Following a Tes debate about teacher burn-out on Thursday night, I got talking to a science teacher who taught in one of the most deprived wards in central London. I told her of my deep admiration for challenging herself to teach in one of the toughest areas in the country, and then the conversation moved on to me.

I’m currently the head of history in an international school in Spain. Her response was “I could never teach in a private school.” This triggered a memory for me. About seven years ago, as an new teacher, I remembered saying exactly the same thing to a former colleague.

So what changed?

It wasn’t that my desire to support those at some kind of disadvantage had in some way waned. What’s altered has been my willingness to compromise on this passion for something more essential - a genuine work-life balance, having an actual “life”. When I made the decision to teach in what is essentially a “private school in an international setting”, in 2016, I didn’t really think much about it. But, more recently, it’s something I’ve thought about a lot more. Am I becoming a poorer teacher because I’m teaching in an “easier” environment? Am I failing the wider world and society compared with the teacher I met on Thursday? Put simply, am I a sell-out?

I had a chat with an international teacher colleague just this week, and he gave a really interesting response. It deserves to be published in full because it’s a powerful reflection of the debate many teachers have with themselves within the sector:

“It’s an interesting question about the private international thing. I have wrestled with this a lot as well, especially since I entered teaching with this big idea that - as someone who kind of ‘broke out’ of the working class thanks to getting a good education - I wanted to ‘give something back’. The question is what do I want to give, and to whom?

“This morning, I was doing a cover lesson in which the class was thinking about poverty patterns, and I highlighted that up to 20 per cent of people in the country in which I teach live below the national poverty line. So how can I keep a clear moral conscience and teach the wealthy elites rather than the ones who ‘need’ it? A big thing I’ve come to terms with is that, just as nobody chooses to be born into a deprived family or area, nobody chooses to be born into wealth. It is not the kids’ ‘fault’ that they are privileged financially.

“The reality for many of students I teach is that they have problems, just like their deprived British peers. The difference is that the deprivation is often emotional neglect - their parents are often working long hours, or are away a lot, and so school has an incredibly important role to play in offering them safety and boundaries. I think giving structure and support to those kids is as justified a job to do as teaching the most deprived.

“With privilege comes responsibility. The reality is that, in these places, we could be teaching future leaders of business and industry and politics. And I’d much rather them get their education from ‘normal’ teachers like us rather than teachers who themselves don’t recognise or realise what privilege is, or know what the ‘real’ world is like. If my lesson this morning has only planted the seed in the mind of one kid that grows into a social conscience that they then use when they’re the boss of a huge corporation, or a government official, I could have ‘saved the world’ just as much as I did when I taught in a special-measures school in the UK.

“We have experiences and stories about a different world to these kids that we share with them, and I know first hand that they can - and do - have lasting repercussions in the hands of ex-students who go on to become powerful, yet humble and morally aware. Then there’s the other issue that not all kids we teach really are that wealthy. In Africa, I knew of a good few kids I taught whose fees were only covered because the entire family saved and contributed to give that one kid the leg up.

“Out here, I teach a lot of embassy kids - they are only here because mum/dad got a posting that moved them abroad for a few years, and the embassy pays the fees. One family, who are good friends, moved back to the UK in the summer and their kids returned to the local comp. They couldn’t afford a private education in the UK and the only reason they got one here was because their parents’ work paid for it. I think they deserve to be taught by someone who cares, just as much as they would if they were still in the UK.”

I read that and I thought: “Wow.” 

Of course, the underlying ethics will always pose questions, but this certainly made me think and question the questions. 

Thomas Rogers is a teacher who runs rogershistory.com and tweets @RogersHistory

For more columns by Tom, view his back catalogue

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