Some helpful advice?

The summer holidays, now a distant memory, have already taken on the patina of old, worn film in my head. The sepia-tinted, yellow haziness lends the memories a nostalgic air (though surely nostalgia normally takes more than a fortnight to kick in?) Now we’re back to weekends as islands of slightly bewildered calm in an ocean of action, reaction, planning, evaluation, communication and all the things that make a teacher’s week what it is.

After a honeymoon period of two and a half days, what teachers euphemistically term ‘behaviour’ has returned with a vengeance. For the three newly qualified teachers (a term universally shortened to ‘NQT’) in my department, it came as a shock. And I found myself in a situation I’d privately (and embarrassingly) been looking forward to for some time: finally NOT being the least experienced in the department, and being approached for advice rather than desperately seeking it. Having awaited this moment with some anticipation, and having myself so often sought the advice I was about to dole out, I was disappointed that the stuff I heard myself saying was all deeply pedestrian. Anyone with any teaching experience will know the drill: “Clearly state your expectations!” “Consistently apply sanctions!” “Chunk up lesson content so the kids don’t have time to misbehave!” And the old chestnut: “Catch them being good!” All effective strategies of course. But at the moment of truth, embattled NQTs will often discover to their horror that these supposedly devastating pedagogic weapons are just plastic toy replicas of the real thing. As the experienced teacher down the corridor blasts any ‘behaviour’ firmly into submission with a dazzling array of measures designed to shock and awe, the NQT rolls out the big guns only to find that though they produce vaguely realistic gun sounds, they only actually fire elastic bands. And there’ll probably be plenty of those flying around already. Shock and awe? More like duck and cover.

I think that our advice to new teachers should focus less on what to do, and more on how to do it. The most effective managers of behaviour at our school do exactly the same things as the NQTs. They just do them with a level of confidence, conviction and belief that is simply undeniable, and that is what makes the difference. Unfortunately, as a piece of advice: “You need more confidence, conviction and belief!” is not particularly helpful. But emphasising that there is no silver bullet, and that inexperienced teachers are doing exactly the right things, and that these things will work if the teacher believes in and cares about the children … well, let’s face it: that’s pretty useless too.

So in the end, the advice I gave was no better than the advice I received: keep trying; it’s going to be OK. It’s not often that the modern, emotionally literate person gets to deliver a platitude of quite such inexcusable meaninglessness, but as I turned and felt the heat of the NQTs’ baleful stares gently drying the back of my shirt (let it be noted that I’m no behaviour hot-shot myself), I didn’t feel that bad. Even in the most supportive department with the best colleagues in the world, you’re on your own as an NQT. Time to sink or swim.