When I think about my school experience, there are few positives I can take from it. By the time I left secondary school, I had already experienced two exclusions. Consequently, I left with only four A-C GCSEs and very little idea of what I would do with my life. As the eldest of three children, the weight I felt on my shoulders to succeed was immense. And the feeling of disappointment was even greater. My parents, who immigrated from Nigeria in the 80s, were incensed at how I was wasting my golden ticket to a better life. For them, education was vital because back home it was a luxury their families couldn’t afford.
I had many difficulties in school; I struggled to engage in particular lessons and often felt a lack of motivation. Admittedly, I was a class clown, and almost definitely used my humour and buffoonery at the wrong time on one too many occasions.
The one shining light was Ms Sponge. She was my English teacher for much of secondary school and very quickly became my “school mother”. It was a running joke that I was the teacher’s pet; a title I earned not because I was a goody two-shoes – quite the opposite. I was cheeky, humorous, and sometimes loud, but Ms Sponge never made me feel in the wrong. Instead, she helped me discover a love of writing. By calling me up to read in front of the class or asking me to share my stories, she created an arena for me to excel and did what no other teacher was capable of – seeing beyond my defence mechanism of being a class clown and bringing out the best in me. In her class, I read and wrote stories and acted in plays that were far removed from my reality. Soon, I began to relish English lessons, knowing every writing task was an opportunity for escapism.
My love for the written word hit new heights when I started writing my own poetry. This developed into songwriting, which very quickly became my favourite way to express myself. Before long, I started performing songs in school assemblies, which gave me the confidence to perform at music events when I left school. Writing, in all its forms, was my passion and something I had a natural talent for – but I’m not sure I’d have ever discovered it were it not for Ms Sponge. She cultivated my skills and saw me for who I was; an empty vessel waiting to be used to bless others.
Despite her impact on me, I never dreamed of becoming a teacher myself. Even when I eventually found myself working in education after university, I was initially content with the impact I was making as a teaching assistant and a sports coach. However, the more I worked with disadvantaged children, the greater my desire to make the leap became. I wanted to change the narrative for young boys who came from similar backgrounds to mine, I wanted to be the role model I needed growing up – and I soon realised that becoming a fully fledged teacher was the best way to do this.
Fortunately, I knew what a good teacher could do for a child’s confidence and development; Ms Sponge’s kindness and love for teaching planted a seed in this young boy from East Ham. Despite the odds stacked against me as an excluded child, I went back to university to qualify as a teacher and now use my love of writing as a way to engage my students. I teach children who have social, emotional and mental health issues (SEMH) and most of them have had some type of adverse childhood experience.
When I prepare my resources, I often incorporate my own stories, poems and song lyrics, and then get up in front of my year 6 pupils and perform as if I was headlining the Royal Albert Hall. It’s important for them to see me read so they, as young boys, learn to love the written word too. But I believe it’s also important for them to hear about my cultural experiences: what it was like growing up in a Nigerian household or being a teenager in east London.
As a young, black man who never had a black male primary teacher, I appreciate that representation matters. Some students can relate to my experiences; for others I provide a new perspective. Ultimately, sharing my authentic self is what makes me unique, and I encourage my students to do the same. I also urge them to read aloud to others, because their voice and experiences deserve to be heard.
Children are ready and waiting to absorb knowledge, as long as you give them the chance to take the lead in their learning. This is why I love being a teacher, particularly to primary school children; to play a part in shaping the lives of the next generation is a privilege, and something I never take for granted.
As an educator in an SEMH school, you don’t hear many “thank yous” on a day-to-day basis, but the seed you sow in your students can’t be underestimated. And with the uncertainty and confusion brought on by the pandemic, there’s never been a more important time to remind teachers that they’re doing the most important job in the world.
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