The care of SEN children is your job, and one worth doing

When juggling the day’s workload alone, it can be all too easy to want to offload SEN children on to someone else, says Nancy Gedge...

It never fails to strike me as odd to characterise my job as a something of a lonely one. I mean, surrounded as I am by the undulating flow of young humanity every day, the very last thing I am is alone. But, as strange as it may seem, teaching can be a lonely profession. It’s not so bad if you work in one of the bigger primary schools and you have a year group partner or three to work with, but in my county, these schools are in the minority.

It’s a difficult thing to try to communicate to those outside of the World of School. How is it possible that a person could feel isolated in such a busy, vibrant workplace? But in our classrooms, our hermetically sealed bubbles of learning, working hard to keep up with the never-ending demands of the day, isolated is exactly what we can become.

The field of SEN is particularly prone to the problem, and it isn’t just the class teacher. The job of a SENCO is not an easy one. The moment those letters are applied, everyone expects an instant expert on each and every learning need to be sitting behind the desk (if you have a desk, that is). You are suddenly supposed to be the fount of all knowledge; well, the one with access to the books and the phone anyway.

And if the job comes with an out-of-class SLT badge, there is a subtle shift in relationships with colleagues. It’s as if, when you take it on, somehow you have become disconnected from them too, a different kind of teacher altogether. Instead of being in the classroom, in charge of the children, now you are working predominantly with adults, persuading them that teaching the children with SEN is their job, not yours or the TA’s.

This loss of contact with children is the strangest thing for a teacher. Rolling up your sleeves and showing them how to paint pictures, bowl a cricket ball or perform a fair scientific test – these are the things that first draw us into teaching. We all know that the better you know your children, the better you can teach them. Developing a relationship with the telephone, in contrast, feels odd, almost out of place.

It’s hard to step back and let someone else get on with the teaching job. It’s hard to let someone take over the reins when you have invested so much time and effort into a child. It’s bad enough when you hand them on to the next teacher (or, in my case, to the school itself), especially when a passion for and a personal connection with a child with SEN has led so many in the direction of coordination. The temptation to muscle in and take over, to be the one who meets with the parents, or the one who makes that bit of difference with that intervention, is strong.

But the first and most important relationship any child needs to develop when she enters school is with her teacher. Regardless of any special need, any label she might carry, any amount of one-to-one assistance, or any number of intervention groups she attends, the person who remains responsible for her educational progress, and who must maintain an overview of her provision is her teacher, not the SENCO. Even though we might feel isolated, we can’t let it happen to her.

And what about me? Caught between worlds, I have yet to make the leap, to make the decision to leave the classroom and head for the office and the telephone. The thing is, you see, that I like the children too much. I like the funny things they say, the moments when the lightbulb goes on or something clicks and all of a sudden great leaps in learning are taken. Despite those moments of loneliness, those times when it’s clear that no one you know, out there in your parenting world, has a clue what you are going on about, those days when no one understands a word that comes out of your mouth, adult or child, I’m not ready to give it all up. I like getting my hands dirty too much.

About the author

Nancy Gedge is a primary teacher in Gloucestershire. She blogs at notsoordinarydiary.wordpress.com