Yesterday I let off a little steam about the ridiculous recruitment process for teaching: the tight turn-arounds and the all day ordeal of the interview day. But that's not the be all and end all of irritating things about interviews. For there is one thing that everybody dreads when they turn up to interview, and that is the presence of The Internal Candidate.
Schools are legally obliged to advertise posts - I'm not entirely sure of the legalities, and I know of exceptions where posts have only been advertised internally. In my current school, the situation is different to any I've seen elsewhere: rejiggling a job and advertising it to all-comers is their sneaky way of getting rid of a staff member they don't want. It seems really mean. But also justified in some situations.
But when I have turned up to an interview, as I did recently, and there is the dreaded Internal Candidate, it can often feel like a foregone conclusion. As indeed it was in this case. The post had been advertised, I found out in retrospect, because the Internal Candidate had never had a proper interview, and had been taken on straight from teacher training college to cover a long-term absence. So the job was his, but we needed to go through the charade so it could be made officially his.
It must be horrible for the Internal Candidate to go through the day for what is essentially their own job, but it's also horrible for those, like me, who turn up to feel like they have been duped.
All day the school's staff were popping in and out of the staff room, saying hello and good luck to the hapless fellow. The kids in the corridors were making comments on his smart attire. At break time he was chatting with his colleagues while the rest of us sat there like the spare parts we were. When we had to teach a class with a short sample of a lesson, he had the advantage of knowing the class and the pupils, being familiar with the classroom and its resources, and knowing what they had already studied that year.
But still, I retained a glimmer of hope. Maybe he was a really mediocre teacher and they were looking for the opportunity to recruit somebody more experienced, like me. By the time the formal interviews arrived, I felt surprisingly relaxed, whereas the Internal Candidate was visibly twitching and shaking. He was the last to be interviewed. I had already whittered on for far too long but hoped I'd come across as friendly if nothing else. He was in there for 20 minutes, and then it took just 2 minutes before the Head came in and asked him to back into his office. The rest of us just pursed our lips and began packing away our papers. Two minutes of post-interview discussion just screamed stitch-up. It's never taken a panel less than half an hour to come to a conclusion before. By the time the Head started to explain to us what good candidates we had all been, I just wanted to punch him for wasting my time!
Friday, 9 May 2008
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Anxiety
Getting a job in teaching is an anxious process from beginning to end. And then beyond...!
As time ticks on, panic starts to set in. That's because with teaching jobs, you can only resign at three times in the school year, with a few privately negotiated exceptions being rare. To start a new job in September, for example, you need to hand in your notice by the end of May. And as the end of May is usually half term week, any job interviews have to be completed before the third week in May. If you were to get a job after the deadline, you have to wait until Christmas to be released from your old job and start your new one... and how many employers are willing to wait that long when they have a vacancy? Which is why those jobs advertised in May and June are most suitable for those currently training, as they will be available to step straight into the role in September.
Then, if you do get a job, the sooner you do so then the better it is for your school. If they too can advertise your post and recruit somebody before the May deadline, they will have a wider pool of applicants to choose from for a September start. So the pressure is on.
If all this pressure isn't enough, there's the application and recruitment process itself. You send off your forms and letters and you wait... and sometimes you wait... Many schools don't respond to those not asked to interview and so you are left in limbo, biting off the postman's hand in anticipation. But if you do get a phonecall or letter inviting you to interview, the turn-around can be so quick. Everybody has deadlines to meet, and so it's not uncommon to find out your interview is the day after next, leaving you little time to prepare - and panic!
Then there is the day itself. This is probably the worst moment of teaching. Far worse than over-excited Year 8s on a wet afternoon, far worse than moody Year 10s last thing on a Friday, and even worse than any department meeting or bollocking from your boss. How bad can it be? Well here is the usual interview ordeal:
1. You are at the school not just for an interview, but also for informal chats, tours, inquisitions by pupils, gentle interrogation over coffee and lunch, and probably to teach a short lesson in a wholly artificial set-up.
2. You spend this day doing your rota of activities along with all the other candidates, so you are battling your competitive spirit whilst trying to look agreeable and like a good team player.
3. You are doing all this while trying to get a feel for the school, the pupils and the staff. There's so much to feel nervous about, yet so much to take in.
4. You have to make your mind up on the day whether you want the job. After formal interviews, usually with several people including the headteacher and governors, you and the other candidates sit together and fret for what seems like hours (and sometimes it can literally be that long). Then the door opens... and in comes the Head with possibly a Deputy or a governor. Sometimes they announce who got the job in front of everybody, and sometimes you are called into the office separately to be told your fate. And if you are offered the job, you have to say yes or no right there and then. It doesn't matter if you have another interview lined up for the following day or week - it's now or never.
5. There is usually no opportunity for feedback - and if you want to know why you didn't get the job, after such a stressful ordeal you probably don't want to hang around any longer after hearing the words "sorry but...". So you spend the journey home agonising over what you said in response to questions like, "What are your strengths and weaknesses?" You wonder if they didn't like the way you looked at the stock cupboard on the school tour, or whether you should have asked about computer access. Did your outfit put them off? Did you choose the wrong sandwich filling at lunch? Who exactly took a dislike to you, and why?
In all, it's a demoralising process from start to finish, and enough to make you wonder if it's better the devil you know...
As time ticks on, panic starts to set in. That's because with teaching jobs, you can only resign at three times in the school year, with a few privately negotiated exceptions being rare. To start a new job in September, for example, you need to hand in your notice by the end of May. And as the end of May is usually half term week, any job interviews have to be completed before the third week in May. If you were to get a job after the deadline, you have to wait until Christmas to be released from your old job and start your new one... and how many employers are willing to wait that long when they have a vacancy? Which is why those jobs advertised in May and June are most suitable for those currently training, as they will be available to step straight into the role in September.
Then, if you do get a job, the sooner you do so then the better it is for your school. If they too can advertise your post and recruit somebody before the May deadline, they will have a wider pool of applicants to choose from for a September start. So the pressure is on.
If all this pressure isn't enough, there's the application and recruitment process itself. You send off your forms and letters and you wait... and sometimes you wait... Many schools don't respond to those not asked to interview and so you are left in limbo, biting off the postman's hand in anticipation. But if you do get a phonecall or letter inviting you to interview, the turn-around can be so quick. Everybody has deadlines to meet, and so it's not uncommon to find out your interview is the day after next, leaving you little time to prepare - and panic!
Then there is the day itself. This is probably the worst moment of teaching. Far worse than over-excited Year 8s on a wet afternoon, far worse than moody Year 10s last thing on a Friday, and even worse than any department meeting or bollocking from your boss. How bad can it be? Well here is the usual interview ordeal:
1. You are at the school not just for an interview, but also for informal chats, tours, inquisitions by pupils, gentle interrogation over coffee and lunch, and probably to teach a short lesson in a wholly artificial set-up.
2. You spend this day doing your rota of activities along with all the other candidates, so you are battling your competitive spirit whilst trying to look agreeable and like a good team player.
3. You are doing all this while trying to get a feel for the school, the pupils and the staff. There's so much to feel nervous about, yet so much to take in.
4. You have to make your mind up on the day whether you want the job. After formal interviews, usually with several people including the headteacher and governors, you and the other candidates sit together and fret for what seems like hours (and sometimes it can literally be that long). Then the door opens... and in comes the Head with possibly a Deputy or a governor. Sometimes they announce who got the job in front of everybody, and sometimes you are called into the office separately to be told your fate. And if you are offered the job, you have to say yes or no right there and then. It doesn't matter if you have another interview lined up for the following day or week - it's now or never.
5. There is usually no opportunity for feedback - and if you want to know why you didn't get the job, after such a stressful ordeal you probably don't want to hang around any longer after hearing the words "sorry but...". So you spend the journey home agonising over what you said in response to questions like, "What are your strengths and weaknesses?" You wonder if they didn't like the way you looked at the stock cupboard on the school tour, or whether you should have asked about computer access. Did your outfit put them off? Did you choose the wrong sandwich filling at lunch? Who exactly took a dislike to you, and why?
In all, it's a demoralising process from start to finish, and enough to make you wonder if it's better the devil you know...
Monday, 5 May 2008
Teachers need more training
This morning's news is that the sun is shining on a Bank Holiday Monday. It's also, according to the BBC website, that Teachers need better training. When I saw the headline I bristled as is the way of the teacher, that the suggestion is that I'm not doing my job properly. But when I read further, I saw that it's not talking about me, but about teachers who don't do their jobs very well.
This much I have seen to be true. Last Inset day we had the usual figures waggled at us, then we all had to go back and check our last sets of GCSE pupils from a big list. Whose had exceeded their targets, thus having "value added", and which pupils had minus figures next to them? While I don't understand the maths behind the figures, the pluses and minuses formed patterns and it was obvious which teachers hadn't added as much (or any) value than others. There were several comments thrown my way, disguised in a veil of congratulations, but only thinly disguised because I could detect the snideness and disappointment. It was probably a horrible thing to do, to make us go through these figures together. Far better for quiet reflection as individuals than to sit there and squirm.
But my successes are down to one thing that I can think of. For about two weeks before each of the mock exams in Years 10 and 11 I teach the exam. I then consolidate this by using the month before study leave to do the same. It sounds obvious, but I know not every teacher does this. One top set a few years ago had never seen a real copy of the exam paper beforehand. They had seen photocopies of past sections, but nothing prepared them for the thickness of the exam booklet or the fact that there were about 12 sections and they only had to answer on three of them. I heard of at least two of those candidates who started answering questions on topics they hadn't even studied, just because they were unfamiliar with the layout of the paper and began to panic.
I know some people think that you shouldn't be teaching pupils to pass exams. Why not? They need the qualification, I want the good results, and isn't that what eleven years of schooling is working towards? It's not all I do, of course. In fact, for the rest for the time I spoonfeed my pupils the least out of most teachers I know. I want them to become independent thinkers who will go on to work or higher education being able to think and do things for themselves without being told what to do or handed step-by-step guides.
But if I was able to make suggestions to the other teachers in my department, it would be to teach the exam. Give them past papers, make notes on the types of questions that come up, get them to figure out what the examiners are testing you on when they use particular words or phrases. Give them example answers and get the pupils to grade them, then tell them what the examiners thought. Let them figure out why one answer scored much less than another. Even in the past couple of weeks my Year 11 class has been shocked in this way: one answer was full of waffle which they mistook for genius, generally awarding it 8 out of 10 when in reality it had scored 2. Unless they see what makes a good answer, how are they going to know what the examiners are looking for? We look at as many past papers as we can. They prepare notes on how to answer on particular themes and subjects. They practise writing the first paragraphs, the opening sentences, and essay plans.
It's too late now for this year's GCSE groups. I know I've done as much as I can to make the exam process clear and less intimidating for my groups. But for the rest, it's just the luck of the draw. My form group is Year 11. Last week I was tidying away some resources and asked the few who weren't chasing round the school handing in coursework who wanted my spare copies of past papers. None of them, apart from those in my teaching group, had seen any others before apart from those we did in the mocks.
Now I'm not saying that my way is the best way to prepare the pupils, but those plus and minus signs on our "value added" sheets would certainly look like I'm doing something that the others aren't. And I just wish I had the opportunity to show all of them that it really is that simple. There's no trickery or witchcraft and I'm not trying to show everyone up. It just works for me and seemed an obvious thing to do.
The study found a pupil taking eight GCSEs and taught by eight "good" teachers would score four to five more GCSE points than the same pupil in the same school taught by eight "poor" teachers. An "excellent" teacher had an even greater impact.
This much I have seen to be true. Last Inset day we had the usual figures waggled at us, then we all had to go back and check our last sets of GCSE pupils from a big list. Whose had exceeded their targets, thus having "value added", and which pupils had minus figures next to them? While I don't understand the maths behind the figures, the pluses and minuses formed patterns and it was obvious which teachers hadn't added as much (or any) value than others. There were several comments thrown my way, disguised in a veil of congratulations, but only thinly disguised because I could detect the snideness and disappointment. It was probably a horrible thing to do, to make us go through these figures together. Far better for quiet reflection as individuals than to sit there and squirm.
But my successes are down to one thing that I can think of. For about two weeks before each of the mock exams in Years 10 and 11 I teach the exam. I then consolidate this by using the month before study leave to do the same. It sounds obvious, but I know not every teacher does this. One top set a few years ago had never seen a real copy of the exam paper beforehand. They had seen photocopies of past sections, but nothing prepared them for the thickness of the exam booklet or the fact that there were about 12 sections and they only had to answer on three of them. I heard of at least two of those candidates who started answering questions on topics they hadn't even studied, just because they were unfamiliar with the layout of the paper and began to panic.
I know some people think that you shouldn't be teaching pupils to pass exams. Why not? They need the qualification, I want the good results, and isn't that what eleven years of schooling is working towards? It's not all I do, of course. In fact, for the rest for the time I spoonfeed my pupils the least out of most teachers I know. I want them to become independent thinkers who will go on to work or higher education being able to think and do things for themselves without being told what to do or handed step-by-step guides.
But if I was able to make suggestions to the other teachers in my department, it would be to teach the exam. Give them past papers, make notes on the types of questions that come up, get them to figure out what the examiners are testing you on when they use particular words or phrases. Give them example answers and get the pupils to grade them, then tell them what the examiners thought. Let them figure out why one answer scored much less than another. Even in the past couple of weeks my Year 11 class has been shocked in this way: one answer was full of waffle which they mistook for genius, generally awarding it 8 out of 10 when in reality it had scored 2. Unless they see what makes a good answer, how are they going to know what the examiners are looking for? We look at as many past papers as we can. They prepare notes on how to answer on particular themes and subjects. They practise writing the first paragraphs, the opening sentences, and essay plans.
It's too late now for this year's GCSE groups. I know I've done as much as I can to make the exam process clear and less intimidating for my groups. But for the rest, it's just the luck of the draw. My form group is Year 11. Last week I was tidying away some resources and asked the few who weren't chasing round the school handing in coursework who wanted my spare copies of past papers. None of them, apart from those in my teaching group, had seen any others before apart from those we did in the mocks.
Now I'm not saying that my way is the best way to prepare the pupils, but those plus and minus signs on our "value added" sheets would certainly look like I'm doing something that the others aren't. And I just wish I had the opportunity to show all of them that it really is that simple. There's no trickery or witchcraft and I'm not trying to show everyone up. It just works for me and seemed an obvious thing to do.
Sunday, 4 May 2008
Chinese School continues to be a joy
I wrote about the televisual pleasure that is Chinese School a while back. It continues to be amazing and heart-warming and also shocking. The dedication of the teachers is borne from the education system which instills such a sense of hard work and virtually no play. If the hours are long for the students, they are even longer for the teachers.
Class sizes in the high school seem to be between 40 and 50 and yet bad behaviour is not a problem; it's all about conformity not rebellion. And having such high levels of poverty all around them, the students know that succeeding in school is the only way to escape a way of life where fields are still ploughed by oxen and wooden ploughs and clothes are washed in dirty polluted rivers. At the charity school which takes in 5 and 6 year old children as boarders, a few of the new cohort were found to be malnourished and one had to be sent away again as he was carrying hepatitis. The children selected for the school are the lucky ones though - they are well-fed and clothed, and learn all kinds of skills as part of their education. But their sadness at being separated from their families for weeks at a time is infectious, and it can be a real tear-jerker of a programme.
It also got me thinking: what would I prefer? The British way of doing things, where classes of over 30 are said to be overcrowded, but only because the children can be so unruly and difficult to teach, or a class of 50 compliant hard-working teenagers whose own self-control and work ethic has been moulded by the state since their earliest years? The relatively short school day of 5 hours of lessons with marking and planning and extra-curricular activities, or the Chinese school day of 14 or 15 hours, starting with communal exercises before breakfast and finishing after the school closes after 10pm every evening? Crumbling school buildings or... ah, crumbling schol buildings? An interfering government which dictates the curriculum and keeps a close eye on schools by sending in government officials and penalising poorly performing schools or... oh. Some things transcend continents.
Perhaps education only takes on its true value when it really is the only way out of poverty. And that simply isn't the case in Britain, not any more. At least, it isn't perceived to be by those who would benefit from it the most.
Class sizes in the high school seem to be between 40 and 50 and yet bad behaviour is not a problem; it's all about conformity not rebellion. And having such high levels of poverty all around them, the students know that succeeding in school is the only way to escape a way of life where fields are still ploughed by oxen and wooden ploughs and clothes are washed in dirty polluted rivers. At the charity school which takes in 5 and 6 year old children as boarders, a few of the new cohort were found to be malnourished and one had to be sent away again as he was carrying hepatitis. The children selected for the school are the lucky ones though - they are well-fed and clothed, and learn all kinds of skills as part of their education. But their sadness at being separated from their families for weeks at a time is infectious, and it can be a real tear-jerker of a programme.
It also got me thinking: what would I prefer? The British way of doing things, where classes of over 30 are said to be overcrowded, but only because the children can be so unruly and difficult to teach, or a class of 50 compliant hard-working teenagers whose own self-control and work ethic has been moulded by the state since their earliest years? The relatively short school day of 5 hours of lessons with marking and planning and extra-curricular activities, or the Chinese school day of 14 or 15 hours, starting with communal exercises before breakfast and finishing after the school closes after 10pm every evening? Crumbling school buildings or... ah, crumbling schol buildings? An interfering government which dictates the curriculum and keeps a close eye on schools by sending in government officials and penalising poorly performing schools or... oh. Some things transcend continents.
Perhaps education only takes on its true value when it really is the only way out of poverty. And that simply isn't the case in Britain, not any more. At least, it isn't perceived to be by those who would benefit from it the most.
Bank holiday weekend pastimes
Just over four weeks ago, during the Easter holidays, I had a day off from working and doing chores. This weekend I'm having two days off. As it's Bank Holiday Monday tomorrow, I can do my marking then. I was going to do it today, but an excess of wine last night means that I'm watching "Frasier" re-runs in my pyjamas instead.
However, this sounds like fun too:
And Liverpool is the capital of culture, as well. Sounds very cultured.
However, this sounds like fun too:
Teachers at a conference have jeered a minister after
she talked about league tables and tests in schools.
The flashpoint involving Children's Minister Beverley Hughes happened at the National Association of Head Teachers (NAHT) conference.
During a question-and-answer session, she said thought teaching was a great job, but was jeered again by a large proportion of the teachers in the hall.
The NAHT is currently holding its annual conference in Liverpool.
And Liverpool is the capital of culture, as well. Sounds very cultured.
Did the strike work?
I haven't heard much about the aftermath of the strike, apart from parents who were inconvenienced by having to look after their own children for the day. But that was the point. Strikes are meant to inconvenience people. They are meant to show what would happen if you didn't have workers doing their jobs. They are meant to highlight what an essential service the workers provide. There was a particularly narky debate going on at Frank Chalk's blog - mostly by posters who look like they could benefit from a little extra education themselves.
Just days after the strike, we heard that several schools in the vicinity are to make staff redundant because of falling pupil numbers. Funding to schools is being cut. Staff in my school have been offered the option of early retirement. And funnily enough, in the current climate of uncertainty about pay, the pressures that an Ofsted inspection brings, the doubts and uncertainties about the new diploma system, and the proposal that schools should monitor pupils' obesity and drug use, there is no shortage of people ready to give up the job.
Just days after the strike, we heard that several schools in the vicinity are to make staff redundant because of falling pupil numbers. Funding to schools is being cut. Staff in my school have been offered the option of early retirement. And funnily enough, in the current climate of uncertainty about pay, the pressures that an Ofsted inspection brings, the doubts and uncertainties about the new diploma system, and the proposal that schools should monitor pupils' obesity and drug use, there is no shortage of people ready to give up the job.
Ridiculous ideas
Coursework deadlines, mid-term madness... I haven't had a chance to rant for a while! But then I saw this news on the BBC website:
I don't know where to start on this... the simple truth is, if you don't want to spend quality time with your own children, then don't bloody have any. Unfortunately that's not how many parents see it. Whether it's the middle class mothers whose children were just another item on their "things to do before you're 40" list along with seeing the pyramids and learning to scuba dive, or the benefits-addicted women who have their eye on a house-upgrade, there are plenty of parents who palm off their children to after-school care, weekend clubs, boarding school, or the loving care of the TV.
Now I know what you're thinking. It's expensive bringing up kids these days. It's not practical to expect mother (or father) to stay at home or work part-time so s/he can spend quality time with the children. But what are these expenses? Video games, satellite TV subscriptions, childcare, after-school classes?
I thought perhaps this was a report about giving parents benefits help instead of insisting mothers go back to work as soon as possible after the birth of their children. But instead:
And I just didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Parents who spend quality time with their children should be rewarded through the benefits system, head teachers' leaders have said.
I don't know where to start on this... the simple truth is, if you don't want to spend quality time with your own children, then don't bloody have any. Unfortunately that's not how many parents see it. Whether it's the middle class mothers whose children were just another item on their "things to do before you're 40" list along with seeing the pyramids and learning to scuba dive, or the benefits-addicted women who have their eye on a house-upgrade, there are plenty of parents who palm off their children to after-school care, weekend clubs, boarding school, or the loving care of the TV.
Now I know what you're thinking. It's expensive bringing up kids these days. It's not practical to expect mother (or father) to stay at home or work part-time so s/he can spend quality time with the children. But what are these expenses? Video games, satellite TV subscriptions, childcare, after-school classes?
I thought perhaps this was a report about giving parents benefits help instead of insisting mothers go back to work as soon as possible after the birth of their children. But instead:
Perhaps parents who spent time reading to their children, going to school parents evenings or helping out in their school, could get higher payments, she [National Association of Head Teachers president Clarissa Williams] suggested.
And I just didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
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