This is a difficult term. We are all stretched thin. Staff, students and parents. At times like these, it becomes increasingly difficult to stay level-headed and not let our chimps run rampant. (Thank you Steve Peters for the analogy!) And, like it or not, the students in front of us often have even less control of this. As adults, we have to work out where they are and meet them there.
This doesn’t mean the rules are out of the window, but rather that we need to take a breath and try to step into their shoes. It’s become a cliche but we need to connect before we correct. Even a small amount of empathy is a powerful gesture. I want to work with my students, not battle against them. Working a full timetable, on minimum PPA, is exhausting but I would rather offer a hand in support than drown in a barrage of constant conflicts that create a destructive us-vs them narrative. Of course, the boundaries and rules must be upheld. This is vital. Consequences play an important role in every community, and are often important for our growth. But, I also want to know I am giving opportunities that allow for productive collaboration, possibly even sowing seeds for a time I may not see. They may not take on this opportunity now, but each gesture, signal, attempt at connection may slowly start to click into place one day. This is not a sprint. The finish line is out of my sight.
We may not agree with where we are, but we are here. We have to be honest about the lay of the land. There is an attendance crisis, so many do not want to be in school and many are struggling to regulate behaviour. The adolescent brain is one under construction and, combined with changes in attitudes in society, it can start to feel like a perfect storm. Keeping the boat afloat can be tremendously difficult, especially when so many seem to be falling or jumping overboard. We need to find a way to weather it together.
To do this requires a shared understanding of our destination. Like Percy Jackson claiming, “This is bigger than my quest”, to me, school is bigger than the grade on a piece of paper. It’s a place of learning, sure, but (now more than ever) of more than academia. I desperately want my students to feel the joy and pride of learning in mine (and others’) subject, but I also want them to find their level, a place where they are secure to have, and chase, aspirations. We must cultivate belonging; we must value those small connections; we must help them to find a regulated space. Not just of target groups, or exam classes, but for everyone.
Registration is a prime time for this. I genuinely look forward to greeting my form at the start of the day. We get to journey together. I love to hear of their achievements, their big or little moments, and even their worries. We can hold a space and show that it all matters. Obviously, in subject lessons there is a pressure to achieve other standards too, but the principles still apply. Remembering and showing an interest in what matters to them is an investment that can often happen seamlessly in a day. We all want to feel seen. This is harder and harder with bigger classes and busier timetables, but it can also lead to the biggest boost in all of our wellbeing. Humans thrive on positive connections – we cannot strip this away and only value academic progress. Now, more than ever, connection is crucial. Most of us want to succeed, so hopefully we can start to remove any barriers that are preventing this or help to guide them back on track. I’m currently reading The Marshmallow Test about Walter Mischel’s famous studies on self control, and once again appreciating how much of our behaviour stems from the fight/flight hangover of the more primitive part of our brain. We can only control ourselves, but we can model regulation and responsibility.
I’ll say it again: it’s exhausting to keep aiming to provide an appropriate balance of empathy and accountability. But it matters.