Eccentric Teachers Endangered Species?
Brilliant eccentrics are a dying breed in education
Secret Teacher: brilliant eccentrics are a dying breed in education
They may not play by Ofsted’s rules, but we should cherish maverick teachers – they can change students’ lives
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Teachers like Robin WIlliams’ character from Dead Poets Society wouldn’t recognise a lesson plan if it bit them on the behind, but they are still brilliant. Photograph: Moviestore Collection/REX
Saturday 26 September 2015 07.00 BSTLast modified on Saturday 26 September 201507.03 BST
As I look around the staffroom I am struck by the fact that, among the piles of exercise books and unwashed coffee cups, there is an endangered species, dwindling to the point of extinction.
I’m not talking about the semi-corporate teachers who look like they’d be more at home in a boardroom than a classroom – they are flourishing. The threatened group I speak of is that most British breed: the eccentric.
Everyone, surely, can look back to their school days and think of at least one teacher who would fall into this category. For me, chief among them is the maths teacher who was so detached from the world that she had never heard of Madonna, but had a passion for her subject that inspired the whole class and made double maths pass in the blink of an eye.
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I think also of the religious education teacher who told the girls not to shine their shoes too much lest they reflect their knickers and lead the boys into temptation, and the primary teacher who would throw our possessions out of the window if we misbehaved.
I know schools and educational philosophies have changed since my time on the other side of the desk. I understand that more importance is now placed on students’ results and that we have a duty to give young people a strong academic foothold as they take their first steps into a tough labour market. I also know that schools are facing squeezes on budgets and must learn lessons from the world of business about how to operate. Large, sponsored academy chains are leading the charge to make schools more efficient, more slick and more corporate. I do not decry any of this in and of itself, but the march of progress comes at a cost.
Over my 10 years in teaching, I have seen eccentric colleagues pushed, blinking and disorientated, into a new world of lesson observations, targets, data and appraisals. There are undoubtedly those who, as well as being eccentric, are rather lazy and probably not up to the job. But the problem is that many of these mavericks, who wouldn’t recognise a lesson plan if it bit them on the behind and couldn’t care less about student data or targets, are brilliant.
A former colleague of mine taught design and technology. He was one of the old guard. I doubt if he knew what a scheme of work was, but he was a natural teacher, in love with his subject and in possession of a sense of humour that could turn the most unlikely students into carpenters. Unfortunately, there isn’t a category for fun in Ofsted’s framework and it’s similarly light on references to inspiration and creating memories, yet there are dozens of pages on data, accountability and targets. Is that really what it’s all about?
This means that teachers who have spent years honing their craft are ushered into offices to be told that, regretfully, their approach requires improvement because they haven’t made enough use of data and their plenaries don’t sufficiently summarise the learning.
Some give in to these demands, returning to the classroom without the spark they once had. One such teacher told me that he would “see out his time, keeping out of trouble”, but I could see in his eyes that he was just going through the motions. Others seek work elsewhere, leaving the profession with a sense that they have failed, despite the fact that generations of students see their classes as a turning point in their lives.
And it’s not just lessons. A report that recently crossed my desk for checking said: “Jonny is a saint. Unfortunately, the saint I refer to is the patron saint of fools.” I couldn’t send it home and it probably did go a little too far, but wouldn’t parents prefer an honest, candid, colourful report to the anodyne platitudes that have become par for the course?
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I understand that schools need to improve accountability, but couldn’t they also have the flexibility to accommodate those teachers whose lessons don’t always tick all of the boxes?
It may not be possible to measure fun, inspiration, pleasure and wonder, but these are the things that make our education system great. They are the bits of school that we all remember, and many of us owe our careers, hobbies, interests and livelihoods to them.
Perhaps it is inevitable that schools will become more corporate, but it shouldn’t be at the expense of great teachers who don’t quite fit the mould. The ones who make school memorable, make lessons enjoyable and inspire a love of learning. Without them, school’s just not the same. I may as well throw myself out of the window along with my students’ equipment.