Secret teacher: Issue 99

So, it's inspection time again. As usual, in the Drama department, the first questions spring to mind. Number one, why isn't there a Drama specialist as part of the inspection team? Two, how will I make sure the rehearsal of the drama production they are now coming into after school on Wednesday looks like a National Theatre rehearsal rather than a Covid-depleted stagger through Act One Scene One. And finally, three, why has it now been decided that I have to tidy the entire area which we refer to as ‘the drama store’ as it is a health and safety hazard, when it wasn't last week, last term or even last year.

I am sure this is nothing to do with SLT panic or using drama as some sort of show pony to show off extra-curricular activities. Another colleague explains their exasperation at all the pre-inspection tension and how ‘they won't get anything different from me, I will do my usual lessons.’ Well, really? They are going to get my best, weapons grade, showcase set of lessons during the week. Every trick in the book is coming out. Those lesson plans are going to be assessment-objectived to with an inch of their lives. I might even wear a suit.

The other response is usually, ‘well, I don't think they should give us any warning at all, they should just show up and see us as we really are.’ I'm not sure how I feel about that. I guess it depends on whether I've been out the night before.

In the run up to inspection, the usual conversations occur with friends. ‘Why shouldn't you be inspected?’ ‘People with normal jobs get checked up on all the time.’ Stuff that I can't argue with, but for some reason, inspection week never feels like a chance to celebrate success or that it's done in a supportive way. There is no sense of discussion or collaboration. How about we team-teach with the inspectors and see what ideas they have to inspire, consolidate and evaluate? We could then compare notes.

It starts next Monday. Is it a panicked weekend of checking and rechecking? A late Sunday afternoon run into the building to see if I have enough extra copies of Blood Brothers in case someone forgets theirs? Or is it the positive mindset of ‘I have been doing this for 30 years and I know what I am doing. It's a chance to show someone how good I am at this.’ I decide to go with the latter, but I'll also go and dig out that suit.

Do you have views you'd like to express anonymously? Get in touch with the editor at sarah.lambie@markallengroup.com and ask if you can contribute a Secret Teacher column. We'd love to hear from you!