2009-2010: PGCE – a selection of my ‘targets’
- ‘It was a pity you didn’t have blackout curtains.’
- ‘learning objectives’
- ‘think about the knowledge, skills and understanding’
- In a single observation: ‘1. classroom management. 2. Pace. 3. More effective use of plenary’
Is it any wonder I felt consistently like I was underachieving when observed?!
2010-2011: NQT – the ‘targets’ from my final observation
‘The lesson really lacked pace, tasks went on too long and the majority of the lesson involved you talking to the students. It was difficult to see differentiation and the tasks you set were not particularly inspiring. Plan for more interactive and exciting tasks that involve AfL and give students a greater understanding of the level they are working at and what they need to do to improve.’
I was given 22 hours’ notice for this lesson. 2 APs and the head sat in my lesson. The students were terrified and refused to speak. It took 3 days for them to feedback to me and they did so in ‘the goldfish bowl’, a room with 3 windows that looked out onto reception. I cried; I felt I’d tried really hard and had done a good job. The receptionist comforted me afterward, having seen how upset I was through the window. My mentor was fuming and suggested I request another observation. I didn’t have the guts to go through it again.
2012-2016: School 2
I don’t have any copies of my observation feedback from this school. Verbally, it often went along the lines of ‘what I would do is…’ and ‘I like to…’ from a teacher with 20+ more years’ experience than me. Once a colleague asked my to help them plan an observation on the basis that I’d seen their observer teach and they wanted to ‘do what he’d do’ so they’d get a better grading.
2018: School 2
I was a bit of a mess after returning from my second mat leave. Having returned with lots of enthusiasm, I very soon felt under-appreciated and very lost; I seriously contemplated leaving teaching for a bit. After a few months and a successful interview at a new school, however I decided to embrace observations and learn as much as I could before I left. I told them I didn’t care about the grading, just the feedback and the learning. It wasn’t the best and I was told it was ‘great to focus on the feedback’, but that we should do another visit ‘for my PM review’. So much for the value of learning.
2018-2019: School 3
A ‘good learning checklist’. Every 2 weeks, someone rocked up with a checklist of 9 items (including one about using the school PowerPoint slides with Bronze, Silver and Gold objectives), and sent you an email with a little breakdown (S for strength, P for ‘present’ and ‘D’ for developing) and a couple of sentences of feedback. I was SO excited by this – feedback every 2 weeks! Imagine how much I’d grow and develop as a teacher! Not quite. Once I had someone walk in, plonk their bum on the radiator for 2 minutes, ask 1 student a question and walk out. I was given 8 ‘strength’ marks. Sometimes, people just wouldn’t turn up. Often people would look up the timetable of the person on-rota to observe them and tweak their lesson to suit what that observer liked to see. Rigorous it was not. Very soon the process lost value; I’m not convinced I learned anything.
2019: School 3 – new leadership
I was observed for an hour. The feedback was solid with lots of concrete examples. I was given a very clear target, a suggested read and some practice strategies. I cried (again). Not because I was upset, but because I was so glad to finally have some good feedback and was so very grateful for it. The observer was a bit freaked out by this.
2021: School 4
Everyone (including the head), has a lesson visit every two weeks, with instructional coaching to follow. There’s an open door policy and people – including quite important people sometimes – regularly pop into your classroom. It’s positive, forward-thinking and focused on making you the best teacher you can be.
And in this positive environment, I realise the cumulative affect of all those other observations. Each time I have feedback, I get nervous. I often feel on-edge and as though I’m going to be told that I’m just not doing a good enough job. Despite a lot of positive feedback over the years, and a lot of reassurance, I still have a little moment when I wish I was wearing waterproof mascara, just in case this is the day they give me a target I don’t understand; a target that confirms that niggling little fear that I’m ‘inadequate’ as a teacher.
My reason for sharing this little history is not to gain sympathy or play ‘woe-is-me’. I’m bloody stubborn, determined, and relentlessly optimistic. I’ve been raised with the view that if what you do isn’t good enough for some people, well, you should go and find other people instead. But if 4 of the 6 schools I’ve worked in have left little scars on me, they’ve probably fatally wounded some other teachers. Of the 50+ English teachers whom I began training with in 2009, I’ve come across 2, and only 1 of those in the last 7 years. In amongst workload, exam data pressures, spec changes and the general pressures of teaching, our culture of observation and judgement is one we have the most autonomy over.
We can chose our targets wisely; make our processes supportive and non-judgemental. We can research the different ways to develop and support our teachers. We do not have to be the ones who wound and scar our colleagues. When we have the opportunity to observe, let’s not just look, but really see: see them, see their achievements, see their potential, and – most importantly – share that vision with them so they can see it too.