Approximate reading time: 20min
So, a couple of days after my last role ended, I got invited to do a trial week in a SEMH high school, which is a specialist
school that supports children with Social, Emotional and Mental Health issues.
I know what you are thinking:
“High school?”
“Aren’t you the person who has been writing for years that she would never teach anything higher than Year 3?”
Yep, that would be me.
But bear with me, please; there was some good reasoning behind my consideration of this role.
- The school was willing to pay me to scale. Meaning that I would be paid the exact rate that my 25 years of experience was worth – which is roughly an extra £85 a day = £425 a week = £1700 a month
(I would be crazy NOT to consider it)
2. The role was in a nurture class working with the lowest-attaining children…most of whom are still on a primary school syllabus.
( I could cope with that)
3. The school day ends at 2 pm instead of 3.30 pm – giving teachers more planning time.
(Huge, HUGE bonus)
4. Years ago, I worked in a Special Needs high school for a day, and I absolutely loved it – at the back of my mind I have always wondered if maybe, just maybe, I might actually enjoy working with the older children.
So, I said yes.
Carpe Diem!
My first day had been booked for a Friday – but then my agent said that the head teacher had asked if I could come on the Monday instead, as she would have more time to sit down with me and chat about the role.
Great – sounded perfect.
I can’t tell you how many trial days I have been on in the last couple of years where I go in, teach for the day, get observed, and then go home without a single member of the leadership team even speaking to me.
It has since become a very firm red flag for me when considering a long-term position.
I realise schools are busy places, but I absolutely refuse to say yes to any position where I haven’t had a proper welcome and introduction to the school. I don’t need some grand, elaborate red-carpet tour – just a couple of minutes to say ‘hi’ and tell me a little bit about the place that I might potentially be committing to. I have come to appreciate that a trial day isn’t just them deciding whether they like me; it’s about me deciding whether I like them too.
I want a school that values relationships and has the time to prioritise meeting potential staff.
So, the fact that this head teacher was making the effort to do just that meant a lot.
I arrived Monday morning at 8 am, and to say I was petrified would be an understatement. I had no idea what was going to happen…was I going to be expected to teach a class? Was I going to be observed teaching? I specifically came in half an hour earlier so I could have time to prep if I was going to be teaching. The receptionist
(Who was super sweet – ALWAYS a good sign)
Led me to a meeting room and told me the head teacher would be in to see me soon.
So, I sat and waited – my heart beating so bloody fast it felt like I had just climbed 10 flights of stairs.
The clock ticked.
8.30 am came and went.
(Why did I feel like a naughty child waiting for the headteacher?)
8.55 am – I AM STILL waiting.
I suddenly hear children arriving outside the front door. I hear two boys breaking into a fight. The screaming and swearing at each other is diabolical.
“I’m going to kill you, you mother fucking wanker !!!”
I hear a couple of teachers intervening to try and break the fight up.
I want to cry.
(What in God’s name had I been thinking?)
I then sit for another 30 minutes – wondering if I should just get up and run now.
(I’m not this tough)
Where the hell is the head teacher?
8.40 am
(1hour and 40 minutes later )
The secretary comes through and says she will take me to the class.
Um…ok
I am slightly panicked.
The kids are here – I haven’t looked at any plans – are they just going to throw me in blind?
I ask if I am going to be teaching and the receptionist chuckled
“No no, you are only going to be ‘observing’ the whole week.
I breathe for what feels like the first time in the last hour and 40 minutes.
(Internal pats on the back – You’ve got this. You’ve got this!)
I spent the morning in one of the Year 7 nurture classes. There were 6 kids and 4 adults in the class, which is an excellent child/adult ratio.
The class was relatively calm; the children were lovely, and I enjoyed my time with them.
(I could do this)
The only disconcerting thing was the noise outside the classroom. It was constant.
The classroom door also had a glass window in it and was continuously filled with angry, glaring faces smooshed against the glass as they rattled the door handle, trying to get into the locked classroom.
I asked the teacher who they were, and she said:
“Oh, they are kids who won’t stay in their classes. They always want to get into this class because it’s the calmest class in the school – they just want to mess it up”
I asked
Do they ever stop?
And she rather nonchalantly responded:
“No, not really, you just get used to it.”
(I wasn’t quite sure that was something that I would like to get used to.)
My first day passed in a bit of a blur as I took everything in. Every single room in the school was locked, and all the teachers carried a master key to let them into the rooms. All staff members were issued with a walkie-talkie – as someone explained, these were essential for your own safety in case you were attacked by a child.
(All I wanted to know was where the hell was MY bloody walkie-talkie?)
The corridor was continually swarming with angry- looking children who refused to stay in class. Most of them were accompanied by ‘learning mentors’ who laughed and joked with them like they were their best friends.
(I couldn’t help but wonder if I wouldn’t prefer to be outside the class having fun as well?)
There was a lot of swearing that was mostly just ignored by the teachers. A fight broke out in the canteen at lunchtime, and the whole canteen had to be closed down.
I didn’t feel safe.
I felt emotional and overwhelmed and I sincerely doubted that this was the place for me.
As I made my way to the school’s front door at the end of the day, I had my answer.
“NO fucking way am I coming back here tomorrow”
I suddenly heard someone call out to me from the end of the corridor.
A tiny, bubbly teacher is flailing her arms excitedly at me while she shouts:
“Hellooooo Newbie!!
She takes one look at my face and says, smiling:
“Hi, I’m Joanna. How was your day?”
I admit it was terrible and that I don’t think this is the right place for me.
She laughs and says:
“Oh, it’s always a shock to the system the first couple of weeks. EVERYBODY feels like that. But please come back – once you get over the initial shock, they are really great kids. In a couple of weeks, you will absolutely love them….and they will LOVE you. We are making some great changes in this school – we need you!”
I felt really touched by Joanna’s kindness and care – she really was super sweet. Maybe I was being too hasty in my decision? I mean, after all – I had been given a fully paid trial week in the school – and I still hadn’t had my talk with the head teacher.
I reluctantly agreed to come back the next day and give it another go.
And so forth went my whole week. Nothing much changed. The noise in some of the classrooms from all the walkie-talkies was awful. The quality of teaching in some of the classrooms was just so unbelievably poor. In one lesson, the kids sat for an hour doing absolutely nothing. No teacher. No work. I watched as the kids’ behaviour slowly started escalating, due to sheer boredom. A couple of students walked out. When the substitute teacher finally turned up and handed out a math worksheet, it was way above the students’ ability level.
I was sitting with one child, trying to help him, but he was getting so frustrated because he couldn’t do the work that eventually he just ended up filling the whole worksheet in with random numbers and stormed out of the class.
In another lesson, I was in a class for an entire morning, and all the teacher did was write the learning intention on the board – and that was it! She was also very eager for me to stay and nattered away constantly to me about the school
(While I’m thinking – are you actually going to teach them something?)
She spent ages searching for something in her cupboard.
Then she faffed on her laptop.
Suddenly she wanted to show me this AI program that can plan all your lessons for you. Even better, she then decided to plan a lesson and show me. She asked the children what they wanted to learn about in PSHE that day.
She was met with a stony silence.
(I’m sitting there in quiet disbelief)
She eventually decided on a topic and then sat planning the lesson. When she finished, there was just enough time to put the learning intention on the board before the bell went.
One child had already walked out of class.
She was a lovely person but bloody hell – what was that?
I now definitely understood why so many of these kids were preferring to hang outside the class.
Each day I would get to the point where I just wanted to quit and then, like clockwork, I would meet another really lovely member of staff who would encourage me to stay. They would tell me how much they hated it at first and how much they loved it now.
And then I would start doubting myself all over again.
(I desperately wanted to be that teacher that could make a REAL difference in the world!)
It felt so lovely to be so welcomed and included. I also met some really nice kids.
On my third day I met a boy called Jonothan in the canteen. Jonothan was a giant of a man-child, who was so incredibly sweet as he eagerly insisted that I share half of his sausage roll with him.
As he nattered away to me, he suddenly interjected:
“Why are you here? Are you thinking of teaching here?”
When I said yes, I was on a trial week, he chuckled and said:
“I don’t think you should – this school is a bit rough.”
I asked him if he was happy there.
He shrugged.
“It’s OK. You get used to it.”
My heart broke a little.
(I should stay.
I could make a difference)
By day 4, I was struggling to find classes to observe. I wasn’t given any timetable – I was simply told to go ‘observe lessons’, but many of the teachers didn’t want me in their classes, as they believed someone watching would just trigger their kids.
I spoke to my agent and expressed my concern that I still hadn’t seen the class that I was supposed to be taking over.
What were those kids like?
I wasn’t given a clear answer – something about ‘it hadn’t been decided yet’.
Meanwhile, I heard on the grapevine that the other nurture classes were pretty tough. A couple of weeks before, one of the teachers had had to go to hospital because he had been hit in the head when a kid threw a chair at him.
Fucking hell.
(I really and truly AM NOT THAT tough!)
I started to feel a little bit like a duck out of water. I had been at the school for 4 days, and I still hadn’t had a single conversation with anyone on the leadership team.
(I have been to numerous one-day supply teaching jobs throughout the years where I am given more information than this.)
Of course, I could have followed up and asked to speak to someone – but I wanted to see if they would instigate it. Surely they would want to vet and speak to any new teacher that they were hiring to work with these vulnerable kids?
Surely?
On day 5, while aimlessly walking around trying to figure out where I should go, I bumped into Joanna, who said:
“Ooh, the Year 12s are having a workshop – do you want to come and see it with me?”
I jumped at the idea.
We walked into the class, and I sat down. The class was strewn with huge, gangly teenagers, half of them sitting on top of the desks. There were no TA’s in the class, which I found odd… just me and… nope, no Joanna.
Joanna seemed to have suddenly veered off to go and do something else and left me completely alone in a workshop on… wait for it… SEX AND PORNOGRAPHY.
I nearly died when I saw the PowerPoint display load up.
I am by no means a prude, but discussing anal sex with a room full of teenagers is not high on my list of priorities.
(Yes, it came up!)
In fairness, I have to say that that hour – although it was mildly uncomfortable – was probably the best hour I had spent at the school.
Tash, the woman who took the workshop, was young, gorgeous and ever so super chilled. She wasn’t actually a teacher at the school; she worked for a charity and went around schools delivering this workshop.
Tash was absolutely awe-inspiring to watch.
Her relaxed delivery of the lesson and her ability to talk to and engage the students was amazing. The class started out with sniggering and silliness; she simply ignored it and continued to teach, directing her attention mostly at the three children who were sitting quietly.
After a while, her calmness eked out onto the students, and they started to actually listen. The rowdiness died down, and you could almost see their respect for her growing.
At the end of the lesson, a couple of the rowdy boys went to high-five Tash and thank her for the lesson.
I was impressed.
It was so lovely to see what could happen with these kids when the right teachers were working with them.
( I could be a ‘right’ teacher!)
I got home that night and kept thinking about the job. Why was it so hard for me to make up my mind? There was a huge part of me that wanted to say YES! But there was an equally big part that wanted to say, “Hell no.” And I honestly didn’t know which way to go.
I found myself thinking about Tash and how she is the type of person that movies are made of. You know those wonderful, awe-inspiring “teacher movies” where a teacher goes into a rough school and, through their resilience, tenacity and sheer perseverance, somehow discovers the humanity in all the kids and turns their chaotic, failing class around.
(All based on real-life teachers, of course.)
I wanted to be THAT teacher!
I wanted to be resilient and strong enough to make a real difference.
I wanted to proudly be able to tell people that I worked in one of the toughest schools.
Oy vey!
And then it hit me.
This was all about my ego.
Was I actually wanting this job because it was the right thing for me and the children, or simply because I wanted to see myself as the kind of person who could walk into a tough school and conquer it?
It got me thinking about the danger of that genre of movie, something I had never really considered before. How, if you are hardworking enough, resilient enough, and you just refuse to give up, you can save the world.
I had to appreciate that for every powerful, strong teacher who survived the difficulties of it all, thousands of other teachers hadn’t.
So, I had to stop and ask myself what it was that I wanted.
I wanted a school where relationships mattered. I had been at the school for an entire week, and I still hadn’t had any basic introduction.
I wanted a school with a strong behaviour policy that enforces some sort of sanctions. I strongly believe that children need boundaries and consequences. I had no idea how to do that with teenagers – all I knew was that this school had a no-sanctions policy, and as far as I could tell, it wasn’t working.
I am a highly sensitive person who sometimes jumps at her own shadow. I wanted a school where I didn’t feel anxious and fearful. I had to accept that, although I am very capable of handling rage and screaming meltdowns with smaller children… it’s a whole different story with older, bigger teenagers.
(Yes, maybe I would get used to it – but I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I kind of like who I am right now – in this exact moment in time)
So, after much deliberation, I decided to say no to the job and the amazing salary that would have ultimately come with it.
Sigh
On the plus side, it was an experience.
I met some lovely people.
And a small part of me did learn not to react so viscerally to the loud, aggressive behaviour.
So, I am grateful for that!!
To be continued…
(Yes, there is more)
SEMH School
Fucking hell
Is all I can say
To describe my feelings
These last couple of days
A zombie apocalypse
Could maybe come near
To the emotions I feel
And yes, it is fear
A SEMH high school
(Teenagers aren’t my best fit.)
What in God’s name was I thinking?
I’m not built for this shit
Only 8:50 a.m.
The day hasn’t even begun
But there’s shouting and swearing
A taste of what’s to come
As the corridors are lined
With staff waiting for
The arrival of the masses
Congregating behind the front door
It’s the aggression,
The swearing
The kicking of doors
The rudeness to teachers
I absolutely abhor
And I can’t rack my brain
Around one little fact
No sanctions are given
Is behaviour even tracked
The kids do what they like
They say what they want
No consequences for meltdowns
No boundaries for angry rants
And today I got accosted
By a mini-Avril Lavigne
With smoky black eyes
Beautiful, angry and mean
While passing me in the corridor,
“Fuck off, go away
We don’t need new teachers
In this school, OK?”
And added, for good measure
(She was truly a delight)
“Not one so fucking ugly
Get out of my sight.”
I said nothing, of course
I was a little unsure
Watching and observing
While other teachers ignore
And a little while later
I was trying to help out
Cleaning up workstations
When Avril began to shout:
“Fuck off, bitch
Don’t come near me.”
The rage in this child
Was so hard to believe
And it broke my heart
As the teacher simply replied
“We don’t talk like that, Avril.”
I felt a little stunned inside
And what struck me most
Something I understand
Is that children need boundaries
They need someone to take a stand
Because boundaries are safe
They show where the edges are
Without them it’s chaotic
Which is frightening when you’re scarred
And a fight broke out
In the lunch hall today
Fifteen or so kids
All yelling to have their way
The whole canteen had to be shut
Everything was locked down
I felt emotional and tearful
Completely confound
As to how the sweet kids
Live with this menace in the air
When school’s like this daily
How is this fair?
So, to be honest, right now
I am really doubting that
This is the ‘home’ I’ve been searching
The place I’ve been meaning to attract
But I will finish my week
I’ll commit to what I agreed
While listening to that inner voice
“This is not the right place for me”
And it’s tinged with guilt
Will I ever settle anywhere
My heart really wants to
I honestly do care
But the voice in my head
Says clearly to me
“Just keep going
Don’t give up
You’ll soon start to see”
“Keep moving forward
One day at a time
Even without a clear answer
You know you’ll be fine”
“You have a family that loves you
Friends that you adore
You are healthy and happy
You don’t need anything more”
