To say that I was sluggish in my preparations to wing the desolate abyss twixt my home and the school would be something of an understatement. There is something essentially indecent in getting up before dawn to be underpaid by an institution which actually thinks it is teacher friendly!
When will they work out that it is not how many whiteboards there are in classrooms; or different types of tea there are in the ‘staff room’ or whether one has calçots for school lunch – it is and always will be about the money.
If you pay good wages then you will have a happy staff. For over thirty years I have listened to mealy-mouthed appeals to teachers’ professionalism as a reason not to pay them what they are worth. I have heard assurances given that teachers’ gestures of good faith and dedication to their students will be matched by management’s consideration. And time after time I have seen teachers treated with contempt.
Our school is outside the normal union structure – whatever that means in Spain. My union has an educational section but it does not operate like the NUT or the NAS/UWT. In Britain my union membership is classed as being a membership fee to a recognized professional body. Here I have been advised not to tell anyone that I am a member of a union. In The School That Sacked Me the full fatuity of the present union organization is borne in on one. Unions here are organized on an institution basis and the election for union members is decided by a vote by the whole of the workforce no matter what job they do. You cannot stand for union representation until you have been in an institution for six months. You have to set out a ‘raft’ of person for whom to vote and management can set out an alternative one.
I have no idea who is a member of a union in our school and I have been told that if I put my head above the parapet then my career is going to be short and sweet. My colleagues say, “They’ll sack you!” with a smile and with an attitude of weary resignation! And I am horrified! Though at least I am a member of a union and I know and have talked to officers in the union and god help anyone who steps out of line in treating me in a casual manner.
People moan and groan and whimper and snivel – but they do bugger all about it. They accept a ludicrously long working day; incomprehensible meetings on a Saturday morning; a complete lack of consideration with absence known in advance; inadequate staff room facilities; inadequate toilet facilities and so on. And nothing is done.
Our school is a ‘private foundation’ yet is also subsidized with state money. Our school fees are very high and the school is popular. What do they do with the money? Who does the accounting? Where, indeed, are the accounts? Who gets to see them? Who gets to question them?
My discontent is growing in inverse proportion to the lack of active (that’s the key word) concern I see around me. Something is going to give soon.
I had two possible gains from the first forms going on a skiing trip today and I lost both periods. One of them because I was the unfortunate sod who picked up the phone in the staff room at the wrong time. The last period of the day (one of my losses) added insult to injury because the film (which was being shown to the rump of children who had not gone skiing) was actually mine!
Tomorrow our ‘Snow Week’ continues and I am sure that the suppressed hysteria that characterized today will continue as well. In spite of everyone knowing that this change to our working conditions was going to happen it seems as if they have only just realized that it upon us!
We have been left to our own devices to ‘amuse’ the pupils for the eight (yes count them) hours that the hapless pupils who have not gone on the trip spend in our school!
And guess who has drawn the lucky ticket to take the pupils for the last hour on Friday?
It’s a good thing that I don’t believe in conspiracy theories and that I don’t harbour bitterness!
And this self-pitying winge is the thousandth blog entry!
It may not be profoundly uplifting or inspirationally incisive - but it is characteristic!
When will they work out that it is not how many whiteboards there are in classrooms; or different types of tea there are in the ‘staff room’ or whether one has calçots for school lunch – it is and always will be about the money.
If you pay good wages then you will have a happy staff. For over thirty years I have listened to mealy-mouthed appeals to teachers’ professionalism as a reason not to pay them what they are worth. I have heard assurances given that teachers’ gestures of good faith and dedication to their students will be matched by management’s consideration. And time after time I have seen teachers treated with contempt.
Our school is outside the normal union structure – whatever that means in Spain. My union has an educational section but it does not operate like the NUT or the NAS/UWT. In Britain my union membership is classed as being a membership fee to a recognized professional body. Here I have been advised not to tell anyone that I am a member of a union. In The School That Sacked Me the full fatuity of the present union organization is borne in on one. Unions here are organized on an institution basis and the election for union members is decided by a vote by the whole of the workforce no matter what job they do. You cannot stand for union representation until you have been in an institution for six months. You have to set out a ‘raft’ of person for whom to vote and management can set out an alternative one.
I have no idea who is a member of a union in our school and I have been told that if I put my head above the parapet then my career is going to be short and sweet. My colleagues say, “They’ll sack you!” with a smile and with an attitude of weary resignation! And I am horrified! Though at least I am a member of a union and I know and have talked to officers in the union and god help anyone who steps out of line in treating me in a casual manner.
People moan and groan and whimper and snivel – but they do bugger all about it. They accept a ludicrously long working day; incomprehensible meetings on a Saturday morning; a complete lack of consideration with absence known in advance; inadequate staff room facilities; inadequate toilet facilities and so on. And nothing is done.
Our school is a ‘private foundation’ yet is also subsidized with state money. Our school fees are very high and the school is popular. What do they do with the money? Who does the accounting? Where, indeed, are the accounts? Who gets to see them? Who gets to question them?
My discontent is growing in inverse proportion to the lack of active (that’s the key word) concern I see around me. Something is going to give soon.
I had two possible gains from the first forms going on a skiing trip today and I lost both periods. One of them because I was the unfortunate sod who picked up the phone in the staff room at the wrong time. The last period of the day (one of my losses) added insult to injury because the film (which was being shown to the rump of children who had not gone skiing) was actually mine!
Tomorrow our ‘Snow Week’ continues and I am sure that the suppressed hysteria that characterized today will continue as well. In spite of everyone knowing that this change to our working conditions was going to happen it seems as if they have only just realized that it upon us!
We have been left to our own devices to ‘amuse’ the pupils for the eight (yes count them) hours that the hapless pupils who have not gone on the trip spend in our school!
And guess who has drawn the lucky ticket to take the pupils for the last hour on Friday?
It’s a good thing that I don’t believe in conspiracy theories and that I don’t harbour bitterness!
And this self-pitying winge is the thousandth blog entry!
It may not be profoundly uplifting or inspirationally incisive - but it is characteristic!
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