you who have begun to worry you have embarked on an autobiographical epic, have no fear, you have not; though it has to be said that autobiography is the finest way for telling the truth about other people. I have no plans for such - telling the truth - at the moment. And, of course, you have the security of the delete key approximately three inches away. How easy to silence my voice at the tap of a key.
However, I will try to give a more or less accurate account on the principle that it is better to be a first rate version of oneself than a second rate version of someone else. I will also try to avoid the weakness of the professional scribbler - the tendency to make much ado about very little, to see significance where none exists, to dramatise the perfectly ordinary.
So we are both spared a protracted blog. I say 'both' because for me blogging seems to be a sort of love affair, easy to start but devilishly difficult to put an end to. Rather I present you with what we Scots call the fullness of absence, choosing not to inflict my memories on you. So many memories; it would take a hypnotist to recover half of them. Of course it might give me pleasure to stand before you and unburden myself, but I would have to be terribly selective in my choice since convention demands that one says nothing significant, nothing meaningful. In the world of farewell speeches, everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds, and who am I to tamper with tradition?
And then there is the vino, and in the vino there may be veritas. And one should never indulge in too much vino or too much veritas in front of those upon whom you might depend for your next reference. A finer wordsmith than I reminds us that humankind cannot bear too much truth. I quite like humankind; after all they are my species, though I prefer them in small numbers. However, even in my cups, or especially in my cups, it would merely be my version of the truth; we all have our own versions because each night we have to sleep with ourselves even though a beloved may be within touching distance. And I would not wish to cause hurt. It would only be my truth; it wouldn't have to mean anything. I've long ago abandoned any search for meaning but I retain a profound set of values; and of values and virtues, the greatest by far is kindness. Note I say values rather than principles. I've never been good at living by my principles and gave up trying many years ago. Better to be kind than right.
I must be careful; unkindness outrages me; the veneer falls away and the Son of Wallace stands revealed. I recall a headteacher at a governors' meeting saying, "Well, I think I might have tamed JP." I fell about laughing. How could any headteacher, any figure of authority, 'tame' me when I've always been unable to tame myself? How easy life would be if I kept my mouth shut, said 'Yes, sir, yes, ma'am', took the rewards, and climbed the greasy pole.
Alas, for me, something will not let me. A voice sounds in my head, "That's WRONG," and the tartan mist comes down. I was taught at Ancrum Road Primary School that to change the world you must first change yourself. And how is this best done? By choosing at every opportunity to do the kindest thing. It may be a road less travelled but it's the only road I know. And that's what really matters.
However, I will try to give a more or less accurate account on the principle that it is better to be a first rate version of oneself than a second rate version of someone else. I will also try to avoid the weakness of the professional scribbler - the tendency to make much ado about very little, to see significance where none exists, to dramatise the perfectly ordinary.
So we are both spared a protracted blog. I say 'both' because for me blogging seems to be a sort of love affair, easy to start but devilishly difficult to put an end to. Rather I present you with what we Scots call the fullness of absence, choosing not to inflict my memories on you. So many memories; it would take a hypnotist to recover half of them. Of course it might give me pleasure to stand before you and unburden myself, but I would have to be terribly selective in my choice since convention demands that one says nothing significant, nothing meaningful. In the world of farewell speeches, everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds, and who am I to tamper with tradition?
And then there is the vino, and in the vino there may be veritas. And one should never indulge in too much vino or too much veritas in front of those upon whom you might depend for your next reference. A finer wordsmith than I reminds us that humankind cannot bear too much truth. I quite like humankind; after all they are my species, though I prefer them in small numbers. However, even in my cups, or especially in my cups, it would merely be my version of the truth; we all have our own versions because each night we have to sleep with ourselves even though a beloved may be within touching distance. And I would not wish to cause hurt. It would only be my truth; it wouldn't have to mean anything. I've long ago abandoned any search for meaning but I retain a profound set of values; and of values and virtues, the greatest by far is kindness. Note I say values rather than principles. I've never been good at living by my principles and gave up trying many years ago. Better to be kind than right.
I must be careful; unkindness outrages me; the veneer falls away and the Son of Wallace stands revealed. I recall a headteacher at a governors' meeting saying, "Well, I think I might have tamed JP." I fell about laughing. How could any headteacher, any figure of authority, 'tame' me when I've always been unable to tame myself? How easy life would be if I kept my mouth shut, said 'Yes, sir, yes, ma'am', took the rewards, and climbed the greasy pole.
Alas, for me, something will not let me. A voice sounds in my head, "That's WRONG," and the tartan mist comes down. I was taught at Ancrum Road Primary School that to change the world you must first change yourself. And how is this best done? By choosing at every opportunity to do the kindest thing. It may be a road less travelled but it's the only road I know. And that's what really matters.
IN THE BEGINNING
I'd like to grab your attention with some unforgettable lines. Perhaps something lyric such as , 'It was a sunny day in July and the Whitstable station clock was striking thirteen.' Or if I could not do lyric, then something sweeping like, 'All happy schools are alike, but every unhappy school is unhappy in its own way.' Or perhaps something intriguing such as, 'Someone must have slandered JP, because one morning, without his having done anything wrong, he was summoned by the Head.' Or if I could not intrigue my audience, I could at least grab their attention with, 'This is the funniest story I have ever heard.' All water under the bridge now of course, so I'll settle for, 'A sunny morning in July 1989," and get on with it.
A sunny morning in July 1989. I detrain at Whitstable Railway Station, scan my map and make my way to the interview arranged the day before. I stroll up Downes Avenue. What do I know about Whitstable? Nothing. And I know even less about the Sir William Nottidge School, but it may serve as a temporary refuge until I find a place in Canterbury which I do know well. As I stroll up the hill, I sing and whistle the old school summer song drummed into us at the Harris Academy for the Sons of Gentlefolk by the banks of the silvery Tay.
Hurrah for the heath-clad mountains
Hurrah for the whins' hoarse roar
Hurrah for the sandy fountains
Hurrah for the sandy shore
Hurrah for the sandy shore
(more of which later)
For those of you who are wondering what 'whins' are or how 'fountains' can be sandy, join the legions who have left the Harris wondering exactly the same thing. However, we neither wondered nor questioned; we were ordered to memorise and regurgitate on request, so less has changed in education than you might think. But the song has an irresistibly jaunty air and I am inclined to sing, hum or whistle it in times of happiness or of stress. No doubt I shall sing, hum or whistle it later today as I wander down Downes Avenue. The Harris song captures for me the spirit of summer and for me it is always summer. For most people the first thirty years of their life are lived, the remainder only dreamed. I am fortunate that I've managed to live the first sixty five years of mine wide awake if not always fully alert.
I do not get the job and, for you as well as for me, it might have ended there. I do not get the job I am interviewed for; I get a different job, not Head of English but Head of Drama, with second in English thrown in for good measure. And as I've been pursued along Bellevue Road by the headteacher, and having been brought up not to disappoint a lady if it can be helped, I've little choice but to accept the offer. I travel back to London knowing once again I've jumped on the nearest passing bus; no matter; I never spend my life waiting for buses that might never come. Neither do I ever fear the future. Yes it's true that every new day is the first day of the rest of your life, but it can equally be the last day of the rest of your life, so make the most of it!
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A sunny morning in July 1989. I detrain at Whitstable Railway Station, scan my map and make my way to the interview arranged the day before. I stroll up Downes Avenue. What do I know about Whitstable? Nothing. And I know even less about the Sir William Nottidge School, but it may serve as a temporary refuge until I find a place in Canterbury which I do know well. As I stroll up the hill, I sing and whistle the old school summer song drummed into us at the Harris Academy for the Sons of Gentlefolk by the banks of the silvery Tay.
Hurrah for the heath-clad mountains
Hurrah for the whins' hoarse roar
Hurrah for the sandy fountains
Hurrah for the sandy shore
Hurrah for the sandy shore
(more of which later)
For those of you who are wondering what 'whins' are or how 'fountains' can be sandy, join the legions who have left the Harris wondering exactly the same thing. However, we neither wondered nor questioned; we were ordered to memorise and regurgitate on request, so less has changed in education than you might think. But the song has an irresistibly jaunty air and I am inclined to sing, hum or whistle it in times of happiness or of stress. No doubt I shall sing, hum or whistle it later today as I wander down Downes Avenue. The Harris song captures for me the spirit of summer and for me it is always summer. For most people the first thirty years of their life are lived, the remainder only dreamed. I am fortunate that I've managed to live the first sixty five years of mine wide awake if not always fully alert.
I do not get the job and, for you as well as for me, it might have ended there. I do not get the job I am interviewed for; I get a different job, not Head of English but Head of Drama, with second in English thrown in for good measure. And as I've been pursued along Bellevue Road by the headteacher, and having been brought up not to disappoint a lady if it can be helped, I've little choice but to accept the offer. I travel back to London knowing once again I've jumped on the nearest passing bus; no matter; I never spend my life waiting for buses that might never come. Neither do I ever fear the future. Yes it's true that every new day is the first day of the rest of your life, but it can equally be the last day of the rest of your life, so make the most of it!
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