Handing over the reins of your classroom often makes for an anxious absence. Paul Dix asks how you would police behaviour from afar?
Having a day out of the classroom is a mixed blessing. Plush conference venues with real coffee and free pens hold their own pleasures, but there is always the worry about what is happening back at school.
As this is the first time you have left the class, that nagging feeling you will return to chaos is intensified. You calm your fears with a shortbread biscuit and an almond croissant while reassuring yourself that the four hours you spent preparing work for the class will keep everyone busy.
Returning to your classroom is a like coming back to the aftermath of a natural disaster. All semblance of order has been erased: displays have been ripped, chairs broken and resources are strewn everywhere. You half expect to find a small child trapped in the rubble chewing on a pink rubber for nutrients.
As you put the room back together, colleagues come in to tell you about the multiple referrals to the head, a supply teacher in tears and Ashraf (aged 8) leading a Lord of the Flies coup. The child are unusually quiet as they enter the class, nervous about your reaction. All of this could just be down to a one-off bad day, but the trouble is you are on the second part of the two-day training course next week. You must take action now to make sure there isn’t a repeat of this devastation.
Without wasting time on the ‘who did what to whom’ witch hunt, you decide to give the whole class both barrels of your frustration.
Make sure the names of any children who behave badly are taken next week, and threaten to call home for anyone whose name is on the list.
Take time to speak to the supply teacher the night before and make a positive plan.
The class listens in uncomfortable silence. They know they have stepped over the line and they are sure that there are few who are blameless. You impress yourself with your 15-minute monologue. It is perfect oration. There is the crescendo of anger, the staccato of utter irritation followed by mournful yet threatening diminuendo. By the end, some children have been moved to tears. Before break there is no talking, just work and shame. As the children file out to break you are starting to regret the ferocity of your reaction, and begin to think that you should have been more in control.
As the day progresses, letters from children filled with apologies and promises start to appear. You begin to feel pangs of guilt – maybe you went too far, perhaps there were some children who didn’t join in. Perhaps there is more to the story.
Speaking to the head at lunchtime, it becomes clear the class had been split for the day – they had anticipated problems with this particular supply teacher and only given him half of the class. The rest joined Year 5 and some LSAs had been moved around. Stunned, you return to the classroom to prepare to eat a large portion of humble pie with half of the class while trying not to maintain your displeasure at the rest.
You show the ‘crime sheet’ to the children and in your sternest tones make sure they understand the risks they run if you return to find their name on it. There are many promises made from children giving you their best ‘earnest’ faces. To try to prevent the substitute teacher from putting names on the list too quickly, you laminate the five-step approach onto the desk. You’re confident that the children will fear the list enough to control their behaviour.
You return to school with mixed reports. Your pleas for a staged approach have been largely ignored. After some pushing and pulling in the line, some children went on the list before they’d even entered the classroom, and immediately gave up any attempt to moderate their behaviour. At the same time, other children had their names taken but were entirely innocent, and there is a delegation of indignant pupils waiting for you when you arrive. As you unravel the truth and put the room back together again, you try to focus on the 60 per cent of the children who made you proud. There were even some attempts by those who were working to stop those who ‘went native’. Unfortunately this ended in scuffles, pens being thrown and teary tantrums. A window has been cracked and, despite the usefulness of the course, you resolve not to leave them again
Although it is an unusual request, the supply teacher is happy to spend 15 minutes on the phone talking through the day ahead. You invest a little time in briefing her properly in the hope that she can maintain some consistency of approach. You describe the five-step response structure that you need her to use, carefully explaining the steps: rule reminder; warning; two minutes at break/lunch/end of day; time out; last chance. You talk her through the consistent micro-script that you use at each stage. Along with this you have prepared an A4 sheet that explains your classroom behaviour plan that you will be able to give to anyone who covers your classes. The substitute teacher seems pleased that you are so well prepared and is happy to try and keep within your plan. You ask her to keep a secret list of pupils who really shine and go over and above expectations.
Returning to the classroom you are surprised at how neat and tidy it is. Someone has clearly made an effort to leave it as they found it. There is a shiny envelope on your desk with the names of 10 children who have behaved impeccably. The day has not been without its problems but Ashraf’s second attempted coup has been thwarted with judicious use of steps and scripts (“That teacher says the same thing that you do….not fair!!’). As you flick through the ‘recommended courses’ brochure, you see some training next term that would be perfect for you and send a personal note to the supply teacher to maintain the connection.
Fear is a blunt instrument for managing behaviour and instantly fades when you leave the room. False promises are easy to elicit from the children in the moment but are no guarantee of future conduct.
Giving the supply teacher a crime sheet to fill in means that she can instantly defer responsibility for managing the children’s behaviour. You have set the children up to fail and now have to follow up on someone else’s decision making.
The 15-minute phone call is above and beyond the call of duty, but an essential step to smooth the transition between different teachers. The positive list may not be perfect but it sends the right message and sets the tight tone.
Paul Dix is lead trainer at Pivotal Education. Hear his podcasts at pivotalpodcast.com. A licensed trainer scheme allows every school to deliver Pivotal behaviour and safeguarding training
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