To those unfamiliar with the school environment, the fact that teachers still tend to be addressed by their titles and surnames, rather than their first names, might seem like an anachronistic remnant of a distant past.

It may, for some, evoke connotations of a former age in which children were intended to be seen and not heard. It may even seem positively Victorian that few schools in the UK would permit their students to refer to their teachers by their first names - after all, doctors, lawyers, academics and other professionals are increasingly likely to introduce themselves this way.

Linguist Sara Mills has argued that classroom discipline could conceivably benefit from dropping titles and switching to the use of first names for teachers, which she suggested could work to emphasise the similarities rather than differences between teachers and pupils.

And some have questioned why teachers cannot be called by their first names in schools in the same way lecturers are at university or as is the custom in many other countries. Writing in Tes, teacher Callum Jacobs argued that this can foster a “warm, collaborative climate” and thus pay dividends for student achievement.

Furthermore, the status disparity between the connotations of “Sir” and “Miss” has been criticised, for example by Jennifer Coates, emeritus professor of English language and linguistics at the University of Roehampton, who has argued that the titles are “a depressing example of how women are given low status and men, no matter how young or new in the job they are, are given high status”.

The sexist disparity between the connotations and origins of the terms “Miss” and “Sir” is worthy of reflection - but this is, perhaps, a different debate to one about whether teacher’s names should be used, as it is removed from the lived space in the classroom. As teacher and author Kate Clanchy argues in her teaching memoir, Some Kids I Taught and What They Taught Me, “real children in real schools don’t use ‘Miss’ with any less (or more) respect than Sir”. Any female teacher who has accidentally been called “Sir” by students answering the register - or vice versa - can testify to the fact that these terms are often used by pupils simply to denote “teacher” rather than with conscious consideration of sex.

Yet the argument around the use of titles - or at least the opportunity for a teacher to be known by something other than their first name once they cross the threshold of the school gates - is a debate worth having.

Clanchy explains in her book that the title “Miss”, when used in the classroom, is “the name I put on like a coat when I go into school”, or “a cloak of protection” worn during interactions with pupils.

Split personality

This analogy certainly strikes a chord with me. My own identity as “Ms Mansworth” or “Miss” feels, in many ways, entirely different from the one I have outside school. Teachers bring a lot of themselves and their personality to their teaching but they may also want to hold something of themselves back, creating a line between the self they embody in school and the personality they present in the world beyond it.

The titles of “Sir” and “Miss” - or the use of surnames plus a title, as is more common in primary schools - can, in this way, be incredibly useful in providing a delineation between school and home. When we’re in front of a class, hurrying down a corridor or speaking to our pupils in assembly, we inhabit a quite different identity from the one we have in our life beyond school. In fact, in the age of social media, having a “teacher name” might be more valuable than ever, providing a practical means of distancing and identity protection for teachers who do not wish to be identified easily outside school or contacted by pupils online.

Furthermore, the use of titles may have advantages for teachers’ professional identity. Social identity theory, developed by social psychologists Henri Tajfel and John Turner in the 1980s, proposed that the development of collective identity depends on people’s membership of groups.

They argued that group members engage in a process of self-categorisation, in which they define themselves by noting their differences from other groups. The use of titles for teachers may be, therefore, one such example of this process of self-categorisation, which facilitates the development of a strong collective professional identity.

While the development of “us versus them” thinking can be problematic in some circumstances - and most teachers would certainly not want to position themselves against their pupils - the self-categorisation of teachers as a group who are referred to by their titles could help to create a sense of collective professional identity.

The counter-views to these points should, of course, be addressed. Some dislike titles because they view them as expressions of inequality or superiority. But every language has strategies for showing politeness or deference to the addressee; titles or honorifics are just one way to do this. While it is clear that titles or formal names are not necessarily the only way to signify respect, they are a useful marker of it.

In some countries, where teachers are called by their first names, there are often different ways of showing respect through language, such as a more formal version of “you” or by prefacing the teachers’ name with their role.

It has also been argued that if we are to expect pupils to refer to us by our surnames, perhaps we should also address them by theirs, as occurs in some of the most prestigious public schools. But these schools are often among the most traditional of settings, with rigid hierarchical structures, so calling students by their surnames wouldn’t necessarily facilitate an egalitarian atmosphere and, instead, might impose an artificial sense of detachment.

It can be useful to view this debate in a slightly different format. In many ways, the use of “Miss”, “Sir” or title plus surname can be compared to children’s use of the terms “Mum”, “Dad” or equivalent. In exemplifying our different family roles through familial addresses, we hopefully do not imply that children are voiceless or unimportant. It is also perfectly possible to be a liberal and relaxed parent, and still be referred to as “Mum” or “Dad”. Likewise, the forbidding of the use of first names for teachers does not indicate an extremely authoritarian or antiquated teaching style.

Being referred to by the name “Miss” or “Sir” does not necessarily denote formality, as these words can be expressed with the entire range of possible emotions felt by students in the classroom; such titles are often just as likely to be used with humour, with affection - or sometimes with disdain or sarcasm - as with respect. Yet the existence of our teacher name and our expectation of their use by students can work as a starting point in establishing a culture of respect, and this is a value worth teaching our young people.

Helpful convention

Admittedly, though, titles aren’t essential for the showing of respect to teachers, and we could certainly still maintain our authority without them. Personally, I don’t feel disrespected by university students who have used my first name in lectures, for instance, or even by sixth-formers in schools I have taught in, where that is the practice.

So, if we were redesigning our school system all over again from scratch, would there be much point in “Sir” or “Miss” ? If the titles did not already exist as a shorthand for “teacher”, would we introduce them?

Perhaps not and, perhaps to a large extent, we view these titles or the use of surnames as more respectful only because it is a long-established custom in secondary schools. As any teacher who has encountered a child being rude to them while also using their title and surname can attest, the avoidance of first names for teachers in schools certainly doesn’t act as a magical tool, manufacturing deference in all circumstances.

But, ultimately, for those of us who give so much of ourselves every day to our pupils, having a “teacher name” can allow us to construct a professional identity that differs from the one we present to the rest of the world. This tradition may have originated in the distant past but it remains a helpful convention of our education system - as a mark of respect, a signifier of collective professional identity and a useful shorthand for “teacher” within the school environment. Being “Miss” to my pupils, therefore, is absolutely fine by me.

Megan Mansworth is an English teacher and PhD student. She tweets @meganmansworth

This article originally appeared in the 29 January 2021 issue under the headline “Title fight”