I wanted to write something positive, I really did. I don’t want the reputation of being all doom and gloom. Teaching can be an amazing profession. It deserves positive articles. That moment when the kids grasp a difficult concept; when the light goes on in their eyes; or when they achieve something new or difficult; or when they write something brilliant or hilarious; all these moments are magical and can send tingles down your spine. These moments make all the struggles worthwhile. I want to write about these things.

I haven’t been getting those moments so much recently though. Maybe it’s the stage in my career where, now I am in charge, I need to find rewards in other ways and not directly from contact with students. Maybe I should be looking for a removed sense of achievement; for example, from thinking that I appointed that teacher who is getting the kids to achieve such wonderful things, and feeling proud of that; deferred gratification rather than delayed gratification. It’s not the same though. Or maybe it’s because things are just really tough at the moment. Or maybe it’s because I have become a grumpy old man. (This has been suggested.)

I want to write about the good things because there are good things. I should focus on them and create a positive mindset but I think I write about the difficult things I experience as a form of therapy. I think it helps me make sense of them or get them out of my head. The crafting of the writing imposes an order on the chaos in my head. There are lots of things I want to get out of my head. This has been a horrible week.

It started well. I had a meeting that I was dreading but it went surprisingly positively and lots of things were put in place to support one of our students who is really struggling. The social worker who led it was enthusiastic and confident and solution-focused, and I came away with the rare sense that we were actually making a difference. The student’s life was bleak but we were battling to give her a fighting chance. I made some useful connections with the police and we had a clear direction forward. Things were still going to be tough for the family but it really felt like there was a team around them to support them.

Caring for a vulnerable pupil

That was as good as it got.

Things deteriorated rapidly. The best-laid plans of mice and men and teachers and social workers…..

I am not going to go into the details of what happened to that poor girl. They are too horrible. Just thinking about them makes me feel sick to my stomach and disillusioned with the society in which I live. I heard things that will be lodged in my brain forever - a casual disregard for the rights and feelings and bodies of other people from such young children. I thought I was tough, having done this job a long time and having listened to more than my fair share of real-life horror stories, but I am not. In some ways I am relieved that I haven’t become desensitised to the suffering of others. In other ways, I don’t want to feel this pain. And I am an adult. How could a child make sense of the awfulness?

To make things worse, I had to include one of my staff in all this. I needed a female member of staff to accompany the student and I to the doctor’s. I exposed her to the horror show. I had to. She didn’t think twice about it but her brain has been changed by what she experienced. She cried. I feel bad about that. I keep telling myself that in our job we are aware there are risks and we will be exposed to more extreme situations - that we buy the ticket, we take the ride. But this week, I exposed my staff to something that made them cry, that changed their view of the world forever. We will offer support but some things cannot be unheard.

My staff member was amazing, though. She was supportive and encouraging and strong and everything I and her tutee needed her to be. The bewildered, frightened student had total trust and confidence in her. She made an awful experience bearable.

When it was over, when there was one sort of resolution for that day, she cried.

I came in the next day thinking I would need to spend a lot of time supporting my staff member and the student through the experiences of the day before. I was surprised by the resilience and strength and positivity of the both of them. The student was pleased to be in a school where she felt safe and cared for. She just wanted to get on with her day. She would need a huge amount of support going forward but for today she just wanted to be left alone. The staff member admitted it had been horrible. Yes, she had cried. But we did what we had to do. The student needed us and we were there for her. That is what we do.

And, as I write, I realise this is a positive article after all. While there are students who can show astonishing resilience and there are staff who will go that extra mile, who will brave the horror show for their students and who keep coming back, solid and positive and amazing, then there is hope. This belief sends tingles down my spine.

The writer is a teacher in an alternative provision school.