The children stared at me blankly. “What does she want us to do?” one of the most able students whispered, keen to avoid getting into trouble, while the regular supply teacher, Mrs E, shuffled through a pile of papers. She darted in and out of the room, looking for her lesson plan, activity sheets, memory stick and list of laminated words.
Experience had taught me to spend time before the lesson pinning Mrs E down, asking a list of salient questions to determine exactly what was being taught, the learning objectives and what she wanted the children to do.
I had worked with her for several years and, though well-meaning and experienced, she was fundamentally disorganised and I found her endless faffing extremely frustrating.
I knelt down beside the desk to explain. As usual, I was left to save the lesson by giving the students some kind of steer on what was going on. Yes, I know it normally works the other way round – the teacher explains what is wanted to the teaching assistant (TA). But myself and year 2 no longer had this luxury.
This is why last week’s Secret Teacher annoyed me. The way they dismissed TAs as “hit-and-miss”, “out of their depth” and, most hurtful of all, “adding nothing to lessons” really rankled.
I love my job and the majority of teachers I work with are fantastic. They explain what they want, how they want you to support different ability groups and make lessons interesting, active and fun.
But I have also worked with those who pitch lessons too high or too low, and have no idea how to amend it. Some can’t talk to children in an age appropriate way and fail to control the class. Bawling “one, two, three, eyes on me…” over and over again at the top of your voice while the children shout out, crawl round the carpet and ignore you is not effective classroom management. And this is where the TA can save the struggling teacher’s bacon.
I have frequently devised activities on the hoof to maintain the momentum of a badly-pitched lesson – getting out 100 squares for the lower-ability group or grabbing some dice and whiteboards for an extension activity for the higher-ability children. And – knowing the children and sanction schemes as I do – I’ve regularly had to carefully gauge when to intervene as the classroom descends into chaos. I also do all this without stepping on the teacher’s very sensitive toes.
Last week’s Secret Teacher needs to recognise that they and Andrea, the TA that was causing them so much trouble, are accountable to each other. They need to sit down with her before lessons – or email or ring – and detail how they want her to support and enhance the lesson. Andrea needs specifics – how to support individuals or groups (and the latest research tells us TAs should be supporting higher-ability children while the teacher works with those who are struggling), what resources they want prepared and how they can work together to make the lessons engaging.
Man up, Secret Teacher, and make the most of your TA – we’re an invaluable resource when used properly. Put some real work, time and effort into the relationship and developing the channels of communication instead of moaning.
Talking of invaluable resources, most schools get an absolute bargain when it comes to TAs. When I started nine years ago, I had just left a high-level role in management and yes, hands up, I wanted a job that gave me the school holidays with my children.
But I brought motivation, life experience, a degree and a master’s, wide-ranging interests and a passion for making a difference to children both emotionally and educationally. Many of the TAs I know have fascinating backgrounds; they are educated to degree level and have boundless energy, interests and enthusiasm. Yet they are lucky if they are paid between £13,000 and £15,000 a year.
Without a doubt, as the Secret Teacher points out, there needs to be more investment in TA training. Not just to assist those like Andrea who are not “nasty or difficult but lack the training to be an asset in the classroom” (excuse me while I choke on the staffroom instant coffee), but because the more you put in, the more you get out.
A few years ago, my headteacher agreed to send me on a level 3 course in learning support. It was a fantastic experience and made me a more informed, proactive practitioner. Very kindly, my school funded my studies. I didn’t realise how unusual this was till I met the other 20 students on the course who were all paying their way. They had also forked out for their previous level 2 qualification. They said it was the only way they could get a job, which for a salary of £15,000 tops, is what I call commitment.
Teachers, and managers especially, love to tell TAs how important we are, how schools couldn’t function without us (true). But they would rather we paid for our own training and did an extra qualification in telepathy. Let’s try, on both sides, to make the relationship work and improve the education of the children in our classrooms. After all, that is what both teachers and TAs are supposedly all about.
• This article was amended on 10 November 2015. The name of the supply teacher, which was fictitious, has been removed to avoid confusion with any teachers of the same name.
