Politicians were never a distant entity to me as a modern studies teacher. You know the drill: it’s election time, so invite the candidates in for a hustings, organise a Q&A with the local MSP and visit Parliament with your class. Previously I’d worked for Tricia Marwick and Kenny MacAskill, so I knew politicians were (relatively!) normal.
Now, as an MSP, I’m always struck by the similarities between the classroom and the chamber. The noise and clamour to be heard in First Minister’s Questions is reminiscent of my S4s at Period 6 on a Friday. The theatre of it, too, with the usual suspects up the back, hoping not to be caught heckling. There are also similarities with staff meetings - those who believe their views merit a point of order (Every. Single. Week.) and those who will, quite confidently, take to their feet in the national parliament and allow their belly to rumble.
Sometimes Parliament makes a pupil of MSPs. “Miss Gilruth”, demanded the deputy presiding officer recently, “a question, please, not a statement!” I took the telling.
Camaraderie in teaching is important; in politics, it’s a vital support system. In 2016 we had the largest intake of new MSPs in Parliament since 1999.
Imagine the scene: a sea of keen probationers milling about with notepads, not a clue what they’re about to meet. We had an induction week, much like my probationer training in Elgin Town Hall. There was a drinks reception. Then, suddenly, it was time for business. No timetable. No lessons to plan. No bells ringing.
The same time pressures
As a principal teacher, I longed for more time: to plan a unit of work, to work with the cluster, to mark my first years’ jotters. As a politician, it’s no different. You rush from committee meetings to parliamentary receptions, to votes, to give interviews to the local radio station - it’s non-stop.
Pupils assume you live under your desk. You’ll recognise that look of shock when they spy you in Asda on a Saturday. Sometimes I think constituents think likewise, although social media helps to blur those lines and make politicians “instantly” accessible.
During constituency surgeries you can be hit by the saddest of stories and personal struggles, or meet a man who just wants the bus stop on his street moved. The same variety is true of teaching. I remember dealing with pupils who self-harmed, colleagues who had lost loved ones and fallouts between first-year girls during registration.
The ability to sit down and speak to people, to listen to their concerns and to try and help them in some way - to me, that was always what teaching was about. As a politician, I always try to remember that.
Jenny Gilruth is MSP for Mid-Fife and Glenrothes and a former principal teacher of social subjects
