Two-thirds of teachers feel undervalued, says OECD study as reported http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-27985795.
It’s a fair point. They get up every day ready to be in school between 8 & 9 am, apart from the 13 plus weeks of the year when it’s the school holidays, obviously. They sit through a good few hours of lessons trying to pass on wisdom to an audience that might rather be playing on the X-box. Often with the inclusion of the odd little Jonny, who, despite being English, is more likely to become the US president than sit still without misbehaving for a whole lesson. They endure a tortuous lunch hour when they’ve either got to marshal the tear-aways in the playground or sit huddled together with other similarly worn down dreamers in the staffroom. Then between 3 & 4 pm the dark clouds part and a ray of light enters the room as the little rascals drift away, scruffier than when they arrived, and preparations begin to repeat the exercise all over again tomorrow. In between times there might be the added bonus of an extra curricular activity and a bit of homework to be getting on with.
All that and not a word of thanks from anyone. The only recognition comes when poor little Jonny’s parents introduce themselves and him as the victims of teacher bullying – the fact that he might have stuck chewing gum in a class mate’s hair and sworn at the teacher trying to break up the ensuing fight is little more than a neglected detail.
Sounds to me like they’ve got a point. As Aristotle proclaimed, “Learning is an ornament in prosperity, a refuge in adversity, and a provision in old age.” Surely if there is nothing more important than education, then there is nothing more important than the providers of education!
Hold on – let’s take a step back to provide some balance. I get up at 06:45 to make it to the office at 07:30 each day – that’s when I’m in the office and not travelling. I sift through a raft of about 50 emails. A few trying to sell to me, several we’d refer to as “arse covering” and then maybe 1 or 2 of any actual value. Then the meetings start from around 09:00 and go right through to the end of the day, with odd gaps here and there. I grab a sandwich for lunch which I eat during a meeting, much to the annoyance of the presenter, who recognises my attention is more focused on the misery of the slightly damp bread rather than his navel gazing analysis. Then everything starts to wind down and I head for the exit at around 5:30pm so that I can get back home for 6:00pm. A quick bite to eat, some time with the children and the it’s onto looking through the actions that I’ve picked up during the day and adding them to the growing list that I should have completed yesterday. Then before I know it the alarm’s bleeping and we’re off again.
To be fair, every month the cycle is broken by a trip or two and as I’m sure you appreciate, travel is an absolute luxury. It’s usually by plane, which means waking at 05:00 to get to the airport for 06:00, so that I can wait around in discomfort for a good couple of hours. Then a squeeze into a seat that was surely modelled by primary school children and off we go. Mid-way through I’ll be provided with some sort of cold sandwich, which provides little benefit other than passing the time, before the man in front decides I need to study his male pattern baldness in more detail by reclining his seat. I’ve so far avoided the temptation to provide it with a Benny Hill like slap, but I won’t be able to resist forever. After a few hours of being bumped around and losing any feeling in my legs, we endure a slightly nerve-wracking landing. Then it’s off to stand in a clearance queue before the “will it/won’t it turn up” conundrum of the baggage carousel. I’ll always remember standing at a UK airport, hearing an announcement stating that one of the baggage trucks hadn’t made it to the plane, so half the bags were left on the departure runway. Shouts of “Come on my bag!” as if watching the Derby, echoed through the hall.
Feeling relieved, bags in hand, it’s off to the taxi rank for a journey of unspeakable horror with a driver of suicidal tendencies – this applies especially in European and South American countries and maybe others I’m yet to visit. I suppose the clue is in the missing seat belts and cracked windscreen, but his car is next in line and you get what you’re given. At the hotel, a quick beer to relax before checking out the room service – it’s seldom much fun sitting Billy-no-mates in a restaurant on your own. Then crank up the PC and attempt to log onto the email server through the hotel’s exorbitantly priced internet service. As the emails download at pre-broadband speed the TV goes on and you flick through a good 50 channels to find the only 2 that speak your language. After the second news re-run, you flick through again – surely there is something you missed. In the end it comes down to your language but boring, some irrelevant sport that you’re not the faintest bit interested in, or music. The music goes on and you start working through all those emails that you’d have got to at 07:30 had you stayed in the office, only now it’s 8pm in the evening. Lights off at around 11pm and a quick review of the day shows very little achieved apart from being a long way from home. All that and not a word of thanks – and I only get a few weeks holiday a year, which I can only take when the Company allows me and the prices are through the roof.
I feel undervalued. Why is no-one writing about me?
Perhaps the truth is that most employees feel undervalued to some extent. They feel that they work too hard and make too many sacrifices without so much as a by your leave. It might not be perfect, but unfortunately, that’s life and the recognition comes in the form of a pay check.
Do I value what teachers do? Yes Do I think they are undervalued? Yes Do I think they deserve greater recognition? No more than the vast majority of those being paid to do a job.