It's official. I am no longer eligible to teach in Scotland - I have the letter telling me so. I thought it was time to give up any pretence that I might one day feel the need to re-enter the classroom; in the past four-and-a-half years I have not been even remotely tempted. I stayed registered during that period, I suppose, in case boredom or penury should prove too much for me in my retired state, but it has not been so. The letter from the GTC thanked me for the time I have given to the teaching profession in Scotland, and wished me well for the future.
I take heart from their assurance that I still have a future, but today I was reflecting on the past, for the setting up of the GTC coincided with my time at university, when I was already sure that I would teach. Before that, I remember the dreaded "non-certificated" teachers who occasionally made an appearance in our classrooms, usually in times of prolonged staff illness. They never lasted, and even as teenagers we knew they didn't quite cut it. The GTC, I reckon, has been A Good Thing. And like all good things, for me, it has come to an end.
Showing posts with label teachers and teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teachers and teaching. Show all posts
Friday, April 16, 2010
Monday, January 21, 2008
Past catches up...
I was dwelling nostalgically (do you believe me?) on my teaching days this morning, when I happened to listen to Ewan's talk about bebo-boomers and the way teaching methods must change. And there we were: his parents, featuring this time as an example of how things were in The Old Days, when teachers put on their work persona with their lippy (no, not the men) and removed it again when they arrived home. I suppose this is retribution: payback time for all the occasions on which I used the evolving infants McIntosh in anecdotes to illustrate this or that phenomenon in a lesson - or simply because it amused me to do so. Heaven only knows what he'll come up with next.
The nostalgia arose because on my early-morning visit to the pool I had met two of my former pupils, boys from two successive (and very successful) all-male S-grade classes. One had always been an agreeable (if sexually rather precocious) chap, the other a complete pain in the neck. But both in turn hailed me with great friendliness, asking how I was doing and was life agreeing with me, making sure I knew what they were doing with their lives. This is one of the great things about living in the community served by the school you've worked in for years; you see your former pupils as adults who seem to remember you fondly, you see their children growing (very aging, that), and you see what good adults they turn out to be. It's an experience the growing number of "boat people" - teachers who work in Dunoon but won't commit to living here - will never have. Their loss, I'd say.
The nostalgia arose because on my early-morning visit to the pool I had met two of my former pupils, boys from two successive (and very successful) all-male S-grade classes. One had always been an agreeable (if sexually rather precocious) chap, the other a complete pain in the neck. But both in turn hailed me with great friendliness, asking how I was doing and was life agreeing with me, making sure I knew what they were doing with their lives. This is one of the great things about living in the community served by the school you've worked in for years; you see your former pupils as adults who seem to remember you fondly, you see their children growing (very aging, that), and you see what good adults they turn out to be. It's an experience the growing number of "boat people" - teachers who work in Dunoon but won't commit to living here - will never have. Their loss, I'd say.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Teaching skills:taught or caught?
Yesterday, as Mr B and I drove across the country, sat on the ferry (4 times) and drove to Largs and back, we talked about teaching. Sad, isn't it - you'd think we might have given up on that sort of thing, but there you are. We were examining the skills that can be taught as opposed to inherent skills - and we were thinking about the skills of teaching.
All too often I've had my suggestions for effective management and teaching brushed aside with the comment: "Ah, but that's you. Other people/I/he can't do that - will never be able to do that."
And for a while I accepted this - after all, it's slightly smug-making, and besides, I had a job to do. But revisiting the subject I'm inclined to think there's stuff that could be taught at college, and ways of showing potential teachers how to make their own lives easier.
What matters most in a teaching day? I'd suggest that it's how you feel at the start of each new period. Are you looking forward to this class because you know you and they are going to have a good time together? Or have you a sinking feeling because this is the class from hell and you know that in an hour you're going to feel you do a really stupid job and you have achieved nothing and the kids hate you and you hate them?
If the latter, and if this recurs day in, day out, year in, year out then your life is hell and you're probably in the wrong job - but how do you redress this? Or, better still, what strategies would have helped you from the start? I'd suggest that the key lies in how you relate to your friends, to people you meet socially, to people whose path crosses yours. I'm talking here about your adult contacts, your peers. Think about how you behave with people you like. Then compare that with how you behave to the average class. Are you the same person? Or do you assume a persona which you cast off the moment the bell rings at 4 o'clock?
When I returned to teaching after an 8-year break for child rearing the main difference I noticed in myself was that the person in the classroom was the same person who went home to my kids. I no longer put on any persona - certainly something I had done in my first couple of jobs. And the pupils responded in such a way that suddenly everything seemed easier. As time went on, I realised also that I'd stopped worrying about status, about making mistakes, about admitting to a mistake or a lack of omniscience. I was able to take real pleasure in having a pupil suggest something I'd not thought of - and we celebrated these moments. Often I'd find myself in tucks of laughter at something a pupil had said, so that we could all have a good belly-laugh together.
So how would I teach this to aspiring teachers? I'd suggest they look at their interaction with friends, and then with pupils, and aim to make them the same. They need to enjoy the company of their pupils just as they do the other people with whom they come into contact. And they need to learn how to show that enjoyment without ever losing sight of the nature of the pupil/teacher relationship. That last, of course, becomes much easier with age - but I still think it can be learned at an early stage.
And if you're the kind of person who finds it hard to walk into a party and start socialising? Well, you've a harder row to hoe, but there is a final ace to play. Whether you're naturally gregarious or not, you have to have a passion for your subject. If you don't think it's the most important and wonderful subject in the curriculum, how're you going to teach it with any conviction at all? And maybe that's something you can't be taught. But if you're not passionate about the stuff you'll be teaching for the next x years, then maybe - just maybe - you're in the wrong job. And God help your poor, bored pupils.
All too often I've had my suggestions for effective management and teaching brushed aside with the comment: "Ah, but that's you. Other people/I/he can't do that - will never be able to do that."
And for a while I accepted this - after all, it's slightly smug-making, and besides, I had a job to do. But revisiting the subject I'm inclined to think there's stuff that could be taught at college, and ways of showing potential teachers how to make their own lives easier.
What matters most in a teaching day? I'd suggest that it's how you feel at the start of each new period. Are you looking forward to this class because you know you and they are going to have a good time together? Or have you a sinking feeling because this is the class from hell and you know that in an hour you're going to feel you do a really stupid job and you have achieved nothing and the kids hate you and you hate them?
If the latter, and if this recurs day in, day out, year in, year out then your life is hell and you're probably in the wrong job - but how do you redress this? Or, better still, what strategies would have helped you from the start? I'd suggest that the key lies in how you relate to your friends, to people you meet socially, to people whose path crosses yours. I'm talking here about your adult contacts, your peers. Think about how you behave with people you like. Then compare that with how you behave to the average class. Are you the same person? Or do you assume a persona which you cast off the moment the bell rings at 4 o'clock?
When I returned to teaching after an 8-year break for child rearing the main difference I noticed in myself was that the person in the classroom was the same person who went home to my kids. I no longer put on any persona - certainly something I had done in my first couple of jobs. And the pupils responded in such a way that suddenly everything seemed easier. As time went on, I realised also that I'd stopped worrying about status, about making mistakes, about admitting to a mistake or a lack of omniscience. I was able to take real pleasure in having a pupil suggest something I'd not thought of - and we celebrated these moments. Often I'd find myself in tucks of laughter at something a pupil had said, so that we could all have a good belly-laugh together.
So how would I teach this to aspiring teachers? I'd suggest they look at their interaction with friends, and then with pupils, and aim to make them the same. They need to enjoy the company of their pupils just as they do the other people with whom they come into contact. And they need to learn how to show that enjoyment without ever losing sight of the nature of the pupil/teacher relationship. That last, of course, becomes much easier with age - but I still think it can be learned at an early stage.
And if you're the kind of person who finds it hard to walk into a party and start socialising? Well, you've a harder row to hoe, but there is a final ace to play. Whether you're naturally gregarious or not, you have to have a passion for your subject. If you don't think it's the most important and wonderful subject in the curriculum, how're you going to teach it with any conviction at all? And maybe that's something you can't be taught. But if you're not passionate about the stuff you'll be teaching for the next x years, then maybe - just maybe - you're in the wrong job. And God help your poor, bored pupils.
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