Today I had my first NQT observation of the year. This was with my head of department and head of faculty. It’s not a graded obs, and is simply about providing constructive feedback. There are 3 of these interspersed with observations with the overall NQT Tutor/Mentor person, so 6 obs in all. Those 3 go towards assessment points so track how I’m doing.
I won’t go into much detail about the lesson itself. It was ok; some good, some could be improved. The summary of feedback and targets for me to aim for in my next observation and in all my teaching going forward are:
Firstly, to remove the ‘knowledgey’ side of my lessons, for want of a better phrase. The critique goes that I spent more time than is required getting them to do activities on ‘lower-order’ skills, recall and knowledge, that are worth relatively little in exam papers and this time could be more efficiently spent. An activity, to use todays example, that gives a series of sources about Mormons in the American West and asks students to a) identify Mormon beliefs and b) explain why they were so hated, could be redesigned by just *giving them* the Mormon beliefs (the lower-order knowledge) and getting them to focus on inferring and explaining why they were hated from the sources. This can then be extended into an evaluative task (Blooms) in which they rank, say, what they think the 3 most important reasons were for such hatred of the Mormons (a task I did, but after the observers had left).
This is an encouragement that has come a few times – to give the knowledge across, don’t make them work to identify/describe/recall or even explain (‘middling’), and try to move towards higher-order skills as quickly as possible, and the fact they will be working with the knowledge means it should go in anyway.
Secondly, to make better use of ‘whole class AfL’ rather than just sampling individual students when going over an activity or task. Furthermore, the AfL needs to be higher-order, evaluative or judgement based (ranking, continuum lines, prioritising etc) rather than explanation or factual understanding.
Finally, to institute a no-hands policy so I can broaden my questioning beyond the safety net of keen, enthusiastic students that I regularly go to when answering questions. This is something I want to do and have always been anxious/scared to do, for a couple of reasons. The safety net is safe for a reason, and I worry about forgetting student names. Neither excuses are good enough.
So it’s broadly clear to see where my department and faculty heads think where I can improve. They see clear evidence of engagement, my marking is good, I have a great rapport with my class, and my planning for the lesson was good with activities that built upon each other and made sense, following a logical structure, and so on. I am, however, stuck in a ‘knowledgey’ pit and need to grow a bit more.
I also need to follow a bit of internal target-setting. My own reflections about lessons I’ve had lately, especially today (not my observation lesson) have seen a couple of flaws crop up. On the one hand, I expect a certain degree of independence from students and the ability to get on with work given. On the other, I need to be more aware of where modelling or scaffolding is required and give the students the tools to complete the work given, rather than hack away ‘independently’ and give up because it’s hard to access. This is especially true with my setted year 9 classes.
Finally, I need to trust my own instinct more about when group-work is appropriate. My school and colleagues are enthusiastic about it but without clear, well defined parameters, it becomes a complete waste of time as one person does all the work and the rest chat. This then leads to my frustration and warning the class about needing to sort their ideas out and whatnot, when in fact, I’ve set them up this way – by not structuring it clearly enough, or not thinking of a more appropriate task.
I can’t give them only half the tools to succeed, or the wrong environment to succeed in, and not be surprised when many fail to clear the bar.
Half-term is at the end of this week and it gives me a chance to recharge and refocus.
I had hoped to have time throughout the term to write the occasional post and talk about what life is like for a new trainee. Unfortunately, as this post will detail, the idea I might have time for this now seems laughable. But term is winding down, I have been off ill for the last few days and there is a brief lull before everything picks up again after Christmas – assignment, placement B, and so on. And so I feel like writing.
Nothing can prepare for the complete, all encompassing exhaustion of the PGCE. I thought I was fully prepared, and I was probably more ready than most. I’ve worked in schools and I’ve been out of Uni for some time so I’ve never been of the mind that this was just an extension year to my studies. It was always something new entirely. But no matter how much you can tell yourself you are ready for the complete life takeover that the PGCE is, you aren’t.
My route into the teaching profession is through a university provider, something I am extremely pleased with. I can’t speak for all School Direct style systems, but I feel the balance between practice and reflection that is at the heart of a University course is important for the first steps into teaching. Time is needed to figure out what you’re doing, what’s going well, what isn’t, how to improve. Time is needed to be among other trainees and learn from them.
And so the first two months or so of the course are tough but not overwhelming. You are introduced to the education agenda, to learning theory (which is important as it forms the basis of assignment work), child protection, differentiation, assessment for learning, behaviour management and all the things you will experience at a secondary school. And then you are introduced to your subject specific areas. For me; history’s role in the curriculum, how to teach second-order concepts, history and literacy, and so on. The first two months are enjoyable and tough, in that order. It’s new, and for me it’s the career I want to be able to dedicate myself to, so throwing myself into it, reading articles, doing my assignment, reading more articles and books, being around other like-minded people – the value of the University based route is clear. But what develops early on is a guilt-complex, a sense of time-wasting if you’re doing anything, any evening, that isn’t based around the course. There is so much to do, that having an evening off, or a weekend off, is counter-productive.
The balance begins to alter more once placement A begins. I have liked my placement school from the start, but that doesn’t mean it has forever been comfortable or straightforward or that progress has been clear. All placement schools and all ‘mentors’ are different so I can only speak for my experiences, and I think mine are broadly positive, but positive doesn’t necessarily mean enjoyable. One thing that has become clear over the first time is that you don’t really get time to enjoy it, even if there were things to enjoy. And there are – the odd good lesson, that lightbulb moment when you know your challenge to them has paid off, the rapport building with a pleasant and hard working class. But you don’t get a chance to enjoy these moments – everything else is flying past at a hundred miles a second and you have a to-do list longer than Exodus which only seems to expand, the more you work at it.
This is one of those lessons learned pretty early; you will never, ever get to the bottom of the to-do list. No matter how many lessons planned, how many books marked, how many evaluations written, how many journal articles or books read in preparation for assignment work – there is always more. Parkinson’s Law, the idea that work expands to fill the time available, rings true. You feel like you’re working flat out at the start of placement – it’s nothing compared to later. And that’ll be nothing compared to placement B, or NQT year, or the rest of a school career when pastoral care comes into things, when you have extra responsibilities, more classes and so on.
Enjoying the PGCE goes out the window and is replaced by a new target: surviving the PGCE. My curriculum tutor regularly joked that it was a war of attrition, only I’m beginning to think he wasn’t joking. My history cohort has already lost 2 people before Christmas, and others, people who are strong and together and well organized and dedicated, are struggling like you wouldn’t believe. And it all comes down to one thing: workload.
The PGCE workload is different to the qualified teacher workload, for which there is a lot of justifiable upset as it has rocketed north in the last few years. Our workload is meticulous planning, making resources, running plans by other teachers and ‘mentors’, re-planning, self-evaluation, assignment writing and unending administration. All of it is aimed at meeting the teacher standards, the T1-T8 boxes that need ticking to show you are a competent, capable professional. But to do this requires doing everything in triplicate. Folders are kept: PD, Curriculum, Placement. They are organized meticulously to demonstrate which T-number you are meeting. These are then subdivided by classes, with lesson plans, resources, observation notes and self evaluations following the medium-term plans you are supposed to have created at the start of a placement. The PGCE is 66% administration.
All of this is in the name of progress as a teacher, something as a professional you want to be able to demonstrate and do. I will finish this placement better than when I began it, with a lot of evidence to back that up. And that is ultimately the point. To make good teachers, and I’m not sure I’m there yet. I currently have 10 lessons a week and I hit about a 40% ‘good lesson’ rate. I have a couple a week that are really bad, primarily through bad planning and delivery, and the rest fall in the middle. I try and take on board feedback and tailor my lessons accordingly, but in there is a particular problem: the feedback you get as a trainee is reflective of the teacher giving it. I have observations done by three different members of staff. All excellent teachers in very different ways. All three are perceptive about my flaws and idiosyncrasies and all offer feedback accordingly – but it is always feedback based upon their preferred method of teaching. For one, teaching is active, student centered and he loathes ‘teacher talk’. My lessons require a lot of improvement, in his eyes, if I spend large portions of them in some sort of exposition or narration. Even if my objectives get met. To a different teacher, the object is to engage and entertain and get the students onside in that way. His lessons are like small stand-up comedy acts, and it works for him. They like him, they do work. But I’m not the sort to stand at the front and tell jokes. As a result, my lessons seem ‘dry’ and ‘stale’. I got called ‘monotone’.
I genuinely don’t object to hearing criticism because it is always done with my interests at heart – they want to make me a good teacher. But to them, what a good teacher actually is is different. And so you end up tailoring your lessons slightly differently based on who’s class it is you’re taking, and who’s going to be watching you. The chance to actually develop your own teaching style is lost because you’re simply trying to replicate what they want to see. In this, you can show that you are receptive to feedback and are trying to use it to develop yourself. But you aren’t. You’re developing a false style just to jump through hoops: to get through the end of the week with good observations.
And so a week bleeds into another as you do what you can to simply survive it. You get up at 6:30, work until about 4:30 either stood in front of classes or on computers planning, writing evaluations, preparing your assignment etc. You get home, and continue to work from 6:30 until around 11:30 or midnight or later. At which point you go to sleep and repeat. That has been my day to day existence since placement began. And now matter how much you think you’re prepared for this, how much I felt I was ready to take on an all-encompassing course, you aren’t. You begin to see people less. You begin to eat a bit worse. You begin to pull out of things you want to do because of the impact it has on your planning, the forever-behind-planning.
And this leads into the big, main takeaway I have from my first term on PGCE – especially on Placement A. Isolation. The PGCE is isolating. Evenings and weekends are geared solely towards work. I spend all evening and all weekend in a small box room in my house getting on with work, trying to improve, trying to be a better teacher, and as a result the time available to see friends, family, even just housemates drastically drops. You force yourself out for one night a week (Friday) to see some people, but for 7 days and 6 nights you feel like you belong elsewhere. And you feel guilt if you aren’t working towards that.
It’s magnified by the circumstances of placement A. You are only there full-time between autumn half-term and Christmas, so you develop temporary friendships. The upcoming end of placement magnifies the fact that colleagues you’ve come to value and rely upon are people you probably won’t work with again, and you have to develop it all over again with a new placement school. In the meantime, the friends you might have made from the cohort are all working as hard or harder than you, so the chance to see them is limited, and unless you happen to live with your family, the chance to see them is equally limited. You only have to ask my own mother who’ll tell you I’ve become a stranger this term.
Work-life balance among teachers is a tricky subject, and one that is currently politically hot. What doesn’t help is sending new teachers into the field who already have a sense that the work-life balance is unalterably skewed in one direction. If anything, that’s my big learning point from placement A. I’ve learned a lot about practice, about planning, and assessment and differentiation and everything else. But if the work-life balance is not addressed early in the career, then you end up with the attrition rate that everyone knows about, of teachers dropping out in droves after 3 years. It’s sustainable, perhaps, for a year. To get through the course, to jump through the hoops, to meet the standards, to do the assignments, to fill out everything in triplicate. But as long as trainee teachers are being developed with a guilt-complex, with a view that unless they are working they are wasting time, that you can only do this job if you dedicate your life to it, the casualty rate will not fall.
Teaching is definitely something you are, not just something you do. But it’s not the only thing you are.