Sometimes the most annoying people in education are not the unruly pupils, the dictatorial management or even the parents with impossible expectations. Instead, it is our self-aggrandising colleagues who can’t give an honest response when we are gathering information on a pupil. Even the most innocuous question - “Does John randomly get out of his seat?” - is met with a blanket denial.

“He doesn’t do that in my class” - with the emphasis on the possessive pronoun - has to be the most infuriating and unhelpful expression in education. It not only implies that everyone else’s teaching methods are not up to scratch, but it also skews any patterns the information-gathering exercise is meant to reveal.

Part of the problem of looking for under-the-radar behavioural patterns is that, unlike a set of unarguable academic results, what is recorded is only gathered through the observations of the teacher rather than concrete data. In this situation, we have to assume the trained professional is a reliable source of information.

Understandably, the source can be an unreliable narrator. Teachers don’t always notice underlying behaviours, such as the frequency of trips to the toilet, and sometimes it can be difficult to own up to having a problem class, as no one likes to admit to a perceived failure.

Less easy to comprehend is the teacher who insists they never have a problem with the behaviour of their pupils. When you are gathering information about conduct, this type of teacher will respond with “he always behaves well in my class”, no matter how problematic they are elsewhere. Of course, this type of teacher might be the outlier that genuinely has behaviour management cracked; pupils who swing from the light fittings in other classes will for them sit still with a pencil in hand, ready to learn from the Superteacher.

Irresistible boast

On the other hand, it could simply be the perfect format for a humblebrag. Teachers can’t boast about their classroom-management skills in the staffroom without being accused of being conceited, but they can deny that pupils shout out, go to the toilet constantly or fall asleep in their class, without their honesty being challenged, while still implying that everyone else is lacking management skills.

Or is it extreme defensiveness? Could it be that the “not in my class” teacher is the type that considers children acting like children to be a weakness of their professionalism? Do they fear that management is inventing a problem-pupil scenario to catch them out? More worryingly would be if the teacher was not paying attention to what was happening in front of them or simply couldn’t be bothered to record noteworthy behaviours.

Whatever the cause of the problem deniers, it is still extremely unhelpful when gathering data; any attempt to trawl for information can be skewed, potentially stopping a pupil from getting the vital support they need in class for their behavioural issues.

Without challenging a colleague’s professional judgement, how can we ensure that the information we are receiving on low-level behavioural issues is accurate? Although we might think it, we can’t say to a colleague that they’re talking rubbish!

Firstly, a cultural shift in departments might be necessary, where we are less judgemental of each other’s classroom management. In a positive environment, admitting to disciplinary issues would not be a seen as a personal weakness, but a chance to share good practice.

In education, it is very rare for staff to be praised for doing a good job. If we were to be more celebratory of each other’s successes in teaching, then colleagues might not need to boost their self-esteem through the humblebrag.

Gordon Cairns is a teacher of English in Scotland