Foreword

This book is the result of much discussion with young professionals, and experienced teachers, over my twenty-plus years in education. It aims to meet a need that has become apparent to me as I’ve sat and listened to exuberant (but at times disillusioned) young teachers over a cup of tea in the staff room, trying to navigate the uncharted waters (as they were wont to describe it) of teaching. It aims to dispel the myths, uncover the secrets, and provide useful tools that the young educator can apply to their everyday work life. More than that, however, it is also hoped that experienced teachers well on their path of life-long learning may glean some useful information from these pages and my experiences. Or, at the very least, know that they are not alone in their struggles.

 Above all, I want this to be a practical book. Each chapter is divided into various categories, dealing with a range of topics from the classroom, to the staff meeting and everything in between. Readers will find practical solutions to problems (and ways to avoid unnecessary complications) when it comes to parents and other staff members.

There is no silver bullet. But I offer a range of weapons (for want of a better term) that the teacher can employ, in what has become a battlefield of competing ideologies, philosophies and practices in education. Various stakeholders - from politicians, to parents, executive members of staff, and well meaning friends - are all competing for the ear of the educator. But in this book, readers will discover a way forward that empowers them as teachers to take education into the twenty-first century. It’s a journey that I ask you to join. Come, let’s walk together.

P. A. Matthews.

1

Starting on Common Ground: Kids are Dumb.

"Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not

sure about the former."

― Albert Einstein

So. You’re about to start teaching, and you’re concerned that you don’t know enough. You fear the clever child in the front row who raises their hand like a periscope before launching a missile at you in the form of a question, to which you might not know the answer. You spend an inordinate amount of time planning your lessons as though they are a University Assignment, anticipating questions like a General might anticipate the movements of an enemy’s troops. You research, you check, you cross-reference. And then, like a trooper parachuting into enemy territory, you cross your fingers and leap into the proverbial darkness of the night that is your classroom. Sound familiar?

Well, I have some good news for you: kids are dumb.

I don’t mean a man-they-do-some-silly-things kind of dumb. No, I mean dumb. Stupid. Simple. That’s kids.

Let me explain. For a start, the most obvious thing that you must notice as a teacher is that you are the oldest person in the room. Secondly, you are the only one who has graduated from school, successfully completed tertiary studies, and is now contributing to society. They have not. Their world is their phone, their Instagram/TikTok/Snapchat accounts (or whichever new social media fad has captured their fickle hearts), their friends and their parents, who (if we are honest) are also quite possibly dumb. That’s one of the things that you can keep in your mind as you teach, to keep you focused and feeling okay about yourself and your teaching: dumb parents produce dumb kids. So, in any given classroom, you are likely to have a workable percentage of the class that really don’t know anything; to them, you will be like a god. The others, I admit, can be problematic. But here’s what I’ve found. Even the so-called ‘intelligent’ ones are still dumb, by virtue of the fact that they are kids. It’s really that simple. The ones that do have a particular area of interest (like astronomy, or history) generally only know what they’ve seen on some documentary or heard from their parents, who (let’s remember) are possibly also dumb to begin with. Their knowledge is generally so obscure that no one cares about it but them anyway, and they can quickly neutralised simply by asking them a question that is more general in nature.

Let’s say you have a kid in your English class who is a self-confessed literature/history buff. You might be conducting a very stimulating lesson on Shakespeare’s Othello, only to have the little genius pipe up with a question about whether Shakespeare in fact wrote these plays at all, or whether it was in fact Edward De Vere, the Earl of Oxford. What you need to know, first of all, is that this is all about him, not learning, so there is no need to indulge the Little Professor. Here’s what you might say: ‘That’s an interesting idea, but given the topic is about the play’s thematic concerns, rather than the author, that’s probably something left until after class.’

Boom!

Or, you might ask him to hold that question for later, but ask him instead what he thinks about what you’ve just read/seen/discussed in the play. Likely, because he was really only thinking about his question, he will not know the answer. The result: he is dumb after all (and now both he and the class know it). Alternatively, if that doesn’t work, you will probably find that although he knows something of Edward De Vere, he doesn’t know how to rule a straight line. Either way, you, as the teacher, have all the time in the world. Sooner or later the child will reveal the chink in their armour and you can relax in the knowledge that they are, in fact, a dumb kid like all the rest (with a little bit of obscure knowledge on the side).

As you continue to teach, you will be constantly amazed at how dumb kids can be. In a sense, nothing can prepare you for this - and it is something that I have found has kept the sense of wonder and surprise in my job over many years. You need only refer to someone famous for actually doing something, (unlike their favourite social media celebrity) to find kids know nothing. Mention Nelson Mandela in some educationally-related anecdote and then stand back and marvel at their blank expressions. Use a well-known proverb such as ‘all’s well that ends well’ or ‘It’s not the be-all and end-all,’ and be prepared for a facial expression equivalent to the combined talent of the Kardashian family: zip.

 I have even had to define a word like ‘coward’ to a group of high school students. Having endured the initial silence following my statement: ‘You all know what it means to be a coward right?’ I then phrased it within a personal context, in order to facilitate (an excellent educational word, drop it into your Parent Teacher Interviews [see Chapter 5 and the Glossary for more details]) the correct response. I asked, ‘If someone said to you: You’re a coward! how would you feel? What are they saying?’ I got the following: ‘You’re strong?’ Others in the room thought this was ridiculous and some even smirked. And then came the other guesses: Silly? Brave? And on it went. Suffice to say, it proved to me once again that kids are dumb. A kind of ‘I weep for the future’ moment, straight from the mouth of the snooty waiter in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

Mind you, this is not a new concept. Four hundred years ago William Shakespeare wrote about two dumb teenagers in the iconic Romeo and Juliet. Many have seen it as the ultimate love story: a tale of soulmates cast against the backdrop of stubborn tradition and parents who just don’t understand. Surely we are not so easily misled. Shakespeare showed us in his play not the virtues of love, but the follies of youth. Romeo is a depressive, love-sick loner who is apparently in love with Rosaline until Juliet comes along. If it were today, Romeo would be spending his time sliding into Rosie’s DMs with love poems and updating his insta page with forlorn looking selfies and vague sentiments like, ‘so over it’ in the hope that some of his friends might take the bait and reply. This type of vaguebooking is typical of the teenage mindset. The curious creatures post vague statements on their feeds that go out like a net, hoping to reel in some caring and concerned friends who might ‘lighten the load’. This attention-seeking behaviour is then incomprehensibly coy when one of the aforementioned friends (they both know Sally – OMG it’s such a small world!) queries the post – ‘What’s up hon? You ok?’ – to which the teenager replies: ‘Just some personal stuff.’ You might at this point wonder why the teenager bothered to post anything in the first place.

Don’t.

Try to figure them out, and you will be setting yourself up for failure. They make very little sense, and it’s futile (and pathetic) to try to see the world through their eyes. 

You will find that teenagers also can’t follow simple instructions. It’ll be three quarters of the way through the year and they will wander into your class and sit and their tables with a blank expression. Of course, much of the educational theory around these days is focused on keeping kids ‘engaged’ (which is just educational jargon for ‘entertained’), so many will be waiting for you to entertain them for the next 50 or so minutes of their life. Few will think to open their books to the last piece of work they did, or get a pen in their hand. The fact that you’ve told them any number of times that they need to walk into class and be prepared to start work is irrelevant. You will have to tell them to open their books…and some of them will find this difficult. More than one hand will be raised and those brave enough will ask if they can