As schools prepare to welcome everyone back to the classroom - with all the health risks involved - teachers can be forgiven for feeling overwhelmed and abandoned. 

Faced with Covid testing, assessing examination students in an even more unstable situation than last year, and the prospect of having to implement a catch-up agenda, it’s not surprising that we are fed up with a government that refuses to listen - even when confronted with the fact that they have lost the trust of 96 per cent of school staff. 

For the most part, there has been solidarity on social media, which is why it was sad last weekend to see a Twitter storm blowing up about the kind gesture of supplying pizza kits to teachers. 

Speculation that the pizza kits were possibly financed out of school funds touched on how the public might perceive this small perk, when there is a propaganda war going on about teachers’ worth in the context of online learning provision. 

Has there ever been a time when the education community has needed kindness more to keep going in a long, bleak lockdown?

Schools reopening: Small acts of unprompted kindness 

For many years, small acts of unprompted kindness have brightened my days in school. Friday Freddos were the initiative of one member of staff, who would leave these chocolate frogs in pigeonholes. Friday cake has long been a draw in our staffroom. After inspections, we have been treated to drinks and even food by the head.

What I liked about these gifts was that no one had calculated their cost. There were no strings attached and no one thought about quantifying the outcomes of an injection of sugar into the collective bloodstream. Public opinion was not a relevant factor.

Sadly, conditioning over the years (mainly by politicians and some media) has left teachers so trapped in the stereotype of uncomplaining saints that we can’t let down our guard and admit that we are human too.

But, in the nicest ways, what goes around comes around. It’s when I have been at my lowest that I have realised that the pupils who sat quietly in my classroom a couple of decades ago have grown up and are now making their own impact on the world. 

When my mother was admitted to hospital, who should be there in charge of the ward, welcoming us both, but a former pupil? It was quite a profound reversal, which didn’t sit entirely comfortably with a teacher who was used to being in control. 

A quiet, unassuming chorus of kindnesses

And then there was the time I was the beneficiary of the kindness of a former colleague. In my first year of teaching, Helen was my role model. I still wish I could have her magic touch. She was the charismatic embodiment of tough love, keeping challenging pupils in line because she understood them and knew them. They always believed she had their best interests at heart, and she made everyone feel as if they belonged to her family.

What I didn’t know until many years later was that her deep knowledge of pupils came from the practical ways she helped them out, including supplying some with basic uniform and other necessities.

Fast-forward to the period my mother spent in a care home. One summer morning, when I was visiting her, two carers turned up who obviously knew my mother. She brightened up as they took the time to stop and chat. I’m sure they were very busy, so such moments are truly golden. I still see that visit as a light in the darkness of that desperate time. 

Those two carers, Sarah and Kate, also recognised me from my earliest teaching days. It didn’t take long to get round to reminiscences of schooldays several decades ago. Helen’s name quickly came up. Her practical help was so significant - but it was her motivational influence that helped Sarah turn her life around. 

Sarah was so deservedly proud of how she had built a career for herself and how she was bringing up her family. I felt Helen’s guiding light behind the story. And I was greatly touched by a letter of condolence from Sarah later that summer.

I still see the four of us, sitting there, remembering Helen: a teacher who didn’t target her generosity, but who responded to the needs in front of her without diminishing the pupils. She was never patronising. I’m sure she inspired many to take control of their lives.

Teachers’ stamina and wellbeing are constantly under siege. The loud voices of the politicians and the hard-nosed press - the influencers who have constantly pushed the profession back into unsafe classrooms - form a demanding, compassionless cacophony.

We seem powerless against these deafening interest groups. So is it surprising that, in the battle for public opinion, any financial concession directed at teachers, no matter how well meant, is perceived as weakness?

We have been bombarded with narratives of lost learning and lost school hours, which we’re told will lead to an enormous financial deficit. But, after the worst of the pandemic is over and we pick up the pieces, I hope that the quiet, unassuming chorus of kindnesses will make itself heard, as we put our communities back together again. 

The author is an English teacher in the South of England