Detention Diaries

This one is a bit different, I’ve been helping a trainee these last few weeks and it has reminded me just how difficult it is for all of us.

I’ve also been reading a lot about the new £200m pot for teacher training in SEND. Nice one!

Let’s start at the beginning.

The PGCE.

Also known as:

• The Hunger Games, but with lesson plans
• A year-long audition where no one tells you the rules
• Being thrown into a classroom with 30 children and a smile that says “you’ll be fine”

PGCE training is brutal.
Not “challenging.”
Not “intense.”

Brutal.

You are expected to:

• Learn how to teach
• Learn how to manage behaviour
• Learn safeguarding
• Learn SEND
• Learn assessment
• Learn how to not cry in the cupboard

All while being observed, graded, judged, and occasionally told you should “try smiling more.”

Then — just as you start to feel vaguely competent — they hand you a timetable, pat you on the back, and release you into the wild.

No safety briefing.
No survival kit.
Just vibes and a whiteboard marker that doesn’t work.

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Thrown to the Lions (With a Seating Plan)

From day one, you are expected to be:

• An outstanding teacher
• A data analyst
• A SEND specialist
• A therapist
• A mediator
• An attendance officer – what are you doing about attendance?
• A safeguarding expert
• A provider of snacks, pencils, emotional reassurance, and occasionally deodorant

Parents want results.
The public want miracles.
Students want snacks and for you to “chill.”

And heaven forbid you don’t immediately master all of it.

Because someone — usually someone who hasn’t set foot in a school since 1994 — will say:

“Teaching can’t be that hard.” or sometimes… “What, secondary? I don’t know how you do it!”

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Ah Yes… The Holidays

And then it comes.

The sentence.

The one that makes every teacher’s eye twitch.

“Well… you do get all them holidays.”

ALL.
THEM.
HOLIDAYS.

Said casually.
With confidence.
Like it’s a mic drop.

At which point, something ancient and feral awakens inside us.

Because yes — we get school holidays.
Which are:

• Unpaid for many
• Spent recovering like Victorian convalescents
• Filled with planning, marking, prep, and anxiety
• Or lying face down wondering what year it is

But say one bad word about our holidays and suddenly every teacher within a five-mile radius is activated.

We will smile politely on the outside while mentally drafting a PowerPoint titled:

“No, Sharon, I never fucking switch off and some idiot is always emailing me during half term anyway.”

Our holidays are sacred.
Mention them incorrectly and you’ll see things you can’t unsee.

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SEND Training: A Drop in the Ocean

Which brings us neatly to the latest proposal — funding for SEND training for all teachers.

On paper?
Brilliant.

In reality?
It feels a bit like saying:

“Right, we’ve noticed you’re drowning… here’s a leaflet.”

SEND training matters. Massively.
But one-off sessions, surface-level CPD, and buzzwords are not going to turn teachers into educational psychologists overnight.

You don’t become:

• A SEND lead
• An ED psych
• A trauma specialist

Because someone put you in a hall for two hours with a PowerPoint and a biscuit.

We need proper, ongoing, expert-led training — not something designed to tick a box and look good in a policy document. Which is why £200m is not even a drop in the ocean – there are half a million teachers across the country requiring more (because we want it done properly, not because we’re incapable) than just a poster.

Funnily enough I can see it now, just like the huge issue about sexual harassment. “Stick a poster up about it not being ‘banter’ that’ll show ’em!”

This can’t be the same SEND is a real issue across the country, I should know – my daughter is autistic. She gets unbelievable support at her mainstream school but they go above and beyond. They do all this with their own purse strings!

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Final Thought

Teaching asks you to be everything, all at once, with minimal training and maximum judgement.

You are trained intensely…
Then launched violently…
Then criticised constantly…
Then reminded you’re “lucky” because of the holidays.

And still — somehow — you show up.

So next time someone says:

“At least you get all them holidays…”

Smile.
Breathe.
And remember:
They couldn’t last a week on a PGCE.

And they definitely couldn’t survive Monday period one.