28th November 2011

Have you ever visited Hanbury Hall?  It’s a National Trust property in Worcestershire, built in 1701 and owned by the Vernon family.  Twenty acres of luscious gardens, 400 acres of parkland and a distinguished house with a magnificent painting by Sir James Thornhill stretching over the walls and ceiling of a grand staircase.  James Vernon, a wealthy lawyer manoeuvering inside the political world, was the man who had this little motto engraved in the stone fireplace: ‘Vernons always flourish’; and they did. 

                Thinking further, I was struck by the idea of a positive statement and creation of a positive atmosphere within a family in order to promote success and achievement.  Schools do this with their vision statements and daily briefings from an enthusiastic boss.  As important though, are teachers doing it with their classes every day.  To me, it’s the foundation of relationship building; the creation of an atmosphere conducive to learning and the way to help the students love your subject even when they have flown your nest.

                Hanbury Hall does it with attention to the finer details of the building and gardens:  The discovery of a mix of the house interiors, the use of long-gone celebrity and the mystery of history with a hint of scandal.  The expansive gardens wait to be walked by romantic couples, sampling the delicious delights of the forbidden fruit garden, the orangery and the intricately laid out parterre. The people engage us, enable us to create our own vivid pictures and in the process, educate us.  It’s a story. 

Isn’t that what we do?

                As teachers, we attend to our own selves, our knowledge our teaching skills.  We plan our year, months, days and lessons, the latter in finer detail.  We use intrigue, challenge and the pursuit of knowledge to engage, educate and enable.  Hanbury has to be interesting to survive and so do our lessons.  Adults know a good deal when they see one and students know an outstanding teacher when they see one too.  ‘Our students flourish’; perhaps that should be our motto.  Over the last 30 years I have tried and still try to make the classroom a space where the students want to come.  They can feel safe in the knowledge that I am creating a framework for them all to work within: engage, educate, enable.  Their memory of ‘learning’ should be a happy one and they can pass that onto their children. 

                Today my Year 7 group is learning about smoking.  As I approach room 201, the massive pictures of past and present students on the walls are another reminder of how our school builds relationships and creates a happy positive atmosphere.  They cost a financial fortune but the spin-offs are measured in another, softer currency.

                I hate smoking.  My mother smoked.  I didn’t hate mother though.  I find inappropriate behaviour frustrating.  Some students in this class behave inappropriately. I don’t find them frustrating, just their behaviour.  That’s why being positive like Mr Vernon and his family is important.  Always look for the good in people. They flourish if you do.  That doesn’t mean being soft on them; just the opposite.  Be firm, don’t stand any nonsense, but always look for good behaviour and refer to their learning whenever it’s possible.  That’s the philosophy anyway. 

                Today I am building on the relationships that have started to blossom in the last 2 weeks.  Inappropriate behaviours are still there but they are declining and the way students are talking to each other is improving.  I hope that’s partly down to me and they are modelling that.  This will be our 10^th hour together in 12 weeks: An English teacher would have had that contact in less than 3.  As they walk in I remember my dear old mother.  She would be proud.  She allowed me to flourish.

                As they come in they’re noisy and there seems a lot more of them than usual.  There is.  To my surprise the 6 students removed for pre-tutoring since half term have returned.  Change in dynamics which I have to manage.  You wouldn’t believe there is a starter on the desk.  They ignore it.  My fault.  I am going to experiment to prove a point.  I’m not going to use micro-instructions to get attention or ‘Biffle’ them. I stand in my usual spot and decide to just say, “Right I need your attention.”  Nothing.  Not one single solitary pair of eyes on me; still chatting away as though I wasn’t there.  I feel ignored.  I raise my voice a little more, “Right I need your attention.”  The emphasis on the last word had an effect, but I still feel emasculated.  I decide to raise the volume. “Right I need your attention!”  I feel bad.  Their attention turns towards me, but their faces are a picture.  Rachael looks confused.  She won’t realise what I am doing.  They haven’t heard me shout before.  I lower the volume to a whisper.  We go through the starter wrapping up the alcohol learning from last week. 

                It’s BLP ‘collaboration’ and they are going to talk extensively.  I am scanning the room as I introduce the information and I decide to use the timer on class-tools.net in a series of two minutes for each answer.  P decides to interrupt me as I am talking and I look at her, interrupting my flow as I do.  Her eyes go down a little then back up sheepishly.  I smile and half nod my head to her in a ‘thank you’ motion. I continue. No big deal.  I have to maintain our relationship.  My job.  She has to flourish.

                I finish the instructions.  Coming to the end of transition time, I start my route and a student begins to go off-task to my left and I quickly say, “Have you finished K?” 

                “Not yet.”

                “Come on then, let’s get going,” I reply with a smile and an urgent shake of my hands.  My route takes me first to boy K and I say, “Sit yourself down K and let M get on, thanks,” as I guide him by an outstretched arm with flat palm up.  I am already half walking away giving him the time to take up my request as he sits down. Using proximity at the next table, I stand and look across the room and I feel a hand touch my arm.

                “Do I have to write the answers?” She looks up forlornly hoping for a negative.

                “Of course G, there’s the title on the board.” My instructions fell on her deaf ears this time, but I know 100% success is unlikely.  My big smile tells her that I am unconcerned that she didn’t listen, but she still has to write. 

                The timer is working beautifully.  Every 2 minutes I tell them to move on to the next question and interest peaks.  J is tapping his hands in a Dhol drum rhythm and as much as I like it, it has to stop.  I screw my face up as I look at him as though it’s hurting my ears and show him a traffic policeman palm.  He stops. I smile and make friendly eye contact.  Nice.  No interruption. Flourishing.

                The atmosphere is noisy, yet productive, so I sit down and concentrate on the timer until the exercise is finished.  They don’t need me as their conversations are enthusiastic.  Time’s up.  We discuss their answers and they gush out of them as they know they can’t be wrong. It’s all opinion.  The next activity finds the faster ones among them finishing early.  I seize upon the opportunity to multiply myself. 

                “Yes that’s lovely! Now what I want the three of you to do is to take your opinions and work with other people on other tables. Just discuss your answers with them to see if it helps them develop their own opinions.”  Facilitating.  Pulling strings.  Creating independence. Helping them flourish.

                While I am directing the GTers, I am scanning and notice 2 girls off task and completing little.  I walk over and stand still looking around the room.  They begin to write and they know why I am there.  I kneel down on the floor between them.  “Tell me what your thoughts are about number 1, P.”  She looks at me with eyes that are screaming, ‘Help!’ She tells me and they are thoughtful.  As I creak up from the floor, I look at two sets of eyes and I say in a whispery-private-conversation kind of way, “Now … I need more from you … is that clear?” I cock my head to the right a little and widen my eyes. 

                “Yes Sir.”

                I walk away and let them take up my subtle request that leaves them wriggle-room and will allow them to flourish in the short and long term. 

This has been an interesting lesson; dynamically collaborative with a minor experiment thrown in.  The latter proved a point: micro-instructions work and fluffy commands don’t.  Mr James Vernon was right.  Someone has to lead the positivity.  It was him then and it has to be me now. 

Year 7 will flourish and that’s down to me.