In the September after Sharon died I went back to work, but not with the age group that I was used to: the Foundation Class, the four and five year olds. The previous May I had had a meeting with my manager. She had asked me if I would teach a different age group so that another teacher could work with the younger children. At the time Sharon was very ill, but I was putting on a brave face at work and just getting on with things. Without thinking it through, I had agreed to change age groups.
However, I had said that I should need some support, as the class I was to teach was a challenging one. They would be a mixed age class, a cross-phase class (some in Key Stage 1, some in Key Stage 2) and there were, I knew, children who had special needs of one sort or another. Also I had never taught these two year-groups together. I felt that it would be quite a challenge, but if I was sent on suitable courses and given helpful advice from other teachers, it would be fine. She agreed that I would be given help and support.
The term started and I could see that it was going to be hard work. There were several children in the class with challenging behaviour. However, I was quite enjoying the different sort of planning and teaching when the news came that there was to be an OFSTED inspection before Christmas. To make it worse, the head had decided to have a Pre-Ofsted inspection with a County Advisor. In my capacity as Union Rep. I might have questioned the wisdom of putting this extra bit of pressure on us all, but I was tired in a way that is hard to describe. Since Sharon had died there didn’t seem to be any point in standing up for anything. I just didn’t have the energy to argue.
So it happened that three weeks after the beginning of term our lessons were observed and assessed. I wasn’t too worried, as I was sure that the Advisor was there to give us helpful advice about how to improve our present practice, not to question our professional competence. I was doing an assessment lesson when he came to observe me. I wanted to check up on what the children remembered about the Maths topic we were starting before developing it further.
Instead of an informal chat and helpful advice at the back of the classroom after the lesson, I was called to the head’s office after school. She told me that, as the lesson had been deemed “unsatisfactory”, the work being “too easy” for the children, she would need to observe me frequently and to check all my plans at the beginning of each week. I was horrified. That would be like being a newly qualified teacher all over again. Why was I being treated like this?
I tried to explain that this had been an assessment lesson and so of course the work was “easy”, but I didn’t seem able to explain myself properly. I felt that no one was listening to me. Again I didn’t have the energy to argue. I just got on with my job, but with sadness and bitterness in my heart. It was unfair, but what did it matter compared with losing Sharon?
So I had lots of extra work to do and almost every day it seemed that something was said or done that made me less and less confident about my ability to do my job. I thought that if I worked very hard perhaps I could prove my ability, but it didn’t seem to work like that. I worked harder and harder each evening, trying to plan really interesting and exciting lessons that my class would enjoy and would help them learn, but nothing I did seemed to be good enough. I handed in my plans at the beginning of each week and every week there were things that I was told to do differently or to write up in more detail.
Just before Christmas it was OFSTED week. We had to hand in our plans for the week in advance and then redo them after the head had advised us how to improve them. It was a lot of work and a lot of stress and pressure. By the time the inspection week, the first week in December, arrived we were all exhausted.
Unsurprisingly one or two of us did lessons that were pronounced “unsatisfactory”. We were all relieved when it was over and soon after that it was the end of term. Nearly Christmas! I knew there would be trouble in the new term, but I tried not to dwell on it over the holidays. It was hard enough just getting through a Christmas without Sharon. In fact I don’t remember it very well; I just got through each day as it came.
When the new term started I got a letter from the head putting me on an informal warning. I contacted my local NUT rep. and asked if he could be there at a meeting between the head and me. She had told me I had to see her to discuss how I was to improve and how I would be supported. He met me before the meeting, at my request, and, before we had even discussed it, he suggested that I go for early retirement. He didn’t really want to listen to me.
I realised that I would get little real support from him. We went into the meeting and I was given various targets to meet. I was told that I would be given support. I was determined to meet the targets, to show them how well I could teach and to keep my job.
As the weeks rolled quickly past it became increasingly evident that it was going to be made very difficult for me to reach the targets. There was constant criticism of my teaching and the way I managed the class’s behaviour. Sometimes I was criticised when the children were there and this undermined my authority as well as my confidence.
The ‘support’ that I was given was the humiliating experience of a young and energetic teacher coming twice a week to show me how to plan and how to teach. We went to visit another school to watch a fantastic teacher teach a younger age group. All very interesting, but with the head showing that she had no confidence in me and no-one giving me any praise or encouragement it was harder and harder to have confidence in myself and keep going.
If someone with experience of teaching Year 2 and Year 3 together had given me practical advice about how to plan and teach a mixed age class that would have been useful. If someone had supported me and understood that I was a good teacher going through a difficult time, that would have made all the difference. But as things stood, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold on to the idea that I could come through this.
In March, after a few weeks of ‘support’ the head came in to observe one of my lessons. The Teaching Assistant said, “Well, she can’t grumble about that! It went really well!” But when I got into the head’s office she told me that there were still “unsatisfactory elements” about how I was teaching. I suddenly realised that however high I jumped it wouldn’t be high enough, however many juggling balls I kept in the air it would never be enough. It was time for me to leave. I found that the only viable choice that I could make was to take early retirement.
When I told the head of my decision she was pleased. I’m sure that she thought that she was doing me a favour as well as continuing her mission to “improve the school.” It was decided that I would continue teaching the same class for the rest of the school year. I would retire in July, at the end of the summer term.
It was still hard work, but at least I knew there was an end in sight. For a long time I had woken in a panic most mornings, with wobbly legs and an unsteady stomach. But I knew that I could get through each day once I actually got to school. Many times I said to Nik, “I don’t want to go!” But he said, “You’ll be alright when you get there”, and I was. I just dreaded the times when the head would say critical things or tell the children off when I was in charge of them. I was terrified of her anger and humiliated by her opinion of me.
Looking back on it I wish I’d had the strength to do things differently. But I didn’t. For a long time, looking back and remembering made me feel sad, bitter and angry. Not only had I lost my lovely daughter Sharon, but now I had lost the career that I had loved and enjoyed, the skills that I had taken a pride in. I was bereaved all over again.
Sixth song: ‘It makes me angry’
It makes me really angry when I think of you.
The things you did to us.
What did we do to you?
Some people add something to your life;
Some people take away.
Some people you’re so sad when you lose them;
Others you just want to go away.You must be damaged,
Chip on your shoulder.
Your heart is frozen;
Can’t get no colder.
You think you’re special;
You’ve really got it.
You don’t know how other people feel.
We’re real!It makes me really angry when I think of you.
The things you did to us.
What did we do to you?
