Approximate reading time: 20 min
This is my final Unicorn post…I promise. The end is nigh:-)
It is officially the 3rd-last day of my school holiday, and I have pretty much spent most of the time working on these posts. I am not quite sure I understand this obsession I have for documenting my entire life in such vivid detail. Sometimes it feels like I haven’t fully processed ANYTHING until it’s written down.
(If it’s not in my blog, it’s in my journals)
I do sometimes wonder what on earth I would do with all the free time I’d have were I not someone who loves writing?
But I feel like it’s the one and only thing in my life that I have managed to keep up consistently, and that I never get bored with.
And so it just keeps going;-)
I thought I’d start by sharing a random little interaction that happened about 6 weeks ago that explains why I chose the term “Unicorn school” for these last couple of posts.
It kinda felt like it fit 🙂
Over the last six months, I’ve been somewhat inundated with various SEN job opportunities.
(Who knew there was so much special needs work out there?)
I’ve spoken to more agents than I care to count, and my comprehensive ‘wish list’ for the type of school I’m looking for has been up front and centre throughout the whole process.
I think I am finally done with shying away and not asking for what it is I want in my life.
That is, until I had a certain call with a particular agent. I had an initial screening call booked in my calendar with a guy called Robert. As I clicked on the Zoom link for our chat, I couldn’t for the life of me remember how I’d even set up this meeting. With most of my informal chat-with-agents meetings, there had been at least a couple of messages back and forth beforehand.
But I couldn’t ever remember even messaging this man.
Nothing.
When the screen came up, I was a little taken aback by how gorgeous he was. Hmm…imagine if Ryan Gosling and Matthew Hussey had a non-smiling, brown-eyed love child.
Photo courtesy of ChatGPT
Robert greeted me with a perfunctory hello and then asked me how he could help me and what the purpose of this call was.
Shit – I had no idea…I couldn’t even remember what agency he was with or if we had chatted about a particular role.
(Good Lord, maybe I have early-onset dementia)
I vaguely remember stammering out that I couldn’t quite remember what the call was booked for and asked him what agency he was with.
(What is it about super attractive people that makes me go a little tongue-tied?)
His annoyance was immediately apparent.
I noticed Neurotic Angel, my belligerent inner critic, jump in and reprimand me for being such an airhead and wasting his time.
(She doesn’t mince her words.)
Somewhere inside, another voice noted that he was a little too unfriendly compared to all the other super sweet agents I’d previously chatted to over the last couple of months. Normally, they want you to sign up with their agency, so they tend to overkill you with kindness and platitudes about how wonderful your experience is.
(I am wise to them all)
Robert stated the name of his agency and then asked what I was looking for….
My usual confident “I want list” went flying out the window…..as I meekly said ….
“Um, well, I am not sure if what I am looking for even exists….
I was planning on finishing that sentence with
…..”I am quite particular about what I want”
…but before I could finish articulating that, Robert scoffed and said:
“Well, if you don’t know what you want, how am I supposed to help you?”
(Umm, that’s logically reasonable, Robert, but why so abrasive, dude?)
I pulled myself together and defended myself a little, saying:
“Oh, I know what I am looking for; I am just quite particular.”
Robert then laughed and said:
“OK, well, tell me what it is that this Unicorn school needs to have for you then.”
By now I was certain that something was a little off – if this guy had wanted to recruit me to his agency, he was doing a phenomenally lousy job.
I feel like I am a pretty good judge of character, and that I have quite a good sense of humour. I can naturally jump into easy banter with random strangers. But this didn’t feel like banter. There was nothing about Robert’s manner that felt warm or playful. More than anything, he just felt cool and ever so slightly condescending – like he was making a judgment about my expectations without even knowing what they were yet.
I have a vague recollection of rattling through my wish list and trying to get off the phone as quickly as possible.
When I finally put the phone down, I felt a bit flushed and noticed a whole range of emotions swimming around my head. I felt irritated, confused …and ever so slightly shamed.
Somehow, in the space of one very short conversation, I had allowed a complete stranger to make me feel as though wanting certain things from my next workplace was a little…too precious.
I, of course, realised that his blunt manner had simply activated some very old childhood scripts in me. Those people-pleasing parts that continually label me as “too much”, “too difficult” and that having particular needs made me demanding.
I sat with it.
I made space for those feelings.
(I am grateful that I no longer believe those scripts)
About 20 minutes later, I got a call from an agent called Abby, who I had had numerous email exchanges with. As she introduced herself, I suddenly remembered that we had booked a call for today. Abby was super sweet and rather sheepishly asked if I had chatted to a guy called Robert today. Apparently Robert was the managing director of the company, and he normally only deals with the head teachers of schools.
(Aah so NOT us mere lowly teachers then)
We had to try and untangle the logistics of how I ended up chatting to him instead of her. Apparently, when she asked me to schedule our meeting, I had accidentally clicked the wrong link and set up the meeting with him instead of her.
It was a careless mistake, but at least I didn’t have dementia.
(There are always positives)
We had a good laugh about it, but as lovely as Abby was, I decided not to sign up with the agency. I have, through the years, had lovely chats with some of the other managing directors of my other teaching agencies, and I have only ever felt respected and valued. I wondered if Robert had considered how successful his teaching agency might be without us lowly teachers who do all the work for him.
Ironically, the phrase ‘unicorn school’ stayed with me long after our conversation. It feels like I was able to reframe something that initially made me feel embarrassed and ‘too much’ into something a little more positive: a reminder not to settle, and to hold on to what I know I am looking for, regardless of what other people might think.
School #4: ‘Ticking all the boxes’
During my search for jobs, I came across an advert for a small SEMH (Social, Emotional and Mental Health) School. If you recall, in my previous post, the last SEMH school I tried out didn’t work out too well for me. But despite that, there is still a huge part of me that is pretty sure I’d be really good at working with these types of children.
On paper, the school had a huge chunk of what I was looking for.
It was super small
(Only 45 children)
It was close to my house; my travel would be minimal
and the position was paid to scale, with no agency taking a cut of my earnings.
So, I applied.
I decided in the personal statement part of the application to be upfront and honest about being a highly sensitive person who has struggled with my own anxiety because these days I am beginning to feel like it is more of a strength than anything else. I think the fact that I have spent so many years learning to deal with and understand my own dysregulation makes me enormously patient with children who are raging and dysregulated. I knew it was a risk, but it was one I was willing to take because I can’t help but think – anyone who has done an ‘ounce‘ of their own self-discovery might be able to appreciate what I was saying. I am also so tired of feeling like this is a part of me that I need to keep hidden or feel ashamed of.
I was absolutely over the moon when I got notified that I had passed the initial stage and that I had an interview.
I was so super excited for the interview.
Of course I was also anxious as hell….But I am pleased to report I left Neurotic Angel at home with a cup of coffee and politely informed her that she was not allowed to come with me that day.
Instead, I took calm, reassuring, “You’ve-got-this” Gayle with me. I felt like I had this script playing on repeat in my head, reminding me not to ‘over-talk’ like I so often do when I am nervous. I am very conscious of this part of me that always wants to ‘chat’ and ‘be friendly‘ and ‘make other people feel seen and valued blah blah blah. Of course, there is nothing wrong with all of these things in the big scheme of things – but in highly anxious situations, it feels like that part of me goes into overdrive – it’s not coming from a place of authenticity; it’s coming from a place of not wanting to be rejected. I had to keep reminding myself that I do have those qualities and that they will show themselves naturally in time…slowly….as I get to know people.
“Titrate Gayle, Titrate!!!“
(Got it;-)
The school was absolutely lovely.
The receptionist was so friendly.
The headteacher was warm, engaging and incredibly down-to-earth. She didn’t feel like she had any pretence about her. I was absolutely blown away by how calm and respectful the children were.
It was an absolute 180° turnaround from my last experience in an SEMH school.
I had to teach a lesson to a Year 4 class, and it went pretty well. Not fantastically – it’s always hard planning lessons for children you have never met. But it felt ‘good enough’, and the TA approached me in the staffroom afterwards and said the kids had really enjoyed the lesson. She also noted that the children were very calm with me…so I took that as a win:-)
Part of the vetting process was that I had to be ‘interviewed’ by the school’s student council.
(Which I thought was adorable.)
I got grilled by a bunch of 10/11 year olds with very important questions like:
If you could be any animal, what would you be and why?
I am happy to say I absolutely aced that part of the process.
And then I had the formal interview with the headteacher, deputy headteacher and the chair of trustees for the school.
I hate to say this, but the second the deputy head introduced herself, I noticed my chest tighten.
I have learned a lot about myself over the last couple of years. I know that, as a highly sensitive person, I can sometimes be overly hypervigilant around new people. I understand that growing up in a home with a lot of shouting and emotional instability meant that my nervous system had to remain on constant alert, always watching for subtle signs that something might be wrong. Sometimes it feels like an instant gut feeling about whether or not I feel emotionally safe and relaxed around someone. For me, the first alarm bell is usually a tightness in my chest. It can happen before I have even consciously worked out what it is about a person or situation that has put me on edge.
I feel that my eight years of supply teaching have probably fine-tuned that sensitivity even further. Constantly walking into unfamiliar schools and classrooms has meant learning to read people and rooms very quickly.
Of course, I have also come to understand that this “heightened alert mode” doesn’t always mean I’m right to be wary of someone. Part of managing my own anxiety around all of this has been learning not to immediately assume the worst, but instead to simply treat that feeling as a signal to pay attention and observe carefully.
So I noted the tightness and reminded myself to just stay calm.
The interview lasted 45 minutes.
Each of the three women took it in turns to ask me a question, and then they would all feverishly scribble down my answers. On the whole, I was pretty happy with how I answered (most) of the questions.
(I fumbled one or two.)
I did have a slightly out-of-body feeling, though, as if I were watching myself talk. I was very conscious that, no matter who asked me the question, my natural instinct was to continually direct my answer back towards the headteacher.
Neurotic Angel, it appeared, had finished her coffee, hailed a taxi and rushed in to join me for the interview, after all, while screeching at the top of her voice:
“Talk to all of them!
Make eye contact with all of them!”
But it was hard. I found the deputy head’s aloofness incredibly distracting. Every time I tried to talk directly to her, I could feel myself becoming more self-conscious. I’d lose my train of thought, forget what I was trying to say, and then instinctively fall back into the headteacher’s gaze, where I somehow felt much less judged.
I noted that my chest ached for most of the interview.
I was grateful when it was over, and despite feeling so anxious, I was feeling super confident that I had done a pretty good job. As I sat in the staffroom during lunch chatting to some of the other teachers, I started to feel quite excited. The staff were lovely – this school felt like a family. Of course, I know I am not always going to be comfortable with everyone, but as far as schools go, this one was by far one of the better ones I had tried out for.
Maybe this was it?
About 10 minutes into lunch, the headteacher asked if she could speak to me.
She took me into her office and very sweetly said:
“I am really sorry; you seem like a lovely person. But unfortunately you failed the safeguarding question, so there is absolutely no way we can hire you.”
To say I was a little stunned would be an understatement. But I knew exactly what she was talking about because it had been the one question I had been thinking I might have bungled a bit.
One of the questions that they had asked me was:
Give us an incident where you reported a safeguarding issue and tell us what happened?
Some context: In the UK school system, they have a whole safeguarding protocol that you need to follow when you notice something inappropriate or dangerous happening in the context of any child/children. I know this safeguarding protocol like the back of my hand. Every year I have to redo my safeguarding training…it’s mind-numbingly tedious. In 2023, in one of my posts on attachment strategies, I wrote about a little girl called Victoria Climbié whose tragic death highlighted serious gaps in the UK safeguarding system, leading to a huge safeguarding reform in the UK.
I know this shit.
So how on earth did I FAIL it?
Good question.
And the answer goes something like this.
I was nervous.
When the deputy headteacher asked me the question, it felt like it opened a floodgate of safeguarding incidents I have noted and reported in the past. As I sat there wading through all the incidents in my head, I was trying desperately to pinpoint one with a clear response that goes through all the correct safeguarding steps
(Recognise → Respond → Record → Report → Refer → Follow up)
I can’t.
For two reasons….
- I have been a supply teacher for 8 years. Very often, when I have logged safeguarding issues in random schools that I have been to, I am not around long enough to follow up and make sure something is done about it.
- I have, through the years, had numerous experiences of ‘noting’ incidents of concern and essentially being told that I was overreacting, or that there was ‘nothing more that could be done about my concerns’ – which has been incredibly frustrating.
As a highly sensitive person, I feel like I notice everything and, frankly, at times it is exhausting. For a huge proportion of my life, I’d notice small stuff going on with children
(anger, frustration, and disconnect)
and I’d just say nothing. I never felt like I had the strength to stand up and say anything. Hell, I wrote a poem about this called The Wizard of Oz, about how I always felt like such a coward.
As I’ve grown more confident in myself and started expressing my own thoughts and needs, I’ve got so much better at speaking up and advocating more for others. I even wrote a post a while back about how I have been let go from short-term positions at schools because I dared to speak up about something inappropriate or damaging to children.
Studying attachment theory helped immensely with this. All of a sudden, it felt like I’d been given a lens through which I could finally categorise and make sense of some of the distress I was witnessing in children. Having the backing of my master’s in attachment theory has given me the confidence to explain why my concerns were valid.
But as I sat there scrambling through my brain looking for an example, none of this calm logical thinking was coming through. All that my brain focused on was my past frustrations with not feeling like I had a voice, and that’s what it ran with.
I eventually shared an incident I experienced years ago in South Africa involving a little girl I was working with. She was excessively clingy, and there was something about the way she hugged me that left me feeling really uncomfortable. When she hugged me, she would repeatedly position her head around my pelvic/groin area in a way that just didn’t feel appropriate. On approaching my head teacher at the time to express my concern, she told me that it really wasn’t such a big deal and that this child’s mum was an emotional mess, so it would only stress her out more if anything was said to her about this.
I remember feeling immensely frustrated and powerless.
On sharing this particular story, the deputy headteacher asked me what follow-up steps I took.
Um….
I said ….
(in utter frustration)
…”Nothing…I just sucked it up”
Yes, I used those exact words in a bloody formal interview!
I cringe even writing them.
Who says that out loud in an interview?
Hmm….me.
One thing numerous people have said to me about my writing style is that I write as I speak. Which, of course, denotes that I speak as I write as well.
Sometimes my filter is broken.
Of course, what I was trying to convey with that wildly inappropriate comment was my deep frustration with myself: frustration that I hadn’t trusted my own instincts or had the courage to challenge that head teacher and perhaps take the matter further. I was angry that I had simply “sucked it up” for so many years.
I understand why… growing up, I learned that disagreement and asserting myself could come at the cost of connection. Part of my attachment strategy became keeping quiet as a way of preserving that connection and avoiding conflict. For too many years of my life, the disconnection that might come with speaking up felt far more terrifying than the pain of keeping silent.
And so I learned to
“Suck it up.”
As the words came out, I was immediately horrified and tried to clarify my thoughts better – I explained how this was years ago, and it was only through my study of attachment these last couple of years that I truly came to understand how serious this incident really was. I also noted that this was in South Africa and that at that time we didn’t have the stringent safeguarding protocol that we have in the UK today. I also said –
“Had this happened now – my response would have been totally different, and I would have followed all the correct safeguarding steps”
What I didn’t think to clarify was what exactly those steps were so that I could get my neat little tick for appropriate safeguarding.
And so hence – I failed
In that one fumbled, badly expressed answer, I was automatically deemed unsuitable to work with children who have experienced trauma.
As the head teacher informed me of this, it felt a little like a gut punch, but I barely flinched.
I listened.
I smiled.
I noted that, yes, I had been thinking about how I hadn’t answered that question well.
I thanked her for being honest with me and for giving me her feedback and her time.
I told her what an amazing school she was running and how lovely it had been just to experience it for a day.
And then I stood up and left.
Still smiling.
I didn’t react or try to defend myself, explain my intentions, or prove to her that I WAS someone who cared very deeply about children’s distress. In that moment, it felt like I had enough belief in myself to know that just because some random strangers had made a judgment about me didn’t mean it was true.
Walking out of that school with a smile on my face felt like my reward.
Of course I was disappointed. Over the next couple of days, it seemed to hit a bit harder, and I had to process my own frustration with myself. It sucks when a small snippet of you becomes the thing you’re judged on, especially when you know it doesn’t tell the whole story of who you are. But equally, on reflection, I can completely understand why my answer raised concerns – I simply hadn’t demonstrated clearly enough what they needed to see.
My bad.
Next time I go for an interview, I will have my safeguarding question well mapped out and prepared.
(Lol or then again…maybe not:-)
I’ve never been a person who prepares for an interview. My take on interviews is that if I don’t already have the knowledge they need, then I am probably not the right person for the job.
And maybe that will come back to bite me in the arse again at some point. Maybe there will be another question I fumble, another person who gets the completely wrong impression of me, and another job I don’t get because of it.
But I think the difference now is that I can live with that.
I can take feedback.
I can question myself.
I can recognise where I could have done better.
And I can hold on to my own sense of self even when judged by others.
These are all things I could NEVER have done 6 years ago.
It’s nice to feel like I am getting so much better at this rejection thing:-)
