If the bee disappeared off the surface of the globe, then man would only have four years of life left.”

That quote is widely attributed to physicist Albert Einstein. But there’s no evidence that the Nobel prizewinner ever said it. Or, indeed, that he ever said anything about bees. In fact, it may not be a massive shock to learn that the quote’s provenance probably lies with a different man: one who wrote a book about bees.

But, regardless, it’s a quote that has stuck on the internet and in people’s consciousness. If someone had asked you - prior to your picking up this article - about the prospect of bee extinction, I am willing to bet a not inconsiderable sum that you’d have had a feeling of slight impending doom, even if that exact quote didn’t come to mind. Search Google and you’ll find page upon page lauding bees as hardworking, adaptable and essential to the survival of humankind. If ever you are in need of some PR, you could do worse than find out who’s doing the publicity for bees.

And it is my assertion that teachers need to work to evoke that same sort of feeling - create a buzz, if you will - among parents, government and the population at large. Put simply: all teachers need to be queen bees.

Because, if not, teachers risk becoming pandas instead. I assume that, at this point, people will shrug their shoulders and ask: “What’s wrong with that?” Fear not, gentle reader: I shall tell you exactly what is wrong with that.

I should confess at this point to having a deeply felt and long-held anti-panda bias. But, in my defence, that’s because they are absolutely rubbish. Yes, I’ve seen the sneezing panda videos and the ones of them being delighted by snow. But I’ve also seen millions upon millions of pounds - money that could have been spent on other conservation projects - wasted to try to save a species that seems to have absolutely no interest in ensuring its own survival. A species that insists on eating bamboo, despite plenty of evidence suggesting that they’d be better off devouring a different foodstuff. A species whose approach to procreation can be said to be, at best, lackadaisical.

The place to bee

Search for “panda extinction” on Google and most of the first page is made up of results trying to convince you that we should just let them go already. But, in case you think I’m pandering to anti-conservationists, don’t just take my word for it - take TV presenter and naturalist Chris Packham’s. The Daily Mirror reported that, around a decade ago, Packham said that he “would eat the last panda” if the resources devoted to them could be transferred to “more sensible things”. If you can’t even get the environmentalists onside, you know you’re on to a loser.

OK, I hear you say, but what does that have to do with teachers? Well, come with me on a journey to a metaphor.

We know that funding is tight, and is likely to remain so, despite the recent £7 billion funding boost from the government. In the event of a no-deal Brexit, that tightness is going to pinch even more acutely. In this scenario, teachers don’t want to be seen as pandas: likeable, pitiable, but ultimately expendable. Would we like more pandas about? Yes. When difficult decisions have to be made, are people likely to go to bat for pandas? No, because it can easily be shown that money could be spent more effectively elsewhere. Teachers also don’t want to be seen as resistant to their own survival - clinging to something because that’s the way it’s always been. They don’t want to be seen as slow to change and possibly even wasteful.

Instead, we want teachers to be looked upon as bees. We want people to fight for the sector. But we also want people to have in their heads the fact that schools are working to their limits and adapting where they can - but that they need help in order to survive. We want people to recognise - because it’s absolutely true - that the future of humankind rests on the survival, and indeed the flourishing, of this profession.

What can teachers do to achieve this status in the public consciousness? One thing they can do is to behave like bees. While pandas are reluctant to learn anything - even after people dressed up as pandas have taken the time and effort to try to model best practice to them - bees are keen learners. Not only that, but they are also versatile communicators. You may not know this, but bees dance. In doing so, they communicate the location of food sources to their colleagues, sharing knowledge for the benefit of the community - and they can even use that food as a way of communication. Queen bees can also use pheromones to influence behaviour within a colony, and to transmit important messages to others.

Now, I’m obviously not suggesting that teachers go out and spray pheromones on their peers - indeed, to avoid the risk of any future lawsuits or tribunals, I feel I should be clear in saying that you should definitely not do that under any circumstances. But I do think that the lessons on sharing knowledge for the good of the whole, being able to adapt a message depending on your audience and keeping everyone abreast of your activity are ones that are worth taking heed of.

And there is evidence that teachers are already hard at work putting those lessons into practice. We’ve seen a hive of activity at both local and national level. Within the profession, there have been conferences and meet-ups to discuss the issues of the day and share best practice - just look at TeachMeets, researchED, BrewEd and other teacher-led endeavours. We’ve also seen the rise of grassroots organisations such as #WomenEd and #BAMEed, aimed at making sure that marginalised voices are given the amplification they need.

Looking at projecting the message outside of the profession, take the WorthLess? campaign being led by headteachers: the letters being sent to parents laying out exactly how cuts are affecting individual schools. Or the Parents and Teachers for Excellence campaign, pushing for better schools with a clear, consistent message about what that could look like.

The teacher unions, too, have been pushing beyond the sector to make sure that the funding issue has broken through to the national consciousness, and to policymaking as a result of this.

All this is good work, but it can continue only if everyone within the sector does their bit to keep that sort of communication going, whether that’s through social media, blogs, letters, articles in Tes, even - horror upon horrors - talking to real people face to face. You should never assume that your work speaks for itself, or that you should be modest or stoic in the face of adversity. Don’t be like a panda - don’t passively wait for things to happen for you. Because, when times are hard, you can’t rely on that goodwill; you can’t rely on people who like having you around to keep up the level of support you need - you deserve - to do your job to the best of your ability.

Teachers may be doing heroic work, but if you don’t shout about it to a level that is too raucous to ignore - and with apologies for stretching this metaphor to a further animal - people may see only an effortless glide across the water, not the feverish paddling going on underneath to make it all happen. Even worse, people may see an expendable, supine panda, when in reality, you’re an active, vital bee.

Take it from a journalist: appearances matter; narratives matter. It’s important to be vocal and realistic about the work that teachers do - and how ever-tightening budgets have affected them, their schools and the children whom they teach. Not to moan, not to whine, but just to calmly lay out the facts about what’s happening and what teachers are already doing about it. So that if the spectre of cuts does start to loom large again, there is a swarm of people ready to come to teachers’ defence by waxing lyrical about the work that they do.

This kind of collective effort from teachers will ensure that politicians cannot ignore school funding when it comes to manifestos and policy. Public recognition and support can go a long way in making the profession one that people can thrive in. So be positive and be proactive. Be logical and be loud. Be direct and be detailed. In short: be a bee.

Sarah Cunnane is head of editorial content curation at Tes. She tweets @Sarah_Cunnane. This essay is based on a speech given at #BrewEdHerts19

This article originally appeared in the 11 October 2019 issue under the headline “Don’t panda to anyone - you’re the bee’s knees”