Continued Professional Development
courses are becoming like hen’s teeth, but when you do get out on one, you
experience the unmistakable rush of being somewhere you didn’t quite expect to
be when you entered the teaching profession.
The giddiness of a late start. The placebo
feeling of playing truant from work. The dressed down approach, even the tired
old jokes about finishing at 6pm create an aura of otherworldliness.
Your companions for the day sit dotted
around the room. Among them are the familiar characters you will encounter at
every teaching course.
The
Tutor
Usually stood at the front of the
room, quietly becoming more disgruntled at the non-compliance of the data
projector, is the tutor or facilitator of the day’s session.
Generally a former teacher who has
traded the rat race of marking and monitoring for a life of presentation and
mandatory evaluations, they are ultra-sensitive to the disdainful stare of the
overworked and sceptical teachers in front of them.
The tutor will chat casually with the
first few people who arrive before anxiously skating around the room ensuring
everyone has the relevant hard copies of all the resources and keeping a
rigorous eye on the whereabouts of the sign-in sheet.
Throughout the day, particularly after
lunch, the tutor will tread the fine line between teacher and tutor, fighting
the urge to clap a rhythm in order to bring the room to attention in favour of
the more sedate and mannerly “Okay folks”.
Will always tell the group that this
has been their most enjoyable session ever.
The
Chatterbox
This particular attendee rips up the
class contract in spectacular fashion the minute they leave the confines of
their day-to-day environment. Released from its shackles, the Chatterbox
displays the kind of behaviour that would no doubt draw their ire if it
occurred in their classroom.
With the Tutor in mid-flow, the
Chatterbox can often be heard to speak at full volume to their colleagues about
a subject that holds little relevance to the session. Maybe Johnny from Year 3
is giving them a hard time and this is the perfect time to find out what he was
like last year from his previous teacher, or perhaps there is a pressing need
to ask if they have their reports completed.
The Chatterbox will often draw
unsuspecting accomplices into their web of ill-manners, resulting in the
understated “Okay folks”.
The bane of the Tutor’s life.
The
Peacock
It’s generally accepted that sharing
classroom practice is a positive thing. It allows others an insight into what
worked for your class and where you could learn from them.
The Peacock, however, has no interest
in what you have been doing in your classroom. They will listen with an
agonised look on their face before the sounds that your mouth was making have
ceased and then, with an ambiguous ‘Yeah’, they will flash their proverbial
feathers.
“Well, what I do in my class is…”
generally begins the Peacock’s narcissistic babble as they mount a verbal
pedestal.
Their testimony is usually a very
normal concept presented as if they had scrawled the answer on Professor Gerald
Lambeau’s blackboard. When it comes to a close, the nods of agreement are
accompanied by pained looks from all who witnessed it.
Often the last to leave as they seek
affirmation from the Tutor.
The
Latent Listener
This attendee has only the patience or
the concentration span for certain parts of the day. They begin the morning
jaded by the inane traffic chat and customary scramble for the sign-in sheet
and their input to the early pre-amble is limited.
At various times throughout the day,
they will enter the conversation, delivering a fairly lucid point before fading
back into apparent indifference, only to arrive again at crucial junctures throughout
the day.
Although outwardly unengaged, the
Latent Listener is taking everything in, possibly filtering in their head what
they can offer that might be new information to those in any way interested. Or
maybe they genuinely just can’t be bothered.
Often irked into action by their
arch-nemesis, The Peacock.
The
Permanency Parrot (NI Specific)
In the current political and financial
mire that passes for NI often means that a large percentage of
those actually present at a training course are not, contrary to popular
belief, in permanent employment.
What they love more than anything is
to be reminded of this fact by every passer-by they encounter. In a phenomenon
seemingly unique to the teaching profession, we seem obsessed with a drive for
permanency that in any other line of work would be treated with bewilderment.
The Permanency Parrot simply repeats
this well-meant enquiry because they have heard others do it.
The
Militant
Heavily unionised and wound-up, the
Militant usually gets their speak in early in the day’s session. They might
begin with a thinly-veiled assault on ‘The Board’ for the lack of sub cover
available for CPD sessions, or they could be provoked into verbal action at the
mere mention of industrial action.
Their input will be met with either
nodding approval or with a shooting look, depending on the persuasion of the
respondent. The Tutor is now shifting nervously, reluctant to allow The
Militant to take over proceedings but equally keen not to be seen as a scab.
The Militant pulls back, his point
suitably made. He may reiterate at timely intervals throughout the day.
The
Moaning Myrtle
Teaching is a stressful occupation.
Opportunities for professional development are shoehorned in among the myriad
of other spinning plates in the teacher’s incessant to-do list. They are even
more rare given the fact we have a poorly developed budget and a proudly vacuous
government.
But here you are, out for the day.
There’s even sub cover AND a free lunch. You have a nice relaxed rising that
morning, registration isn’t until 9:30 and you’ve had time for a coffee on your
way in. You’re even in your jeans and if you were any more laid back and
refreshed you’d be horizontal.
Within minutes of taking your seat
your good mood is dampened by that most effective of mood-killers; The Moaning
Myrtle.
Myrtle usually presents with folded
arms and a face like a well-caned posterior. Steam shoots out their ears as they
renounce how much harder it is to leave work for your class. Their brow rises
as they bemoan the extra work they’ll have to do to get caught up and wonder if
the course is going to be worth it.
The lunch is never any good. They send
too many people on the courses. Power Points are boring and sure we have the
slides anyway. Do not engage.
They will digress to complaints about
having to do duties, how industrial action is making things harder, how the
helpless downtrodden educators have no recourse. The fact that everyone else in
the room has similar issues doesn’t seem to register.
Will always be first down for lunch.
Question
Quigley
It’s 3:30pm. The session has already run
over time and the Tutor’s pleas for attention have become louder and more
irritable. The evaluations have still to be completed, but it looks like finish
line is in sight. The Tutor prepares for their token request for enquiries.
“Any questions folks?”
Furtive looks shoot around the room. Invisible
daggers are drawn. The coast looks clear as the Tutor even begins to hand out
the evaluation sheets. We’ll be home and hosed within minutes.
“Actually, I have a question.”
A voice from the back of the room
penetrates the giddy quitting time optimism. A rumble of ill-concealed discontent
rises like a stormy tide. The Tutor pauses, forcing a smile.
You know the rest.
The
Hungover One
Whatever it is about the late start, the
slight relinquishing of pedagogical duty for the day, or the nostalgic yearning
for a university hall, there is always one person who will rekindle the old
flame and go on the absolute rip the night before a course.
They’ll either arrive ridiculously
early so as not to arouse suspicion or try and sneak in late. Either way, their
groggy demeanour and unwillingness to raise their head too high is a dead
giveaway. Or breathe, they often don’t want to do that either.
They make frequent trips to the toilet
as the Tutor smiles knowingly. They’ve seen this before. These may be
regurgitative trips or simply a quick breather in a cooler, less intense environment
but a stringent don’t ask-don’t tell policy is strictly adhered to.
Depending on how severe their symptoms
are, they may lapse into the role of the Latent Listener, but this may be an
optimistic assessment.
May sacrifice the free lunch for a
half-hour lie down in the car.
***
Whether you meet any of these
characters or not, one thing is for certain.
Someone, at some point, will make a
joke about coffee being available.
You’ll all chuckle dutifully.
Plus ça change.
