I’ve got another job. I’m adding to my patchwork week (sorry, I mean “portfolio career”). This new role is in community learning and I’ll be teaching art, drama and music to adults with learning difficulties and disabilities. I can’t bloomin’ wait.

I’ve worked part-time in the community before, in alternative provision for 14- to 16-year-old boys. It was dangerous, depressing and stressful. Although there was an occasional breakthrough, the place functioned more as a not-so-merry-go-round for young offenders’ institutions. Most students were from dysfunctional backgrounds, and many were part of a culture where crime and violence was the norm. Resetting that ingrained survival strategy wasn’t impossible but it was very near to it within the few contact hours we had. The staff were dedicated but the provision was chaotic. I struggled without firm boundaries, but I stuck it out for a year.

Working in that environment brings a certain amount of teacher kudos. It’s obvious that you can handle yourself. I like that. I’ve earned it and it’s true. I’m good at behaviour management and can tackle really difficult teaching situations.

There’s a different sort of respect given to those who teach people with learning difficulties and disabilities - an area I’ve worked in for years. The other day, I saw a much-shared meme: “‘Most people don’t realise that special education teachers are really angels disguised as extraordinary humans.” I’ve met hundreds of teachers who work with students with learning difficulties or disabilities and, like all teachers - like all people - some are arseholes. Most aren’t, but certainly none of them is perfect.

Rewarding experiences

When you work with people who have disabilities, there is a phrase you hear a lot: “It must be so rewarding”. It’s meant as a compliment, but why do people make that assumption? Do they believe there’s an amplified sense of accomplishment that comes from supporting the progress of those they see as vulnerable? Is it a comment on the patience, empathy and compassion required for the role? No one (outside the profession) ever linked those qualities to my job when I was teaching functional skills to huge groups of public services students or teenage bricklayers, yet I had to dish out shedloads of patience, empathy and compassion just to get through the day.

There’s nothing charitable about the rewards I get from working with people with disabilities. The groups are small, there are support professionals working alongside me and I have the time to get to know learners well. In addition, high value is placed on individual distance travelled rather than pressure to pass an out-of-reach qualification, so the act of learning drives the session. For most teachers, that would be an absolute luxury.

Seeing progression in any student is, of course, rewarding. But the rewards from teaching learners with disabilities are in no way linked to celestial attributes. Not for me anyway. It’s more about having a happy working life.

Sarah Simons works in FE colleges in the East Midlands
@MrsSarahSimons