Margo MacDonald: Teachers learn to hate their job

Published on Wednesday 24 December 2008 08:53

THE Scottish education system isn't what it once was . . . reputed to be the best in the world. Well, actually only the English-speaking parts of it, but who bothered about countries that God had smiled on less bounteously than He had on the part of Victoria's kingdom that built the best ships and produced engineers and doctors at least as good as anywhere else in the whole world.

When I was growing up and going to school, the barely boastful claim about Scots education being the best was made by everyone. It was as much part of our self-image, and the perceptions of our near-neighbours, as thrift, liking a drink and being tough soldiers.

So what happened between then and now to diminish such a trust and pride in the system, and to produce a generation of senior teachers who can't wait to quit, and their successors, who're so fed-up with waiting for a job that they quit the profession before they've experienced a permanent post?

As a young, newly-qualified teacher I confess to giving little thought to the history, quality or future employment prospects inside the profession I was then joining. Like everyone else in my year at Dunfermline College, Scotland's PE college for women, I was guaranteed a job provided I passed my two years' probation. The guarantee wasn't written in golden prose on tablets of stone . . . it was just understood that inside a year at most, the Lanarkshire Education Authority would find a post for me, somewhere.

But Scotland, along with the rest of the world, was changing. We didn't look nearly as much to our own experience as the ideas and fashions elsewhere – in education, our opinion-formers and politicians in Westminster and local councils opted to mimic much of what was being done in England. As a young mum I took part in protests against what I thought then, and still believe now, was a big mistake. The education system in England was different from ours. The norm in much of Scotland was for everyone in a small town to go to the same secondary school . . . comprehensive education. In larger towns and cities there were junior and senior secondaries, for pupils pursuing vocational and academic courses . . . selective, not comprehensive but effective educationally, whilst being divisive socially. The difference socially was much wider in England. To try to bridge the gap, English educational theorists established big, comprehensive, schools. They have proved no more socially cohesive than traditional Scottish secondaries.

But our local councils followed where their English counterparts led and comprehensive schools housing 1400 pupils were built in our most populous areas. This more or less coincided with the school leaving age being raised to 16 years and the dramatic changes in discipline following the end of "the belt".

Without making any judgement as to the merit or otherwise of these changes, they proved very difficult to assimilate all at once, particularly against a background of teachers becoming more militant in defending their status during a period when their professional salaries were left far behind those of the other professions. Also, loss of respect for authority figures undermined teachers.

Thatcherism shook up society, but at a cost. Teachers were expected to fill the parenting gaps left in the families that had never had it so bad. When there was little for their non-academic pupils to look forward to on leaving school other than kid-on training schemes, and their more academic pupils didn't respect their teachers as had their parents, discipline became much more difficult, and teaching some classes became impossible.

Teaching is now a very stressful job. Teachers are quite commonly attacked by pupils and parents. Police now patrol some playgrounds. Hands up if you can guess why teacher numbers are going down.

Yet most teachers still enter the profession because they really want to teach, and most of them teach the children well. But politicians have let them down. From the glib assurances of classes of no more than 18 pupils, to local council cuts that force headteachers to choose between employing teachers in departments that need them and departments that are cheaper to run.

Blairism was supposed to be about education, education, education. What a let-down.

No stupid questions

Some of my parliamentary pals are in deep doo-doo for asking Parliamentary Questions at an estimated cost of a few coppers short of 99. George Foulkes and Christine Grahame are accused of doing what we're supposed to . . . they ask questions.

Sometimes the questions can appear daft, but they may be a smokescreen for some serious work being undertaken by the MSP concerned. Also, these questions usually don't take up too much staff time, and therefore don't cost as much.

Some PQs are genuinely dippy, but the laughter they invoke makes the point.

Merry Christmas.