Take care of yourself – seriously

I remember the first lesson I ever taught. It was in a typical 1950’s-built school in the suburbs of Norwich. Monday period 1: 3rd year (as it then was) French – and I wasn’t even a French specialist. The Head of Department had approved my plan with his habitual phrase, remembered to this day: “It’s all grist to the mill…!”

The lesson was, in what I suspect is a fairly common experience, a hammer blow. My preparation hadn’t been half thorough enough; there was a flaw in one of the activities, and I hadn’t reckoned seriously enough with the gratuitous bait-the-student-teacher disruption… I guess that’s why we have teacher training.

It took quite a few years for feelings of confidence to emerge; I remember my father saying it took him about ten to be reasonably satisfied with his teaching. I don’t think there was ever anything wrong – indeed on several occasions more experienced colleagues told me in no uncertain terms not to be so hard on myself. By the time I reached last year, I was even reasonably comfortable with describing myself as unconsciously competent in the classroom – if that isn’t a contradiction in terms.

But in the light of experience, I can’t help reflecting on the several posts I wrote on the subject of introversion, most relevantly here:

https://ijstock.wordpress.com/2013/12/07/groucho-was-right/

Also here https://ijstock.wordpress.com/2013/11/15/shhh/ and here https://ijstock.wordpress.com/2017/01/06/feeling-nervous/

If you happen to be a sensitive and not outgoing or gregarious individual, the damage the rough and tumble of teaching does can be particularly serious. A colleague of thirty years expressed incredulity that I felt such characteristics applied to me, so effectively had I masked my inner self for all that time. I was always my own harshest critic – but, I reasoned,  how many teachers would say the same? It must be in the tens of thousands….Still, I did the day-job week in, week out, swallowing the pressure, trying to reconcile the irreconcilable, doing the things I was told to even when I had deep reservations about them – without any serious thought that it was storing up harm…

My point is this: everyone who does it knows that teaching is a high pressure game – but we still don’t know it – in the sense of being aware of the impact it can (or should that be does?) have. We become so habituated to its demands – the pressurised day-to-day working life, the pressure from managers and politicians, the fact that our evenings and weekends are barely our own – that we treat it as normal. It is not.

As the years went by, I became dimly aware that other people did not experience the same relentless pressure as I did, such that my waking life was utterly dominated by my work; theirs weren’t. Which is not to say that other jobs are not pressurised – but few somehow seem to consume people like teaching does.

As more years went by, the cumulative impact on my health increased – but so gradually that I barely noticed: each little niggle was simply a little niggle, that happened to be a bit bigger than it had been before. When the gloom that was the early signs of depression started appearing, it was just that I was having a bad day. Except it wasn’t.

It is probably true that these things have a harsher impact on the quieter, more introverted people – but just read Bottomsbray’s latest post here https://bottomsbray.wordpress.com/2017/11/25/anatomy-of-a-breakdown/  to show that it can happen to anyone.  He and I are roughly of an age; our careers have tracked each other. If anything, he has had a narrower escape than I did. But looking back, it is clearer than ever before, just how significant the impact of teaching over those last thirty years of constant, turbulent change in the profession has been. I wonder how many more people there are out there who are nursing the same scars, and who may (heaven forbid) be heading in the same direction. If you are, as Bottomsbray says, seek help and don’t be proud about it.

I said it numerous times, but even I didn’t believe it until I saw it: the effect of putting intelligent, conscientious people under that amount of pressure for that amount of time is not pretty. In effect throwing them on the scrapheap to fend for themselves at the end of it is worse – a lot worse, and that still hurts.

But after a year without teaching, I now have a life that more closely resembles those of other people: work is work – and the rest of life is my own. Around the home, many things that had been neglected for years have gradually been put in order; I have time to spend with my wife and friends, and just to cook nice things for dinner. I have time to engage in projects in our community, that I just didn’t have the time or energy for before. I have a more balanced life – and if it weren’t for the remaining ‘head’ issues, it would be great.

It is not inevitable that a career in teaching destroys all that: my parents managed a better balance in their day – and my Swiss friend Alfred always retained a better work-life balance even while he was still teaching. It is just the utter madness that the British education system has become that is doing the damage; a madness that is making a few executive head teachers rich and powerful, delivering a sterile, hollowed-out ‘education’ to the next generation – and burning this one out in the process. It cannot continue.

I have been doing plenty of ‘work’ during the past year, not least finishing a book expanding many of the above ideas much further, developing much else that I have covered over the years in this blog, and examining ways in which a different, more sustainable model could achieve benefits all round. It is currently in production with John Catt Publishers and should be out in the New Year. More details in due course.

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Socially contracting?

The storm is over, but the sea is still rough. More than a month after coming off the medication, things are slowly reassuming something like a more normal perspective, but they are still prone to dizzy-making peaks and troughs. The pills were a mental splint – necessary but uncomfortable and I am glad to be off them: they effectively lop off the lows – but also the highs – of your mood spectrum, leaving you with a tiny zone in the middle where you can’t do yourself much harm, but at the cost of almost all emotional movement. If you’re lucky you might get left slightly on the ‘credit’ side of zero; I think I went the other way…

So it’s good to be able to appreciate a sunny morning rather than just staring bleakly and impassively at it – but realisation is also dawning about the difficulties ahead.

Perhaps the Social Contract is a dated notion, but I wasn’t aware so: the idea that you contribute to society around you, and in return you can expect reasonable care if things go wrong. The words of wisdom from my (teacher) father when I started my career were, “Look after the kids and the school will look after you”. Well, it sort-of worked in his day. But there’s plenty in the media to suggest that society (if that is still the right word for it) no longer operates like that.

I think I can say that I took his advice seriously, was never one of those for whom teaching was a bit of a lark, a chance to avoid getting a ‘proper’ job for a few years. I approached the work with the utmost seriousness and for most of the time since entering the profession in 1987, worked a long week, doing what I believed was right for my pupils at the expense of my home life and ultimately my health, and learning and developing as a teacher. I recently had some feedback from a former colleague who subsequently rose to a national position within the profession, reinforcing that view, for which I was extremely grateful.

But times changed. Others came into school leadership, people with whom I am ashamed that I share the same generation. Who knows what downward pressures they experienced – but the relish with which they adopted a much harsher attitude can only have been of their own doing. When I was no longer any use to it, ‘Society’ in the form of my state-sector employers showed itself either ruthless or incompetent enough to stop at nothing in order to get rid of me. The terms weren’t entirely unfavourable, but it is now clear that my hope of a modest but secure later career/life is looking decidedly shaky.

I’m no great consumer, but I do like a degree of comfort; my background in a teaching family I suppose led me to think it was a reasonable expectation that by one’s fifties, there should be enough capital accumulated to have a dignified and enjoyable life with a few of the comforts that one wouldn’t have afforded at an earlier stage.

Well, that accumulated capital won’t last long. Present calculations suggest that if I remain incapable of work beyond next spring, we are going to have to cut our cloth in a way that would have made the pips squeak even back when a student.  Hopefully the waves will subside enough, that I can find something else meaningful from which to earn a crust. Failing that, my wife’s income will just about cover our commitments – but everything else will have to go: no meals out, no holidays, no money for hobbies, nothing. We may have to get the cat out on the street to sell his body. There’s little to suggest that the social security system will see me as anything like a deserving case, and I’m several years too young to claim my pension,  In fact, I’m currently skipping contributions to it…yet we still have a mortgage to pay.

We will do it; as people keep saying, something will come along. I have some ideas which may by then come to fruition (and my book is still slowly chugging its way along at my publisher). I am not writing this because I want pity – that’s not my way – but am I angry? Most certainly. Neither have I forgotten that there are many deeply worse off than we – but I simply never expected to have to deal with this: teaching is secure, isn’t it?

But for all those good-hearted people labouring away to educate the nation’s children, and to those considering entering that profession, I urge you to look extra-hard at the financial implications of working in a job that rarely allows you to accumulate sufficient resources to cushion a severe blow. And don’t expect your employer to be able to be generous either. I would caution you against any tendency to believe that three or four decades of hard, socially-productive work ‘entitles’ you to anything whatsoever – no matter what the myths we still peddle at children regarding the value of hard work.

The former Chancellor of the Exchequer with his umpteen “jobs” probably doesn’t blow his nose for the kind of amounts we are talking about here; but that’s the kind of inequality that is acceptable in this country these days. Likewise, while I have no envy whatsoever of my more fortunate friends who, in their fifties are thriving, I can’t help wondering what I’ve done to ‘deserve’ this; the only answer  I can find is is nothing.

I sincerely hope that my experience is not typical, and that most schools would treat a situation like this more supportively – but in the current economic climate, I wouldn’t bank on it.

Still I can rest assured that I am still doing my bit for the nation: having supposedly become dead weight to the school, at least I can take comfort that I am a “cost saving” for our increasingly cash-derelict education service. Huh.

 

Hustle

I’ve always resisted joining Linkedin – not sure I like their strapline (It’s who you know rather than what you know) however true it probably is…

But I am able to see some of their content, and this blog post struck me as eminent sense, perhaps one of the most to-the-point writings on the topics that I have seen. It is all the more interesting as it comes from that Heartland of Hustle, the United States.

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/work-life-balance-only-losers-bernard-marr?articleId=6327795572057210880#comments-6327795572057210880&trk=prof-post

I’m not entirely sure how much of the article in the link is openly available, but it is certainly worth a read if you are able.

I think the word Hustling sums the issue up: the general mindset that says if your life is not whizzing past at 900 m.p.h. then you are a loser. Even since I stopped teaching, I have encountered many people who seem to be trying to cram so much in that they never have time for anything. And while one might naively have hoped that a sector like education, which supposedly majors on its insight and superior world-view would know better, there is little to suggest that it does.

In fact it seems to glory in hustle: the sense that to be someone ‘who matters’ you have to be rushed off your feet. And it goes even further: if you disagree, then you need to be hustled out of the system because you’re clearly not up to it.

I spent a good bit of my latter years in education urging both my pupils and colleagues (though CPD sessions) to try not to hustle. The self-harm that it causes is simply too great to be justifiable, and I would argue that organisations that deliberately propagate hustle are neglecting their duty of care to their staff. There is plenty of evidence that it is not productive either – and one might have hoped that enlightened school leaders would have appreciated this.

But in my own experience, even while the words “work-life balance” were being reluctantly and unconvincingly murmured by those in charge, their actions were still promoting precisely the opposite.

I realise that am writing this with the luxury of not having to get up and work every day   – not that I would recommend the reason why to anyone.   I am however fully involved in productive activity of several other sorts – but the impact on my own well-being of easing up has been visible enough for me to conclude that the advice is correct: human beings are simply not meant to spend their lives at the pace now being expected.

And the really concerning this is that schools are possibly the single greatest place where expectations concerning this can be transmitted to upcoming generations. What more evidence does one need to conclude that much of today’s education sector is working directly contrary to its own supposed aims?

Here to finish are a few choice quotes from Bernard Marr’s article for those who may not have access to it. I hope he wouldn’t mind.

A hustle mentality isn’t new to Americans; hard work has been heralded as the silver bullet to achieving the American dream since the founding fathers penned the Declaration of Independence. Today’s version that edgy entrepreneurs… preach as gospel includes 12- to 15-hour work days to achieve your professional goals—even if that means sacrificing your life. But are you truly successful if a singular focus to achieving the pinnacle of your career or success as an entrepreneur leaves little room for things that make you happy?

The hustle mentality is an unwritten expectation that’s pervasive in many company cultures that it seems impossible to avoid if you have any hope of getting ahead...

Yet, our organizations suffer from extraordinarily low employee engagement, high turnover and disgruntled employees. Our people are stressed out and unhealthy.

In the frenzy to get results, are we losing the meaning and joy in life? What’s being lost in the hustle is room and the precious time needed for creativity, the fun, pleasure and restorative nature of enjoying activities we love outside of work and nurturing our families. 

Being creative requires space, silence and slow time. When you give yourself that, you will likely be more innovative and more on your game.

It might be time to trade in those hustle-themed T-shirts and coffee mugs for another mantra showing you don’t buy into the hustle movement any more. Embrace the 9 to 5. Go on those vacations. It’s time to start living life, because it’s the only one you get.

 “You can’t truly be considered successful in your business life if your home life is in shambles.”

 

There’s a long way to go

I discovered rather late that today is World Mental Health Day.

I am not going to bang on further about my own issues, except to say that after nearly a year I finally hope to be off medication soon.

But I will describe a situation encountered perhaps two years ago.

I was present in a meeting with senior managers as the staff Health & Safety Representative. A governor was pressing for a response from the management regarding Stress Policy.

The member of the senior team responsible for personnel issues responded, “Stress is not an issue at this school. There are no teachers who are stressed except perhaps a few weak ones. We do not need a Mental Health Policy and will deal with any cases on their merits”.

Enough said.

 

The God of Small Things

bresciani

It may seem rather pathetic that an established teacher, with many years’ experience and a professional blog to his name should be reduced to blogging about…. socks. But in the year since I stopped working, certain things have come into sharper perspective. Even though I worked hard to prevent it, I hadn’t realised the extent to which a regular sixty-hour week comes to dominate your life. Even while not at work, or travelling the thirty miles to and from school, much time was spent chewing over professional matters. Pretty much everything else was shoe-horned in around the edges, at least mentally, even when I was supposedly doing other things. It did me no good.

So it is remarkably pleasurable to be able to get up in the morning and have the time actually consider what clothes I want to wear, rather than just flinging on the usual work-compliant suit and tie. I have always enjoyed men’s style, and even tried to carry this through to the rough-and-tumble of the school environment. I felt it was part of setting a good example, and maintaining high personal standards.

But now I can appreciate such niceties for their own sake, along with the pleasures of fresh morning coffee or an autumn walk. For reasons unknown to me at the time, during my period of convalescence I had the urge to renew my wardrobe, and again I have had time to choose carefully. It was remarkably cathartic.

Bresciani socks are about as good as they get, being made from top-quality materials by a skilled manufacturer in Italy. There are few outlets that retail them in the U.K., but a good choice can be had from meschausettesrouges.com in Paris. Twenty pounds for a pair of socks may seem outrageous, but as with many beautiful things, it is only when you receive them that one can appreciate the craftsmanship, the excellent fit, and the superb materials. So the price perhaps becomes a small one to pay for a small taste of excellence, and the fact that the article itself is so mundane somehow adds to the pleasure.

It’s easy to sneer at such apparent vanity, but it occurred to me that there is a deeper and more significant point here. The key to appreciating fine things is a willingness to see rather than just looking, to sense and savour the material qualities of the world around us rather than taking them for granted. To stop what one is doing and just appreciate our sensory surroundings is akin to the ‘living in the moment’ that Mindfulness promotes as an antidote to mental angst. It is  a tendency that can be developed with practice. I think it works – it is not shamelessly materialistic to appreciate the sensory qualities of material things – and all it takes is the time and restraint to stop and do so. In fact, the appreciation of what one has, rather than envy at what one does not, is the antithesis of the status anxiety that afflicts so many lives.

But that, I fear, is the one thing hassled modern lives deprive us of: the time to stand and stare (or feel). I suspect it is also the thing that we hurried north-Europeans yearn for in our envious perceptions of the South – the time for the leisurely savouring of life’s pleasures, in a way our cold-climate Protestant-ethic culture does not really encourage. And the more you do it, the more one learns to value superior quality, not in the envious sense, but simply for the extra pleasure it brings. I suspect that is the secret of southern European brio, and it is a cultural meme that we would do well to learn.

If education is about promoting well-lived lives, I am deeply uncertain that the  aspirational, target-driven approach is doing that. While young people are unsurprisingly future-orientated, the present manic approach seems to me to thrive on dissatisfaction and anxiety; instead of devoting time to fire-fighting on mental health matters, maybe it would be better to dedicate good educational time to promoting the appreciation of the small pleasures in life that might make emergency action less necessary.

Like an innocent appreciation of the simple, tactile pleasures of a small piece of superb fabric.

https://www.meschaussettesrouges.com/en/  (usual disclaimer)

The original version of this post can be found on my other blog: https://sprezzatura.blog

Notes from beyond 4: Are we all together in this?

If Gaby Hinsliff is to be believed, it seems as I’m not so much on the scrap-heap as in the vanguard of a revolution against the long-hours culture. If she’s right, people are tiring of the amount of time they are being required to give to their employers. Of course, there’s more to it than that, particularly in a vocation like teaching – but it is possible that a combination of stagnant wages, the country’s ever-growing wealth disparity and the sense that those in charge really don’t care very much really is causing the blinkers to fall.

In my case, I put my all into my career for thirty years, to an extent that is really only apparent now that I have stopped. It is what we were told we should do – by people whom, it turns out were offering illusory rewards, and who were interested in no one’s benefit so much as their own.

When, as a public sector employee one was then expected to endure pay restraint in order to bail out the bad boys of the financial sector who themselves largely escaped scot-free, one might start to ponder the distinction between having a vocation and being a mug. A few years ago, I listened to my local M.P., (herself formerly a highly-paid lobbyist for the tobacco industry) answer my question by lecturing that the public sector ‘has to bear its share of austerity’. What kind of fools do they think we are?

When one then sees those who manage (but rarely teach) not only preserving their own jobs at the expense of those in the classroom, but also awarding themselves (nationally, in percentage terms) an increasing share of the education pie, the impression can only be that the same insidious greed has infected our education sector too. “We need more!” was their ceaseless call while I worked for them; at no point did they make a serious effort to examine the impact on their employees’ wellbeing, let alone life-balance. It’s easy to emotionally-blackmail teachers, and they shamelessly used it to extract more and more from people. Eventually they exploited my own ill heath to save on the salary bill.

If it is indeed true that such experiences are widespread, then Hinsliff may well be right: especially at a time of national cynicism, people may (and should) be asking themselves significant questions about what they are doing with their lives. Just why should we be expected to accept that we foot-soldiers should do ever more now that it is increasingly apparent that the main beneficiaries are only the few at the top?

The impact of living to work is serious in less obvious ways too. A few days ago I was describing my new-found involvement with my local community to a former colleague; his reaction voiced something I have long felt: “Our society is suffering from the inability of people such as teachers, who have initiative and energy, to use them for the wider good because they have been so screwed down in their workplaces”. The live-to-work culture sweeps all before it – for what?

Hinsliff claims that vast numbers of people are doing huge amounts of unpaid overtime; why should they, when they seem decreasingly likely not only to see any benefits from this, but not even not to be treated harshly should the boss deem it necessary? I can well understand if people are starting to feel that loyalty should flow in both directions.

Hinsliff’s article reports on the growing number of people who are foregoing extra income (even at relatively low levels) because they are finding that time and quality of life are more important. Perhaps the current debate about mental health issues in society wouldn’t be so urgently needed, either, if this society itself were not so effective at making people sick in the first place. That is not an over-dramatic claim: as regular readers will know, it is my own experience.

These points all echo my own thoughts, for all that my situation was enforced. In some ways it feels rather selfish to be saying, “Enough – I want more time for me!” but at least I have already done three decades of public service. It is increasingly apparent that unless you are one of the privileged (and hypocritical) few, the current model will chew you up and spit you out with not a second thought for the fact that your life is as valuable as the next.

Medication side-effects aside, I now have the time available to attend to my own personal life first, for once. And to give better attention to the relatives, friends, neighbours and community with and in which I live. My daily routine is now such that people are commenting how much better I look; the body does not lie about such things, no matter whether it is likely to compromise corporate targets or not.

And in a world where some people have too much work while others don’t have enough, it ought to be easy enough to resolve this issue – were those in charge really at all interested in doing so. As one of Hinsliff’s (teacher) interviewees says,

“People want to have a family, or they want to have a social life. They don’t want to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.” Would anything persuade him to return full-time? “I think things would have to change significantly, in terms of the expectations of staff.”

The deceit has gone on long enough, but I am afraid this country is becoming more, not less hawkish in its attitude to the world as a whole; those in charge (at all levels) very often seem not to give a damn.

In which case, the only person do something about this is us, each one our self.

https://www.theguardian.com/money/2017/sep/16/part-time-working-revolution-people-want-family-social-life

 

Crying wolf

Some days ago, I had a gentle professional disagreement with a former colleague. There is a movement to teach mental health issues in U.K. schools; I am sceptical about its value.

Unfortunately, the reaction to most problems in the U.K. (if not the wider world) is to spill more words than actions, in particular from the mouths of politicians and subsequently in classrooms. Having taught various pastoral issues in my time, I came to the view that while the intentions may be worthy, the effects of bringing such things formally into the classroom is of very limited effect.

Children may be immature human beings, but by their teenage years they are entirely capable of being or (becoming) cynical, and they tend to see efforts to direct their opinions in overt ways as unwanted moralising. This approach simply risks placing the issue on the wrong side of the difficult divide that many perceive between the ‘unreal’ world of the classroom and the events of their everyday lives; the very act of bringing something formally into a classroom seems to remove it from ‘real life’ in the eyes of many pupils. I have seen too many children earnestly discuss an issue in a lesson, only to leave and immediately perpetuate the problem; I don’t think this is a failure of the teaching so much as a quirk of human nature. The problem is, any discussion of such matters can only generalise, and this risks diminishing the fraught nature of the real experience.

As Graeme Nuttall wrote in The Hidden Lives of Learners[i], teachers only ever see a small part of children’s lives, and there is a huge professional temptation to believe that they have more influence over the rest than they actually do. Undoubtedly, raising awareness of mental health issues may have a place – but there is a difference between discussing social attitudes and the experience itself. Encouraging children not to stigmatise those with mental health issues may yield a long-term change in social attitudes – which I think is underway in any case – and helping children to understand how bullying can provoke such problems may also be helpful. I do rather suspect, though, that those most prone to becoming bullies won’t care less anyway.

As for teaching mental health itself: can such issues be ‘taught’? I think not. The purpose of education is the acquisition of a capability for structured thought; the problem with mental health is that is does not obey such rules. Attempting to teach people self-diagnosis may again be worthy, but I think it is misguided and even potentially dangerous. Even as an aware and thoughtful adult, I failed to recognise my own difficulties for what they were, and I am not convinced that more ‘awareness’ would have made any difference. (After all, I have worked in a psychiatric hospital in the past, and am well aware of what mental illness looks like from the outside). It may be dangerous in the sense of encouraging children to ‘cry wolf’ with all the behavioural and support difficulties that can cause, amongst which genuine cases may get lost.

As for teaching people what mental illness is like, this is utterly misguided. I’m not sure it is even possible to teach what physical illness is like, except in a clinical sense, and that may not be of great use for those coping with it. Having now been on the ‘inside’, I simply do not see how a teacher could begin to describe what it is like to be the one inside that head. Even with insider experience, I am not certain I could do it either: most of the experience either literally defies words, or is so irrational as to make no sense when described.

Unfortunately, it is far easier to give something a slick ‘rebranding’ than actually do something fundamental about a problem. I saw this writ large having been involved with the Healthy Schools initiative, where many people spent expensive time ticking boxes and gaining accreditations – that still made precious little difference to what went in children’s mouths.

I fear the same will occur here – but from the perspective of those in charge, the requisite boxes will have been ticked even if little really changes.

What would be far more successful would be to lead by example. As I said, actions speak louder than words; there is evidence that even infants are more influenced by what they see than anything else[ii]. The best way to influence what children eat is to set them a good example; the same goes for any other aspect of behaviour, even if the occasional other intervention may also be necessary.

The best way to tackle the growth in reported mental health issues is to stop causing them (and in that applies to the teachers’ experiences too). The irony of this seems to have gone largely unnoticed: from my experience the biggest single cause of stress in schools is the over-inflated stakes that the results-obsessed education system itself imposes on its employees and clientele alike. The politicians’ recent pronouncements have been strikingly short of comment on this, let alone teacher mental health, even in the sense it might have a knock-on effect to their pupils.

The system caused the problems; it now feels that it needs to address them. It could start by aiming the water at the flame rather than the smoke.

[i] https://www.amazon.co.uk/Hidden-Lives-Learners-Graham-Nuthall/dp/1877398241

 

[ii] https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/ulterior-motives/200910/your-actions-affect-what-others-do-even-when-those-others-are-infants

 

Notes from Beyond: The Educational Prism

“You’re looking very well”.

Several people whom I’ve met in recent weeks have all said the same thing. It makes me wonder just how I was looking at the start of the year, at the lowest point. I looked hard in the mirror, and I think it is true: nine months free of the stresses of teaching life have indeed done something to recharge the physical batteries, even though the head still does not always behave itself.

Increasing distance has continued to present a changing perspective on how I have spent the past thirty years. I certainly don’t regret going into teaching, but the impact that this unique occupation has had is now clearer. I had always thought that I just about managed to keep the work-life balance in an acceptable place, but looking back it is becoming clear just how the job had  totally dominated my life, and indeed my mind. I saw almost everything through an educational prism; my entire existence was dominated by the concept of personal improvement, even as the demands of the job were sending me in the opposite direction. Much of my sense of life-purpose, even of the person I was ‘supposed’ to be was in effect dictated by the demands of the profession. I guess this is inevitable when one does any intense work for a long period, but that does not make it healthy. It’s clearer too, why many of the non-teachers I know seem to lack a sense of perpetual harassment: they aren’t teachers.

For those who would like to know, I am well on the road to recovery, though still ‘taking the tablets’. Hopefully in the next couple of months that too will cease, and I will have a better sense of where I stand for the future. Some supply work has been offered, but at this stage I really don’t know whether I want to go back into the shark-infested waters.

For that is what education has become, for those who work in it. I hope not everyone has my experience – only now am I starting to feel real anger, as well as sadness, at what happened to me. Not only were thirty years of good service to a school thrown wantonly onto the scrapheap by a management that appears no longer to set any value whatsoever by its duty of care to its staff, not only were they willing to push me to the brink of breakdown in order to get their cost saving, but I have not even had a letter of thanks for my service, which I think should be a formality, whether they mean it or not.

I suppose I’m fortunate to be in a situation where I could afford to take this breathing space, but it cannot last: somehow the income gap has to be closed by next summer. But I think that the physical improvement that people have noticed is testament to what teaching can do to individuals; it is nothing short of scandalous that the educational Establishment is prepared, despite all the high-minded talk, to treat its employees in this way. I know of about six other people who have left teaching prematurely this summer for related reasons.

Teaching always was more demanding that it perhaps appears to the public – but for it to have reached this extreme is inhumane folly. For a profession that majors on the life-enhancing benefits it delivers, to treat its staff so wantonly is hypocritical, self-defeating and a disgrace. I’ve always felt that schools should be doing what they could to mitigate the impact of stress on teachers; instead some at least, seem intent on magnifying it. It’s a pity it has taken the experience of the past nine months for me to realise the full scale of the matter. This isn’t to advise people not to go into teaching – but realise that you may not realise what it’s doing to you – and take care.

For anyone who enjoys my scrawling, I have started a new, more general blog. It can be found at https://sprezzatura.blog/

Notes from Beyond 1: The end of Time

I’m glad to report that something like normality is being restored here. The drug-induced fug of the last seven months is receding as my dose has been cut and the mind heals itself; there are days when I even enjoy living – something that has been grimly absent since last autumn.

I still feel shocked when I think about the speed of change in my circumstances: this time last year, I was teaching full-time, with no expectation that the next decade would be any different. But a routine has established itself, with which I am not unhappy, and which is perhaps revealing some of life’s greater truths.

I am able to get up when the body is ready, rather than when the alarm clock dictates, eat a breakfast that sets me up so that the hunger pangs of mid-morning don’t happen. I’ve never been a ‘morning person’, so the ability to start the day in a gradual way is a huge improvement.

I have received enough messages from people I value, including some from colleagues of many years ago, for the inevitable crash in self-esteem to start to ease a little. There are enough people complimentary of my work for me to start to be confident again that it was not All My Fault.

And there has been a leap in my ability to think clearly and creatively about my position on all sorts of issues. I am getting involved in local community activities and a number of my dormant interests have revived.

Do I miss School? Very little, actually. The company of my colleagues defintely, and the better type of relations with the pupils too. But most definitely not the humourless grind of targets, scrutiny and compliance that the job has become. I don’t miss the regular assault on my better judgement from people whom, I honestly felt, sometimes had less insight and fewer principles than I – nor the consequent sense of having to live my life to someone else’s agenda.

But perhaps most bizarre is the sense of fluidity to one’s time. Having lived my entire life to the drum-beat of the academic year, having known precisely where one was and how things were progressing by the hourly, weekly and termly pulse of that system, it is quite disorientating not to have that. I even almost failed to notice that it was recently Half Term. But equally, it is lovely to be able to appreciate the onset of summer, rather than wishing it away for holidays that only begin when it is half-passed. I generally consider myself fairly self-aware, but only now is it becoming clear just how institutionalised a life in teaching had made me.

I am concerned that as time progresses, I may have less and less worth adding to the education debate. But that may be no bad thing – from a greater distance, it begins to look increasingly like a talking-shop whose main effect is to over-complicate what is still a fairly simple process. Of course, when it’s your daily life, perspectives are different – but I still feel that education is being over-complicated, and for all the wrong reasons.

I’m very fortunate that there no immediate need to seek new employment, and much of the above experience may seem to have little relevance for those who still need to earn a crust. But if there is one thing it is this:

The rat-race that consumes teachers and gobbles up children ever younger, is not only unnecessary but also counter-productive. Education should be about life, not the reverse. The ridiculous amount of pressure being applied to all concerned both risks crowding out the very things needed to think and learn effectively – time. It is very noticeable how much easier it is to think creatively and productively without the pressures of The System bearing down and obliterating everything else.

The pedestal upon which ‘Learning’ is put by so many talking heads is not authentic. In their world, subjects are simply the means to exam passes and league-table positions. They are the passport to a world of often-subservient, deskilled employment from which too often the main beneficiaries are the bosses. And they are the opening for those same people to throw you on the scrap-heap when they have had enough of you. Not a noble, higher aim in sight.

It is so much easier to bloom personally and intellectually when life is not one continuous, needless race against time.

Where have all the teachers gone?

I only have to look at the TES jobs bulletins in my inbox to see the teacher recruitment crisis. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many Geography vacancies in one year before. At the moment, I have no inclination whatsoever to investigate, but in any case going through the stress of a searching interview process is out of the question at present.

I base much of my world-view on the suspicion (I won’t say belief) that there is something equating to Natural Good in terms of the human condition. We perhaps cannot know with precision what such things are, but I sense that there are certain conditions that promote or inhibit what the ancient Greeks called Eudaimonia, or flourishing.

We may not be able to measure or even define them – but that is not to say that they don’t exist. Certain conditions promote thriving in plants and animals, and I can see no reason why the same should not apply to humans. For all that we are much more complex, history brutally shows us what happens when people are deprived of their own nourishing talus.

Our nervous systems transmit information about bodily adversity or wellbeing, and as my recent experience shows, mental states are actually little different. Put a human being in adverse conditions and it eventually withers. This is, I suppose, also the foundation on which Maslow’s now rather over-exposed Hierarchy of Needs was based. My last six months has been about putting myself back in a more benign environment where recovery can occur – and that has meant, not at school. I think it shows in my face, and certainly some of my niggling health issues are much reduced. What more evidence do you need?

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At a time when large numbers of people in this country and elsewhere seem to be feeling that their needs are being neglected, it’s tempting to discuss the wider societal implications. But suffice it to say that I’ve always seen the job of the teacher as enriching the ‘soil’ in which individuals can grow. Planters of seeds we may well be, but we also need to prepare the ground.

Traditionally, this involved a gentle, nuanced approach. My experience was that while the academic demands were high, the general climate was relaxed and warm. I don’t mean soppiness or neglect – but rather the way in which the pressures of growing up and passing through the schooling system were softened by the personable approach of those who delivered it. Even teachers who terrorised their classes: I recall one such gentleman who, behind a fearsome exterior, was surprisingly gentle. In their way, our teachers shielded their seedlings until such time as they judged them ready to be planted a little further out.

The chill winds that have blown through western society in recent decades have put paid to much of that. The subtlety of gradualist approaches has been replaced by an in-your-face demand to deliver. The scope for a gradual, artful nurturing of young people has given way to an unsubtle rat-race. In the obvious but wrong-headed mindset of more-is-better, pressure on teachers and pupils has been ramped up in ambitious schools seemingly with little consideration of whether this is indeed a better way of getting the best out of people.

My feelings say that it is not – and as an approach to education, it is as counter-productive as it is bleak; as an agony columnist wrote recently, if it feels wrong, it probably is. The trouble with feelings is that we can’t be much more precise than that; they are easily dismissed as anecdote – but if that is the best we have to go on, then we probably should. While there is some truth in ‘no pain, no gain’, there must come a point where a Rubicon is crossed and the discomfort becomes destructive.

In terms of working life, if people feel pressurised, rushed off their feet and anxious, this is not helpful. A little stress may be helpful, but it very quickly gets out of hand – and there is a difference between a controlled, gradualist approach to, for example public exams, and a general pandemic of ‘stand and deliver’. Which is the one thing it signally fails to do.

As Daniel Pink has observed, motivation comes from having autonomy, mastery and (inner) purpose. They are some of the natural ‘goods’ that I mentioned earlier. Without them, the incentive to do demanding things rapidly evaporates. I think they are as important as clean air and water, good diet and decent living spaces. But being ephemeral, they are easily ignored: the scrabble to deliver Results in British education has resulted in the ditching of anything that was apparently an impediment, from a large part of the extra-curricular life of many schools, even taught subjects that appeared not to contribute to the bottom line – and most certainly the measured psychological landscape in which people function well.

But if you take away the sense of community, (often by enlarging schools beyond sensible capacity) ditch the various communal events that used to punctuate the school year, and put people under such unremitting pressure, then you shift the balance between the necessary challenges of school life and the bits that soften the experience. If people are made to feel unappreciated and expendable, then it is unsurprising if their loyalty and commitment evaporates. If no slack is ever cut or compassion shown, then it should be unsurprising if people respond in kind. I think this is increasingly true amongst pupils (note the current surge in childhood mental health problems) – but it is probably the teachers who feel it most.

Even for teachers, if schools ramp up the less pleasant aspects of the job while simultaneously ditching the bits that offer the payback, it is not surprising if people decide it is no longer worth it. Many studies have shown that particularly in high-skill work, a pay-cheque alone is insufficient reward. This was my experience: whether to struggle to get back to work as quickly as possible, or not. In the end, returning to the conditions that precipitated my problems in the first place was just not worth it. It seems I’m not alone: gone to other lives, every one.

Present-day schools may have a tight management model – but it comes at the cost of the wellbeing of many who people them.

When will they ever learn?