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Celebrating Teachers: Making a difference, written by Gary Toward and Chris Henley, is a feel-good celebration of all that is great about teachers and teaching - and an exploration of the difference teachers make and how they do it. Forewords by Ben Bailey Smith (aka Doc Brown) and Sir Anthony Seldon. Gary Toward and Chris Henley believe that teaching is the best and most important profession. Now, you might argue that it would be medicine that should take that accolade - as medics save lives and mend people. But teachers create lives and 'make' people. They, in fact, create medics! This book celebrates the superhero of the classroom: the teacher. Teachers make a difference, and often that difference is life-changing. In this book, Gary and Chris look at some of the many cases where such a difference has been made and examine exactly what it was that made such an impact on the life of the young person - and they also highlight the key approaches that teachers might want to try out in their own classroom, with their own pupils. The authors link the real-life case study stories to what educational research and cognitive science tell us, and point the way for all teachers to adopt, adapt and develop these effective strategies and approaches in their own practice. And, in sharing these inspiring stories, Gary and Chris hope to offer an antidote to the negativity that too often circulates in the media around education and the teaching profession. An uplifting and insightful read for all teachers and educators.
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Spanning from the immediate post-war era through to the recent coronavirus pandemic, the stories and reflections held within this book are uplifting, amusing and thought-provoking. Written by two distinguished teacher-authors (and boasting a stirring foreword by Ben Bailey Smith), the book covers a range of settings, in which night schools, sports fields and breaktime clubs and more are considered alongside the regular classroom. Celebrating Teachers is simultaneously an insightful handbook and an inspirational guide for all teachers.
Dr James McGrath, Senior Lecturer in Literature and Creative Writing, Leeds Beckett University
In Celebrating Teachers, Gary and Chris share a wide range of poignant reminders of the impact we teachers can make – which often extend far beyond academic outcomes. It will be a useful resource for teachers in their early career and for the mentors who will support them.
Julie McBrearty, Principal, Welland Park Academy
Delivered in their trademark style, Gary Toward and Chris Henley’s Celebrating Teachers is full of enthusiasm, fun and practical ideas to take away and put into practice. This fabulous collection of memories and stories is a celebration of the impact that great teachers have and an insight into the secrets behind their success. The book is a fitting tribute to the art of relationship building, excellent teaching and effective classroom practice – and a great toolkit of ideas and strategies guaranteed to inspire and motivate.
Paul Matthias, National Director, Hays Education
Having met the authors and read their previous books, it was with great excitement that I opened their latest work: Celebrating Teachers. From the outset, I was inspired – and immediately I thought of ways in which I could use this book with the staff in our school. The book shares a series of powerful testimonies from those who have been inspired by teachers who went the extra mile and tapped into the infinite potential of children’s minds.B
It shares timely reminders of the importance of humour, finding time for pupils and building relationships. Add to these the key ingredients of calmness, a variety of teaching styles and techniques and thinking outside the box with unfamiliar or less exciting content to be covered. I also love the notion of ‘boomerang lessons’ – those lessons that pupils want to come back to.
The authors are non-judgemental and provide encouragement for the reader to reflect on their own individual style and techniques. Many of the arguments they make are well known, but equally we need these welcome reminders – for example, that interesting lessons lead to higher levels of engagement and fewer problems around behaviour and concentration. We all benefit from frequent refreshment in order to keep the main thing the main thing. It is easy to become so distracted that we lose sight of rich areas of focus. This book helps us to remember, to celebrate and to enjoy.
In teaching we need the variety, idiosyncrasies, fun and enjoyment that each teacher brings to the classroom setting in their own unique ways. We also need the unrelenting commitment and positivity shown by the overwhelming majority of school workers. They keep the system functioning and, often in the face of adversity and criticism, inspire the children in their care. The power of the teacher should never be underestimated, and this book helps to remind us of this universal truth.
Liam D. Powell, Head Teacher, Manor High School
Chris Henley talks about ‘boomerang lessons’ – i.e. those lessons that pupils desperately want to return to. I would describe Celebrating Teachers as a boomerang book which is essential reading for teachers, at any stage of their career, and a good read for everyone else too. I read the book with a smile on my face, knowing that the teachers chosen are just the tip of the iceberg – there are so many other wonderful teachers, all of whom work tirelessly for their pupils. This book leaves you inspired to be a better teacher, and the checklist at the end offers an excellent summary of all the traits that help you to do just that. An uplifting and, at times, emotional read.
Pippa Procter, Primary Course Director, Durham SCITT C
Celebrating Teachers shows exactly why teaching is a wonderful and rewarding career. It shines a light on real teachers, their tireless and motivational work, and how they make a difference every day to so many. The teachers in this book, some of whom I have known personally, are inspirations in many different ways and have inspired thousands of pupils over many years. And teachers, irrespective of different governments, policies and their directions, will continue to do just that. This book is for all those game-changing teachers we are lucky enough to have in our education system.
Tim Sutcliffe, Chief Executive Officer, Symphony Learning Trust D
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For every teacher of any kind, ever.
H
We’d like to thank the following people who nominated the teachers featured in this book and gave us fantastic insights into their personalities and classroom practice:
And special thanks to the following people who have helped us with additional valuable material or support:
Tracey Townsend, Lincs Inspire Ltd, North East Lincolnshire Archives Office
Steve Buckland for additional information about Mr Hope
Martin Towers
Warren Franz for the photograph of the teenage Dominic Glynn
Mike and Sally Butter
Vince Preston for the photograph of the adult Meldin Thomas
Vanessa Haines Photography for the photograph of the adult Dominic Glynn
‘Lindsey School, Cleethorpes Memories’ Facebook group
‘This is Cheadle Staffordshire’ Facebook group
‘Harrogate Granby High School Pupils ’79–mid ’80s’ Facebook group
And to all brilliant teachers everywhere. Thank you for changing lives for the better.
God, I must have been a real pain in the backside at school.
At 14, I knew I was smart, but I was way more comfortable procrastinating or mickey-taking. I was a one-trick pony – if it wasn’t English or drama, the best a teacher could hope for from me was hour-long daydreams, silently staring out of windows thinking of girls and poetry, or poetry I could write to impress girls. At worst they would get pure old-fashioned disruption. I wasn’t a bad kid by any means, but boy was I annoying.
Having gone on, as a young adult, to spend a decade as a youth worker, I quickly saw how smart kids could be a problem if they weren’t engaged: emotionally and intellectually invested in the subjects they studied. I loved youth work – and still respect and support it from afar – but I knew it wasn’t my calling. When I left the profession aged 29 and stepped onto a stage to tell stories to strangers in the hope that they’d laugh, there were no coincidences in play. You could trace that bold decision back to a handful of individuals whose words and actions left indelible prints on my imagination, knowledge, self-esteem and self-belief.
The first were a winning couple – two history teachers, both black – a man named Mr Lyle and a woman named Ms Dauphin. They both had a remarkable way of pulling my head out of the clouds and into the importance of appreciating where you are as a direct or indirect result ivof what had come before: the Second World War, in which my own father crawled into an infamous 77-day battle via the beaches of Normandy; the Windrush that brought my mother’s family to the UK; the impersonal politics that created the hostile environment of the early 1980s into which I was born.
It all felt thrilling and relevant and suddenly I was looking forward to a Year 9 class that wasn’t English. Looking back, the poignancy of the subjects they covered was really only half the reason. It was their passion, their belief and their energy, their thinly veiled firmness on us black boys who, statistically, struggled in inner-city areas, that made me sit up and take notice. I’m pretty sure that’s why historical documentaries are my favourite kind of programme to this day.
I wish I could say it improved my grades as well, but that’s another story that we don’t need to disappoint my mum with again right now.
What it did immediately inject in me was the importance of focusing on the things that thrill you. I went into my English and theatre A levels with renewed vigour and determination. In English in particular, my teachers Mrs Barton and Miss Jonas knew that I wanted to do well and so would never let me slack; they were on me like a rash and the approach was super effective. I found myself wanting to impress them, wanting to make them happy, wanting to be praised.
Friendly pressure is good for me – I procrastinate without it. No one has forced me to write this foreword, which means you’re kind of lucky to be reading it – I was this close to making a sandwich and rewatching the whole of The Sopranos instead.
The motivational ability of Gary Lyle, Helen Dauphin, Mich Jonas and Anne Barton mirrored the attention of other strong adults in my life – people I didn’t want to disappoint. I try to be the same with my teenaged daughters when it comes to maintaining their focus, although I will quickly lose all parental intensity if they suggest alternatives to work such as s’mores and Marvel movies.
It’s strange how transferable knowledge and skills can creep into your brain without you noticing it. It’s like beautifully tailored inception – you just can’t see the seams. I simply thought I was ‘blessed’, ‘lucky’ or ‘talented’ when I moved from stand-up to acting, to screenwriting, to children’s novels … But if I dig a little deeper, it’s easy to see the link: where I inherited the confidence to express myself and my stories through writing or performing.v
It’s no surprise to me that my wife is a teacher. The good ones still inspire me; they invoke a romance and a nostalgia that has crept into my subconscious with so much verve that I went and married one. I come home every day from my various silly showbiz jobs and there she is at 8, 9 or even 10 pm, still grafting, preparing or debriefing, unable to go to bed until she’s unlocked the puzzle of a difficult kid in her class, or created a foolproof lesson plan for the morning. I’ve seen her take time out of her own private life to visit vulnerable kids at home. I’ve seen her risk her own health during a global pandemic, all just to give these kids the invaluable gift of consistency. She will not rest until every one of her 30 pupils are up, on their feet, learning, contributing and smiling. It’s unreal to watch from my cushy position of chauffeured cars and fresh fruit plates by the illuminated mirrors.
There’s still a myth floating around that teachers knock off an hour and a half earlier than the rest of us, swan about during their numerous holidays, pocketing cash until the next 30 whoevers come through the gates in September. I’ll be honest – I wish that were true. If it were, my wife and I would have real leisure time in-between my gigs to watch movies and drink cocktails, shoot the breeze … But, like the vast majority of her peers, she’s fully invested, 24/7, and not appropriately remunerated for it in my opinion, but that’s a different point.
This point here is about that investment. The returns on it are profound – it cannot be measured in quality or quantity. It’s deeper than that. Positive engagement of our young people should be the number one focus of any nation. I mean, let’s be real – it’s not me and you and all these other old farts inheriting this world, is it? So, yes, why not? Let’s celebrate the people who continue to have a small but significant hand in creating more good guys from the ground up, because I’m telling you – only the good guys can save us.
Thank you and God bless you all.
And sorry for that D, Mr Lyle.
It’s technically still a pass, though.
Ben Bailey Smith Screenwriter, actor, comedian, author and rapper1
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1 Familiar to many as Doc Brown, his stand-up comedy stage name.
In my years as a head and vice chancellor, I met a few teachers who thought they were ‘inspiring’. But I met many more who did not think that they were inspiring, or sufficiently inspiring, and wanted to do something about it. That’s why they were great teachers, and that’s why teaching is a great, if not the best, profession.
This is evident throughout this important and timely book. The best teachers, and you will read about them here, are constantly challenging themselves to be better. They will be as eager to learn on their last day in school as they were on their first. The self-satisfied teachers, as is true of the self-satisfied everywhere, do not think that they have anything to learn.
There is indeed no better profession than teaching. I had a privileged education at an elite boarding school and an elite university. Barely any of my friends and associates would have considered a career in teaching, and although they never told me to my face, they rather looked down on me for doing so. The old jibe ‘those who can’t do, teach; those who can’t teach, teach history’ was never far from their minds (I taught history).
Looking at them now, as many of my contemporaries from school and university are beginning to retire, I sense a common factor: a certain emptiness in their lives. Their occupations – as lawyers, accountants, bankers and businesspeople, or in roles across the media and viiiadvertising – might have been financially rewarding, but were also often devoid of deep meaning and significance. They are unable to say, as we who have taught can say, that they changed the lives of thousands of young people for the better.
In almost no other profession do people willingly work long hours without demanding extra pay. The pages that follow are full of examples of the difference that teachers make, partly because the young people know that they care about them. Teachers stay on after school, they arrive early, they work long into the evening, they work at weekends and during the so-called ‘holidays’. Why? Because they’re inspired to do good and because they care. A professional lifetime of doing good and caring helps make them into the people they are. Those in other professions will rarely do anything extra without charging for it. Teachers have their reward – and money-watchers, equally, have their own reward.
Society still does not properly recognise teachers, in status, respect or material recompense. In terms of pay, it will never reward them as fully as they deserve. It does reward surgeons and other medical specialists. Surgeons open up bodies and save lives. Teachers open up minds and inspire better lives. Books like this will help to make teachers feel that their lives matter. In my experience, because teaching can be hard, lonely and tiring, we need to be constantly reminded how much we matter.
I would defy any teacher, would-be teacher or anyone who has opted for another job but who is thinking about teaching, even if only as a remote possibility, not to be uplifted by this important book.
Sir Anthony Seldon
If you have to put someone on a pedestal, put teachers. They are society’s heroes.
Guy Kawasaki1
Chris started teaching in 1979 and Gary in 1982. Between us we’ve been around the block. Ten schools, three headships, two deputy headships, 70 years of teaching and leading in schools across England. It has been a rollercoaster, but mostly one with incredibly satisfying bends, bumps and climbs, and only the odd cavernous drop. We have loved teaching. It has been our passion and will forever be so. For us there is nothing better than when you walk into a classroom or assembly hall to be greeted by a sea of faces which awaits your input. To have the platform to inspire, or to share your enthusiasm for your subject, is a huge honour. Not every pupil,2 of course, buys in straight away, but that’s part of the deal. The challenge, the reason for being there, is to take each and every one of your pupils on a journey to new places and new opportunities. To ride the sunny uplands of the mind, help pupils to wonder and instil them with awe. To furnish them with knowledge and skills that will help them achieve some, if not all, of their dreams. The fact that some of our former pupils have been kind enough to say that we managed that for them has been a wonderful reward over the years. You don’t become a teacher to get rich. It’s not the sort of job you do because you know that you’ll very soon be able to buy a mansion or a flash car. You do it because of something that’s more important than money: a desire to create change, to make a difference.
Since we hung up our chalk, whiteboard markers and electronic pens, it has been our privilege and joy to pass on our experience to the next generation of teachers. Our business, Decisive Element, has taken us all around the UK and into Europe, and our award-winning and bestselling books have circumnavigated the globe. In our presentations to trainee and newly qualified teachers (NQTs), we often ask them the question, 2‘Why are you getting into this job?’ We acknowledge the challenges that they will face. Not every pupil will play nicely and do exactly as you want them to do, not every parent is fulsome in their support, not every newspaper is flushed with praise for the profession, and some of your friends might think you enjoy a 9am to 3pm working day and 13 weeks of holiday a year, which you spend sitting on a beach drinking sangria and soaking up the sun in between dips in a cobalt blue ocean. Oh, and then of course there’s the government, the Department for Education (it’s had various names over the years), her majesty’s inspectorate and whoever is the current secretary of state for education all sticking their oars in. They all have a say in the ever-changing and turbulent world of teaching. But almost without fail, our fledgling teachers always come back to us with answers that make us instantly proud of them. They tell us how they want to make a difference, to share their passion for their subject, to help young people, to pay back the support they had. None tell us that it is for money; it is nearly always a moral or ethical reason that led them into the profession.
We believe there are many people who go above and beyond the call of duty in their chosen field, but there are not many professions in which people work extra hours for free. We cannot imagine many folk saying, ‘I’ll nip in on Saturday morning to help out,’ knowing there would be no monetary benefit. We are being a bit tongue-in-cheek here, but we do believe that there are not many other professions in which the highly trained professional will turn up on a wet Sunday to help run the school Christmas Fair, or spend a week away from their loved ones leading 50 teenagers on an educational visit. Every teacher that goes into the profession knows that this is part of the deal and that they will not be paid for doing those things when they occur out of normal school hours. We have been in awe of our colleagues over the years. At one point, when we taught in the same school, we could count over 100 clubs and activities that went on each week during breaks, lunchtimes, and before and after school – all run by teachers and support staff for free.
And there’s another thing. We’re using the term ‘teachers’ but we’re also talking about teaching assistants, lecturers, learning support assistants, librarians, and so on – they all teach. They all make a difference and share that common raison d’être of changing their pupils’ lives for the better. They, in the words of Guy Kawasaki, are ‘society’s heroes’, far too often unsung and – like our medical colleagues – far too often 3criticised, when, in fact, they are busily going about their daily role, making differences that will have long-term and often life-changing effects.
This book tells the story of those heroes by looking at a snapshot of what goes on across the UK – across the world, in fact – in our wonderful profession. It has often been said that medics save lives, that they heal people, and we agree. What a wonderful thing. It must be amazing to be able to do that. Teachers have a similarly important role; they make people. During the school years, up to the age of 16, we estimate that a full-time school pupil will spend around 16,000 hours in the company of teachers, which is almost identical to our estimation of time spent ‘at home’. However, there’s a difference. Time ‘at home’ typically isn’t spent in the proximity of parents or carers; kids play with friends, go to clubs and do things away from their families. But at school they are constantly under the gaze of teachers. It’s a huge responsibility, as parents are putting their trust in teachers to help build their kids.
If you have ever seen us present, you will know that we are a great fan of the story that retired professional footballer Ian Wright tells about his primary school teacher, Mr Pigden. In fact, the power of the impact made by his teacher is instantly demonstrated in Ian’s autobiography, A Life in Football. The dedication reads: ‘For my teacher, Mr Sydney Pigden’. Wright goes on to explain that he was ‘the first positive male figure I had in my life.’3
Ian Wright tells us he had a chaotic childhood, that he’d do anything not to have to go home. Finding that positive male role model was the catalyst to his future success: if Mr Pigden ‘hadn’t worked to put me on the straight and narrow, I wouldn’t be the person I turned out to be.’4 When someone saw Ian Wright the child, instead of the challenging behaviour that he sometimes displayed, his future life would be transformed. Ian explains how one of the simplest interventions made such a difference to him. Mr Pigden simply took the time to sit down and talk with him. If Chris and I had a pound for every angry pupil who we’d scooped up from a classroom over the years, who said to us of their teacher, ‘They just don’t listen!’, we’d be very rich. Mr Pigden defused that issue with Ian, who freely admits that he was an angry 4young person with ‘full on rage’.5 Yet Mr Pigden cut through that and formed a positive relationship with the young Ian, using what his pupil was good at – football – as a foundation. As Ian says:
He did so much for me as a footballer, which helped me elsewhere in life – he taught me about playing for the team, how I needed to pass the ball to other people. That was all part of him showing me how to communicate properly.6
Mr Pigden may well have only been Ian’s teacher for a relatively short time at primary school but his impact has been profound and long lasting. Surely there can be no better legacy than when you have used your skills to create positive change that transcends your own lifetime and has a knock-on effect on others.
That situation is no better summed up than by an anonymous letter to The Guardian.7 Very sadly, a parent writes to say thank you to a teacher who has recently died, leaving a legacy of overwhelming positivity. The writer thanks the teacher for not only being inspirational for her child but also for the wider ranging benefits that came from the relationship – something that every anxious parent would want.
You made parents feel as cared for as our children.
It’s an emotional read, not just because it’s evident that there was great sadness at the passing of this wonderful teacher and that it was incredibly hard for the parent to tell her child that his teacher had died, but because you gradually realise that because of this one teacher, many other children will benefit. The author of the letter, you learn, is also a teacher and was inspired professionally by her child’s teacher, adopting techniques she saw having an impact on her child and their peers. They communicated something even more powerful than that: a vision.
In the short time I knew you, you taught me about the type of teacher I aspire to be.
5On BBC One’s The One Show, the actor Sir David Jason explained that Jason is not his real surname.8 It is a stage name he chose when he came to register with the actors’ union, Equity, as he discovered that there was already an actor called David White – his real name. It was then he remembered his English teacher, who had enthralled him with many a book, in particular one containing the story of Jason and the Argonauts, and so the surname Jason was chosen.
The teachers that we are looking at in this book are mere humans, but in all cases they seem to have superhuman abilities. Like sporting greats such as Muhammad Ali, Jesse Owens, Billie Jean King and Tanni Grey-Thompson, who transcend their sports for a variety of reasons, teachers can do the same and affect lives beyond the classroom and well into the future. There is no clearer way to see that than when a teacher inspires one of their pupils to follow in their footsteps.
The reason why both of us became teachers is because of teachers. We had totally different upbringings yet were each inspired to teach by a teacher. There is no history of teaching in either of our families. Chris comes from a long line of naval officers; Gary from a long line of coal miners. Chris was expected to join the navy to carry on the family tradition and Gary saw teachers as being on a social and intellectual pedestal so high that he never even thought he could join them. For both of us, to take a step to the side and develop a passion for education took quite a spark. And for each of us the fire was lit differently.
In July 1972 Gary ran out of the back door of his junior school, darted across the playground and leapt over the stone wall into the adjacent field. There he sat, back against the wall, sobbing. It was the last day of the summer term and he was leaving to go to grammar school, having passed the eleven-plus. His years of junior school hadn’t been all plain sailing, but he’d loved it like a second home. He’d had some lovely teachers who made the sun shine in their lessons, and one who seemed to take joy in hitting her pupils with a ruler and pulling their hair. Years later, Gary bumped into another ex-pupil of this teacher, who said, ‘I went to her funeral. Just to check if she was dead!’ Sad 6but true, and it illustrates our earlier point about how, when teachers make a difference, they never un-make that difference. This is why it’s so important that the difference is a positive one.