Ask any teacher in Scotland how they are feeling at this point in the term, and the response is likely to be a regional variation of any the following: exhausted, knackered, wabbit or, my own personal favourite, “pure done in”.
There is no doubt that the past few months have been a significant test of all our inner reserves. The stresses have come from different sources: the exam results confusion; the preparations to make schools safe for young people; the variations in timetables (double or triple lessons have become the new norm for secondary schools). All this against the backdrop of significant anxiety among teachers and pupils about returning to our educational establishments.
These stresses have also come after the most challenging and controversial period in recent memory in our profession.
The need for us to remain calm and positive, and to present as being in control - when in reality we are anything but - has required qualities that many of us might not have believed we had. These superhuman degrees of inner resilience will continue to be pivotal for the rest of this academic year. Dealing with uncertainty at every corner, our capacity to cope will continue to be tested.
I have always found it strange that, given how much resilience teaching demands in a conventional year, it is not a quality that is discussed more in educational circles. This is why I spent many late evenings in the depths of lockdown researching and writing a book examining resilience’s role in helping teachers to thrive in the classroom. I read far too many books on the subject, and sought out the voices of as many teachers as I could to find out what helps to sustain them in our wonderfully challenging profession.
A first discovery cheered me immensely, given that I am a chap who has rather heightened anxiety at times. Resilience is a quality that is not fixed - we can continue to grow and develop it throughout adulthood.
The term “neuroplasticity” was first coined by Polish neuroscientist Jerzy Konorski in 1948 to describe observed changes in neuronal structure (neurons are the cells that make up our brains), although it wasn’t widely used until the 1960s.
Scientists used to believe that the brain was fixed, and that at the age of 25 we were effectively hardwired. Now, the more accepted belief is that we have the capacity to grow and develop aspects of our brains, and resilience is a significant part of that. It requires us to make intentional changes to our thoughts and behaviours, then, through this process of neuroplasticity, our physical brains can change to reinforce the skill.
If that is, indeed, true, what are the secrets of generating a resilience mindset? What is going to sustain us as the nights draw in and holidays seem far away in the distance? Here are four areas to focus on…
Over a decade ago, when I had just proudly passed my PGCE and was about to embark on my first teaching job, I received a card congratulating me. The front featured the remnants of a single burning candle, and it was accompanied with the quotation: “A good teacher is like a candle - it consumes itself to light the way for others.”
I remember feeling a distinct sense of unease: was I now a self-sacrificing candle? It clearly didn’t register on any profound level, though, because for the next five years I lived the teacher-candle metaphor to its fullest potential, until I did, somewhat ironically, suffer from complete burnout.
It was a difficult lesson, but one that has helped me to see clearly what is at the heart of resilient teachers. Resilient teachers know that they are, without any doubt, the most important resource in their classrooms. They are aware that to sacrifice their sleep is to sacrifice the quality of learning in their classroom. They are appropriately selfish in making sure that they take care of their own wellbeing needs.
Now, more than ever before, it is vital we recognise that the martyrdom narrative about teachers is destructive. The terms “self-care” and “self-compassion” have never previously appealed to my Highland sense of masculinity, but I have come to see them as hugely important in ensuring longevity in our profession.
We need to prioritise eating well, sleeping and making space for what makes us human outside of our school building. For some, that might be a meditation habit; for others, it may be five-a-side football - whatever takes us outside of our own heads for a short period of time. That is what will help to fuel us through what may be challenging months ahead.
Part of appropriate self-care is being disciplined about our boundaries. Resilient teachers have the ability to utter that word that seems to be too often neglected in our schools: “No.”
If we are going to be the best version of ourselves, we need to set limits. We need to stick rigidly to working patterns that fit our complex lives. Perfectionism is a teacher’s worst enemy, and the reality is that there will always be more we can do.
Having a self-imposed cut-off point when we stop, no matter what things remain incomplete on our to-do list, will make sure that we don’t work every hour of the day. It will also give us the energy to face another full day in the classroom. But doing so means that we need to be ruthless about our own teacher essentials, and to think carefully about how we use our time. Are we spending hours slavishly preparing PowerPoints? Are they having any impact on learning? If ever there was a time that should inspire a new, simpler teaching philosophy, it is now.
After I had burned out rather spectacularly, I questioned whether teaching was the right profession for me. In this period, I stumbled across a copy of Oliver Sacks’ collection of essays, Gratitude.
Sacks was in his early eighties when he was diagnosed with incurable cancer. He then wrote this inspirational nugget: “I cannot pretend I am without fear. But my predominant feeling is one of gratitude. I have loved and been loved; I have been given much and I have given something in return; I have read and travelled and thought and written.”
I decided to try to implement some of Sacks’ wisdom in the work in my classroom. How could I reassess my working day, and try to find some moments of positivity and joy in it? It started with a simple process: writing a journal about three things I felt grateful for about my working day.
Writing three things that I felt grateful for at the close of a day is certainly not my natural way of functioning. Our innate negativity bias makes us much more prone to ruminating on what is not going well, rather than what is. The temptation can be to morph into another staffroom sniper, and to endlessly complain about challenges we face.
But on any given day, our classrooms are home to moments of real joy and pleasure. Actively looking for those things, and allowing the mental space to reflect on them at the close of the day, is one way to generate more inner calm and resilience.
One of the challenges that we have faced in returning to school is the fact that we no longer have the hub of teacher communication: the staffroom. Its absence is felt keenly, and this can result in new-found isolation in school communities. Our difficulties are magnified when we feel that we don’t have colleagues around us to share the experience with.
Finding ways to hold on to those staff communities, however, is a crucial challenge for schools to think creatively about. Across Scotland, this has been fully embraced: there are online staffrooms, Zoom meetings galore and all kinds of other ways in which teachers can connect with each other outside of our classrooms. My own school has set up staff walking and running groups outside at lunchtime - just one way to make sure that we are not losing the staffroom spirit.
Understanding that we are all interconnected in our school buildings, each feeling the same degree of uncertainty and frustration, is so important in fostering collective resilience. These are times that demand kindness, empathy and us giving the space to genuinely listen to those around us.
That support of others will reap rewards for us, too: fostering our resilience and sense of community. It gives us a sense of purpose as we focus on doing what we do best - supporting the young people in our care.
Talking of young people, I was teaching my first-year class the wonderful Invictus by William Ernest Henley this week. Nelson Mandela (a man whose wisdom on resilience would certainly be beneficial) has a favourite poem that concludes with the lines: “I am the master of my fate/I am the captain of my soul.” As I encouraged my class to perform those lines in unison at the end of the lesson, I thought about how much this call for ownership resonates in all our lives now.
I suggest that we will not continue to face challenges over the next few months would be naive, but how we respond and what we do to steel ourselves for them is entirely within our power. Yes, we will inevitably continue to utter our own unique variations of “knackered”, but we will also continue to persevere, smile and perform the magic we perform in our classrooms. That, if anything, is something to be hugely grateful for.
Jamie Thom is a teacher based in Scotland who hosts the Tes English Teacher Podcast and is author of Teacher Resilience: Managing stress and anxiety to thrive in the profession, which will be published in October
This article originally appeared in the 25 September 2020 issue under the headline “What’s the secret of teacher resilience?”
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