‘You and your work are essential to the change this government wants to achieve across the country, and I want our renewed relationship to reflect that.’
Bridget Phillipson’s words to the education profession are a far cry from being called ‘enemies of promise’ and ‘the Blob’ in years gone by. They’re also a great ambition. A new relationship between the profession and government is long overdue, but it can’t be dictated from the top. That new relationship needs a profession with a strong identity.
An activist professional identity
I’ve been re-reading Judyth Sachs, The Activist Teaching Profession. First written in 2003, but still remarkably relevant, it explores a professional identity based on expertise, altruism and autonomy, and rooted in principles of equity and social justice. Where ‘teacher knowledge and expertise are recognized and rewarded [and which] fosters new forms of public and professional engagement’. Teachers are ‘agents of change’, responsible for ‘changing people’s beliefs, perspectives and opinions about the importance of teaching, teachers’ social location and their role’.
Who defines teaching?
Many people have views on the role of teaching. It was pretty clear during the pandemic, when I was working for the National Education Union, that opinions were divided. Either school staff were lauded for stepping up, risking their health and building the greatest technological revolution in education ever in order to keep teaching remotely. Or they were dismissed as unwilling to work, technologically incompetent, and wanting to keep schools closed for as long as possible.
Parents and pupils have a different view too. As teaching went online, it became public for a while, and some parents took on an active teaching role themselves. Some felt that gave them a better insight into the work of schools, some began to critique the curriculum or the teaching, while others felt let down by a system that didn’t work for them. Young people, who used to see school as inevitable, started to see it as optional. They started to openly question why, in a crisis, their needs were last to be met.
And, more generally, society continues to believe that schools can solve all ills. The cost of living crisis, on top of a pandemic, on top of austerity, bringing children to school who are homeless, hungry: schools can find support. A climate crisis: teachers can teach children how to live in a deteriorating world and give them the skills to build a better one – while also helping them to manage their climate anxiety . The increasingly divisive rhetoric in politics, the press and online, amplifying a divided society, and fuelling racist and hate-filled violence: teaching will make sure pupils don’t fall prey to misinformation, challenge their stereotypes, engage in difficult conversations about controversial topics and report any extremist views. A rise in children with SEND, with mental health needs, still suffering the aftermath of a global pandemic: teachers can just adapt their teaching to meet all needs.
For many teachers, their identity could be best described as ‘tired’. They have been expected to be responsible for delivering the programme of government, be accountable to the data and to Ofsted, and be efficient in meeting the needs of pupils using dwindling resources, absorbing increased workload and filling the gaps as colleagues leave. And to do all this while being denigrated for speaking out about pupils’ needs, about school funding, and about their own workload and pay. It’s time to tell a new story.
So, in these new times, what should underpin a new professional identity?
It seems to me that these five are key attributes are key, but there will be more.
Resilience – not the ‘bounce back from everything that’s thrown at you’ sort of resilience that leads to a crisis of retention and recruitment, more an emotional honesty that looks for (and gives) support. A collective resilience, where it’s possible to say ‘no’ and to have each other’s backs.
Courage – the willingness and determination to be disruptive, and to speak out about the injustices of the current system. The bravery to dream of a new education where everyone flourishes, to work together towards those dreams, and to share and fight for those dreams.
Inclusivity – an openness to the perspectives, opinions, knowledge, and lived experiences of everyone involved in education, whether as classroom experts, academics, participants, supporters or users. With a bias towards hearing the voices of those who have been ignored and underserved by the system.
Agency – the space and expertise to try new things and build new knowledge, to make different choices and to learn from them.
Adventure – a sense of excitement at the possibilities ahead, a willingness to embrace the risk and uncertainty, and enjoyment of the journey rather than a constant measuring of the distance still to cover.
Sachs puts partnerships and practitioner research at the heart of the principles that underpin her activist professional identity – partnerships and networks to provide supportive structures, and research to provide the strategy and process for transformation. It’s clear that developing a strong identity can’t be done alone. Nor is it easy or a quick fix. But does it make a profession worth joining, and worth celebrating? What would you add?
Judyth Sachs (2003) The Activist Teaching Profession Open University Press. Quotes taken from chapter 8, The activist teacher professional.
Photo taken by me. A winter sunrise (because who’s up early enough to photograph a sunrise in the summer?)