All the world's a stage

What have I done? What on Earth made me think this was a good idea?

With our lovely Family Liaison Officer, Rebecca, at the wheel, we approached a brightly-lit building which seemed to tower over Canterbury. I had a wave of nausea and had to open the window. 

Rewind a year. One of my Governors made a passing comment that there was an associate schools programme with the Royal Shakespeare Company and The Marlow Theatre, and maybe this would benefit our pupils.

The idea of this totally threw me. I was busy working with the staff to build a school from the ground up. Looking closely at the fundamentals, the things that really ‘counted’ - reading, writing and maths - as well as ensuring that we had a robust behaviour policy, while trying to firefight the school's damned reputation and attempting to retain the families that were leaving in droves. Shakespeare really was at the bottom of the list.

But the Governor persisted. It would be a great experience. It would really raise aspirations and give the children an amazing experience, so why wouldn’t I want to do it?

And to be honest, I was reluctant for many reasons. I don’t ever want these children to feel they were being set up to fail; they had been failed on so many levels already. I wanted to play safe, secure and within my comfort zone and thought that this was the ‘right’ thing to do. Then I started looking at the wider curriculum. Previously, it came out of a box - a set of ‘creative’ topic-based schemes of work. It was easy, activity-based and with the high turnover of staff, it really suited the needs of our school. But, goodness, it was rubbish. It had to change, and sharpish. (I’ll write something in more depth one day!)

But the arts had a big gaping hole and actually, growing up, it was one of the only things that ever brought me pleasure. Learning the piano, the cello and being part of a drama group was my saviour in some pretty dark times. If we could offer that to some of our children, then really, we should just take the plunge. I wasn’t from a privileged background, I was a latchkey kid with parents that wanted us to just ‘have a bash’ at stuff that they didn’t get the chance to. If we liked it, we carried on, and if we didn’t, we weren’t berated. Simple, really.

"These children would be great on the stage!" said Ellie, the Director Mentor for Romeo and Juliet, with utter glee. The class teacher glanced over and could see the fear on my face. The children, all amazing individuals, had never done anything like this and the panic washed over me again.  The pupils absolutely jumped at the chance, half having absolutely no idea who Shakespeare was, the other half just liked the fact they had been chosen for something ‘special’. 

…and there we were. 

I was hyperventilating in the car, swearing profusely and thinking that I was the worst Head of School in the world.

Later that evening, there they were, performing Romeo and Juliet, in front of 1000 people. 

Word perfect. Beautiful. Confident.  Making me the proudest person on the planet.

Never underestimate children. They will never let you down.

You raise the bar and they’ll be there, one step ahead, waiting for the next challenge.

It's good to talk...

Talking to a room full children is wonderful. No worrying, no nerves, no expectation to get everything right and people that will question and ponder and tell you you've written the wrong date, again.

Being in this job role has meant I've had some wonderful opportunities to talk a bit more. Collective Worship, Church services, NPQH courses and then the fabulous New Voices event last year.  I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity that New Voices gave me, a chance to share the experiences of working in a Special Measures school and the journey that had taken place so far. Aside from that, it was amazing to listen to other people share their career  highs and lows, ideas, knowledge and humorous anecdotes.  The varied and wide-ranging topics was staggering and there was a natural ease when conversing with people during and after the event, meeting people that shared their opinions, free from judgement or reprisal. Being in a pretty remote part of the circuit, it felt like a real moment to relish.

Fast forward to this year and I was privileged to be asked to speak at BrewED Wimbledon. I admit, I wasn't sure what I was going to talk about. I wasn't sure I had a story worth telling, but knowing that I had an opportunity to spend time with some people I really admired and respected and some that just made me grin, I was looking forward to it.  The great thing about BrewED events are that they are laid back. Nothing corporate, no-one trying to sell you something, no speaker rooms or hierarchy. There truly is room within education for everything and everyone, however and whenever they want to engage with it.

Despite the nerves, I was instantly put at ease by the smiling faces, some familiar and some not. A real mix of people was great, from many different sectors and all present for their own reasons. There was a feeling that people genuinely love their jobs - living and breathing opportunities to reflect and improve practice, or just to chat with a pint (or cuppa!) in an almost therapeutic way.
Twitter is great; it initially connects people in a unique way, sometimes harmoniously, often aggressively but always fleeting. The real richness is still in face-to-face connection. I think it's really important that we, as educators, are flying the flag for real, human connection, and BrewEd is one way that this is demonstrated beautifully.

Everyone who spoke had a deep connection with their topic, and that was made more personal with the message that nothing would be directly quoted on social media. This was really important for many of us, and allowed the speakers and audience to share, in more detail, and more emotion than they may have planned. One thing that really resonated was the common theme of improvement. How do we make things better? How do we move forward? How do we support our children more? It was comforting and reassuring that, despite being from all over the country, teaching or working with all ages and having differing agendas, views or insights... everything was underpinned by making things better for the young people in our care.

Thank you to all those people giving up their time to arrange, attend and speak at these events.

"We are like islands in the sea, separate on the surface but connected in the deep."  W.James.

School Improvement Plan

I've been asked to share our schools improvement plan and thoughts behind it.

When myself and the Exec Head took up our positions, we knew that we had a task ahead. I don't think we realised how much of a task it was going to be. But, one thing we had to re-work and refine over and over again, was our School Improvement Plan. When literally every aspect of the school needed work, it had to be not only a useful document that wouldn't just be shoved in a drawer, but it was vital that is was a working document, with buy in from the whole school community.

It started off as a huge, cumbersome document, and we quickly realised that it was overwhelming (mainly for me!) and in the first year, the agenda (which was supposed to be just Autumn Term) ended up lasting an entire year. I kept my own copy and scribbled, added notes, put in milestones and used it as an action plan for English, Maths and SEN provision (we didn't have anyone leading any of these areas at the time). I still have the copy, mainly for posterity purposes, but also as a reminder of how far we've come and an indicator of how we are embedding good practice, rather than establishing.

Since then, after lots of discussion, reflection and looking around at the ways other schools use their School Development Plans, we have all our objectives on a one page overview. We decided to enlarge this and put it on display in the entrance hall; one of our fab academy schools had done this and I liked the idea that we could share it with a wider audience. It also gave us some ownership and accountability. I wanted to demonstrate our commitment to improvement.

The parents, pupils, staff, visitors, stakeholders can see what we're doing, why we are doing it and how it's going. I ask that anyone who does CPD, has visitors, visits anywhere, anything to do with the wider curriculum is put on a Post-It note, with the impact and places it on the SIP Board so that we have a truly 'living' board - this is later added to the RAG rated SIP each term.

We use the OFSTED headings, mainly because it allows us to ensure nothing is forgotten in a holistic view of the school. Underneath this, we have our action plans - who, what, when. It means the entirety of the staff can take ownership of their bit to move the school forward and can see what else is being done, which bits dovetail, keeping an eye on deadlines, or areas that haven't yet been completed and what we are doing about it. It bases discussions around the impact that we are directly having on our pupils, and if the areas are still 'red' we discuss whether its relevant, useful or needs an extended deadline.

Each member of the team have a copy of the SIP. They use this to base their appraisal targets (We use Coaching into Appraisal) so all members can choose their own targets, based on our SIP, their own areas of interest or development which they want to pursue, which means that people aren't wasting their time on things already working, in place or doesn't keep the fire in their belly. Each member of staff is assigned a coach and have between 3-6 coaching sessions a year, to choose, implement, talk about, organise and action their targets, which has had a huge impact on the quantity, quality and collaborative working that has taken place across the school. I strongly believe that there is power in knowledge, and teamwork is a catalyst for positivity.

Last year's Post-It notes became a memory book of the impact we have as a collective group of people, who care deeply about the education and well-being of our children. We continued to use it as our action plan for core subjects, being a small school, i'm very aware that workload can become unmanageable if  I am expecting separate action plans for every subject, when some teachers (we only have four, one an NQT) are wearing multiple hats it just becomes paperwork for paperwork's sake, and no-one needs that!

There are still things I'd like to change. We recently had our SEF completed with an outside HMI inspector, who used the new OFSTED framework headings. I haven't yet pulled both documents together, to pinpoint more specific targets in our English and Maths and I'd like  governor objectives added to the SIP, as they are currently doing a lot to support the school's development, in terms of challenge and monitoring visits.

It's been great looking at the range of ways this is done in other schools, and some really useful documents shared to support this ongoing work.

Thank you :)

The Dude Abides

The Dude is a character from the film ‘The Big Lebowski’: a man mountain, a chilled and peaceful guy who likes bowling.

We couldn’t be more different. I don’t have a beard, for a start.

As I sit here thinking about the next 1, 3, 6 or 20 years and all the things that will or won’t happen, what could go wrong, what could go well, waking up at 3am and wondering if the DFE will ever learn to not release things over our holidays, The Dude would be chilling, drinking White Russians and telling me not to stress.  

Over the last 18 months, I’ve observed the way those I admire, look up to, work with, and support me, act. I’ve watched and listened to how they interact with others and the way they appear so calm in some of the most challenging or stressful situations. These are the people that you find quietly beavering away, running the most challenging schools, working in some of the difficult jobs in education, or have vast swathes of experience acquired from many, many years of hard work.

While still very much finding my feet and always trying to improve the way I work, I have noticed some themes.

Reflecting

Even when things haven’t gone to plan, they look at what they would do differently. They accept failure is a part of the process and don’t beat themselves up publicly. They tend to take the positives and negatives in equal measure and collectively ask how things could be done in a better way.

They don’t play the ‘what if…’ game

They deal with what’s in front of them. The curve ball is seen as a challenge, not a set-back. They don’t lay awake wondering ‘what if…’ and they don’t worry about something if it hasn’t happened yet.  

Everything is best practice

If they do something, they do it to the best of their ability. They refine and dig deeper, they check things over and over again, making small tweaks to improve their practice, and have an ability to take their foot off the gas and chill in order to ensure it’s having an impact before making any drastic decisions. They will pool their best experiences and listen to those around them, they don’t always think ‘they know best.’

They are always on hand to support

Despite the crazy, busy jobs we all have in education in one form or another, they always find time to help others. They share their experiences, offer decent advice, point me in the direction of someone who could help, or simply tell me not to worry.  These little acts of kindness have had a huge impact on me personally, probably without them realising.

They laugh, a lot - at themselves, with others, but never at people

We work in the most ridiculously wonderful places. No day is the same, everyone is unique and you’ll be collecting the stories and experiences that you’ll be repeating over dinner for years to come. They’ll regale you with a wonderful tapestry of disaster, joy or triumph, even in the darkest of days.  But, that’s just my opinion, man.

So, as we enter 2019, and we look at where we were last year and how the next 12 months of our life stories will play out, I’ll be drinking a White Russian, with my new rug that pulls the room together, because really, we should all be a bit more Dude.

No man is an Island

"We don’t do that anymore."

"We don’t go there anymore."

"They don’t visit anymore."

These are some phrases I've heard, repeated over and over again.  The closing of the door, the raising of the drawbridge.  The ease of the insular. The closing of the gates. Beauty and the Beast, Edward Scissorhands, The Secret Garden all demonstrate this beautifully. 

Shying away, feeling ugly, withdrawing from society.

A struggling school has the ability to go off the grid. Hide away and lick its metaphorical wounds for a while. But what if it wants to hide away forever? 

With small, timid steps, asking for help and opening the doors can be transformative.  In the early weeks of being SLT, a volunteer (and staff member from years ago) turned up at our office. “She wanted to know if she could come back, she heard we needed a hand,” someone said. 

My instant reaction was “Yes! Of course.” 

The church warden called. “Did we want to start using the church again for some services?”

“Yes. Of course.”

 A local Headteacher called and asked, “Do you fancy a coffee and a chat about arranging some cluster moderations?”

“Yes. Of course!” 

For months, the school had become an island. No meetings, no visitors, no workshops, no help. When you feel like the failure, like the one letting everyone down, it’s so easy to become your very own elephant in the room; everyone knows you’re there, but no-one wants to talk about ‘it’.

Slowly, the light was filtering in, and suddenly, it didn’t feel so lonely. We didn’t feel like an island.

I’ve always been the person that asks the questions, seeks the information. I'm probably far too open and honest at the best of times, but asking for help? It's something I've learned to do, and wow… there are some wonderful people in our profession, ready with resources, advice, tips, tricks and hard lessons learned, never to repeat again.

Our school is lucky to be in a very close academy group. Friendly, supportive Heads and staff, who want us to succeed, to share good practice, to celebrate achievements. Over the last 18 months, I’ve seen many, many schools, visited lots of people for advice, attended workshops, conferences and have welcomed lots of visitors to the school. The doors are firmly open for anyone to visit us at any time; we are proud of the school we have become and hope to repay those that have helped us.

So, open the windows and lower the bridge. People are there to help, to support and to encourage.

Let the light in.

The children in the shadows

There's the child that holds the door open, while their (usually) louder friend goes first; there's the child, whose name is always on the tip of your tongue before calling on them; then there's the quiet and reserved ones, often polite, often trailing just behind their friends. The children in the shadows.

We need to bring these children into the light. They practically do our jobs for us. They pacify, listen, nurture, reason, and offer a hand of support to those that struggle.  They can be found bringing a hurt child in from the playground, checking why a classmate isn't in school today, asking you, the adult, if you had a nice weekend.

I've noticed recently that while we are all busy dealing with the children struggling, the children that have the loudest voices, the children who need extra support and nurture, we are guilty of forgetting about the children that always do the right thing.

They are on time, in the correct uniform, polite, hard working, reflective and have their heads down. There has been recent discussions on social media around rewarding children for attendance. I think there needs to be some thought towards why we can't celebrate these children.

Yes, we praise and lift those that may struggle, we offer pastoral support to families with medical need and family difficulties, in order to ensure they are getting the education they deserve, and we will continue to do so. Ultimately, we have a  whole school vision and goal as leaders, and we have to reward (not even for material gain, in most circumstances) those children that are bringing our vision to life.

We must bring the shadow children, into the light. They should be praised for doing what we have been fighting to achieve. We should sometimes look over the head of the child who is vying for attention and gently check in. A quick hello, a smile and a 'how are you doing today?' is powerful. It reminds us and them, that they matter, that they are noticed and most of all, they are valued as part of our whole community.

As a school, we celebrate our 'good to be green' children. These are pupils that have been consistently 'Green' for an entire term. They aren't boastful, and they aren't large material rewards. Sometimes it's smoothies and board games, sometimes it's a forest school session. However we celebrate, we are chatting about their day, finding out more about them, embracing the stolen moments in a laid-back way.  Just spending time together, and sometimes, time is all they need.

The sound of silence

Today, during the remembrance service, there was silence.

It was a joy to behold.

Having worked as the Head of School for 18 months with the starting point of 'Special Measures', silence was a rarity. In between staff managing low level behaviour (the whispering, the clicking, the rocking, the silly noises, the calling out, and so on) and the teachers filling the air with constant (and relentless) positive  praise, it had become a wall of sound. A place in which silence meant something was wrong. The sharp intake of breath that meant something awful had happened, the split second of fearful calm, before the inevitable storm.

Our team have worked incredibly hard to consistently and calmly implement a robust and simple behaviour plan. The drip, drip, drip of the same routines, the same structure, the same outcomes. Boring? Yes. Repetitive? Yes. Effective? Yes.  Our aim is to make every child feel like an equal, based on mutual respect and fairness. Children that struggled? We provided them the tools and strategies to meet our expectations.

Today, the silence wasn't just a school that was participating in an order of service to remember and respect our soldiers, both past and present. It was a school full of pupils that could finally give respect to themselves and others, willingly.  Pupils that could finally understand that silence isn't just about conformity, but an opportunity to reflect, embrace, consolidate and give space to their own thoughts.