Education: In a class of their own

Pupils can recognise a teacher who is not interested in the job. Unfortunately, there are still too many such people in the staffroom. And this will continue unless the profession can start to attract the brightest and best, says Bridget Saunders

EVERYONE REMEMBERS a lousy teacher. I remember mine. Mr X taught us French for 35 minutes every afternoon. And every afternoon for 35 minutes we would play "spot the egg in his beard" or "guess what he's had for lunch today".

He was a well-meaning innocuous sort of chap who wasn't particularly interested in children, especially a boisterous herd like us, so a safe bet for him was to get us drawing pictures of La Famille Marsaud and labelling their various body parts (in French, of course); this way he achieved minimum contact.

We nicknamed him "Wiggy" for obvious reasons. My first detention took place after I threw a Granny Smith apple at the bit where I thought his toupee began. Talk about an apple for the teacher! I'm not proud of what I did - I'm sure I helped to make his life hell for a few years - but I understand why I did it. I was bored. He was bored. We were all bored.

Fifteen years later I am a fully-fledged member of the staffroom, and instead of those regular sessions standing face to wall in the headmaster's corridor, I now have my own seat and mug and I converse on first-name terms with the people whose lives I once tainted. A different location, certainly, yet my viewpoint hasn't changed much since the apple-throwing incident in Mr X's language lab.

School is still, in many cases, an unstimulating environment - a shame, really, considering it is one of the few freebies in life. (And quite a time-consuming one: 140 hours a month for a minimum of 11 years.)

One of Ofsted's criteria is the promotion of "awe and wonder" in the classroom (cue for a nervous staff room chortle here) and, actually, I think the inspectorate has got a point. I'm not saying that teachers and students should be dancing on desks, stopping the cars in the school car park to the shout of "Fame! I'm going to live forever!" but it is our job to invoke interest, to inspire; in short, to teach. And if we can't do it, we should have the sense to leave it to those who can.

As a result of financial concerns, however, schools are frequently run as small businesses. In an ideal world, the welfare of the students would be at the forefront of a school's decision-making process; in the real world, the deciding factors are the welfare of the account books and the politics of the staffroom.

Let us take a closer look. Take Teacher A, for example, a member of the senior management team, Personal and Social Education Coordinator and, since last term, Special Educational Needs hotshot (and driver of a smart Volvo). His latest acquisition means that he has in his exclusive charge every student with severe learning difficulties and behavioural problems. It means he will regularly advise other teachers, that he will be in constant communication with educational psychologists, that every decision regarding one of these children's futures will be taken by him. His qualifications? A business studies teacher for 25 years. Not that impressive, especially when the kids he teaches have an irritating habit of imitating orangutans by climbing out of the classroom window.

His moral instruction in assembly is equally as limp: "Let me tell you a story about three people, somebody, anybody, nobody ... " he drawls, counting three fingers like a fascinated toddler. (I've heard it five times before and I've only been at the school two years). The theme of the story, of course, is responsibility (yet isn't one of the responsibilities of the teaching profession to stimulate?) I look at the children, 200 sombre faces, as stiff as cardboard (they know the penalty for not attending is after-school detention) and I am in awe of their patience.

So why the promotion? An internal appointment means no advertising costs and, more importantly, removing a member of staff to an admin post is more humane (and more practical) than a sacking or resignation. I can see the sense in it but the irony grates.

Another such paper shuffler, Teacher B, also in senior management and the driver of a big shiny car, is the examinations officer, which means she organises the exam timetable, seating, and reads out the rubric at the beginning of each exam. When I first arrived at the school I was in awe of her. She seemed so professional; always with a shiny ballpoint in her front pocket, always the first to speak at staffroom meetings with the quiet, almost superior, confidence of someone who has succeeded. Then one day I walked past her classroom and heard that all hell had broken loose. Resisting the temptation of going in and offering to calm the class down (I did not wish to offend, being a newcomer to the place) I collared another member of staff, who failed to see what all the fuss was about. Don't worry, he said, it's always like this.

Then there is Teacher C, head of science, a very intelligent bloke who reads Latin every morning over the cornflakes packet, and is a mentor to PGCE students from the local university. He has taught at the same school for 31 years and has broken down twice in the past week when students haven't listened to him. We are talking about daily torture here, yet what can the poor man do? He has a mortgage and a family to think of and is considered too old to try his hand at something else.

Why am I saying this? Merely to gloat because it hasn't happened to me (yet?), or to dissuade would-be teachers from entering the profession? Certainly, I would say that unless you are genuinely interested in the process of teaching, go for something else. The education option is no longer an easy one.

The pre-national curriculum days, of course, were different: then, teaching was left up to the whim of the individual; getting a decent education was like sticking your hand into a lucky dip and there were inevitably booby prizes. In the Seventies, a mathematics teacher from my home town, for example, spent her lessons painting her toenails and reading Cosmopolitan; the pass rate at O-level was less than 5 per cent. As well as there being no common curriculum to follow, there were no checks, no accountability - a cushy number for those cruising for a complacent career and a lifetime guaranteed security. Needless to say, these teachers are now finding it difficult to keep up with the necessary changes of recent years.

Moreover, as a result of the demise of corporal punishment, staff are now discouraged from having any physical contact with students (even a friendly pat could be asking for trouble). They know their rights. It's a tough ride, it's a tough environment, drugs are a common occurrence and the pupils are more street-wise than the staff.

Will the Government put a stop to this? Its Green Paper includes the idea of the "super teacher," that revolutionary initiative which will reward those who actually teach well as opposed to teaching badly. At this point, I must say I'm perplexed. Shouldn't we all be super teachers?

At the risk of seeming mercenary, I would suggest that the whole of the teaching profession be rewarded. News will travel, good pay will attract good people and will lead to improved selection. I have many articulate, energetic friends who would have considered teaching had it not have been for their penchant for comfortable living, who have inevitably ended up in the City, or in industry. I'm referring especially to men at this point (a woman's position is slightly different; there is less social pressure for her to "succeed" in career terms and teaching hours are kinder to family life). But what man in his right mind would go into teaching if he could do something else? The altruistic man? You will find the sensible ones tend to save their altruism for the weekend when they donate to Cancer Research.

Ask any school pupil if they would contemplate the possibility of teacher training college and even little Larry who's been hibernating at the back of the classroom since September will say, "Naah Miss, I want a better job than that". I am not saying that inefficacy develops with age - there are advantages to both youth and experience - but certainly we should learn from the mistakes of our elders. Indeed, to those who are currently perusing their future and considering the "easy" option of teaching, (good hols, pension scheme, fewer hours ...) I say forget it. Unless you want to wake up one day with the students pecking at your self-esteem like a flock of hungry jackdaws, do it for the right reasons. Do it because you are energetic, tough, have a wicked sense of humour and can keep up the momentum for a minimum of 40 years.

The writer has used a pseudonym.