Teaching is not a static skill. Curriculum, pedagogy, technology – it’s a fluid profession. Lively debate, discussion and research are hallmarks of the education field and even a cursory search on the internet reveals a plethora of books on the topic.
Moreover, teaching is not immune to the influential guiding hand of politicians. The Department of Education imposes statutory requirements on schools across the nation. Teachers are adaptable. Every school across the country provides their teaching staff with regular weekly staff training and development, while INSET days provide in depth skill workshops. You only need to cast your mind back to your own school days to catch a glimpse of the pace of change. Gone are the chalk and blackboards, replaced by state-of-the-art visualisers and touch-screen boards.
Yet nothing could have prepared the profession for the challenges of the pandemic. So how did teachers (and all school staff) react to the pandemic, which has altered so many aspects of normal life?
Rumours of school closures swirled in early March, but teachers and heads were left to guess when a government announcement would finally be made. Shockingly, the majority of teachers across the nation learnt of the date of school closure at the same time as the general public. Overnight the classroom became a place of fear and risk, and doors were shuttered everywhere. Indeed, my own classroom bore the hallmarks of the hasty closure when I returned in August, and found the March date still written on the whiteboard.
Nevertheless, school is a refuge for an array of children and families.
Most schools have a number of children in temporary care placements, whom are placed with strangers in unfamiliar surroundings, while others have lists of children known to social services- children whom are at risk of potential harm in their own home, as a result of abuse, neglect, or another consequence of an absence of safeguarding. Some children live with parents whom have health challenges, or siblings with complex mental or physical disabilities, and have been thrust into the position of having to function as young carers themselves. Other pupils themselves may have such difficulties or needs.
For all of these children, school is not just the place where they come to learn their “ABC’s”; it is a place of security, acceptance and care. Staff in school are not only focused on academic progress; they are trained to support vulnerable children such as these, and offer them safety, routine, structure, friendship and materials items they need – essentially “a home away from home”.
The closure of schools brought this aspect of school life into sharp focus for all school staff. Immediately, educators across Britain sprang into action delivering books, pens, colouring pencils, papers, rulers and even toys to homes – all free of charge. In some cases, clothing and computers were also sent, alongside phone calls made on a regular basis, to check in and offer support to parents and pupils.
Next came the question of how teachers could reach into the homes of their students? Teachers are trained to understand verbal and non-verbal communication as well as body language in order to communicate with a range of pupils through direct contact. It’s easy to check for understanding in a classroom, and to use a toolkit of Assessment for Learning to notice if a child looks confused, is quiet or is fidgeting and lacking focus. How can the reaction and understanding of a child be understood from a distance of miles and without direct contact? Teachers were quick to adapt; no doubt this period was the steepest learning curve ever experienced. Online classrooms were rapidly created and new skills for teachers and students were developed.
A small glimmer of normality returned in September when schools fully reopened (schools have never been fully closed; all were open during holidays throughout the first lockdown). Yet it was not quite the same. The restricted movement on site, the lack of communal gatherings and the lack of school trips meant it was school life, but in a more restricted, limited, almost dystopian form.
With the third lockdown in January, for some with the notice of just a few hours, school staff sprang into action once more, this time with more experience. In this instance the provisions offered much more than the previous year. Education staff, as always, had reflected, considered and improved the experience for their students.
Looking back on the tumultuous year of teaching in a pandemic, two words come to mind: compassion and communication. All teachers are taught Maslow’s hierarchy of needs during their initial training. The most basic needs, which must be in place before development can proceed properly, are the physiological needs such as food, water and warmth. These are paired with needs of safety and security, to form the foundation everyone requires for survival. The second level of the hierarchy are the psychological needs which are met with giving someone a sense of belonging, confidence and connection. The highest level of the hierarchy is self-actualisation – that is, an ability to fulfil one’s potential, growing and developing in a healthy way throughout life. There is no doubt that the pandemic has thrown into sharp relief the need to meet basic requirements first. Schools rushed to do this. But what has been missing is that sense of connection and community, which can be felt at a distance but not fully embraced.
Schools have had to pull together as communities during the pandemic, in order to prioritise basic needs, and to focus on compassion and communication with all stakeholders in the community. Education staff, including Teaching Assistants, dinner ladies, and office staff, have all gained a greater realisation of their value. Schools can only be run when everyone’s efforts are appreciated. Similarly, parents have a new-found appreciation of how difficult it is to teach even one child, let alone a class of thirty. To say the least, skills and creativity have increased.
The legacy of the pandemic with regards to its long-term effect on children’s education is currently unknown. However, the dedication of teachers and school staff in their adapting to such unusual circumstances must surely be one of the clearest outcomes of this most extraordinary academic year. Schools are not just “places” to learn; they’re the building blocks of communities that care.
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