Me and Dyslexia

Copy of Selective Mutism (SM)Helping a child with SM to find her voice #1

Mon, 20 Jul 2020 14:57:34 GMT

This is taken from a chapter I wrote in a book called ‘Selective Mutism in our own Words’ by Carl Sutton and Claire Forrester. It is an account of my time working with a girl who has selective mutism, during her time in primary education. Her name has been changed for ethical reasons. Working with Chloë has been one of the most rewarding, frustrating and emotional experiences of my teaching career. It was certainly the longest! I had encountered children with selective mutism before, when teaching in Secondary Schools; however, they were the ones who had managed to use the transition from Primary to Secondary to find their voice. Therefore, the selective mutism was no longer evident by the time I was teaching them.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hélène Cohen; ‘Miss’, or Mrs Cohen to thousands of children, many of whom are now adults. I have been teaching for over 30 years, initially in the secondary sector, but more recently at a small, independent primary school. Working with all aspects of Learning Support has been my main interest, although I am also a teacher of English, leading the subject in the school referenced in this account. That’s probably all you need to know about me.

So, back to Chloë. I shall be calling her this, having asked her to choose her name for the purpose of this account. That epitomises our relationship – everything up front, no tricks, no lies. She is the focus, after all.

I first met Chloë soon after I started at her school. She was in the reception class, and her teacher expressed a concern about a little girl who wouldn’t speak in school. She would happily, indeed noisily, talk at home, but only around a very select few people. Not knowing where to start with this, I went on a course. I decided that three of us should go: her current class teacher, the one who would most likely teach her the following year and me. Thus I met Maggie. Maggie Johnson was running the course and it was she who opened my eyes to the fundamental nature of selective mutism: anxiety. This was a revelation to me, as Chloë could be seen playing happily with friends, especially when she thought we weren’t looking! Whilst appearing extremely shy, she always seemed happy in school.

Initially, I worked with Chloë from a distance, offering support to her teachers, as they attempted the various steps as laid out in Maggie’s book. All was going well, slowly but well. Chloë started to record her reading at home to be played back to her teacher, she would quietly talk with a select few of her closest friends in school – definite progress. Then changes happened in her home life, and the little talk there was became less. I was also aware that Chloë would be moving up to KS2, across the road and with a very different regime, so the transition needed managing. There would be more teachers, most of whom would be new to her, and more movement around the school on a day-to-day basis. Added to this, Chloë was evidently an intelligent girl. I decided to work with her on a weekly basis, to build a relationship, so that she would have continuity when transferring to KS2. I always took her out with another child, to help her to feel more secure. This is when I saw, first hand, the full extent of the anxiety behind selective mutism.

We used to play games that would develop her logical thinking skills. This would require Chloë to make choices, which is where the anxiety showed. Whilst whichever friend was joining her that week (there were 3 who would take turns) would happily select a response, placing a tile in the square of her choice; Chloë would sit, anxiously tearing at a tissue, reluctant to commit to her choice unless 100% certain. She would work away at the tissue, gradually shredding it, and select her response by holding this tissue and tile in both hands and slowly move her whole body gently forward until she touched the square where she needed to place her tile. Her face looked anxious, her shoulders tense - I find it hard to describe in words just how closed in and full of anxiety the movement would be. During this time I needed to do an assessment of her receptive vocabulary, as it was hard to place her academically due to her anxiety about getting an answer wrong. Using a picture based assessment, where I would say a word and Chloë would need to select one of 4 pictures that best fitted the word, her score was average, a standardised score of 102 where 100 is exactly average. For this assessment, Chloë only answered when absolutely certain of the answer and did this showing immense anxiety. My experience and intuition meant that I felt that this was not a reflection of her true ability.

This is a concern for those who display selective mutism. The underlying anxiety means that a test situation will often not reflect true potential, so such a child could easily be placed in a set at school at a level below her ability, which will further undermine self-esteem. This can easily become a downward spiral, as self-esteem is essential to successful learning as well as to breaking the silence of selective mutism.

To be continued next week…

Copy of Selective Mutism (SM) - Helping a child with SM to find her voice (Part 2) #1

Mon, 20 Jul 2020 14:57:20 GMT

As I worked with Chloë, I gradually gained her trust. The aforementioned honesty when working with Chloë was essential for this. I always outlined what we were doing, talked openly with her about her voice, and appealed to her innate sense of fun. This was helped by the introduction of home visits during the holidays. In her own environment, while she still didn’t speak in front of me, her sense of mischief started to shine through. We tried the various sliding in techniques as outlined in Maggie’s programme, but Chloë was not yet ready for this. Being sensitive, she picked up on how much her mother wanted her to succeed in speaking outside of the home and that in itself added to her own pressure and anxiety – all resulting from the mutual love between her and her mother. So instead, I drank coffee with Chloë’s mother and we would chat, so that Chloë could become more comfortable around me.

There were small steps of progress surrounding the transition, the first being Chloë’s ‘accidental word’ in school. Here are the notes of the incident:

“Today, at lunch, R saw Chloë being a bit silly and she was crawling on the floor, so he asked her if she was OK and she said, “Yes, fine.” Then quickly put her hand to her mouth, as if realising that she had said it out loud. R then asked her to fetch him a glass of water, which she did – albeit slowly. He then continued to eat his lunch quietly, without trying to make any conversation. C will inform Chloë’s mum of this incident. Hopefully Chloë will be able to reflect favourably on this.”

This utterance was denied by Chloë, and still is to this day, although assurances were given that this didn’t mean that she would now be pressured to speak in school.

Having established earlier than usual who would be Chloë’s teachers in Year 3, I ensured that all of the KS2 teachers and TAs underwent some basic selective mutism training with Maggie Johnson, so that none would put undue pressure on her and all would have some understanding of how communication would work. In Year 3 we also started on a range of activities with a small group of Chloë’s friends, all of which took away the pressure of making choices; things such as blowing bubbles and playing silly games. It was also agreed that I should be in the pool with Chloë for swimming lessons, supporting her and another child, to help them to become comfortable in the water. All of this seemed to help Chloë develop confidence around me and this was first seen when I redid the receptive vocabulary assessment. This time, albeit reluctantly, Chloë agreed to have a go even when unsure. This had a tremendous impact on her standardised score, which went up by 15 standardised points, a score much more in line with my understanding of her natural abilities. This in turn was a super boost to her self esteem and marked the start of her real cheekiness when working with me – it turns out that Chloë cheats, not to win, but to ensure that I lose!

The transition to Year 3 was positive. I was able to monitor her progress more closely, being based in the KS2 part of the school. Chloë’s confidence gradually grew and she would sometimes ‘forget’ where she was and was even seen running, when she thought no one was watching. This confidence was noticeable in several ways. In Year 3, Chloë’s movements became bigger: from the closed in, anxious movements, tearing (or as we referred to it, killing) a tissue, she would now make ‘body sounds’, tapping, stamping, pinging a ruler on the table, and would even reach across to write on the class white board. Her silent, puppet-operating performance of ‘Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes’ to her entire class was extremely entertaining and she even played the piano in assembly as everyone was filing in. Added to this, she started to record herself making the body sounds, and allowed me to play these to a select few members of staff. She also, through the dedicated work of an exceptionally patient teacher, started to join in with PE and Games for the first time. Every step of progress, for example with throwing and catching a netball, would then be shown to me so that she could build on this, and not deny her achievements. Her mother would then ensure that she rehearsed these skills at home, away from prying eyes.

Notice how casually I threw in that Chloë played the piano in assembly. This was huge! It also involved tears – not hers. Her mother had, as agreed with Chloë, waited outside. I was in the hall. I managed to hold it together the whole time I was in Chloë’s presence, then quietly slipped out after her performance. The full force of the emotion and the enormity of what Chloë had achieved then hit me as I cried with her mother, quietly, outside the assembly hall. This epitomises the intensity of working with someone who has selective mutism. The emotional investment is high, but the rewards are higher.

To be continued next week…

Copy of Helping a child with SM to find her voice #1

Mon, 20 Jul 2020 14:56:34 GMT

This leads me to make mention of how we communicated, negotiated and came to understandings. It was largely through writing and drawing. This would be done on mini whiteboards to allow for wiping things away. Chloë liked to be in control of the whiteboard. If I set out choices, she would draw little boxes in which to record a tick or cross to show her preferences. Whenever I drew a box, it was never neat enough for her exacting standards, and would be erased and replaced with one drawn by Chloë! Through this communication, I learned that she was texting some Year 6 girls, and had wished she had spoken the first time they had played together. This not only shows just how important each first encounter is, but how selective mutism is not a choice, not stubbornness, but deep rooted anxiety.

Then the first real sound that I heard from Chloë, her giggle! Like Champagne being poured from a bottle. I have already mentioned her sense of fun, so the talking tasks were built around this. The friends chosen to join in were all gigglers, and as Chloë relaxed, so her laughter escaped. This helped her to move on to some silly sounds –‘huh’, tongue clicking and sucking against the roof of her mouth.

These may all be tiny steps, but each marked huge progress for Chloë. Working with those who have selective mutism requires constant patience alongside tiny steps that each move things forward. It is so important to keep some momentum and not stay still, however tiny the steps may be.

To further build on this, I became her Form teacher in Year 4. The only subject I taught her was spelling, as we don’t have all subjects taught by the Form teacher in our school, but it meant that she and I could touch base throughout the day. ‘Thumbs up’ became Chloë’s first form of communication with the now increasing number of teachers that she encountered daily. We built on this with technology. The first step was Chloë recording things at home for me to hear, including conversations with her mum and sister, reading and then questions for me, so that we were conversing remotely. Initially I heard these recordings alone, then with Chloë in the next room and eventually with her in the same room, so that she, her voice and I were in the room together.

The emotion of hearing Chloë’s voice for the first time was overwhelming, so I was relieved to have been alone for that. Having focussed on the whole ‘underplay’ element – “no pressure, your voice will come in time” etc – had she witnessed my delightfully tearful response, it would have been hard to convince her that we were relaxed about her selective mutism.

We then agreed who would be allowed to hear the various recordings, each initially being heard without Chloë present. The teachers would let Chloë know when they had heard her voice, and even those who thought they could distance themselves, were moved beyond their expectations by the impact her voice had on them. Her voice, an ordinary little girl’s voice. What had we all expected? I don’t know. Yet we all had the same first response – she sounds so normal!

Recording Chloë’s voice progressed over the time she was in the Junior School. We used it in a structured way so that Chloë could demonstrate her learning to her teachers. This included explaining ‘forces’ to her male Science teacher; reciting numbers in French – a super French accent - and even telling us when things were troubling her. Throughout all of this, Chloë was supported by her friends. Everyone in her class was reminded that Chloë hadn’t yet found her voice, but would do so in time, so that the openness was there throughout.

While Chloë was in Year 4, I saw Maggie Johnson’s television programme on selective mutism. In this there was a child who would communicate with her grandfather by texting. I thought this would be a good idea to introduce at school, as it would allow ‘in the moment’ communication between Chloë and her teachers. We’d tried a mini whiteboard, but these ‘show me’ boards are still a fairly public form of communication, which was quite daunting for Chloë. I purchased two extremely basic phones, one black and one pink, that each had the other’s number saved so that they could be used solely for texting each other. This proved a success. Chloë was able to answer questions in class and even let me know if something was bothering her. Hers was the pink phone, naturally! The amazing thing is how accepting the other children always are. The worries of their reaction to a child having a phone in school, albeit a basic one, were short lived. Having seen it, and had the reason for it explained, they simply accepted it. This is true of so many interventions for learning support.

I remained Chloë’s Form tutor for Year 5. We had a fun activity of writing riddles and her classmates would be called on to offer theirs to the group. How could Chloë join in? Chloë and I agreed that she would record her riddle on a talking postcard, which I could then play to the class. This would be a big step for Chloë, as most of her form had been at school with her for several years by then without ever having heard her voice, so this needed to be considered carefully. Eventually we agreed that we would use the talking postcard with several children first, so that it wouldn’t automatically signal that the voice was going to be Chloë’s. Then when the day came to play Chloë’s riddle she would first leave the class, ostensibly to run an errand for me, so that she could be out of the room when it was played. Then, after the class had heard it, I would explain that it had been Chloë. I made one mistake. I forgot to tell her closest friend what I was doing. All went to plan and Chloë went to fetch something from my office. I played her riddle and noticed that Chloë’s closest friend was looking daggers at me. Credit due, she didn’t say a word to indicate whose riddle we were hearing. She just sat there, staring at me, pure anger in her eyes. After solving the riddle, one by one children started to ask whose riddle it was. I looked straight at Chloë’s friend and explained not only whose riddle it was, but that she knew that I was playing it to them, which was why she was out of the room. Her friend relaxed immediately and I apologised for not having forewarned her.

Key to this stage was to explain to the class that they were not to make a fuss about this when Chloë returned to class. This is the crux of what she had been dreading, the attention made of her once everyone realised that they had heard her voice.

To be continued next week…

Copy of Helping a child with SM to find her voice #1

Mon, 20 Jul 2020 14:56:10 GMT

Final Part

Later in the same year I introduced an inter-house poetry recital. Every child in the school had to learn a poem by heart and recite it to the rest of the year group, then 4 children in each year would be selected to represent their house on stage, in front of the entire Junior School. Chloë was to be no exception, so she duly learned her poem – naturally a silly one – and recorded it. We played that recording to the whole of her year group, with her in the room, another huge step forward. Every teacher and TA were allowed to hear this, so that now her voice had been heard by many. Chloë was widening her circle of friends and even speaking with some of them in school, out of the hearing or adults.

Transition time again. As Chloë started year 6, we needed to consider her best interests for secondary school. It was felt that she would benefit from moving school, having a fresh start, as the key obstacle to her talking was now the fact that she hadn’t already done so and it would be a break from the norm for her. At a new school there would be no expectation of her silence, making it easier for her to speak. Our main target was for Chloë to be able to speak when starting secondary school. To that end, the summer break between years 5 and 6 included several home visits.

We started by developing the use of the phone. Initially I wasn’t allowed to speak, just listen. I would text Chloë a question, ‘What did you have for breakfast?’ Chloë would have time to prepare her answer, then text me so that I knew the phone call was coming. I would answer the call and say nothing while Chloë spoke. This was using speaker phone at her end. The call would be ended. Gradually I was able to say ‘Hello’ and ‘Goodbye’, and then ask the question while on the phone, making it more like a conversation, albeit very structured. One advantage of the phone call is that it could happen throughout the school holiday, so that there was no break in communication. When I went away, we could still have our regular ‘chat’.

As stated before, we have to keep the momentum going, moving forward in these small steps, so I brought the use of the phone into the home visits. For some time now we had been playing the card game ‘Fish’ as the talking task. Progress had been slow but constant, so I arranged for a home visit on a day when I could spend as long as was needed. Here’s how it went:

We started by generally chatting, that is to say that I chatted with Chloë’s mother while she and her sister played. We then moved to the game 'Fish', using the ‘sliding in’ technique. I stood just outside of where they were playing, round the corner but within the room itself. I could just about make out Chloë speaking very quietly, but what was really noticeable was that her younger sister initially reverted to whispering herself. Being only six years old, when she forgot that I was there – as she couldn't see me – she started to talk properly. This was an important observation, as it showed how her sister had been mimicking Chloë’s behaviour, making herself at risk of selective mutism. Stopping the game, I spoke to Chloë alone and explained to her what was happening with her sister. As stated before, I have always been extremely open and honest with Chloë and she acknowledged that her sister was doing what I'd said. Although concerned that I might be putting pressure on her, I felt it important that Chloë understood this impact of her own difficulties.

I then got Chloë to go upstairs and use my phone as a recording device to simply say her numbers, Ace to King as used in ‘Fish’. After she'd done this a few times, and her voice had become normal on the recording, I suggested that she phone me from her room to my mobile. Initially she did this evidently using speakerphone, so I suggested that she put the phone to her ear and repeated the numbers after me each time. I said, ‘Ace’, then she said, ‘Ace’; I said, ‘2’, then she said, ‘2’ etc. She did this in a clear normal voice, responding to me each time. I then got her to repeat the process standing in the upstairs hall, then sitting halfway down the stairs, then in the doorway to the lounge – with me reassuring her that I had my back to the doorway, then partway in the room, then to sit on the couch behind where I was and do it without the phone, repeating the words after me. Then I got her to stand directly behind me and repeat the words after me. By this time the words were in a very squeaky strained voice, but they were voiced not whispered. Chloë and I then played a game of ‘Fish’, where she was looking at me the whole time while saying the card she wanted. Again her voice was very quiet and squeaky but it was a definite voice and I could understand which card she was asking for each time. We then played the game once more with her mum and her sister joining us. Then before I left I got her to say, ‘Thank you’ for the cookies I'd taken in, and say goodbye to me.

I still don’t know how I did that in such a nonchalant manner. My heart was racing and I wanted to shout my delight at this progress, but I knew that any indication that this was a big deal would blow it! I calmly walked to the car, drove round the corner and out of sight of her house, then allowed the pent up emotion to flow through my tears. Such feelings could only be shared with one who’d understand, so I phoned a close colleague who’d been sharing this journey. Together we could allow the necessary outpour.

Year 6 was a year of key development, with colleagues emailing me examples of her progress. Chloë completed tests and exams, answering all questions, allowing her to achieve grades closer to her abilities; she joined in a dance routine in the school talent show; she was on stage for the sharing assembly, and played a recording of herself saying ‘Moo’ – she was a cow – in front of not only the entire Junior School, but many of the parents too; she had a go on the ‘Bucking Bronco’ at the summer fete, for all to see and joined in the Science revision quiz, pressing her loud buzzer and holding up an answer on a ‘show me’ board.

The transition wasn’t straight forward and necessitated an appeal to get her into a school that was small enough to allow her to flourish. Our contact has also not ceased. How can it when it has been so intense? She is speaking at her Secondary School. However, the anxiety doesn’t miraculously disappear. As I said earlier in this chapter, selective mutism is not a choice. Her speech is quiet, and mostly in response to direct questions. She misses her friends from our school, although has become closer to one of the two girls who moved to the same school as her. The anxiety now shows through feeling unwell. Initially she was physically sick each day. This is no longer the case, but she still struggles to eat properly throughout the school day, depending on a good breakfast and food as soon as she returns to the security of her home.

I don’t know if Chloë will ever talk calmly with me, but while I can’t deny that I would love to be able to chat easily with her, it doesn’t matter. It’s about Chloë. It always has been. It’s always about the person with the difficulty, it has to be. That’s the nature of the job. Our part is to come up with the steps that will facilitate progress, being patient throughout and keeping our emotions away from the child. The rewards are worth every second of time, drop of patience and tear shed.

Postscript

I visited Chloë’s mum (who I’ll call Naomi, to make this flow better while keeping the anonymity) after Chloë had moved to Senior school, which is how I knew of her progress in school. I have an open house once a year, and after a year had passed I invited Naomi to join us for this, along with the girls. My son does magic, and during this open house day, he performed card tricks for the girls, unaware that Chloë had SM. Chatting with my son later that day I discovered that Chloë had been talking with him, joking while he was performing the magic. I was both surprised and delighted. A few months later still, I was visiting Naomi during the school holidays. I had thus far only visited in term time, while Chloë was at school, as I felt she needed the space to move on. On this occasion, we were all in the living room, girls on their phones while Naomi and I nattered on. As usual, Naomi would turn to Chloë and we would include her in the conversation, with no expectation or pressure for her to talk. Then Naomi said something that she was a bit confused about and Chloë just corrected her, talking as though this was something she always did with me there, totally naturally, and Naomi and I just carried on the conversation as though this were the norm. Gradually Chloë joined in more and more with our conversation, joking, chatting, and of course, still playing or texting on her phone – she is a normal teenager after all. She popped into the kitchen to get a drink, taking her sister with her, and Naomi and I did a silent , excited, arm waving scream, quickly re-setting our grins into a normal facial expression before Chloë returned.

As I left that day we did a silent excited ‘dance’ on the doorstep, out of Chloë’s sight and then I texted Naomi about how excited I felt about this and she texted back something similar. We were both surprised and delighted, especially as she had said, years earlier, that she wished she could talk with me but felt she never would. This was huge.

I still visit and see the family when out and about – they live near to me. Each time we meet Chloë chats with me and it still feels wonderful, especially as her voice is natural and relaxed on these occasions. The shame is that people can assume that once there is speech the anxiety has gone. It’s sadly not that simple. There are still situations in which it is hard for Chloë to speak and some of the anxiety has transferred to other behaviours, such as eating in school. Chloë remains one of the most amazing communicators I know. Her eyes are full of expression, and she can convey meaning with or without words. When she speaks, aloud, she does so with that sense of fun and mischievous twinkle that was there when she was silent, making her more expressive than ever.

I owe Cholë a great deal, as through her I have learned so much about small steps approaches, working with the specific child’s needs and strengths and ensuring that the child is always placed at the heart of any support. Patience is so important, and after all, my own rewards became far greater than I could ever have hoped. I meant what I wrote about it not mattering that Chloë hadn’t talked to me, but it mattered more that her silence had been broken so that she could access more at secondary school; however, I can’t deny the amazing glow of warmth every time we share our chat.

Copy of Selective Mutism (SM) - Helping a child with SM to find her voice (Part 2) #1

Mon, 20 Jul 2020 14:54:58 GMT

There were small steps of progress surrounding the transition, the first being Chloë’s ‘accidental word’ in school. Here are the notes of the incident:

This utterance was denied by Chloë, and still is to this day, although assurances were given that this didn’t mean that she would now be pressured to speak in school.

To be continued next week…

Copy of Selective Mutism (SM)Helping a child with SM to find her voice #1

Mon, 20 Jul 2020 14:54:25 GMT

To be continued next week…

Girls can have autism too!

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 19 Apr 2020 12:17:07 GMT

I’m republishing this blog, having just reviewed a new book on girls with autism – I’m Maisie and I’m Autistic, by Alison Handley. It shows how easily girls with autism can be overlooked as well as how they might present differently from boys. It offers tips for supporting any difficulties they may have as well as highlighting the positives. In a similar way, Kathy Hoopmann is publishing a revised ‘All Cats’, now including the female perspective. This is an area that really interests me as research has developed so much since I first learned about autism many years ago.

It was always thought that autism was typically a boy thing, even described as extreme maleness. Whilst every child is unique, after working in the field of SEND for several years, you can find yourself noticing the boy likely to have autism. There are of course a range of learning needs that might initially appear to be autism, such as Attachment, so it is always important to learn as much as possible about a child’s behaviours at home as well as at school and in a range of contexts within the different settings. Background information is really important and there are often sensitive and emotional discussions that need to happen with family members to ensure that the best understanding is reached. However, usually the behaviours are there to prompt the discussion.

This is not always the case with girls.

There’s the girl who seems on the surface to fit in, but then says or does something that just doesn’t sit right. Her movements are just ‘off’, she seems to try so hard and just ‘miss it’. She can talk to us as teachers for ages, yet she’s always just on the edge of every social group, preferring to play with those in the year group below. Something niggles, but what is it? She seems silly and immature at times, and then so thoughtful and caring at other times.

There’s another girl who just refuses to do certain things. Her responses vary – sometimes a complete meltdown, shouting out, full of frustration, all directed towards herself. “I can’t, I just can’t” shouted over and over, biting at her fist. Other times she starts writing and pages of beautiful imagery flow with the ease of someone far older than she is. She might ball her fists and rock gently, but there’s no indication as to what could be causing such anxiety, then she’ll suddenly, from appearing to be totally uninvolved in the discussion around her, come out with a remark that totally stops you in your tracks.

Then again there’s the girl who seems totally happy all day at school; she has friends, she works hard, she is a bit of a perfectionist but nothing even rings an alarm bell. Occasionally she gets a bit upset, but quickly recovers. Her mum catches you at the end of the day and starts to describe a child you just don’t recognize. She has tantrums at home. She gets so angry. We fight over her homework. When we go out she sometimes just totally refuses to wear anything even remotely appropriate. She’s awful if we have to visit people, especially if she doesn’t know them well. You question whether the girl they’re describing is the girl you’re thinking of as none of that occurs in school.

What’s going on?

Well the first one took a while to work through. We considered dyslexia, having seen her writing, and then dyspraxia with these clumsy movements, but it was the lengthy discussions with parents about her behaviour at home that gave the first clues. She had meltdowns. Huge meltdowns, before and after school. Fortunately I’d been looking into autism in girls and the right bells started to ring in my head. When eventually I shared Kathy Hoopmann’s books with the girl’s parents so much started to make sense to them. Always a tricky one, how to bring up the possibility of autism, but luckily this girl had parents who were receptive to any ideas, just pleased that someone had worked out that something needed exploring and their little girl wasn’t simply being naughty or lazy as previous schools had told them. Also they weren’t being over fussy parents. Discussions with the girl, some adjustments in class and some explaining to teachers about appropriate strategies made a huge difference. At home they were able to have a lot of conversations about things in advance of them happening and modify demands on their daughter so that meltdowns gradually reduced.

For the second girl the first priority was that she stop biting herself. Chewbuddies! There’s now a wonderful range of chewable ‘jewellery’, made from silicon that those with autism or sensory needs can have on them at all times to bite down on, or chew at when feeling stressed. This child also had other sensory sensitivities, one of which being the feel of paper. This is a real issue at school, when touching paper occurs in every lesson. This is then magnified as the girl is extremely artistic. Two solutions, a fingerless glove reduces contact with paper and the use of a computer not only supports this but helps with the mild dyslexia that she also has. A safe place was needed for her to calm down and a general awareness in both staff and children so that someone would fetch me, or other key people, when she had a meltdown. Lots of discussion prior to changes was also a part of the support in place. Again, the wonderful parental attitudes were so helpful in getting the right support in place.

For the third girl I’ve mentioned in this blog I relied so much on good parental relationships. We had lengthy meetings when her mum first voiced her concerns and eventually, once we agreed that they would be going for a diagnosis of autism, I was asked to share the Kathy Hoopmann books, that I had shared with them, with their daughter so that she could better understand herself. We changed demands about homework, and ensured that she had fully understood the expectations and the tasks set. Her teachers ensured that she knew that she wouldn’t be in trouble if her homework was late. That had been a key cause of meltdowns, as she would be exhausted when arriving home from school, having masked her difficulties all day. Then she would struggle with homework and wake up worried about being told off for getting it wrong or not completing it. It was like a downward spiral, as she would meltdown before school, then meltdown again about being late, then be exhausted before she even entered a classroom. We explained to the girl that if she had a meltdown before school, she was to come in late and would not be in trouble for that, which alleviated some of the anxiety.

Obviously a range of other strategies were in place for the three girls. These are only snapshots of 3 of the amazing girls with autism, with whom it’s been my privilege to work. There have been others, and there is even some overlap between them, but they are all so very different and individual and have at times been overlooked when it comes to assessments for autism. I’m lucky. I’ve attended several conferences where I have met and heard from different women with autism. Two who come to mind, who have been amazing to learn from, are Ros Blackburn and Robyn Steward. If you get the chance to hear either of them speak – take it! I have learned so much from them and know that I still have so much more to learn. It’s a growing area in research and one that we need to be aware of if we are going to provide the support that these girls need. Without the support, there will be serious mental health issues for some of these girls so we have a responsibility to learn, to ask the right questions, to not make assumptions and to offer support. Also worth taking a look at www.bornanxious.co.uk as they have a range of clothes without labels.

Puppets

Sun, 29 Mar 2020 00:00:00 GMT

I have an amazing collection of puppets, which I have amassed over time. These have proved so useful over the years. The thing about puppets is to practice first, so that they blend in when talking to people. It’s a hard one to explain. Most of my puppets are animals, as they can then seem very realistic, if used properly. I can be having a conversation with someone while absent-mindedly stroking my cat puppet that I am moving almost imperceptibly. I hold the puppet close to my body, so that it’s harder to spot that my hand is inside, adding to the realism. I said that I practice – well I have even been told, when practising puppetry while out having a coffee with a friend, that cats weren’t allowed in the café! That’s when I know that the puppet is ready to be used.

So how do I use them and with whom? It depends on the puppet and the reason. I had a puppet of a person, one that has hands that you can put your hands in, like a glove. That one was used with two children for very specific reasons. One was a hearing impaired girl who was reluctant to practise her sign language. Having hands and fingers meant that this puppet could be used to sign. I would sign using the puppet, which the girl adored, and then she would both sign back to the puppet and then use the puppet to teach her friends some of the signs. I also used this puppet with a girl who had selective mutism. Whilst this girl was unable to make any big gestures or movements, keeping her body very closed in on herself, she was able to get the puppet to act out ‘heads, shoulders, knees and toes’ while I sang, even eventually doing this in front of her whole class. She could hide behind the puppet, and this was just one of the methods used in helping her to communicate with her classmates. That particular puppet has now been passed on to my daughter-in-law who works as a teacher of the deaf.

Small finger puppets, mainly of mice, birds and other small creatures, have been used as small reassurances for children with anxiety and with ASD. These, again realistic, are small enough to stay on the desk or be put in a pocket and they seem to remind the children that they are not alone and are being cared for; a simple reassurance that can be carried around with the child on a day when they are especially anxious. Likewise, smallish puppets of rabbits, cats and even a porcupine have been used for children who are struggling with partner work. They take the puppet as their partner and talk things through with the puppet. There have been a few ASD children who have found this a gentle way in to actually working with a real partner –‘Ratbag’ has been a favourite for this.

When I am on playground duty, I invariably have a puppet with me. My owl, my dog, my cat, my large long-haired rabbit and my tortoise are firm favourites here. As I said before, I tend to largely ignore the puppets, absently stroking them as I wander around the playground. Children always come over to talk to the puppet and stroke it. They know it’s a puppet, yet treat it as something real. They will often tell the puppet if something is bothering them, giving me the opening I need for a further conversation. Sometimes a child who is struggling with break time will borrow the puppet. The puppet becomes a magnet for other children and soon the puppet is returned to me as the child now has people to play with. The tortoise is good for this as its head can be pulled into its shell, slowly coming out and then retreating again, displaying its shyness.

Puppets are also useful for problem solving, as the puppets act out the situation that has gone wrong and the children will happily tell the puppets what they should have done and how they should be behaving, This can be a super starter for some difficult conversations, whereby the children find their own solutions to difficult situations through the puppets.

I have used puppets in secondary schools as well as primary schools. Their success depends not only on the child but on the skill of the puppeteer. Big bold gestures scream out ‘I’m a puppet’, but the realistic approach seems to go down better with older children than might be expected. Sometimes the chid just wants to handle the puppet themselves, knowing it’s a puppet, but somehow that is more legitimate than holding a cuddly toy. The handling of the puppet can be soothing, helping a child to relax and to talk.

It’s important to be relaxed and not self-conscious when using puppets. I’m no good at doing voices with them, so I let the puppets ‘talk’ by simply being. I act as though the puppets are real animals, and the children end up doing all of the talking. I strongly recommend using them yourself in everyday situations before using them with children as you do need to know the puppet and be natural with it for this to be a useful strategy.

Worth a go and lots of fun!

Pupil Poverty and School Closures

Sun, 15 Mar 2020 00:00:00 GMT

I'm republishing this with a new take. The latter part refers back to the United Nations report on the UK's welfare system, so please do read it. However I first want to mention matters in line with the related video blog out today. When we think of vulnerable people in connection with the Coronovirus, we think of those over 70 and those with underlying health issues. What is not being discussed as much are our vulnerable children. Not so vulnerable to the virus, but vulnerable due to the steps necessarily taken to manage and contain the virus - school closures. There are children for whom school is where they access a proper meal. These children come hungry to school and possibly get no food when away from school. There are charities who help during school holidays, such as 'Feeding Britain' 'Fare share' and ' Akshaya Patra (see the article: Foundation ' https://www.theguardian.com/education/2020/mar/09/charities-feed-children-if-coronavirus-shuts-uk-schools ) However, this is something that needs addressing on a greater scale than these charities can manage, and I've heard nothing from the endless news bulletins to address this area. There are other children where home is not safe, the abuse they endure is often first spotted at school. If schools are to shut, how will these children be identified and receive the support they need? There are also many child carers, for whom school provides 8 hours of respite. Again I ask how these children will cope.

This then leads me to raise the concern of social workers. Our social workers, like others in caring professions, visit the houses where hands are not regularly washed and infection kept at bay. They then are vulnerable to infection and the need to self-isolate. This then leads to a shortage of social workers, when our most vulnerable children most need them.

I don't have the answers, but I believe the issues need raising by those who might be able to support these children. We have a duty of care as a society to protect our most vulnerable. Each of us, within our own communities, can try to do our bit. I still feel that this needs a more focused effort and we need to push government towards addressing this before the concerns are exacerbated due to the inevitable school closures.

UN report by Professor Philip Alston about the UK welfare systems. The report is only 20 pages and available at:

https://www.ohchr.org/Documents/Issues/Poverty/EOM_GB_16Nov2018.pdf

It’s worth the read! Damning and deeply concerning, but unfortunately, not surprising. The criticisms it makes are focused and well evidenced, showing that while the UK remains the world’s 5th largest economy, a fifth of the population live in poverty. The welfare system is described as being one that is punitive to the most vulnerable in society.

What does this mean for us as teachers? For some of us, depending on where we teach, it may not mean much in terms of the children we work with in our classrooms, however there we have an learning opportunity so that those fortunate not to be included in the poverty statistics have an awareness of the good fortune and develop the social conscience that’s needed moving forwards.

Most teachers will be teaching some children who are part of the statistic, especially since, according to the report, recent changes in social support mean that child poverty is on the rise. Add to this that nearly half of those in poverty have a family member with a disability and the problem grows. The area where a school is situated will largely determine the socio-economic position of the children, with some schools having a wealthier or poorer catchment area. However, in most schools there will be a mix, which gives us as teachers a responsibility regarding our expectations and our actions.

We can’t change the world, but we can do our bit. Many teachers I know, including myself, have taken food into school to ensure that the children they teach have eaten before they start to learn. No we shouldn’t have to do that. Yes there is enough food produced in this country so that no child should arrive in school having not eaten since their school dinner the previous lunchtime, but yes it does happen and more often than is largely realised by society. Another small thing that can make a huge difference is recognizing that a child having difficulties learning school may well have parents who have similar difficulties. We regularly send home written information to parents and then tell off the child who hasn’t returned the form. What if the parent has been unable to read the letter? We often assume levels of literacy in parents, simply because we can read. A simple phone call home asking if they received the letter about… can make a huge difference without causing embarrassment if handled well.

Today I was reminded of the charity The Hygiene Bank:

https://www.thehygienebank.com/

Whilst we are all aware of the need for and use of food banks, hygiene is an aspect of poverty that can easily be forgotten. Poverty means that people have to make stark choices, ones that the majority of use, especially as teachers, find hard to imagine – food or soap? Food is needed to stay alive, but without the access to maintaining personal hygiene the children we teach suffer humiliation, loss of dignity and social exclusion. How then can we expect these children to be focused on Maths, English, Art etc? These are real issues. There have been articles in the press about girls missing school because they can’t afford sanitary towels. This is happening in the UK, yet I grew up assuming that was only an issue in other, less wealthy countries. My local ASDA store have a red box for hygiene and sanitary products to help combat period poverty. Easy to contribute, although the need should not be there!

We can’t solve these problems. We, as teachers, often provide toast for pupils who arrive at school hungry, but this is a tiny fix for a tiny aspect of the issue. We can try to raise our awareness and be mindful of the lives to which those young people in our charge will be returning at the end of the school day. We can help parents when they have to fill out forms - always filling out forms when in need of support. It’s often tough filling out forms when you’re literate and well educated. Imagine having to do that when you have literacy difficulties. It can also be humiliating to ask for help, especially if school was a negative experience, so how we make the offer of support needs sensitivity. When a child is refused an EHCP, it is the parents who have to appeal, not the school. With our workload being what it is and the other applications we have to make, the easiest thing is to move on to the next application and leave the parents to it. We are often leaving them to a task they are ill-equipped to face. Not so for those who have the resources to make these appeals, financial and educational resources, but for those in poverty making an appeal is too daunting. The language itself creates a power exchange that is hardly in their favour: appeal, tribunal, legal advice. Time taken by a teacher, a HLTA or a SENCO to sit down with a parent, go through the process and help them to complete forms can make a huge difference, as can accompanying the parents to the tribunal or to any meetings with professionals and legal advisors. We can do this. I have accompanied parents to GP and SaLT appointments so that they have the confidence to raise any concerns, or even to raise concerns for them. Then after the appointment taken the time to go through the outcome and next steps so that they understand what has been said and what they have to do.

None of this should be necessary. We trained to teach. However, in our society in its current state, how can we ignore the realities of our most vulnerable?

©Hélène Cohen

20 Things about those with dyslexia (taken from https://geektotech.com/?p=232)

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 01 Mar 2020 18:51:45 GMT

I was sent this article by my doctoral supervisor. She pointed out a few that applied to me, something which made me somewhat emotional and reinforced just how much she ‘gets me’. We know that dyslexia is a specific learning difficulty with the written word, but it is so much more than that. This article, while obviously dealing with generalities, points out some of those other aspects of living with dyslexia. To understand a bit about how this applies to me, please watch the related video blog.

The Article

It’s hard to understand it, isn’t it?

If you’re not one of the ten to fifteen percent of the population with dyslexia, it’s really hard to understand what it’s like.

It’s easy to think that it’s a bit of a scam. That if people with dyslexia worked harder, and really applied themselves, they could “get over it.” But that’s not the case.

Life is actually much more difficult for people with dyslexia. They have brilliant minds, but they’re hard to focus.

Dyslexia is a gift—the gift of being able to see things from lots of different points of view, all at once. But the gift comes with a curse, and the curse is that it’s hard to prioritize, or make sense of, all those perspectives.

People with dyslexia can be hard to live with, and hard to love, because their brains work so differently to ours. Even if you love someone with dyslexia, the day-to-day living with it can drive you insane. Because they can forget things, believe they’ve said or done things they haven’t, be incredibly messy and disorganized, and be less socially aware than other people.

The best thing you can do is to understand more about dyslexia, so you’re less exasperated and more sympathetic.

This is an insight into how their minds work.

1. They have lifestyle challenges.

Dyslexia is much more than just having difficulty reading, writing, and using numbers. They see the world in a completely different way, communicate differently, and have trouble organizing things.

Some people describe it as a lifestyle challenge, others as a lifestyle curse, because it affects almost all aspects of their lives.

2. They can seem weird.

Despite their high intelligence, and because they see so many different perspectives at once, they can appear incoherent in conversation. They can come out with strange ideas and lack the ability to check if their thoughts are suitable for conversation. They can seem almost autistic because they’re often unaware of social rules.

3. They find details exhausting.

Because their brain is less efficient at processing letters and sounds, it has to work harder—much harder. So any time spent reading, using numbers, or focusing on details is really, really exhausting.

4. They function differently on different days.

Some days they seem to function better than others and can appear to be improving. Other days, it’s like everything is getting worse. There’s no reason, and no pattern. It just is.

5. They are highly creative.

Their ability to view the world from all perspectives makes them highly creative. They can come up with wildly creative ideas, partly because they’re not constrained by the laws of physics, mathematical logic, or the impossible.

6. They see things that others don’t.

Like words moving on the page, or even off the page, and letters flipping about. You know how challenging it can be to read letters and numbers in captcha? Imagine reading a whole book like that. Or reading a book through a magnifying lens that a child is holding, and moving about.

They can even see the word cat more than 40 different ways.

7. They get overwhelmed by what they see.

They see so many possibilities that their thoughts can become garbled and distorted. It’s hard to sort through all that information and work out what’s important or appropriate. Without the ability to filter, this special gift becomes a tragic, confusing, disability.

8. They are more likely to have ADD.

People with dyslexia are more likely to have ADD. About 40% of people with dyslexia have ADD, and 60% of people with ADD have dyslexia.

9. They can experience thoughts as reality.

They can fully believe they’ve told you something, that they haven’t, or swear that you haven’t told them something that you have.

Often, they express themselves in such a unique way that their message hasn’t come across coherently. And they may not realize that this aspect of their communication is part of their dyslexia.

10. They may not know they have dyslexia.

According to the Mayo Clinic, dyslexia can go undiagnosed for years, and may not be recognized until adulthood. This is one reason why it’s hard to calculate the number of people with dyslexia. And, unfortunately, people with undiagnosed dyslexia often label themselves as stupid or slow.

11. They think in pictures instead of words.

Not surprisingly, they tend to be highly visual, think in pictures, and utilize visual aids to help them plan and organize their lives. Rather than using self-talk, their thought processes are more subliminal. Most people with dyslexia are not even aware that they do this.

12. They will always have dyslexia.

They can learn to read and spell, but they will always have dyslexia. To make life easier, a font and a dictionary specifically for people with dyslexia are on the way.

The font is designed to avoid confusion, and add clarity, while the dictionary will favour meaning over alphabetical order.

13. They use their brain differently.

People with dyslexia don’t use their brain the same way that most of us do. Their brain underutilizes the left hemisphere —the area required for reading—and the bridge of tissue between the two sides of the brain (the corpus callosum) doesn’t function in the same way. So, their brain doesn’t always direct information to the correct place for processing.

14. They get it from their family.

Dyslexia is inherited, and most people with dyslexia have an aunt or uncle, or a parent or grandparent with dyslexia. Scientists have discovered that the DCD2 appears to be a dyslexia gene.

15. They often have low self-esteem.

People with dyslexia are just as intelligent as the rest of us. And they’re fully aware that other people can read and write much more easily than they can. So they feel stupid compared to other people.

As Albert Einstein said:

“Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live it’s whole life thinking it’s stupid.”

16. They have different symptoms.

Dyslexia is a tricky thing, because no two people have the exact same symptoms. Some lose things or have poor organization skills. Some are slow at reading or have poor comprehension. Some may have difficulty organizing ideas to write, or have difficulty processing auditory information. Some also have difficulty sequencing the days of the week, or months of the year.

17. They are full of contradictions.

They may be highly aware of their environment, but appear lost. They may recognize, or read, a word on one page but be unable to recognize it on the next. Their brains are often very fast, but they appear slow, because they’re filtering through all the possibilities that they see.

18. They have great strengths.

People with dyslexia are often very good at reading people and have great people skills. They usually have fantastic memories and rely on them. They’re often good at spoken language, and frequently spatially talented (think architects, engineers, artist and craftspeople). They are highly intelligent, and intuitive, with vivid imaginations.

19. They can be incredibly successful.

People with dyslexia can be incredibly successful, often because of their dyslexia.

Famous people with dyslexia include entertainers like Whoopi Goldberg, Jay Leno, Henry Winkler, Danny Glover and Cher. As well as artists like Leonardo da Vinci, Tommy Hilfiger, Andy Warhol and Pablo Picasso.

Carole Grieder and Baruj Benacerraf utilized their dyslexia to become Nobel prize-winning scientists. People with dyslexia also go on to be writers and journalists like Scott Adams (of Dilbert), Agatha Christie, F Scott Fitzgerald, and Fannie Flagg (the author of Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café).

20. They can change the world.

People with dyslexia can, and have changed the world. People like George Washington, Richard Branson, Henry Ford and Stephen Spielberg have changed, and continue to change, the world we live in.

People with dyslexia are kind, creative, highly intelligent beings who are just as frustrated at their inabilities as you are. They just can’t take a break from the way their minds work.

Instead they rely on the people that love them to help them interpret the world, and to help them function in a world that’s not adjusted to their needs.

Yes, they can be frustrating to love at times, but they have incredible, unique, world-changing gifts.

With your help, maybe the person you love can change the world too.

Resilience and Positive Spin

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 23 Feb 2020 19:26:03 GMT

For this week’s blog I’ve chosen to revisit the idea of resilience. This is using bits from an earlier blog following an incident at a TaeKwon-Do tournament. It also links to the corrections I am doing for my doctorate and the video blog this week.

It was an amazing tournament – this particular one always is. I no longer compete in tournaments, but do get the privilege to be one of the judges. In the afternoon I was so fortunate as be judging on a ring with several of our world champion black belts, seeing their patterns at their best and then judging their sparring, inspirational enough in itself, but it was when judging patterns on a different ring that morning when I knew what today’s blog would be.

This ring was one of the two smaller rings, for the youngest of our competitors. We were judging the patterns first. It’s a really daunting thing to do, walk out onto the mats, in front of a crowded auditorium and perform your pattern to be judged against one other who is performing alongside you. I remember the nerves so well from when I used to compete. Even now, when we’re practising our patterns in class and I happen to be the only one at my pattern level that session, or else there are only a few of us at that pattern, the nerves can set in; when competing that feeling is intensified so much.

This girl, about five years old, stepped out onto the mats with her atonement. She bowed to her partner, bowed to us judges, and then the command was given to start. Her opponent did just that, however she suddenly froze. A few tears rolled down her cheeks and a huge part of me just wanted to hug her and say it was fine. The professional thing was to wait for her opponent to complete her pattern. As we waited, after what seemed like an age, the girl slowly and nervously started her pattern. She was so unsure of herself, and knew that she hadn’t won her round, as her opponent was confidently completing her own pattern next to her. However this brave girl had a go and got through the pattern. We, as judges, then had to announce the winner – her opponent. But then we called her over. She was crying, unsurprisingly, competing is nerve wracking enough without forgetting your pattern. I told her what I truly believe, that she was possibly the bravest one there that day. I told her to find her parents and let them know how brave we all thought she was, so she dried her eyes and proudly returned to her parents. She showed herself, and those around her what resilience truly is and upheld the tenets of Taekwondo – two especially, perseverance and indomitable spirit. Many people would have just given up, she however had a go, knowing she wouldn’t win the round, unsure even if she’d make it through the pattern. That takes inner strength and that inner strength will see her through so much in life.

It is hard as a teacher or parent to watch our children struggle. Our first instinct can be to step in and make things right for them. However, stepping back and helping them to work through the problem gives them so much more. Learning that making mistakes is ok is such an important lesson. They will make mistakes; they will find things difficult and face many challenges in life. The important thing is to face the challenge and persevere, even when knowing that winning won’t happen that time. The world champions who I judged in sparring that afternoon includes someone who, when he was younger didn’t win. What he did, however was to learn from all the fights that he lost. He was at least 18 before he won his first title, having trained since being a young boy. Now he not only wins, but he wins well. He remembers what it’s like going up against someone you just won’t beat and he always does enough to win and never enough to humiliate his opponent. As our TaeKwon-Do Master always says: Competing is about winning and learning – the only losers are those who fail to win and then quit, or who win early and then quit because they think they must already know it all!

We learn so much through facing the challenges; making mistakes and working through them. We need to ensure that we, as teachers, offer challenges to our students, support and encourage them to face these and work through them. We need to help them to recognise and value what can be learned from facing challenging and not giving up. I’m doing this myself with my doctorate – working through all the corrections from my viva. My dyslexia isn’t an excuse to give up, it’s just another challenge that I need to work through. Had I passed through the viva without all of these corrections, there is so much about writing, expressing what I need to say and seeing things from different stances that I would not have learned. I am now doing my (hopefully) final corrections. This stage has again taught me so much and I have developed as an academic through having to undergo yet another stage of corrections. My supervisor gives this a positive spin, always helping me to see what |I've learned and how I've developed. This builds my resilience to power through these corrections, with clear goal ahead.

So well done to the young girl, with the indomitable spirit to complete the pattern she would not ‘win’. To me and those who witnessed this act of courage she is a true winner.

The SEND Child

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 09 Feb 2020 13:02:01 GMT

The Boy that Stares out Windows, by Thomas Delahunt

Sit at that table and stay inside the lines,

Your spelling needs some attention,

See me,

Maybe consider having an assessment done as there are signs of challenges

Borderline, he is unlikely to achieve…..

Don’t disrupt the class,

They said

You are damaging the experience for everyone

They said

Why don’t you focus on the question?

They said

What you think or see isn’t important just write what you have been told.

They said

I don’t want him in the class anymore

They said

Tell me what you are seeing and feeling

She said

You are a very bright boy and it’s clear you have been let down

She said

Welcome to the faculty

They said

Do you have trouble with processes, we have some concerns?

They said

Let’s have an assessment done to see why it’s proving difficult to follow guidance and policy

They said

I can’t mark this as it isn’t matching the expected learning outcomes

She said

It’s beautiful writing and we have let you down

She said

Why don’t you tell us you’re experienced in a way that makes sense to you?

She said

You are clearly a bright boy and we have let you down.

She said

You are amazing and it’s clear that you see things that other can’t.

She said

You have a real value and your abilities need to be appreciated don’t give up

She said

If only I could tell you what I see and feel when I look out the window as in that space it all makes sense.

Who can I paint my pictures with now?

He said

Reading Tom's poems touched me deeply. I have re-posted here a blog about a child I taught who had been let down, and we then supported him back to success, helping him to be himself.

Just Another Child with SEND

He sits there, cross-legged on a chair, totally engrossed in some Maths work and utterly oblivious to everyone around, even though he is in a crowded school hall, filled with parents and children for a teatime concert. He looks up every time someone comes onto the stage for their performance, enjoys watching and listening and then returns to his Maths as some teacher comments on, or gives introductions to the performances on stage. For this blog I’ll call him Harry.

I knew Harry from the day he entered our school, as I taught his older sibling and at times was his older siblings form teacher. As SENCO I got to know children across the whole school, even those I didn’t teach. I would see children in their classes, at break times and in the dining hall. Whenever Harry saw me he would come up and hug me, always greeting me with a huge smile. While he was still in the infants I was told by his teacher that he was naughty. He couldn’t sit still. He was bright enough in conversations, but too lazy to get on with his work and far too fidgety. He really used to wind his teacher up, the typical cheeky little boy.

I visited his class more often, and yes he did struggle to stay still. He was happiest when standing or walking or generally moving. He loved doing maths, had good ideas in English, but just never got them down on paper. He came to my office and I made him a ‘fidget string’, something I invented to help those who struggled to stay still. He chose the wool, he chose the cord, colours and textures that he liked. He loved his fidget string however his teacher didn’t quite get it and I would frequently find it on her desk – she’d taken it away because he was fidgeting with it, oblivious to the fact that that was the whole point. I would casually return it to him, gently remind the teacher of its purpose, and yet know that I’d be doing the same thing the next day. After speaking with his parents I ran some assessments which demonstrated his high intellectual abilities, amazing aptitude for patterns and sequences, yet a real difficulty with the written word. Your classic dyslexic, although to young to be formally diagnosed as such. He continued to wind up his year 2 teacher.

Then he joined year 3. He wasn’t the only one in the class who preferred to work standing up. His teacher, after checking with me that that was okay, allowed the children to work standing up if they so preferred. He came along to me for what we then called Reading Club, along with three other children. We had lots of fun with Dr Seuss and other favourite books, always chosen by the children. His confidence gradually began to develop, aided by his amazing swimming abilities. He still didn’t think he was that clever, because reading and writing were so difficult for him. With the support of his wonderful year three teacher and other teachers who followed, accepting of his need to work standing up and his needs to fiddle with his fidget string, he was clearly happier generally in school even though he still didn’t have the self belief he deserved. Yes he was still cheeky, but I never did see him as a naughty child. Year four and I did more assessments with him; he was getting old enough for the sorts of assessments at my disposal to give a more accurate idea of his strengths and weaknesses – being young in year makes a difference. When I did some non-verbal reasoning with him at the tender age of nine, his score was off the scale so I had to use the assessment that went up to adulthood. On this is scored as a 16-year-old; a clear indication of his abilities. When I read the verbal assessment for him, again his score was top of the scale. What kept his score down hadn’t been his verbal reasoning, it has been his inability to access the test due to the high reading element.

Harry eventually went on to sit the 11+, being in an area that still has grammar schools. He didn’t pass every element – it was the literacy element that let him down. Others, far less generally able than he, passed. He got in on appeal because although the 11+ exam is heavily weighted against dyslexics - this is both in the content and the layout of the paper – the school believed in him and fought for his place. Harry was without doubt one of the most intelligent children I’ve had the privilege to teach, a special child in so very many ways. The biggest heart you will ever have the pleasure to touch yours, he was a child full of love and joy and mischief.

The reason I chose to write about Harry today, a child I taught several years ago who is now well into his secondary education, is because he represents so many children in our schools who get labelled as naughty. I absolutely adored working with Harry - he was appreciative, fun and caring. I found it unbelievable that he wasn’t causing real disruption in class because he must have been so frustrated every day in school, faced with the written word lesson after lesson after lesson. I am so grateful to his year three teacher for letting him and his classmates work standing up, and wander around the classroom if that’s what was needed. She realised that what mattered was that they were becoming more confident and they were learning. By the way, by year six that class were generally working happily sitting in their seats. We need to be aware of the whole child, the individual child, their personal specific strengths, and not see them simply as being annoying for not fitting in to the lesson we have planned. It is surely our job is to help children to learn, not to expect them to simply learn the way we have taught people in the past. We need to adapt teaching methods, be aware of those in our class, be as accommodating as we can for a variety of ways of learning. It is no hardship if we write something on the board to space out words, alternate colours to make things easy to find, and read things out loud so that children have heard as well as seen in the words. We can give them ways other than writing to demonstrate their understanding, we can read questions to them so that the reading of the question is not a stumbling block to finding the answer, we can have patience and give children excuses to move around the class. These are all things that we can do if we only get to know the whole child, and remember that it is a child in front of us not just a piece of behaviour.

I have worked with so many wonderful children, of all ages, who have been written off by the system when they have so much to offer. As I said before, we need to see, support and nurture the whole child to have the confidence to say “I can…”.

Copy of Learning Quest #1

Mon, 20 Jan 2020 11:38:21 GMT

Learning Quests, as discussed when this was first posted, are important for helping teachers to feel more relaxed about observations, seeing them as part of a critical friendship approach. This is being republished as it also links with recent video blogs about Quality First Teaching (QFT) and the Assess, Plan, Do, Review cycle as required by the Code of Practice (CoP, 2015). Through undertaking learning quests we can see what pupils are learning, what strategies are already being employed and what further support could be introduced.

The spark for the idea of a learning quest came from my doctoral research. My thesis explores teachers’ emotional response to inspection, comparing state and independent sectors through a leadership lens. I found that teachers from the state sector were generally fearful of inspections and this spilled over into their everyday teaching. The state sector teachers interviewed talked of being under constant surveillance, with observations and judgements becoming ever more a daily part of their work life, filling them with a sense of threat and of never being good enough. They were especially upset that they felt totally disconnected from their sense of purpose, with children being reduced to mere data. What shocked me was the depth of emotion, with most of those interviewed crying about past inspections, even when the inspections had occurred years earlier. By contrast, none of those interviewed from the independent sector cried. Instead they spoke of observations far more positively, as being opportunities for learning and development. They spoke of support and working collaboratively, with the whole child placed securely at the centre. I started to think about how teachers could take back ownership of their classrooms, so that they would be less threatened and daunted by adults coming in. Chatting with a colleague and friend, bouncing ideas between us, the idea of a ‘learning quest’ starting to take form.

So what is a learning quest? It sits well with the growth mindset philosophy that we are always learning, making those who come into our classrooms people who are coming to learn. They are there to learn about what we are doing and we invite them in to be actively involved in that learning process. We created a learning quest tag to be pinned to the lanyard of anyone visiting classrooms – obviously not for those occasions when we nip into a colleagues class to check whether they can cover our break duty, or to borrow some coloured markers or whatever – but when visiting classrooms to see what happens within: on a learning walk; SLT walkabouts; taking prospective parents to see the school; governor visits; inspector visits and so forth. We created posters for each classroom, so that all pupils would remember what to do when someone entered the classroom wearing a ‘learning quest’ lanyard.

What are we learning today?

When we meet people on a learning quest, we can help by:

inviting them into our classroom
telling them about our learning
showing them our work
asking them if they have any questions

KEEP ON LEARNING

The idea of this is that teachers and pupils retain ownership of the classroom. They see people coming into their classrooms regularly and invite them to learn about the learning taking place. They share their work, they show their books, and they explain what the teacher is talking about and what everyone is doing. Children are usually keen to talk to visitors and the learning quest invites the visitor in, making it harder for them to sit on the sidelines, taking notes. The teacher would select a child to host the visitor, enabling the teacher to remain in control of the lesson. Colleagues have happily continued with the lesson when I’ve been visiting on a learning quest. A child would alert the teacher to my presence and then be invited to host me. The lesson could continue and I would see a range of books, observe anything I needed to observe, be invited to ask questions and always be greeted with enthusiasm by the pupils.

Not only does this help the teacher to feel that the classroom is theirs, but it also helps children to see that learning is a life-long process and that adults need to learn too.

Pupil Voice

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 08 Dec 2019 15:31:42 GMT

Since the latest Code of Practice (CoP) was produced there has been a greater awareness of the need for pupil and parent voices to be heard when making decisions about supporting those with SEND. Other key areas are the importance of Quality First Teaching (QFT) – hardly a new idea – and the Assess, Plan, Do, Review cycle. My focus here in on the importance of Pupil Voice and finding ways for children to be heard.

There are several initiatives in schools such as pupil passports and picture exchange, which are there to help pupils’ voices to be heard. Schools have student councils – under various names – to ensure that pupils have a say in various aspects of their time in school.

One incident that made me acutely aware of the need to listen to our pupils was during a review meeting. This pupil and his mother were in a meeting with me and we were discussing strategies to support his learning. I was explaining to the child’s mother that there was often a teaching assistant (TA) in class who could support her son, when he suddenly said that the problem was when the TA asked if he needed help. I asked what he meant and he went on to explain that all of his ideas would fall out of his head when he was interrupted and he’d forget what he was going to do. Basically, the TA asking if he needed help actually meant that, although he’d been working fine by himself up until that point, he then did indeed need help as the interruption had caused him to forget what he was doing. He explained that he didn’t like to ask for help as that made him self-conscious, and there were times when help was indeed needed.

This set me thinking, and what I came up with was the red and green card. These were simply pieces of laminated card, red on one side and green on the other, to indicate when a pupil wanted, or did not want, support. I modified this to add a tick to the green side and a cross to the red side as some of my pupils were colour blind. Later this became 2 pages in the pupil planner, one red with the cross and one green with the tick, so the child could open the planner on the red page when help was wanted. This proved useful for quite a few pupils, including those without SEND. It was a way to discretely ask for help and to be left alone when working happily and no support were necessary. The pupil voice was what initiated this strategy, as I had not been aware of the issue.

Another means of giving a pupil a voice has been the use of puppets. There are various times when pupils are asked for their input. This could be as part of an EHCP review, a meeting with a LAC child’s (Looked after child) social worker, pupil input on a pupil passport, to give just 3 examples. Sometimes children can find it hard to talk about themselves for these forms and meetings. Children can struggle to articulate things, especially the positives, saying what is going well in school and what they enjoy: they might be trying to find what they think is the ‘correct answer’, the thing that they think the teacher wants to hear; they may have low self-esteem and struggle to say anything positive about themselves; they may be self-conscious. There are several reasons why this could be an issue. I have found that having one of my puppets with me helps as the child will sometimes be happier telling the puppet what they enjoy, like, find easy, struggle with. One girl I worked with had a favourite puppet of mine called Sapphire – she named this cat puppet Sapphire due to the colour of its eyes. She really struggled with answering questions about herself. She would say what she thought I wanted to hear, and I needed her to tell us how she really felt. She was a LAC child and had regular meetings with her social worker before which she was required to complete a short form about how she felt about school. Using the puppet really gave her a voice. She would happily tell the puppet everything required and I would scribe. I could then read this back to her so she could sign it off.

In the end it’s not about using the strategies I’ve outlined specifically, but about finding the creative solutions that work in your own context; what works for the child in front of you at the time. No two children are the same, and nor are their needs and opinions, whatever the label for SEND that they might have. We can so easily misunderstand or make assumptions so there needs to be some form of check in place to ensure the pupil’s voice is being heard.

©Hélène Cohen

Distracted or Distracting

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 01 Dec 2019 15:06:49 GMT

I was talking to one of my sons about labels and children; how so often there can be a focus on labelling a child as having this or that, when actually we want to support the areas that affect the child and create barriers to learning. This got me thinking about the children who are often said to be distracted in class, or distracting those around them. Depending on how this manifests itself, the child can be described as poorly behaved, lazy or disinterested; yet there can be so many reasons why one appears distracted, is fidgeting, often disturbing the learning of others.

A few years ago I was asked to observe a girl in Year 5 who seemed to have difficulty engaging with her lessons. Within 5 minutes of observing her I quietly asked her to turn the music down in her head so that she could hear what everyone was saying and join in. She was surprised, but nodded, and became more focused. We chatted afterwards and she asked how I knew that she was listening to imagined music. I explained that as someone who often ‘plays music’ in my head I simply recognized the signs. It transpired that she was a dancer - absolutely loved dancing. I have been privileged to have seen her in a few school talent shows and productions since and she is a beautiful dancer to watch. There were a few processing issues, a need for a coloured overlay, and a need to ensure that she was focused in class but other than that little intervention was required. Simply knowing that the teachers were aware that she often listened to imagined music, and they would remind her to lower the volume, helped her to be less distracted. It also helped that the teachers understood her, and ensured her engagement with the lesson. Giving her a fidget string - see my video blog - and ensuring there were reasons to move around the class also helped, as the dancer in her liked to be on the go.

She reminded me of a story that Ken Robinson tell s of the dancer and choreographer Gillian Lynne, who was thought to have a learning disorder when at school, but thankfully the psychologist who met with her recognised that her inability to sit still and concentrate was about her need to move and dance. We are all wired differently, yet schools often treat us as one, expecting us to sit in rows and simply focus. You can read about this in Ken Robinson’s book The Element.

I understand about being distracted. For me it stems from my childhood. I didn’t know then about my dyslexia. What I did know was that by the time I had worked out my contribution to the dinner time conversation, the topic had moved on. I now know this is to do with how I process information. The habit that developed though was one of going into my own little world inside my head. Sometimes this would be listening to music; other times I might be playing out the conversation as it would have gone had I been ready to contribute before the topic had moved on; and sometimes I simply went to an imagined world that I had created in my head. Of course, this then meant that I missed the next bit of the conversation, so back I went into my own safe little world.

Another thing that still distracts me so easily is when something, sometimes even just one word, is uttered that brings to mind an image. My thoughts then follow that strand, leading me away from the reality around me. Often I think of the bizarre, the incongruous, which then simply makes me giggle. I am an expert giggler. This is not always at an appropriate time, but people can be very forgiving, and often end up joining in. Giggling is very good for you!

At school I often appeared distracted. If we were being asked to read around the class, then the ‘distraction’ was actually me trying to work out the bit I’d have to read and then practising it until it was my turn. If I worked it out wrong I felt awful. Definitely not being naughty though, not being rude; just trying to cope in a stressful situation. I struggled to keep up in class, learning best when given time to process, try things out and talk them through – with someone who could be patient.

Another aspect of being easily distracted is that things get started, then interrupted as something else in seen and then the first task can be forgotten. An example at home might be that I’m washing up, put something in the bin, realise it needs emptying, go to empty it and pass something I was looking for earlier. I then go to put that something away, get distracted again in whatever room that might be and then forget to return to the washing up! Some would call that a ‘senior moment’ but I’ve never been any different. As a child, when asked to tidy my room, I could be up there for hours, as everything I tidied away just led me somewhere else! Knowing that, it’s easy to see how a child could be labelled as being lazy when they haven’t finished a piece of work. They may simply have been distracted by a train of thought provoked by the work they were doing.

This distraction was also seen in my original submitted thesis. When I worked on the corrections for resubmission there were things I couldn’t find in the original because they actually had never made it to the paper, and there were things that were in the thesis, but hard to find as a train of thought had redirected me. The ideas were all there in my head, and in the viva they were all aired.

This all means that we need to develop strategies and help our pupils to find ones that support them. One strategy for writing is to use headings – I used a lot in my resubmitted thesis. As the thesis was about teachers’ emotional response to inspection I was told by my 2nd supervisor that I win the prize for the most depressing headings – most in number and extremity. For children the ‘headings’ can be translated to writing frames. If we give certain pupils writing frames it can help to direct their writing and keep them on track. Another strategy for me has been my phone. I set reminders constantly, whether they be alarms to remind me of a lesson cover or emails to myself that simply consist of a word in the subject box to remind me of something to do when back at my desk. For a pupil, depending on the rules in the school about use of phones, this could be a phone or could be a note book kept on their person, so that they can draw or write a reminder. Another important thing can be to provide certain pupils opportunities to move around the classroom, or give them a doodling book. I fidget or doodle whenever I’m in a meeting and I knit or crochet when watching television, sitting still is just too hard and stops me from concentrating.

Having something with which a child can fidget, legitimately, is also a useful strategy - see the video blog about fidget strings. However it is important that teachers allow and enable the child to use given strategies. I have in the past needed to return fidget strings to pupils who'd had them taken away because they were fidgeting with them. My job was to gently support the teacher to enable the child to use the fidget string without the teacher feeling criticised or judged. A delicate task but one that often falls to SENDCOs.

So this in itself has been a bit of a ramble, but distraction is a real thing. What might look like a lack of focus – doodling, fidgeting – might actually be the very thing that is enabling the person to concentrate and remain focused.

The Assessment

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 17 Nov 2019 22:55:44 GMT

The day of the assessment arrived. Following a journey that used the 200% extra time I had allowed for driving 2 miles away, I was by this time ready to cry. It’s hard to explain just how fearful I was of being found to be stupid, the unintelligent fraud.

The assessor, keen to put me at ease, started with questions about me and my background, with me alternately laughing, crying and apologising for my tears. I was interested in the whole procedure. Assessing children for learning support is what I do day-to-day; this was assessing an adult, so had a new spin that fascinated me professionally. As such I was able to talk freely, sharing expertise; then the personal would intrude and tears start to flow. It seemed strange taking the proffered tissues and the appreciated drink of water when I am usually the one to offer these; now I was on the receiving end.

The order of assessments is muddled in my mind. I do know that we started with things I love to do – puzzles. There were non-verbal reasoning tasks - continuing the sequence, copying a design using blocks. Loved those. Next, word work, defining words, explaining connections between them; all fun. As usual I talked my way through, sub-vocalising - one of my strategies, especially as there were no visuals to accompany the verbal tasks. I asked for repetitions and talked – always I talk! Somehow this fixes things more.

The stress came once I had to face digit string recall (in tears even before I started) and working with written words: real and nonsense words, actual letters or symbols. There was ‘reading’ pictures and digits at speed – I say ‘at speed’ but that isn’t my reality; speed just doesn’t come into it when you have to mask off every picture or digit just to keep the others on the page from jumping into your head and mouth! Comprehension was easy with the passage before me; I took my time, located the correct part that I had already read (or to be honest, decoded) then asked for the question to be repeated so that I could formulate my response.

There was a severe attack of the giggles when ‘reading’ the passage. I mentioned that I ‘decoded’ the passage; however I was not taking in meaning. I sound fluent, but I get distracted by phrases for which I have taken in no context. Thus with the passage read about the history of chocolate, the phrase ‘chocolate houses’ conjured up images little houses made of chocolate. I giggled, and giggled, giggling so much that the clock was stopped for 45 seconds. In actuality the ‘chocolate houses’ were like coffee houses, places where people would go to drink hot chocolate. That distraction kept returning as I competed the reading, again answering questions on the passage, yet again when summarising the passage with it no longer in front of me. I kept stifling my giggles, trying so hard to focus on the actual task. This is typical of how I go through life, easily distracted, especially if something strikes me as funny, creating an absurd visual in my mind.

I tried desperately hard to get everything right. Take the first handwriting task. I had to copy the sentence ‘The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.’, one I know well, as many times as possible in the given time. Because it was to be done fast, there were crossings out and at times totally illegible writing. Afterwards I explained that I often use this sentence for giving children handwriting practice. I then, like a child, asked if I could show her how neatly I could write it, proceeding to painstakingly write in my best teacher handwriting. It was beautifully neat, in total contrast to that written at speed; however it was also a tediously slow task – as it is every time I prepare the children’s handwriting tasks. The assessor’s reaction to my slowness made me realise how much extra time I have always put in to everything – things that other people can just simply do.

There were other writing tasks: copying an academic sentence; typing one at speed; a précis of key points from the chocolate houses passage and a free write. I was allowed time to gather my thoughts for the free write which certainly flowed better than the précis - embarrassingly difficult to write coherently, in full sentences or in any logical order!

Spoonerisms were difficult, but achievable by employing strategies: sub-vocalising, openly talking things through and requesting repetitions. These help to cement information in my mind. Other strategies I employ include using my fingers, making connections, visualising, phonic knowledge and syllabification. In the assessment I also used prior knowledge – after all, I had conducted some elements of the assessments myself on countless children over the years. When asked in the pre-assessment form about strategies I employ had written at length – over 200 words. I think I employed most of them during the assessment. I had given my ‘fidget string’ to the assessor at the start of the assessment, since she hadn’t seen one before and showed an interest. It’s my own invention of a fidget to help children to focus in class – I always have one in my bag. Instead, I used the plastic tab which I slowly destroyed in much the same way as I regularly destroy paperclips during meetings.

Even knowing that I was employing these strategies, I was still relieved to hear the words “You are dyslexic” after the assessments were completed. So relieved, that again tears flowed.

My scores were then presented. I responded first as a SENDCO; I looked at the scores as though they belonged to someone else. I commented on the spikiness of the profile, how some scores were on the 99.8th percentile while others were as low as the 1st, a score discrepancy found in less than 0.1% of the population. Then I was reminded that these scores were telling my story; scores that indicate not the stupidity I feared but actually very high levels of comprehension and reasoning, verbal and non-verbal. At the same time they confirmed my concerns for the viva, showing a weakness in working memory and speed of processing. My reading accuracy was fine, top average; my comprehension was better, above the 95th percentile; yet my reading rate was on the 5th percentile, far slower than I had thought, even knowing that I struggled with reading. My speed of writing was very slow, on and below the 5th percentile, while my typing speed – which I had considered to be fast – was low average. This pattern kept repeating itself – high accuracy (or average when it came to spelling) but slow, slow, slow. So yes, I am dyslexic.

This has been a lot to absorb. Whilst it confirms what I knew about having problems with processing, working memory, spelling and reading; there are surprises, in terms of my intellect and the extent of the difficulties I face. It explains feeling stupid when unable to keep up with conversations; keeping quiet when I disagree but can’t think of how to express my thinking; my successes to date, both academically and professionally. I think differently, and through hard work and creative strategies I have not only achieved all that I’ve challenged myself to do, but I’ve been able to help so many children to believe in themselves and to find strategies to face their challenges. But there’s more!

Had I been found to have dyslexia as a child, would I have achieved the same things or would I have limited my horizons? I’ll never know. What I do know is that the same parents who lovingly called me dumbbell and doughnut also believed in me. They told me repeatedly that I was loved and could do anything I set my mind to. They set the example. My father unknowingly has always used strategies: my mother checks his writing for errors; he leaves post-its everywhere with reminders; he always has a pad of lined, yellow paper for writing (Irlens maybe?) and he works hard, creatively, having run his own businesses. Likewise my mother has a super work ethic – Di will do it, is the oft heard phrase. They both believe in solutions not problems; a belief which has given me a determination to succeed. When I didn’t get the A level grades I needed, while I was busy getting upset it was my mother busily sourced an alternate course for me. That is the foundation of my resilience, for resilience I do have in immense quantities. That would have been there with or without the label of dyslexia. It is surely the attitude, the resilience that makes for success when stumbling blocks exist. Everyone faces difficulties in life, it is what we do about them that matters. So I thank my supervisor for persuading me to have the assessment; I thank the assessor for her gentle approach and patience; I thank all those who have supported me over the years, but most of all I thank my parents for giving me the values and resilience, mixed with love and a belief in me that have enabled me to face this upcoming viva!

Copy of Me and Dyslexia #1

Mon, 11 Nov 2019 00:30:13 GMT

Going for an Assessment

This may at first seem like a self-indulgent offload of emotion, but it’s being written so that anyone reading it who either has, suspects they have, works with or knows anyone with learning needs may get some small insight to how it feels, thought processes and strategies.

At 54 years of age I was hardly expecting that I would ever look for a formal assessment for dyslexia. Why would I? I’d managed this far without. Nevertheless, as I neared completion of my doctoral thesis, my supervisor started to persuade me to go for it. Why? What purpose could it serve? I’d muddled through the reading and re-reading that was required for each stage; I’d written, read, re-read, re-written every assignment and every aspect of my thesis, using my own time to avoid the need for any extra help; I’d made good use of voice recognition software on those occasions when every typed word was underlined with that helpful squiggly red line. So why now? Well it was for the viva.

The viva? How could a diagnosis of dyslexia be significant for the viva? I asked. This has been an unusual experience for me. I’m a SENCO and have been for 11 years. Prior to that I taught in a dyslexia provision having been a SEND teacher, working mainly with dyslexics in my previous job. I am therefore pretty experienced at understanding the needs of those with dyslexia and the sort of accommodations that help level the playing field. However, when it became about me all of that disappeared – fast. I was suddenly placed in the position where I was the one requiring support and couldn’t see what support I could possibly need. Were I supporting someone else I would have known immediately what strategies to offer, but I simply couldn’t see them for myself.

My supervisor is exceptional. She has a disability herself – physical, as opposed to learning – which occurred during her adult life. She had therefore been thrown into the world of support strategies and had needed to navigate issues far more complex and life impacting than my own. She has a resilience to which I can relate and she could see where my difficulties were. The written word had, as I said earlier, been managed. Time, patience and my supervisor’s quirky humour had seen to that, but the viva was to be something different. There are several aspects of dyslexia that would affect this – assuming I prove to have that as opposed to my genuine fear of being found to be the ‘dumbbell and doughnut’ of my childhood:

· There is an issue with word retrieval. This is fine as a type, since I can take the time to find the words needed; however, in a viva I will need to sound competent and knowledgeable about my own research and I will appear less so if I can’t even find the words to express myself. Words frequently float just outside of my brain. They’re there around my head and I feel like I should be able to just reach out and grab them; yet they are so often elusive, leaving me with a frustration and sense of stupidity. It’s hard to explain, but I do know exactly what I want to communicate; I can visualise the concept; I close my eyes, wriggle my fingers as though I could snatch the words from the air around me – but they’re gone.

· Then there’s the issue with processing and memory. Just as I’m about to say something, it’s gone – floating again just outside of my reach, like those elusive words. I may be 54, but this is not yet dementia. It has ever been thus. I remember as a child, sitting at the dinner table surrounded by wonderful conversation and knowing that I had something to contribute, but the gap so often came when the thought had run away. I would get it back and sometimes even voice it, however too often the conversation had moved so far that as I spoke it sounded irrelevant – I was back to being the endearing dumbbell. Or else I spoke in time, but that delightful intruder – Mrs Malaprop – would arrive and I would talk of par carks, specific oceans and basketti, the cute little doughnut that I was. In a viva I can hardly afford to lose my thoughts, I would again sound ignorant of my own research.

· Pressure is an extension of the above. If under pressure, either because I’m being rushed or someone speaks with an impatient tone, I go to pieces. Always have. The words run away so fast and the thoughts themselves escape me. As the frustration of that builds, especially in a situation where I really need to say my piece, tears become the intruders. This only makes me more frustrated as I then feel even more stupid – worse still, I feel like a silly little girl. I’m a strong powerful woman – or so I’ve been told. I’m good at SENDCOing, I’m good at teaching, I’m good at helping others and finding strategies to support them through life, I’m also truly resilient – so where are these tears coming from? Why now? Why when I have something so important to say am I left feeling utterly pathetic and out of control? This fortunately doesn’t happen in my professional capacity. I think it’s almost as though I’m playing a part then. I have confidence in my professional abilities and am in control. A viva is so much more personal. It’s the culmination of 5 years’ hard work and a chance to prove to myself that maybe I’m not stupid. Please don’t let the tears invade during the viva – yet it’s a likely time for that to happen. It certainly did in my First Review. The invasion was absolute. I was a sobbing, gibbering wreck. Yet I gained so much from the experience of abject failure – oh yes I failed! I had been going down the wrong route for what I was trying to research. The chairman was a wonderful lady who guided me to a much better path and I thanked her for her support while apologising for my tears.

· Next comes reading. Reading in the viva? I queried. Well I will need to find where I have written various bits as I am quizzed about them. Reading is a real issue for me. I can decode words or I can understand them – doing both simultaneously and at speed is another issue entirely. I know my data. I can tell you who said what and how they said it – laughing, crying with anger – it’s all there in my head. But finding it in the text of my thesis is another matter. I could be shuffling pages for an age. The use of a laptop to locate key parts of my research would support this – something I would definitely have considered for someone else but needed my supervisor to explain to me. Likewise I will need the space to spread out any notes I bring in– I do like to spread out! Up until my thesis was submitted my entire study was covered with papers, books, notes and quotes – all in the appropriate piles, colour coded and perfectly at hand. This is not how it would have appeared to anyone else entering my space. To them it would have seemed a total mess, utterly cluttered – exactly like my office at work. I sometimes think, when I look at my spaces, that my mind must be the same – all cluttered with so much stuff, making sense only to me.

So here I am, awaiting an assessment for dyslexia. I’m scared, ridiculously scared. I’ve put this off ever since I was told that I was showing all the signs of having dyslexia, just in case I don’t have it and I’m just the dumbbell and doughnut I’ve always considered myself to be. Distinction at Masters level didn’t convince me that I’m not stupid; completing a doctoral thesis hasn’t either. Oh yes, I feel a huge sense of achievement for having written so much and finally submitted it, but I also feel a total fraud, as though I shouldn’t be able to complete something at that level. They’re going to find me out.

That’s the fear of the assessment – what if they find me out to be the fool after all?

Copy of A Year on from my Dyslexia Assessment #1

Sun, 03 Nov 2019 17:19:59 GMT

As some of you will have read, this time last year I went for an assessment for dyslexia, which showed that I am dyslexic. A year on and I’ve done a lot of thinking and added more strategies to my way of working, so I thought I’d share some reflections on this.

The first thing to say is that I’m not stupid. I say this as it’s still my ‘go to’ when stressed and I’m learning to actually believe that I’m intelligent. According to my assessment I’m on the 99.8 and 99th percentile for intellect; interesting since I’ve always believed that I didn’t have innate intelligence, just a good work ethic and the resilience to keep trying. This shows how important it is to praise hard work as I’m sure that this resilience is why I’m so close to becoming Dr Hélène Cohen. For those of you who read my earlier blog, and spoiler alert for those who now wish to trawl through the previous blogs to find the original one about my assessment, I did get through the viva. I had really good preparation and strategies. I made up cards with key points in few words for each possible area of questioning. I took my time to find the appropriate card and requested a repetition of the question once the relevant card was found.

I may have passed the viva, but I have had the task this year of rewriting much of the thesis. It transpired that while I could satisfactorily answer questions in the viva, much of what I said, and thought I’d written, was not actually on the paper. Not unusual for one with dyslexia, since the words in my head merge with those on the page, meaning that I think I’ve written words and ideas that prove to have remained as thoughts alone.

Another aspect of the rewrite was the jumble of ideas, things that I thought had been written in logical sequence proved otherwise. So it’s been a mammoth rewrite, and I’m nearing the end of that process. Hopefully by October I’ll know whether I’ve finally done enough to deserve the now much wanted title of Dr. There were rewrites in every chapter of the thesis, some minor but some virtually complete rewrites. Whilst it would have been easy to give up at various points this year, I’ve been motivated to keep going for a few reasons. The first is the way my children – all adults – and their partners showed me how proud they are of all I’ve done to date. Amazing having my children telling me that, when it’s usually the other way round. They came down from all over the country – they’re scattered around a bit these days – to surprise me with a day of spoiling me in my own home. Totally overwhelmed me. The second reason is my supervisor, who has been so very supportive. She was in the viva – sat where I couldn’t look at her, as per the rules – but this meant that she understood what was said by the examiners and has been able to chunk down what I’ve needed to do do that it’s been more manageable.

So strategies added to my collection. I now record all important meetings. I hadn’t realised how much of what is said in a meeting I forget or misremember. I have always taken notes, but the trouble is that when I look back at them, many of them are meaningless. Recording meetings has helped me to systematically address all feedback on my work – my rewriting of the rewriting. Systematically is another key thing. I make better use of subheadings to keep my writing in a logical sequence and I read back, aloud, what I have written to ensure that it makes sense. I am trying to become more aware of when I say things aloud that I think I’m just saying in my head. This is something I’ve always done; it’s as though saying it aloud cements it as a thought. I’m also less embarrassed about asking for repetitions, as I now realise that this is just something I need in order to process and remember what has been said. Again, this is not a sign of stupidity, just the speed of processing and ways to remember. I have also asked a few people to read through my thesis for me. This was hard for me as I felt extremely vulnerable about my writing after the viva. I am fortunate enough to have extremely supportive friends, some of whom I became friends with through undertaking the EdD. People have been kind in their feedback, pointing out my inconsistencies and getting me to double check when meaning is ambiguous. Fresh eyes viewing the work is extremely helpful and a strategy that I recommend.

I’m also learning Hebrew. I know the letters, always have, but I’m trying to learn it as a language as opposed to a decoding exercise. The interesting thing for me has been that I make the same errors in Hebrew as in English. There are certain letters I reverse and confuse; there are those whose order I reverse when reading or typing words; and there are words that I repeatedly get muddled. However, it’s proving to be worthwhile as it’s making me focus on those areas of literacy. I’m using the Duo Lingo app for this and my determination means that I want to keep up my 86 day streak.

The main benefits from the assessment, besides the obvious ones of really understanding my areas of weakness, are understanding my areas of strength and beginning to believe in myself more. The surprising benefit has been the way it’s encouraged others to have their assessments. I lectured on a foundation course at uni. It was an introduction to special educational needs – no surprises there – and I started by explaining that I would be using a range of strategies throughout my lectures that could be used in class to support learning. I then explained that I was also using them as I needed them myself, due to being dyslexic. This took away any embarrassment from any students who had wondered about their own possible SEND. It is not unusual for those interested in SEND – TA’s, LSAs, and SENCOs – to have or know someone who has some form of SEND. This certainly proved to be the case for several of my students and I was told by them that sharing my experience helped them to come to terms with and be assessed for their own needs.

Whatever the area of need, we are so much more than any SEND we may have, and our SEND can give us strengths in other areas. Building resilience and self belief are essential tools to help through life. Hopefully teachers reading this will give learners the time, patience and support that build our toolkit of strategies and gives us the resilience to succeed. I know I’ve been so fortunate in the support that I have had from key people throughout my own journey. Some of that will be for a future blog.

Distracted

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 27 Oct 2019 17:48:16 GMT

I was talking to one of my sons earlier this week about labels and children; how so often there can be a focus on labelling a child as having this or that, when actually we want to support the areas that affect the child and create barriers to learning. This got me thinking about the children who are often said to be distracted in class. Depending on how this manifests itself, the child can be described as poorly behaved, lazy or disinterested; yet there can be so many reasons why one appears distracted.

A few years ago I was asked to observe a girl in Year 5 who seemed to have difficulty engaging with her lessons. Within 5 minutes of observing her I quietly asked her to turn the music down in her head so that she could hear what everyone was saying and join in. She was surprised, but nodded, and became more focused. We chatted afterwards and she asked how I knew that she was listening to imagined music. I explained that as someone who often ‘plays music’ in my head I simply recognized the signs. It transpired that she was a dancer - absolutely loved dancing. I have been privileged to have seen her in a few school talent shows and productions since and she is a beautiful dancer to watch. There were a few processing issues, a need for a coloured overlay, and a need to ensure that she was focused in class but other than that little intervention was required. Simply knowing that the teachers were aware that she often listened to imagined music, and they would remind her to lower the volume, helped her to be less distracted. It also helped that the teachers understood her, and ensured her engagement with the lesson. Giving her reasons to move around the class also helped, as the dancer in her liked to be on the go.

Girls can have Autism too!

Sun, 20 Oct 2019 10:02:23 GMT

My thoughts for this week’s blog came from reading an article about how easily girls with autism can be overlooked. This is an area that really interests me as research has developed so much since I first learned about autism many years ago.

This is not always the case with girls.

What’s going on?

Pets

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sat, 12 Oct 2019 14:02:45 GMT

This is a subtitle for your new post

This week we said farewell to one of our cats, Ghandi. It has made me think about what our pets add to our lives and how important they are to our children. So this week’s blog is in loving memory of Ghandi.

What lessons do we learn from having pets? Well, the way Ghandi entered our lives is the first lesson. One day, while my husband and I were sitting in the lounge watching TV, one of our sons came home and tried to sneak upstairs. We called him in and asked what he was hiding. “Nothing” came the immediate reply. “So why is there a furry tail hanging out of your jacket?” we asked. The explanation was that Joe was rescuing a kitten from being drowned. Of course we kept him, but there was a lesson about openness and maybe hiding your tracks a bit better! Also came the realisation that some things can’t be hidden. How would Ghandi have been fed and cared for without us being in on it? It also showed us that some of our values had rubbed off on Joe as he rescued this fur-ball from death.

One evening, when Ghandi was about 8 months old, came home limping and bleeding. We surmised that someone must have kicked him as he had a fear of feet from that day on. The vet tried to save his leg, but in the end had to amputate. So now Ghandi was a 3 legged cat. Lessons were again learned. First one was for us – we had no pet insurance and we really struggled to pay for the amputation. Although putting him down would have been the cheap option, Ghandi deserved to live and we somehow muddled through. We have had pet insurance ever since! Our youngest 2 sons also learned from this. They knew that we were struggling and without us knowing they sold some of their favourite toys to help pay the fees. We were so proud of them as they showed their love for Ghandi and their ability to sacrifice something of their own for the sake of another. We also learned a lot by watching how Ghandi adapted to being a 3 legged cat. He learned fast how to walk on 3 legs, even jumping up onto the fence and walking along it. In fact the only thing he could no longer do was scratch behind his left ear. We all helped him with that. He also learned how to win the sympathy vote as he was the only one of our cats who would get us to open the door if he didn’t get through the cat-flap on his first attempt. So we all learned that when faced with a challenge, go for it; adapt and change and learn new skills to manage the situation with which you are faced.

Moving on to pets in general, and thank you for the indulgence of me sharing a bit about our beloved Ghandi; as teachers we often have pupils who have lost a pet. It is important to be understanding when this happens. Whether the pet is a goldfish, a gerbil, a dog or a lizard, that creature will have been a part of the child’s life and often can be the child’s first encounter with death, with the realisation that a part of their life is over and they will need to continue through their own life without the companionship of their pet. I’ve seen teachers be caring, considerate and understanding when this happens, yet I have also seen teachers be dismissive, especially if the pet is a fish or a rodent. If the pet was loved then the loss is significant, so it is important to remember that and support the child through their grief.

Pets teach children so much. They learn responsibility if they are encouraged to care for their pet, whether that be simply changing the water in the goldfish bowl and daily feeding, or taking the pet for walks and being responsible for cleaning out cages. They also provide companionship, a friend who doesn’t answer back and allows you the freedom to be who you are. This can be so important for those with certain SEND. Those with autism can find a pet calming as they demand no social skills and allow the child to be talkative or quiet as the child chooses, with no pressure. In this way pets can be good for mental health: just watching a fish swimming can be calming and soothing; taking a dog for a run gets you out in the fresh air, exercise with a purpose.

A final, but painful lesson is that the loss of a pet hurts; however the love and joy of having had that pet is worth the pain of the loss. That applies to human relationships. We fear death and we often avoid talking about death, yet it is the only certainty of life – we will all die. But the joy and love that we can have in our life through positive relationships is worth any pain that may occur.

God bless you Ghandi, farewell.

What to Teach

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Mon, 07 Oct 2019 13:43:23 GMT

When my younger 2 sons were 8 and 9 years old they were fortunate enough to have been home schooled by my parents for 7 months. We were moving house at the time and we felt that this would be the best way to keep them settled emotionally while we were in a state of real confusion. It was a time when, apart from the weekends when we could all be together as a family, we would be in different places, with the younger 2 staying with their grandparents midweek. It proved to be the best thing we could have done for them, and while those 7 months were extremely difficult for my older 2 sons, my husband and me, the younger 2 who were home schooled remember the time as their best school days.

My parents are not and were never actually trained teachers, however they shouldered the responsibility brilliantly, and named the ‘school’ U1A – University of the First Age. They had sweatshirts and caps made with the U1A logo, so that when they went to museums and on their other ‘school trips’ the boys took this seriously as a school trip as opposed to going out with their grandparents. They structured the time, so that school started after breakfast and ended at tea time. The biggest plus for the boys was that they could have hugs and milkshake even when ‘at school’!

A major concern for my parents was what to actually teach. It was agreed that they would ensure the development of literacy and numeracy skills, but we decided that everything else could be covered through some form of project work. It was amazing! What my parents really taught my boys was how to learn.

This follows on from my previous blogs about the importance of the Arts and games in education. They would visit a museum, and if they wanted to they could return and follow up on what they had explored; a luxury that a regular school could not afford. They made viaducts out of cardboard. They learned the mathematics required to measure and build little houses. They learned the physics of equal and opposite reactions, by visiting an aircraft museum. They went to the opera, having first seen it on video, so that they understood the story.

As well as all of this, my youngest son, who had really struggled to learn to read, discovered a love of books that he still has today and the second youngest, who had previous felt that he couldn’t do Maths, discovered that he actually could! Much of this was because of the total freedom surrounding their education at this time. They would, as children naturally do, ask questions about all sorts of things and my parents would select aspects of this to be the focus of another project. The boys would then be supported to research, ask more questions, explore and experiment, learning all of the time. They started to enjoy writing as they were writing about things that interested them, seeing it as part of a whole as opposed to a lesson in spelling, punctuation and grammar. It was all about fostering a love of learning and developing their enquiring minds. Discussions over breakfast or dinner, watching television and listening to the news, all of this helped to form the curriculum. They would help to prepare dinner – no longer part of the ‘school day’ but still a part of their education – learning about measuring, shopping for the ingredients, discussions about where produce comes from and so on.

Of course, in a school it is different. It would be impossible to follow 30 different areas of interest all at once. So my youngest 2 sons had the privilege of a tailor-made curriculum. The structure of the learning did to a large extent mirror the ideals of the EYFS (early years foundation stage) and the shame is that this way of learning seems to fall away quickly as children move into Key Stage 1 and beyond.

A courageous and creative head teacher could find ways to build some flexibility into the curriculum, setting aside time for enrichment opportunities and space to follow up on children’s interests. However with the pressure of exams from an ever younger age, this is a difficult route for many head teachers to take. Add on the pressures of inspection and it becomes even harder to choose this way of learning. Surely one of the functions of school is to prepare our children for adulthood? This is about more than merely functioning, but about living fulfilling lives. Yes, we do need to teach skills for practical living and for employment, but we also need to consider the whole person. This includes, and is now increasingly recognised to include, mental health and well-being; mindfulness and emotional health. If we follow our children’s interests, if we introduce ‘playing’ into our school days, if we ensure that the Arts are there to enrich our lives then surely we are more fully preparing our children for a more fulfilling and emotionally healthy adulthood?

Anyone who knows my youngest sons will know what a huge role their home education played in their development. They are young men in their 20s now. They are both able to see things from different perspective. They can face challenges with the resilience to get through difficult situations and keep going. They enjoy music, art, theatre and fine food. They can think for themselves and argue their point (sometimes too well for my liking!). They can cook and manage their own homes. I know that, while I will take some credit for all of this as their mother, so much is with grateful thanks to my parents for creating and running U1A for them for 7 months. It was only 7 months but the impact on their lives is the greatest impact of their entire education.

Thank you ‘Bibby and Papa’

Arts and Games

Sun, 29 Sep 2019 10:49:20 GMT

Having written about puppets last week, I was in Canterbury the other day and saw a toyshop – Whirligig Toys https://www.whirligigtoys.co.uk – and found the window display enticing. The puppets first caught my eye, so I went inside and there were so many wonderful toys and games; traditional toys; wooden toys; games that required imagination and creativity; games that required logic. It reminded me of the value of games, play and creativity. These are aspects of education that are being squeezed out but a data, assessment driven paradigm in education today. My own doctoral research into inspection highlighted that. So why are these things important?

I have tweeted often about the importance of the Arts. Whatever the artistic, creative medium, there is so much to learn: we can develop our fine and gross motor skills; develop language; fire our imaginations; engage in inventive critical thinking; take risks. This is just a tiny bit of the role the Arts play. Using art, music, drama and dance can bring to life all areas of the wider curriculum. All this before we even consider the mindfulness aspect; mindfulness in a society that is waking up to the importance of well-being and mental health awareness.

Then there are games. Where in our curriculum is there space for games and play? I have been fortunate enough to work in a school where all of these things have been valued and have seen how much richer a child’s education is by making time for play. Games teach so many life skills: problem solving, strategy, resilience, logic, creativity, turn taking, being a good winner and loser, learning from our mistakes, numeracy, literacy, the part that luck and chance play and how we manage that, the importance of practising and rehearsing a skill or a strategy, experimenting and adapting things tried before, social skills, creativity and of course, well-being and mindfulness. I could go on for ages.

The other aspect of play and the Arts is that they all serve to actually drive up the academic achievement that schools are striving for. We squeeze these things out from our school life at our peril and to the detriment of our children. There are games, puzzles, toys and creative arts for all ages, yet we associate all these things with the early years, EYFS. I have to say that EYFS curriculum seems to have got it right as far as I’m concerned. In an EYFS classroom, we would be outraged if there were no pretend play area, no art and music, no toys and golden time, no free play. We are disappointed if we visit an early years setting that does not have access to an outside play area. Then the moment a child moves on form EYFS – and sadly sometimes even in reception – so many schools drop the whole EYFS pedagogy. Suddenly children are expected to sit down and get on with formal numeracy and literacy for ever lengthening periods of time. It is forgotten that many games are actually reinforcing these areas of curriculum, and many games exist that extend the basic skills of the earlier dice throwing, turn taking, discussion based games. Oh, I forgot to mention memory. In a society where many are losing their memory skills to various hand held devices, many games actually serve to build our memory skills.

It was through playing games - cards and 'Hexago' that I not only built trust when working with a child with selective mutism, but also learned to appreciate her sense of humour and sense of fun as she would find any way to cheat or fix the game so that I would lose - even if she did not win. It was through playing games that an extremely able child, who needed to develop his social skills and resilience, learned these skills - again through 'Hexago' - as he would be unable to resist letting me know that I could place my tile somewhere that would score me more points, even while he struggled with the possibility that it might help me to win.

Games and toys exist for all ages. In secondary education it is unusual to see games and toys in the classroom, unless you’re in a SEND (special educational needs and disabilities) base. There you will find games, games to support a whole range of skills. If these games work for our SEND students, why wouldn’t they work for everyone else? As stated before, games really support social skills and resilience. These are so important in our adult life, and yet as our students get closer to having to become fully independent members of society, that is the time when we remove games from the school day. The same is true of the Arts. Teenagers need ways to express themselves as they cope with the changes and confusions of becoming young adults. The Arts and games generally would support them so much at this point. They would also help to keep teenagers motivated, thus again driving up academic standards. It is surely short-sighted to then squeeze these out further.

So bring games and the Arts back into school, back into the classroom and of course into the home. There are schools that are doing this, schools with brave head teachers and senior leaders who are truly putting the interests and well-being of their children and young adults first. That is surely how we prepare our children for living in the fast changing world that they will inhabit.

Building Parental Relationships

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 15 Sep 2019 11:15:46 GMT

As a new academic year gets underway, it's worth considering how we work in partnership with parents.

Sitting with a parent, discussing a referral form that details the somewhat challenging behaviour of his daughter, I am reminded of the importance of establishing a trusting relationship with parents from the start. Being a SENCO means having to explain to parents that their child has a learning difficulty or disability and this requires sensitivity and trust.

The way I have managed this, is to set aside sufficient time for initial parent meetings to discuss any findings from assessments and observations. During these meetings, I have tried to ensure that parents fully understand the educational, personal and emotional aspects, as well as strategies that are used in school to support their child. It is also important that this is seen as a partnership, and parents are aware of what they can do to support their child. This initial meeting is often emotional for parents, so time is needed to reassure them and forge understanding and trust.

Meeting can be difficult, as often they involve telling parents things that they would rather not hear. Sometimes, by contrast, it can almost be a relief to realise that there’s a reason for the difficulties that their child has been experiencing. Either way, the time and care invested in this initial meeting will invariably pay off; provided it is followed up with clear lines of communication being established.

Things that help with these initial meetings include having a box of tissues at the ready, as well as a glass of water, pens and paper. These meetings can also throw up matters not on the agenda. Often parents will talk of their own experiences at school, realising that they too may have some undiagnosed learning concerns; other times extremely personal information about home life is shared of which hitherto the school had been unaware. I’ve had parents share their marital problems, alcohol dependency and abuse at home when I’ve thought I was simply arranging a meeting to see if we should be assessing their child. Whatever is discussed needs sensitive handling and at times an understanding that what has been disclosed needs to be passed on to someone else. We’ve all had the training for safeguarding, and these meetings can be the place where such a concern is raised. A trusting relationship does not mean making promises to confidentiality that cannot be kept.

This trusting relationship is what helps the child progress as parents know that their voice and concerns are being heard and that we are all working towards their child’s best interests.

Sometimes books can be a good way in to alerting a parent about a learning need that there child may have. Particularly sensitive areas for discussion are ASD, Anxiety and ADHD. When these form part of the nature of a concern my first port of call is usually Kathy Hoopmann. Her books: All Cats Have Aspergers; Inside Aspergers Looking Out; All Birds Have Anxiety and All Dogs Have ADHD have proved invaluable. The use of photos of animals, with carefully worded captions is a gentle way to introduce the various behaviours and feelings that often accompany ASD, Anxiety and ADHD. They provide a stimulus for discussion and can lead to a way in for the parent, or school, to then broach the subject with the child when the parents and school feel the time to be appropriate. Health warning – these books usually require that handy box of tissues that I mentioned earlier. It is worth noting that these Aspergers books focus on boys with ASD and there is now more research about the different ways on which girls on the ASD spectrum present. There are now books on ASD, specifically about girls on the spectrum, such as I am an Aspie Girl by Danuta Bulhak-Paterson. We all find our personal favourites to use.

Whatever the concern that needs to be raised, it is helpful to imagine yourself receiving the information for the first time about your own child. How would you feel? Having been on the receiving end of a badly handled parent meeting about one of my own sons, many moons ago, when his behaviour at primary school had been far from desirable, I am only too well aware of how badly wrong a meeting can go if not properly planned and handled. I was told that my son was ‘horrible’. He wasn’t – and isn’t – but at the time his behaviour was. His grandfather had just died! The teacher simply opened the meeting with “(child’s name) is horrible!”. Unsurprisingly, this was not well received by me! It’s an example of what not to do that I have used on many occasions when mentoring new teachers. The old adage – the behaviour not the child – still holds true. Likewise, a child with ASD, ADHD, Dyslexia or any other label is not the label. The child is always her own individual self, a person that needs to not become lost in a label that’s being discussed. We are all individuals, and all have our worth. This is the parent’s child we are discussing and not merely the label.

Finally, but importantly, as soon as possible after the meeting make notes on what has been discussed. I always make a point of making minutes of any meetings with parents using a simple bullet point format, signing and dating them and then sending them home to be counter-signed by the parents/carers who attended. That way the school and the parents have a record of the meeting. This can help resolve any issues should they occur later, as there is a signed record of what was discussed and agreed.

Just an Idea

Sun, 08 Sep 2019 09:21:32 GMT

When I was trying to think of ideas for my doctoral thesis, one that I considered for a while related to how recognition for pupils in school is so often academic, with lip service recognition of other aspects, ignoring and even diminishing behaviours and development in areas that may prove more important going through life. The idea came to nothing since my son pointed out that it would likely simply become another stick with which Ofsted could beat the teachers. That was why I ended up researching the emotional effect that Ofsted had on teachers, comparing state and independent sector systems. However, looking through the many sticky notes on my computer screen I came across the notes I made at the time, so thought I’d air them in this blog.

The idea was to reward pupils for things including and other than academic progress. It’s important to keep in the academic as that is the characteristic that best suits some pupils, and we are talking about schools and learning! But this system would not value it any more than the other areas. Achievement could be for a range of areas, reviewed by pupils, parents and teachers so that they work for the individual school. They would link to the pillars of learning as outlined in UNESCO’s framework for education:

Learning to Know – the development of skills and knowledge needed to function in this world e.g. formal acquisition of literacy, numeracy, critical thinking and general knowledge.
Learning to Do – the acquisition of applied skills linked to professional success.
Learning to Live Together – the development of social skills and values such as respect and concern for others, and the appreciation of cultural diversity.
Learning to Be – the learning that contributes to a person’s mind, body, and spirit. Skills include creativity and personal discovery, acquired through reading, the Internet, and activities such as sports and arts.
Learning to Transform Oneself and Society –the knowledge, skills, and values for creating lasting change in organizations, communities, and societies.

Currently, our education system focuses on the first two of these, knowledge and skills determined by a National Curriculum, and as I’ve said so often, this squeezes out the Arts and creativity as schools put all their efforts into getting these right, often it appears to be in order to achieve a better Ofsted rating. With changes to Ofsted, there is now a greater emphasis on a wider curriculum and on mental well-being, but this too is in danger of being a tick-box exercise.

So what was my amazing idea? Well, I was thinking of developing a system based on levelling up as with computer games. There would be badges that would be earned by teachers awarding a required number of ticks to evidence that the pupil had demonstrated the specific skill or characteristic, enabling the pupil to earn the badge and level up. The pupils could select from a range of avatars, and the selection could increase as they level up. The badges would appear on the pupil’s home screen so that they could see where they were at and what they needed to achieve next. This would allow for children to follow paths that suited them regarding earning the badges. There would be basic skills that all needed to earn, but after that paths could be selected, with their own sub-sections, by the pupils so that they each had a say in their own trajectory. In this way, working towards some badges would be compulsory, while others would be optional. There could even be out-of-school badges. This might be for work in the community, sports, music, art, or any initiative, valuing other things that the child does.

Categories could include things like: creativity, class participation, resilience, respect, initiative, collaboration, sport, music, art, outdoor learning, and charitable works. The list would be what the school and its community decides but the important thing is to ensure that all aspects of learning that help pupils to grow, feel valued and allow for their individuality are given equal recognition. We can help our children to learn that there is value beyond and not excluding academic achievement.

It’s just an idea and many schools do have ways of recognising the non-academic achievements of pupils, but let’s make it really fun and really high profile. The badge system, in a computer game way with levelling up, could help pupils to really engage, enthusing them to develop their whole being, and hopefully help with the growing concerns over mental health and well-being. Anyway, I've thrown it out there - maybe someone can pick it up and run with it.

The Waiting Game

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 01 Sep 2019 18:16:31 GMT

This week’s blog explores how it feels waiting for results. No I’m not talking of the GCSE or A level results – too late for that this year – I’m talking of waiting to find out whether my doctoral thesis is up to standard.

One way or another I have been playing this waiting game for 6 years now. Back in 2013 I embarked on an EdD. It has been an exhausting and rewarding journey and one that has taught me more than academic research. I have been fortunate enough to be part of an exceptional cohort, developing some incredible friendships with exceptionally supportive people. I have also been privileged to have had an inspirational supervisor for the past couple of years, and owe her so very much, whether or not I pass this final hurdle.

A bit about this journey. The voyage is one of resilience, since without that my thesis would never have been submitted. As those of you who have read previous blogs of mine will already know, I am dyslexic. This is something I sort of thought I was when I started my EdD but that was only properly assessed a year ago. This is important because I now appreciate factors that although they made this journey harder, also mean that I feel I have achieved, even if I end up being thrown overboard – to extend this metaphor. I do hope that I don’t end up drowning!

The first stages of an EdD, like other professional doctorates, form a taught stage. For the EdD that meant 7 weekends – 1 per term – where we were introduced to various aspects of reading, researching and writing to prepare us for the actual research stage. Each weekend meant another assignment, hence the 6 years of awaiting results. As this was all done while being a full time SENCO, it made me appreciate some of the demands we place on our pupils. I certainly understand how homework affects the social life, since for the past 6 years there has always been something I should have been reading or writing, so social engagements were always considered against the amount of work I needed to complete for work and for the doctorate. And then the endless waiting. With each assignment waiting for the results. Then with the final research stage, awaiting feedback from supervisors, facing the endless comments that led to rewriting and rewriting. The waiting was always harder than actually doing the work. Waiting to know how your work will be received is tough. Our pupils go through this day after day, and doing the EdD, just as when I did my Masters, helped me to remember how important timely feedback is for those we teach.

Feedback needs to be constructive. Over these 6 years I have received so much formative feedback. The constructive kind – especially that from my final supervisor – has helped me to grow as a reader, writer, researcher and academic. My final supervisor has never shied away from letting me know when my writing isn’t communicating what I’ve intended – and this has happened a lot. Sometimes, as a dyslexic, my thoughts and the words on the page sort of merge, so that I think I’ve clearly written something that simply isn’t there. By asking me the right questions, my supervisor allowed me to work out what was needed. Whilst there has been a brutal honesty in this, the humour and care from my supervisor has helped me to remain resilient throughout, even though at times I have wanted to give up. Every meeting meant that I was closer to understanding the expectations of doctoral level academia.

Not all feedback has been constructive. There has been feedback over the last 6 years that has just indicated that something wasn’t good enough, without any guidance as to why and how to address this. That is then merely criticism as opposed to critiquing the work and enabling a better understanding. The purpose of that is something I still don’t understand. Likewise with teaching. We are there to enable our pupils to be the best they can be. We need to guide them forwards so that they can cope when their work needs developing rather than destroying their confidence, and making it hard for them to progress. I have received feedback in both ways and it is the supportive approach, enabling me to acknowledge what I have done well and discover how I can progress that has sustained me and enabled me to reach this point of final resubmission.

My final supervisor was the one who persuaded me to be assessed for dyslexia. She then helped me to work through this journey of self discovery so that I can be more confident that this final thesis has the words on the page to explain my research. The irony is that I underwent the assessment in order to manage my viva. I managed my viva to the point where I don’t need another, yet it is the written thesis that needed the correcting, and that was most adversely affected by my dyslexia. Ideas were not logically sequenced – I now have much clearer headings and subsections to organise the ideas. An aside: since my thesis explores teachers’ emotional responses to inspection, I have been told that I would get the award for some of the most depressing section titles ever! I also have page numbers, section numbers, dates of references etc all with the numbers in the correct order – this is a far greater achievement than it may sound since reversing the order of digits in numbers is a particular trait of my dyslexia. I have also checked and double, triple and multiple checked that the processes and findings have reached the page. This has included turning the processes that were presented in 3 stages into the 8 stages of analysis that actually occurred – just one of many aspects that hadn’t reached the page in my first submission. My final chapter is much developed since I had met with the head of research at Ofsted following my viva to discuss my research findings. With changes made to the Ofsted framework – some of which reflect matters we discussed – the conclusion needed revision.

So yes, I am awaiting a decision about my doctorate. I may have to wait up to 3 months – longer than I would hope any of our pupils ever need to wait for feedback on their work. However, even though I am by no means certain that I will pass this final stage, I am finally able to feel proud of what I have achieved. This past year, rewriting so much of my thesis, has been extremely valuable. We do learn from our mistakes. We can develop and improve. Much as I now really want the letters I have worked so very hard to achieve, I can see a real value in the journey I have undertaken.

Timetabling

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 25 Aug 2019 14:44:12 GMT

As the next academic year approaches, it seems like a sensible time to bring back the topic of timetabling. This is one thing that took a while to sort out – if I ever really have sorted it out. As SENCO, you may find that you have a reduced, and with an understanding Head radically reduced, amount of class teacher time. It may be that you are teaching a couple of bottom sets and have a Form responsibility, but the rest of the timetable is for you to structure yourself. This varies so much from school to school. I felt very valued as I had a minimal amount of formal contact time, all well thought through, and had the freedom to sort out the rest for myself. Much is dependent on how the whole school timetable is worked out. If, as many schools do, there are ability groups for core subjects, it may be that you’re allocated to one or more of these in order to deliver all of their English and/or Maths, thus reducing the number of withdrawal groups needed.

Timetables for TAs and LSAs also need to be sorted and how this is done will depend on the number of TAs/LSAs there are as well as the needs of the various year groups for that academic year. Whilst we may think we know what the needs are, based on the previous year, things change. This is especially true in Primary schools, where development can seem to catch up over the summer. Also there will be new pupils starting, and their needs will have to be considered. A week to settle in can be helpful here as we can monitor the changes that have occured. It is obviously really helpful to know the skill sets of any support staff, since some will be best suited for supporting is certain subject areas and others will be best suited to support certain areas of SEND.

How I’ve devised my own timetable is heavily influenced by the way I see my role. There are certain individuals and small groups that it makes most sense for me to teach personally. Other groups are allocated to my LSA. As I have been responsible for all additional needs from nursery through to Year 6, in a school with 2 very distinct areas in the school separating EYFS and KS1 from KS2, I have learned to timetable in lessons when I am specifically over on the EYFS/KS1 side of the school. I found that when I simply thought I would visit regularly, something always cropped up. It’s vital that all areas of the school feel that they are equally valued, so timetabling this in, on 3 separate days a week, ensured that these sessions happened. Also, by timetabling them in, the teachers knew when they could expect to see me in their class. This meant that they cold plan for these visits, knowing that they would have an opportunity to speak with me. Another advantage of timetabled slots to drop in on different lessons is that. As SENCO, I have been able to see whether strategies given for supporting children are in place and whether they are working. This means that strategies can be reviewed more frequently, adapting them to ensure that they really are supporting the child.

Likewise I have timetabled in flexi slots for assessments/monitoring/observing and for admin. These are the slots that can most readily be used, as needed, when the unexpected happens or for annual review meetings, parental contact, cover, catching up with colleagues etc. Some years, having this flexibility has proved useful when we have had more children on role with ASD or attachment issues, as I have been more available to support in meltdown situations.

It’s all too easy to fill up every slot with teaching individuals and groups but there are always children whose names suddenly crop up, assessments and reports etc and never enough time to do it all. There will be plenty of nights working late even with a well devised time table, so do yourself a favour, time table in some slots for some of these other aspects of the job too!

A final thought: being asked to do cover lessons – provided it’s not all the time – can be useful opportunities to see SEND children in different contexts. You can also pick up on children who might otherwise have slipped through the net.

Leadership Role

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 18 Aug 2019 11:59:18 GMT

As an early part of my SENCO role within my school, I was asked to write an Able Gifted and Talented (AG&T) policy. This was because my role, in a small, independent Primary school, encompassed SEND, English as an additional Language (EAL) and AG&T. I used this policy writing as the basis of my final MA dissertation, so examined not only my own preferred style of leadership and management, but also a range of Literature on various styles to adopt, adapt or reject. My own leadership role as a teacher coincided with the definition arrived at by Katzenmeyer and Moller who define teacher leadership,

“Teachers who are leaders lead within and beyond the classroom, identify with and contribute to a community of teacher learners and leaders, and influence others towards improved educational practice.” Katzenmeyer and Moller (2001, p.5)

I feel that this is significant for SENCOs generally, as most spend as much or even more time supporting colleagues and advising them on ways to help SEND pupils learn as they spend actually teaching SEND pupils. If we are to be effective in supporting and advising our colleagues then it is vital that we are first and foremost respected practitioners in our own right. We need to demonstrate our own abilities in leading within the classroom so that we can extend this beyond our own practice having shown that we understand the realities that our colleagues face. Only then can we expect to be able to influence other teachers within our schools in ways that will improve their practice when working with LDD pupils.

I have more recently found one of Fullan’s leadership models. Having read a range of his work during my Masters, I rediscovered him for my Doctorate. His theory which runs through my own research is one that he calls ‘Six Secrets’ and this resonates well with the SENCO role. He lists these factors as:

“Love your Employees”

“Connect Peers to purpose”

“Capacity building prevails”

“Learning is the work”

“Transparency rules”

And “Systems learn” (Fullan, 2008)

I find that the idea of ‘loving your employees’, which he lists as his first secret, to be really powerful, since when people feel cared about and respected they are more open to other ideas. This applies to teachers, TAs and pupils alike – we all need to feel cared for and valued. The idea of being connected to purpose is also important, especially when working within a heavily data driven paradigm. The child can so easily be lost within a pressure to produce data that looks good for the school. Of course we want our children to progress, but that won’t look the same for each child. For one child progress may mean moving on to a higher level of Maths while for another it may mean being able to focus on a task for fifteen minutes, or being able to smile when praised. The progress in each case is equally important, yet not always recognised as such.

All of Fullan’s other ‘secrets’ follow on from these. It is easier to develop when we feel cared for and when we believe in what we’re doing. As a SENCO and senior leader I found it helpful to keep this uppermost in my mind. For me there were simple ways of doing this – I regularly brought home baked cookies or brownies into the staffroom (for all staff - cleaners, teachers, TAs, Head teacher etc) so that people felt cared for. I learned a lot about who had what preferences, and also who had what allergies! This helped whenever I had to ask for that little bit extra from someone. Likewise a slot at every staff meeting enabled me to keep SEND uppermost in people’s minds so that employing the strategies needed to support different children was more likely to happen. Regular ‘learning quest’ walks enabled me to not only see how children were doing in class, but also gave teachers plenty of opportunities to ask for help or advice about whatever. There needs to be trust for people to ask for help, and feeling cared for and valued helps to build that trust. The learning quests also showed children that learning is life-long, with adults learning too. This also helped children to feel valued as they felt that they were teaching the grown ups.

References:

Fullan, M. (2008) The six secrets of change. What the best leaders do to help their organizations survive and thrive. San Francisco: Jossy-Bass, Wiley Imprint.

Katzenmeyer, M. and Moller, G. (2001) Awakening the Sleeping Giant. Helping

Teachers Develop as Leaders. Corwin Press Inc.

©Hélène Cohen

Pupil Self Confidence

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 11 Aug 2019 12:45:10 GMT

Confidence is a major issue for pupils with SEND. Before moving to a Primary school, I spent a number of years working with SEND pupils in a Secondary setting. For those whose needs had not been identified or addressed there were many problems relating to self confidence. The whole, ‘I can’t’ attitude towards certain tasks was a significant challenge before we could really start to address their learning needs. Pupils with difficulties of a dyslexic or dyspraxic nature often believed that they were stupid, however high their scores in areas other than reading and writing. Pupils with ASD often blamed themselves whenever a class was told off, apologising even when to everyone else they were clearly not the ones being addressed. Couple this with the fact that they’re hormonal beings by this time, and naturally questioning themselves all the time, it is really helpful if self confidence can be addressed while they’re younger and before it really becomes an issue.

I can relate to this on a personal level as I was unaware that the difficulties I experienced in school were due to my dyslexia. Even though I was in top sets, I still thought I was stupid because I was extremely late in learning to read, made ‘silly’ spelling errors that provided entertainment for some of my teachers and often couldn’t remember the words to express my thoughts, always needing thinking time that I was rarely given. Had there been such a person as a SENCO in those days and had dyslexia been recognised I might have developed the strategies I now employ much sooner and would have had far greater self confidence at that time.

Lack of self confidence makes reading aloud in class so scary that all you can think about is the stress of awaiting your turn – none of the words read actually register in the brain. This isn’t only due to literacy reasons, high anxiety, for whatever the reason, will affect reading aloud, It also makes you reluctant to try anything new. Being told that you need to try harder because of untidy presentation or poor spelling is soul destroying when you’ve actually spent hours producing those two paragraphs. Being told off for not doing as you’re told, when actually the teacher didn’t think to say your name first so all you heard was the telling off afterwards is hardly going to make you feel confident. Another part of this is, as a teacher, showing how it’s ok to make mistakes – we learn from them. Building that resilience helps children to have a go.

As SENCOs and teachers it is our job to ensure that success is built in to children’s learning. We need to remind our colleagues to mark according to the focus of the task, separating out the learning from the SEND. We need to find reasons, valid reasons, for pupils with SEND to be praised until they believe in their own abilities. The reasons for praise matter, because accepting praise when your confidence is low can be difficult. A general ‘well done’ can be received as a meaningless platitude, whereas a specific, Well done, who have obviously worked hard on this as seen by…’ is harder to dispute and so easier to accept. This works for children without SEND too. Once this happens they can achieve in areas that are affected by their SEND – let’s face it, the fact that I’m writing this shows that strategies make a difference!

©Hélène Cohen

That Special Teacher

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 04 Aug 2019 19:11:02 GMT

For many of us there has been that special teacher, the one who made the biggest difference. There have been several special teachers for me, but one who shines above the rest, so this week’s blog is about her and a few other experiences in my own education.

My first school held no such person for me. I hated being there and, if I remember correctly, was not there for too long. The saving factor was that my two closest childhood friends were there with and and we moved together to the next school. I have vague memories of some super teachers at my Primary School – Mrs Nichols, who took us to the Robert Mayor concerts at the Festival Hall and my 4th year teacher (now called year 6), whose name I can’t recall but who I remember reading to us such books as Stig of the Dump and Charlie and the Chocolate factory.

Most of my Primary education was spent in a bit of a blur, never quite catching up or knowing what was going on around me. I had no idea then that I was dyslexic, and that other children knew what was going on as they understood the timetable to the right of the classroom door. My only strong memory of the infant school (besides standing on a bench for what seemed like hours when I was an angel in the Nativity play) was of being kept in at break time to read the flash cards while my friends played outside within plain view and almost within touching distance. Never could read those words! I remember being good at spelling tests but unable to spell words in any other situation. I remember loving the wonderful patterns we would make for handwriting practice. But my real memories of school started at secondary school.

There were several special teachers there: Mrs Fry, the patient Maths teacher; Mrs Barnes, the Art teacher who managed to really teach me to draw; but most special of all was Mrs Herlihy (no idea if that’s the correct spelling). She was my 3rd Year English teacher – we’d now call that Year 9. Up until she taught us, I lived in dread of English lessons. We used to have to ‘read around the class’. This meant that we each took turns in reading a paragraph – a living hell for me. I would count the people who came before me; work out the paragraph that I would be asked to read; rehearse the reading silently until it was my turn; read; then finally sit back and breathe. This meant that I had no idea of what we’d actually been reading, so I would have to re-read it at home and read ahead at home in order to keep up and cope. Not knowing that I was dyslexic I just assumed that I was somewhat thick.

Then there was the writing. How was I expected to think of what to write about as well as how to write it? How to make it neat and how to spell the words? Always easier to dumb down the vocabulary to words that were easier to spell. Mrs Herlihy changed all of that in one lesson. It was really simple. We were learning about rhyming couplets and the task was to then tell a story written in rhyming couplets. So how did she make this doable? A really simple technique that I have used and adapted time and again since becoming an English teacher. She told us to take a story we already knew, something simple like a fairy tale, and retell it written in rhyming couplets. This simple act of taking away the thinking up a story element of the task allowed me to focus on one thing only – the rhyming couplets. I got an A. An A in English! This gave me a confidence that I had hitherto never felt and started my love of the subject. Then she introduced me to Jane Eyre, To Kill a Mockingbird and One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich; books that were to open me up to a love of reading. Whilst my reading was slow, I never felt stupid in her lessons. I don’t remember being made to read aloud, but I remember her patiently discussing the books and sharing ideas. She inspired me to be an English teacher, but more than that, she helped me to see that adapting the way we teach can help the learning.

At the time I didn’t know that was what she was doing any more than she did; but when I started teaching it was her lessons that came to mind and her techniques that got me started. I found myself breaking down tasks so that the focus could be on what I wanted the learning to be for that lesson. There were times when the focus was in finding the tale to tell; but if the focus was in writing in the style of a newspaper report then the story could be that of The Three Little Wolves and the Big, Bad Pig. If the writing style was discursive, then we would have a debate first, a come over to my side session of persuasion, so that once again, for those children who needed to focus only on the style of writing, the subject matter had already been explored.

We never know who we will influence or how. I doubt if Mrs Herlihy has a clue how influential she was in my life, but I do know that the best and the worst experiences that we have at school live on in us. I remember the torture of the flash card reading lessons at break time (even though they were well-intentioned as I needed to learn to read), so have always avoided taking children from an activity that they enjoy in order to give them support or carry out assessments. I talk to the children first and agree with them a suitable time for catch ups, support or assessments. I remember Mrs Herlihy, and have tried to teach in ways that enable my charges to feel proud of their achievements.

I may not have told her personally, but I send out a thank you to Mrs Herlihy and all the other teachers who showed me patience, kindness and understanding as I navigated the stormy waters of education.

A Year on from my Dyslexia Assessment

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 28 Jul 2019 17:55:40 GMT

On Show

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 21 Jul 2019 15:50:59 GMT

A recent tweet prompted this week’s blog. The tweet was about a child taking the teacher to one side to point out that she was wearing her top inside out. I’m sure that most teachers can think of a similar story of when a pupil has noticed something about their attire that needed addressing – I once had a child point out that I was wearing odd shoes, one brown and one black. The point to all of this is that the children we teach notice so much about us and that is a tremendous responsibility for us, as teachers. There’s a lot of talk about modelling the work for children, but we are modelling so much more than that, often unconsciously, so the way we behave and the way we treat people matters even more than usual when we are in front of a class.

I was first made aware of this many years ago, when I started out as a teacher. A few incidents stand out in my mind – these were 33 years ago!

The first was a lesson after morning break. I was teaching in a secondary school at the time and had spent break time in my classroom catching up on marking. Not exactly an unusual activity for a teacher, but this time I had kept my door shut so that I wasn’t disturbed. Anyway, as break ended, the class, a year 9 group (although then called 3rd year secondary) came in and I stood up. Each child looked at me and walked to their seat in absolute silence. Once they were all in, I was about to start the lesson when a boy raised his hand and asked what they’d done. I was confused by the question. He went on to say that I was standing behind my desk and I only ever did that when I was cross with them. I had no idea that this was something I did. It was certainly not done consciously. But reflecting on what he said I realised that I usually teach from in front of my desk, or else sitting on it; never from behind it. And yes, when I was cross or disappointed in the class (or pretending to be, as is sometimes necessary) I would stand behind my desk, putting a space between us. I explained that I had just been marking and the class visibly relaxed.

This incident made me realise how the children we teach take on board all of the nuances of our behaviour. They can often notice our moods simply by a change in tone of voice, or a difference in our appearance. If they notice these things, then surely they also see how we talk to people, adults and children alike. Do we treat our pupils with respect? If we don’t, then how can we expect respectful behaviour from them? At that same school, the head teacher used to come in on the last Friday of the month and personally deliver each teacher an envelope with their pay slip in it. I felt uncomfortable about this, and at every other school where I have taught the slip would simply be in your ‘bird hole’ at the end of the month. One Friday, as the head teacher left my classroom, a pupil suddenly pointed out that he thought it was really rude of the head teacher to give us our wages in front of the class. The head would always make some comment when handing over the envelop, “You’ve really earned this one” or something of that kind, so the children were well aware of what the envelop contained. Again, it was interesting to see that the children were picking up on the way the head teacher did this.

Another incident was when the children were doing some miming. One child came to the front of the class, picked up my pencil case and simply dropped it onto the desk. Immediately the class called out, almost as one, 'Mrs Cohen, when we're all talking at once'. I hadn't realised how often i would do this to get silence. They knew!

More recently I had cause to raise my voice to a year group, something I rarely do. There was immediate silence. The deputy head came out and spoke to the children saying that he didn't know what they had done but that should be feeling really bad as he was not used to hearing my voice raised. As used so rarely, the raised voice war definitely more effective.

I’m one of those teachers who enjoy team teaching. It affords us the opportunity to model conversations, to show how we can build on each other’s ideas, to offer different perspectives. There’s one teacher who I was fortunate enough to team teach with a lot in my last few years of classroom teaching. We were teaching Year 4 English at the time and used team teaching as an opportunity to model behaviour. If there had been playground incidents, we might model how different ways of approaching things could affect how the other person felt. Children could see through our exaggerated version how a more tactful or polite approach to a situation might be better. We would also, naturally, be modelling common courtesy. This might be by a simple ‘sorry’ if one of us had spoken before the other had finished, or the natural ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. In the same way, as SENCO and SLT, I would often go into other teachers’ classrooms. This was always an opportunity to model courtesy and to show an interest in the lesson. I have to admit that some lessons could be so engrossing that I might have to remind myself of the purpose for going in and I would become so engaged in the learning, asking questions of teachers as well as talking with the learners. All of this is modelling for the children though. Modelling behaviour, modelling engagement with a lesson, modelling appropriate attire for the situation – even if there is the occasional slip up with odd shoes!

Whatever it is we say, do or wear, as teachers we are on show the whole time we are in school. The head teacher who used to barge through doors, letting them fall shut behind him even if I was walking through with my usual box of books was as noticed for his rudeness as others were for their courtesy. At that school, pupils would mutter about the head as they stepped forward to hold open the door for me, or anyone else going through with their hands full. Personally I prefer that we teach our children by modelling courteous behaviour, but either way, we are teaching even when not in the classroom.

Quite simply - we are on show.

Our Most Vulnerable

Sun, 14 Jul 2019 18:18:02 GMT

I’ve been thinking a lot this week about our most vulnerable in society. It follows on from a UN report by Professor Philip Alston about the UK welfare systems. The report is only 20 pages and available at:

https://www.ohchr.org/Documents/Issues/Poverty/EOM_GB_16Nov2018.pdf

Today I was reminded of the charity The Hygiene Bank:

https://www.thehygienebank.com/

We can’t solve these problems, but we can try to raise our awareness and be mindful of the lives to which those young people in our charge will be returning at the end of the school day. We can help parents when they have to fill out forms - always filling out forms when in need of support. It’s often tough filling out forms when you’re literate and well educated. Imagine having to do that when you have literacy difficulties. It can also be humiliating to ask for help, especially if school was a negative experience, so how we make the offer of support needs sensitivity. When a child is refused an EHCP, it is the parents who have to appeal, not the school. With our workload being what it is and the other applications we have to make, the easiest thing is to move on to the next application and leave the parents to it. We are often leaving them to a task they are ill-equipped to face. Not so for those who have the resources to make these appeals, financial and educational resources, but for those in poverty making an appeal is too daunting. The language itself creates a power exchange that is hardly in their favour: appeal, tribunal, legal advice. Time taken by a teacher, a HLTA or a SENCO to sit down with a parent, go through the process and help them to complete forms can make a huge difference, as can accompanying the parents to the tribunal or to any meetings with professionals and legal advisors. We can do this. I have accompanied parents to GP and SaLT appointments so that they have the confidence to raise any concerns, or even to raise concerns for them. Then after the appointment taken the time to go through the outcome and next steps so that they understand what has been said and what they have to do.

None of this should be necessary. We trained to teach. However, in our society in its current state, how can we ignore the realities of our most vulnerable?

©Hélène Cohen

It's Been a Privilege

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 07 Jul 2019 15:11:44 GMT

Appearances can deceive

As one who has taught for over 34 years, I have naturally worked with so many children, but some make a bigger impression than others. Today I’m going to talk about a young man who I’ll call Fred. I use the term young man deliberately as, although good at clowning around and playing make belief games, he also was one of those old heads on young shoulder types. I worked with Fred on a daily basis for two and a half years, so got to know him extremely well. I was his English teacher as I taught the set with children who all had various SEND that impacted on their English, and I’m both an English teacher and a dyslexia specialist teacher.

When Fred first joined my class I did a lot of counting to 10! He had come from another school, and I didn’t then know the negative experiences he’d been through. All I knew of him was that he had Cerebral Palsy (CP). He seemed reasonably mobile, was extremely chatty, had the most off-the-wall sense of humour I’d encountered and more avoidance strategies than most. He could easily come across as lazy with writing that was unreadable and sentences that simply weren’t sentences. A total mismatch of class contributions and what was on paper. He was one of those children who make taking a deep breath a requirement before entering the classroom – what challenges will he pose for me today!

I decided that he should trial using a laptop in English because I couldn’t read a thing he wrote and he couldn’t remember what he’d been writing to read it back to me. What he thought he’d written bore no relation to what was on the page – this was in Year 4. He loved having a laptop, however I still needed him to explain what he’d written as letters seemed to be randomly chosen with not even a hint of phonic accuracy for the most part. Checking back on records from his previous school showed no indication of there being any need other than CP, yet he was surely dyslexic!

At about the same time his physical therapist (PT) and occupational therapist (OT) booked in for their first visit since he’d joined us, and I asked to sit in. It was only then that I gained a true insight into what Fred went through on a daily basis. Fred was in pretty much constant pain. His smiley manner and constant jokes were a mask that helped him to get through the day. He never complained about being in pain so I hadn’t even thought about routes around the school that would minimise stairs and offer him short cuts, as children in that school had to move around a lot between lessons. The OP and PT asked me and Fred to walk them through his usual day, and then commented on where he might be finding things difficult. That first visit we set up a few new routes and a buddy system so that he’d have someone with him. I learned a lot that day, as I did with every visit from the OT and PT. Another visit taught me about the ‘twist n write’ and ‘pen again’ pencils and pens and how they would ease the pain for him when writing. Yet another visit had me requesting handrails in various parts of the school. All the time I was learning not only about Fred’s needs for physically coping with CP, but also just how resilient he was.

Alongside all of this I had meetings with him and his parents. It transpired that at his previous school there had been a personality conflict between him and his class teacher – I said that he had a quirky sense of humour and his previous teacher didn’t ‘get him’. This teacher had instead seen this as laziness, so was always complaining to him and his parents about him being lazy, being untidy and not being bothered about his work. Nothing could be further from the truth. His father and siblings were all dyslexic, and screening showed that Fred would likewise get assessed as dyslexic. The laptop helped him to organise his thoughts and reorganise the words when he tried to read back what he thought he’d written. His dyslexia went far beyond spelling and reading: his working memory was weak; his ability to sequence on paper was very weak, with reversals far beyond letter orientation and order within words - the words within the sentences were in an apparently random order too; there was a mismatch of different processing skills, all of which added to the difficulty with getting his thoughts down. However, being able to be his English teacher, in a very small group, I was able to help him to become a fluent reader – comprehension was always far better than accuracy for Fred – and he learnt to spell, maybe not accurately, but at least so that others could understand what he meant. Gradually accuracy also developed, as did letter and word order.

Another aspect of working closely with Fred was his wheelchair. He didn’t need this all the time, only when his day was particularly demanding with the timetable including Games and PE as well as DT on another part of the site. There was also a reasonable walk to the dining hall for lunch. Although everyone in his key stage knew Fred and simply accepted the way he walked and the use of the wheelchair, once we were either off site or in the senior area of the school I saw the constant stares, sometimes snide remarks and oft times talking to the wheelchair pusher as opposed to Fred aspects that he dealt with on a regular basis. Whilst I knew this did get to him, he always ensured that others didn’t see this, keeping the smile and witty retort always at the ready.

The wheelchair highlighted something ridiculous in our system. Fed needed to walk as much as possible in order to strengthen muscles and keep mobile for as long as his CP will allow, so he doesn’t use it constantly. However, in keeping mobile there are days and times when the wheelchair is a necessity, as he has simply worn himself out. He insists on playing rugby and cricket, having a runner for him in the cricket, and loves it when playing for his school. However all of this mobility means that there’s a constant threat of having his wheelchair benefit removed. How mad is that? The authorities want him to use it more if he has it, and yet he needs to use it less if he is to best manage his CP – although obviously still needs it, just not all the time. There was an outing tha was basically a very physical day. He had his older sibling with and was lushed around all day, amid lots of joking. This initially looked like laziness on his part – he could have walked it – however, the final activity was an assault course and he was desperate to do that. He therefore saved all his energy and mobility for just that activity, and he loved it. So there you have it, using the wheelchair in the way that best accommodates his needs. How can they deny him that!

In two and a half years I only once recall seeing him truly upset. He was to be one of our school guides on an open day, but due to the amount of staircases, could only be a guide for KS2 tours. Everyone who came wanted to tour both KS1 and KS2. When I found him crying, and was told why, we asked him to take one of our school governors on a special tour to show how he moved around the building, taking different routes from the rest. He puffed out his chest with so much pride taking such an important person around. Just shows, there is always an answer and we can include so much more if we think of creative solutions.

The key messages from this snippet into my time with Fred are:

· Remember co morbidity – what other areas of need might there be?

· Just because someone is smiling doesn’t mean they’re not hurting, whether that be physically or emotionally

· Work with and gain the trust of our charges so that we know what they need

· Make the most of all of the experts we are privileged to meet

· Creative solutions are so important

· Please let the benefits system get sorted so that it’s not a tick box exercise but looks at the real needs of the claimants.

Thank you ‘Fred’, it was a privilege to work with you.

Making a Difference

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 30 Jun 2019 12:34:12 GMT

A commonly cited reason for becoming a teacher is the desire to make a difference to the lives of young people. We want to open up their minds, give them the skills to view the world with a critical eye and a questioning outlook, inspire their creativity. I work with so many teachers, people who care about children with learning needs (SEND) and children who face challenges within and outside of the classroom. They all want to make a difference so that these children can grow up to be happy, independent adults, contributing to society. The cry so often is about the lack of funding – I’m reading this repeatedly in the Masters assignments I mark – teachers can cite all the policies, government papers and Acts of Parliament that give us the rules and guidance to support our most vulnerable, and then reality sets in when the funding isn’t there. What bothers me most about this is that it is our most vulnerable that lose out, time and again, and this simply is neither fair nor right.

The recent report from the UN and the UK welfare system is damning (available at: https://undocs.org/A/HRC/41/39/Add.1 ) and whilst not about education per se, highlights the conditions that inhibit funding, support and opportunities for our most vulnerable. A short extract from the summary of the report sums this up:

“The social safety net has been badly damaged by drastic cuts to local authorities’ budgets, which have eliminated many social services, reduced policing services, closed libraries in record numbers, shrunk community and youth centres and sold off public spaces and buildings. The bottom line is that much of the glue that has held British society together since the Second World War has been deliberately removed and replaced with a harsh and uncaring ethos.”

Our welfare system is shown to be unnecessarily punitive to our most vulnerable in society. So what does this mean for our children? Much depends on the resources available not only to schools but within their families. The UN report states,

“Although the United Kingdom is the world’s fifth largest economy, one fifth of its population (14 million people) live in poverty, and 1.5 million of them experienced destitution in 2017.”

This shows us that there are serious issues about the distribution of the country’s wealth and with, “Close to 40 per cent of children are predicted to be living in poverty by 2021” this is surely an issue that needs addressing.

One of the effects of all of this is that funding cuts make it harder to gain the support children need. We have a Code of Practice (CoP, 2015) that details the entitlement to support from 0 – 25 years through joined-up services with the Education, Health and Care Plan (EHCP); however funding is supposed to accompany such a plan, making it ever harder to have a successful application. Schools also have to show what they have put in place to support children for whom they are making applications, and there are insufficient funds in most schools for such support. Having had an EHCP application declined, parents are able to appeal. Many appeals are successful, which begs the question about wasting money in having to go through the process twice. Here is where the disadvantaging the most vulnerable comes into play. PARENTS have to make the application. This is a key point, since the power exchange comes into play here, putting off our most vulnerable from completing the process of requesting a tribunal. Our most vulnerable children usually come from our most vulnerable families and the very language of applying for the EHCP application to be reconsidered is off-putting to say the least. You can get free LEGAL advice, as you are requesting a TRIBUNAL hearing for which you will need LEGAL COUNSEL, and fill in COMPLICATED FORMS. So how easy is that for the parents who have a learning need of their own, who are living in poverty, who are illiterate, who fear social services and anything to do with the law or officialdom? Whilst never easy, it is at least more accessible to the educated parents, with friends who might understand the system and money to pay for the best legal counsel. All this without even mentioning the postcode lottery that seems to exist within our society.

We are being asked to spot signs of mental health needs. This is something teachers have been doing for years anyway, however the waiting lists for CAMHS (child and adolescent mental health services) are dangerously long – and I use the word ‘dangerously’ advisedly.

However we can make a difference. We as teachers and SENDCOs can help parent to complete application forms so that they are not on their own. We can attend meetings and accompany them to tribunals, offering the support and understanding that could make all of the difference. Not only can we do this, but for me it is a moral imperative that we do so.

We can also make a difference earlier on in the process. We can demand that we as teachers are properly trained to understand SEND. Not only, as is so often taught, the policies and codes of practice that we are supposed to adhere to – even though there is limited funding – but also we need to be trained to recognise and support a range of SEND.

Some things we can do by simple strategies within the classroom, and by understanding that what might look like a child being naughty can be the first sign of an underlying area of need. I know many teachers who take a loaf of bread to school to ensure that every child in their care has eaten that morning – I know that shouldn’t be the teacher’s job, but many teachers are aware of the reality and do something about it. We can use strategies like saying a child’s name before asking them to do something so that the child is actually listening before the request is made. We can give children opportunities to express their understanding in ways other than through writing. We can create safe spaces for children who need time to deal with emotional issues. We can ensure that children have really understood what is being asked by having them explain in their own words. We can phrase things positively so that the child knows what to do - instead of saying ‘don’t run, we can say ‘walk’. We can give children legitimate reasons to move around the class so that they are not being told off for fidgeting. These and many other, small things can at least make a small difference.

To make a real difference we need to ensure that our voices are heard when we talk of child poverty and the fact that, as the UN report states, “the United Kingdom is the world’s fifth largest economy” and we actually do have the money to make that difference. It’s about those making the choices on our behalf thinking about the needs of our vulnerable and not just short-term sound bites for re-election. All parties are guilty of this, so not being party political here. We can judge the humanity of our society by how we treat our most vulnerable, not our most wealthy and resource rich. The individuals within society do this well, it’s time that our country’s leadership did the same – whatever political party they are.

Helping a child with Selective Mutism to find a voice

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 23 Jun 2019 13:56:53 GMT

Hélène Cohen

This is from a chapter I wrote in a book called ‘Selective Mutism in our own Words’ by Carl Sutton and Claire Forrester. It is an account of my time working with a girl who has selective mutism (SM), during her time in primary education. Her name has been changed for ethical reasons. Other chapters in the book are written by people who either have SM or who live or work with someone who has SM.

Working with Chloë has been one of the most rewarding, frustrating and emotional experiences of my teaching career. It was certainly the longest! I had encountered children with selective mutism before, when teaching in Secondary Schools; however, they were the ones who had managed to use the transition from Primary to Secondary to find their voice. Therefore, the selective mutism was no longer evident by the time I was teaching them.

There were small steps of progress surrounding the transition, the first being Chloë’s ‘accidental word’ in school. Here are the notes of the incident:

“Today, at lunch, R saw Chloë being a bit silly and she was crawling on the floor, so he asked her if she was ok and she said, “Yes, fine.” Then quickly put her hand to her mouth, as if realising that she had said it out loud. R then asked her to fetch him a glass of water, which she did – albeit slowly. He then continued to eat his lunch quietly, without trying to make any conversation. C will inform Chloë’s mum of this incident. Hopefully Chloë will be able to reflect favourably on this.”

This utterance was denied by Chloë, and still is to this day, although assurances were given that this didn’t mean that she would now be pressured to speak in school.

Having established earlier than usual who would be Chloë’s teachers in Year 3, I ensured that all of the KS2 teachers and TAs underwent some basic selective mutism training with Maggie, so that none would put undue pressure on her and all would have some understanding of how communication would work. In Year 3 we also started on a range of activities with a small group of Chloë’s friends, all of which took away the pressure of making choices; things such as blowing bubbles and silly games. It was also agreed that I should be in the pool with Chloë for swimming lessons, supporting her and another child, to help them to become comfortable in the water. All of this seemed to help Chloë develop confidence around me and this was first seen when I redid the receptive vocabulary assessment. This time, albeit reluctantly, Chloë agreed to have a go even when unsure. This had a tremendous impact on her standardised score, which went up by 15 standardised points, a score much more in line with my understanding of her natural abilities. This in turn was a super boost to her self esteem and marked the start of her real cheekiness when working with me – it turns out that Chloë cheats, not to win, but to ensure that I lose!

Then the first real sound that I heard from Chloë, her giggle! Like Champaign being poured from a bottle. I have already mentioned her sense of fun, so the talking tasks were built around this. The friends chosen to join in were all gigglers, and as Chloë relaxed, so her laughter escaped. This helped her to move onto some silly sounds –‘huh’, tongue clicking and sucking against the roof of her mouth.

These may all be tiny steps, but each marked huge progress for Chloë. Working with those who have selective mutism requires constant patience alongside tiny steps that each move things forward. It’s so important to keep some momentum and not stay still, however tiny the steps may be.

Recording Chloë’s voice progressed over the time she was in the Junior School. We used it in a structured way so that Chloë could demonstrate her learning to her teachers. This included explaining ‘forces’ to her male Science teacher; reciting numbers in French – a super French accent and even telling us when things were troubling her. Throughout all of this, Chloë was supported by her friends. Everyone in her class was reminded that Chloë hadn’t yet found her voice, but would do so in time, so that the openness was there throughout.

While Chloë was in Year 4, I saw Maggie’s television programme on selective mutism (see footnote page34). In this there was a child who would communicate with her grandfather by texting. I thought this would be a good idea to introduce at school, as it would allow ‘in the moment’ communication between Chloë and her teachers. We’d tried a mini whiteboard, but these ‘show me’ boards are still a fairly public form of communication, which was quite daunting for Chloë. I purchased two extremely basic phones, one black and one pink, that each had the other’s number saved so that they could be used solely for texting each other. This proved a success. Chloë was able to answer questions in class and even let me know if something was bothering her. Hers was the pink phone, naturally! The amazing thing is how accepting the other children always are. The worries of their reaction to a child having a phone in school, albeit a basic one, were short lived. Having seen it, and had the reason for it explained, they simply accepted it. This is true of so many interventions for learning support.

Postscript

Going Back to School

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 16 Jun 2019 10:59:34 GMT

As often happens in my life, I have been both student and teacher this week. It’s a position in which I have frequently found myself since, in addition to all the usual CPD (Continued Professional Development) that goes with being a teacher, I have done various postgraduate qualifications including: dyslexia teaching, my Masters and now my Doctorate. As some of you who have read previous blogs may well know, I am on the last leg of the Doctorate. I am actually post viva, and doing major rewrites in order to resubmit September.

Being a student at the same time as teaching has proved incredibly valuable for me as a teacher. There are several lessons you learn by being a student that have nothing to do with what you are actually there to learn. The first is a timely reminder about the importance of immediate feedback about people’s work, which you realise the minutes you submit your first piece to be formatively assessed. You feel in limbo about what to do next; not knowing if you’re on the right track, not knowing the modifications required and the next steps to take. Not only do you feel in limbo but there is that anxiety about how well you’ve done; that feeling of, my work is going to be judged and is it going to be found wanting? Or even more personally, am I going to be found wanting? Those we teach are going through that constantly, and yet because it is a constant in the life of school, we as teachers can easily forget the anxiety that can accompany handing in a piece of work, giving in the books to the teacher. While teaching in school, at the same time studying, my awareness of this was heightened and I always tried to ensure that feedback of some sort was given to students as early as possible, especially the oral feedback as you go around the class. I had little ink stamps and stickers that could be used quickly and simply as a sign that the child was on the right track, offering reassurance as I walked around the class supporting their work. Of course discussing how things might improve, where mistakes were being made and the thought process behind what they had done was also a part of this immediate formative feedback. I also endeavoured to get books back to children as quickly as possible, to minimise any anxiety as well as to help their progress.

This formative feedback is an important part of building resilience in children, and in ourselves. I have never received back a piece of work and been told it was perfect, nor would I expect that to happen. We need to know how we can develop, how we can improve our work, what ideas would follow on from what we have done. I am resilient. I have had to be, having never been one to get it right first time. However just because I’m used to feedback that tells me what I’ve done wrong, asking me questions about how I’m going to develop my work, hopefully giving me some advice about how I can improve or even how I can look at something in a totally new way, just because I’m used to it doesn’t make it a less anxious-filled process. Even in the situation in which I currently find myself, with an excellent supervisor who understands the way I work and think and get muddled up, even though I know her formative feedback is given with humour and understanding, I am still nervous before every meeting. It is always hard to hear that you haven’t got it quite right, that you need to do things a bit differently - however it is from these conversations that we grow.

Going through this process repeatedly, as I have done for the past 20 years as I’ve undertaken different forms of postgraduate study, has been really helpful in understanding the underlying anxiety that so many of our pupils and students face. And it’s not only the children who show that anxiety who feel that anxiety. Quite often those who appear to be indifferent to all of this are putting forward a mask so that their friends won’t see any insecurity they may have. It is for us as teachers to be mindful of this and sensitive to what our students are going through on a day-to-day basis.

These days my students tend to be undergraduates or graduates holding down quite senior positions in schools. Their anxieties and insecurities are no less because they hold senior positions in school. For many of them the essays they send me are their first pieces of academic writing in many years. Not only that, but the level of writing and the standards expected are often higher than anything they have previously completed. Part of my role therefore is to firstly respond really quickly to emails and to any work submitted, but also to ensure that feedback is given sensitively, pointing out what is being done well in addition to what needs to be improved, developed. Explaining how to reference appropriately needs to be done in a way that doesn’t make the student feel bad about not having understood it before. It may well be the first time they have had to reference in this way.

As any of you who have read my past blogs already know, not only am I dyslexic, but I only had the assessment for it last summer. This means that this year as well as major reworking on my thesis so that the way it is written reflects all that I was able to express in my viva, I am also learning to understand myself anew in light of my diagnosis. This was explicitly pointed out to me this week by someone who was very kindly going through my corrections to date. Whilst I have been doing this all year, understanding: that my reading takes at least three times as long as the average undergraduate; that what is in my head and what is on the page merge so that I have to use strategies to ensure that all of the right words have actually made it to the page; that what is on the page may not be in any logical order and again I have to use strategies to ensure that my thoughts become organised and the ideas expressed on the page are organised in a way that somebody else would understand; what was pointed out to me this week was that I am intelligent, that I have worked hard to achieve what I have done to date and that I need to recognise this. That is a really important point and something we as teachers need to keep in mind. I have found myself focusing so much on what I still need to do, on trying to correct what I have done wrong, on psyching myself up for being told what I have done wrong again - albeit in a gentle way. What I haven’t done is stop to think about the achievements. I am dyslexic. I struggle with the written word, with organising my thoughts, with separating words on the page from words in my head, with processing information and with working memory; however I have written a thesis which Daniel Muijs - head of research at Ofsted - read, digested, decided was worthy of a meeting with me, and about which during our discussion he took copious notes which fed into some of the more positive changes being made in the Ofsted framework. Not only have I done this, but I have got through a viva demonstrating that, whilst the words on the page may not have fully shown this, I have done worthy research. Not only this, but I have been told that the work I have done on the rewrites to date is of doctoral standard. Big achievements. However big an achievement is, it can be lost so easily in the jumble of what still needs to be done. Lesson learned this week is to take time to recognise achievements. So an apology if it looks like that was a little bit of showing off, but I am trying to recognise the achievements in amongst the muddle.

Being a teacher as well as a student requires that I ensure all my students are aware of their achievements and not just what they need to do to improve or develop. I would like to think that this is something I have always done; something that comes naturally since I’m so used to the feeling of not quite being worthy in my work, therefore not wanting others to feel that. However, what I learned this week is that we need to not just say these things but ensure that they have been heard. I wasn’t just told that what I had done was an achievement, I was told it more than once and with the other person explicitly saying he wanted to know that I had heard and understood what he was saying. It’s been very strange being on the receiving end of this, I’m more used to being the one doing the telling and I only hope that I have been able to say it in a way that the message got through and that I still continue to say it to my students in a way that that message gets received. We become resilient by understanding that the efforts pay off. We need to know that it’s okay to get it wrong, but we also need to be really clear about when those efforts have helped us to develop and improve.

I strongly encourage teachers to do some form of learning themselves, not just your standard CPD, but something that will require putting themselves in the position of the learner, receiving feedback. That process in itself is an extremely good form of CPD. It is also highly rewarding in the long-run.

Just Another Child with SEND

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 09 Jun 2019 17:48:18 GMT

Girls can have Autism too!

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 02 Jun 2019 20:17:13 GMT

This is not always the case with girls.

What’s going on?

Time Out

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 26 May 2019 13:39:31 GMT

No apologies for 2 weeks without posting a blog or Helpful Hint, I was taking time out. Having just returned from a holiday, with many schools being on a half term break and with many children having completed or being in the middle of exams, now seems to be the moment for writing about the importance of time out.

I have just had a 2 week break – the first of such a duration for many a year. Not only did my husband and I go away for a fortnight, but we did this in school term time (now I’m freelance that’s a wonderful luxury), and without children – they’re all adults, living their own wonderful adult lives. The closest thing to a computer that I looked at throughout the fortnight was my phone – no SIM card, so limited use. That in itself was wonderful. I sit at my computer daily, answering emails, working on corrections to my doctoral thesis, tutoring in a range of capacities and so supporting SENCOs and school leaders as well as TAs and others working in schools. 2 weeks away from that has given me back the energy levels that had been gradually diminishing. I swapped the quiet of a seaside town for the bustle of New York, quite the contrast. It was noisy all day and night; we visited about 30 different attractions; we walked between 8 and 10 miles daily, and yet it has totally refreshed me. It wasn’t about work.

I can remember being at university for the first time, many moons ago, being told to always schedule in time away from work, be it studying, essay writing or revision. This was so much easier to do when a student without a full time job. It was made easier by having parents that understood the importance of time out. They didn’t put pressure on to be constantly studying, constantly revising. I know that not everyone is so fortunate. However, I realise that as life progressed – a growing family, a full time job, studying alongside a full time job and growing family – ensuring time out became ever harder. School holidays were a great time to catch up with housework, planning, essay writing, reading to keep up with professional developments. I did find time for family, stopping my planning/marking/essay writing to listen to whatever they wanted to say, hear the latest piece of music they wanted to share and so forth, but then I would return to the work I’d been doing, often getting to bed only a few hours before needing to get up and start all over again. It’s easy to fall into that trap, even while advising others to take time out.

Having changed my pace since becoming freelance, I have started to really appreciate the value of not being so busy. At the end of last academic year I left being a teacher/SENCO/Senior Leader and all the other jobs that go alongside those commitments. Yes I do still work – INSETs, consultancy, lecturing, tutoring on distance learning courses, supporting SENCOs and of course, working on finalising my doctoral thesis – post viva. The difference is that this is in my time. I can get up late should I so choose (hard to do when the sun streams through the window – much easier in winter); I can choose when to take a break, going for walks along the beach; I can stop and do some baking. The pace has slowed down and I finally fully appreciate the importance of taking time out. It frees up the mind to be more productive when working. This is also true of having a holiday. It’s not about where you go, or in my case even about physically relaxing – more walking in that fortnight than usual; it’s about stepping away from the day-to-day, doing something different, having time with those you care for without the nagging voice about all the things that need to be done.

We, as teachers, certainly need to take time out. Even at my most hectic, I have always had my Sabbath day, a day where I fully relax as work is prohibited. I think that is what kept me going for so long. I kept Sabbath even through inspections, exams, essay writing and any other intense working time. That means that some form of mental refreshment occurs at least once a week. Religion isn’t necessary for us to take a day off each week. We get no real benefit from a 24/7 lifestyle; in fact I truly believe that those around us benefit as much as we do from the time out.

We also need to ensure that our children get the breaks they need. It’s easy as teachers and parents to inadvertently pile on the pressure when it comes to revision and exams, but actually revision is more productive when breaks are built in. The advice from my lecturer all those years ago still holds true. Sometimes our SEND children (and not only SEND ones) need time out within a lesson, the pressure building becoming too much; it’s for us to recognise that need and where possible afford them the time that will give children the mental and emotional break that will enable them to cope.

So over this half term, take a break. No guilt, just a break. The benefits are more extensive than we might at first think.

Just going into the garden to enjoy watering my plants!

Resilience

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 05 May 2019 08:37:28 GMT

For this week’s blog I’ve chosen to revisit the idea of resilience. I had no idea what I was going to write about, but an incident at a Taekwondo tournament yesterday gave me the inspiration needed.

It is hard as a teacher or parent to watch our children struggle. Our first instinct can be to step in and make things right for them. However, stepping back and helping them to work through the problem gives them so much more. Learning that making mistakes is ok is such an important lesson. They will make mistakes; they will find things difficult and face many challenges in life. The important thing is to face the challenge and persevere, even when knowing that winning won’t happen that time. The world champions who I judged in sparring that afternoon included someone who, when he was younger didn’t win. What he did, however was to learn from all the fights that he lost. He was at least 18 before he won his first title, having trained since being a young boy. Now he not only wins, but he wins well. He remembers what it’s like going up against someone you just won’t beat and he always does enough to win and never so much that he humiliates his opponent. As our Taekwondo Master always says: Competing is about winning and learning – the only losers are those who fail to win and then quit, or who win early and then quit because they think they must already know it all!

We learn so much through facing the challenges; making mistakes and working through them. We need to ensure that we, as teachers, offer challenges to our students, then support and encourage them to face these and work through those challenges. We need to help them to recognise and value what can be learned from facing our demons and not giving up. I’m doing this myself with my doctorate – working through all the corrections from my viva. My dyslexia isn’t an excuse to give up, it’s just another challenge that I need to work through. Had I passed through the viva without all of these corrections, there is so much about writing, expressing what I need to say and seeing things from different stances that I would not have learned.

So well done to the young girl yesterday, with the indomitable spirit to complete the pattern she would not ‘win’. To me and those who witnessed this act of courage she is a true winner.

More Than you See

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 14 Apr 2019 09:48:47 GMT

Following on from last week’s blog about seeing the whole child, I thought I’d write about a few experiences I’ve encountered over the many, many years of teaching – yes I am that old.

The very first in school observations as a B.Ed student, more moons ago than I care to admit, I was in a Primary school. The register was being taken for this Year 6 class (then known as 4th year Juniors – told you it was a long time ago). As each child’s name was called they were asked whether they had their PE kit. Suddenly, on hearing his name, this boy went and hid under the table. His teacher knew him and his situation well, so ignored where he was and simply carried on. After the register and after settling the rest of the class to their work, she gently coaxed him out. No anger, no reprimands, just gentle coaxing. She later explained that his mother had an alcohol problem and that meant that this time his PE kit wasn’t washed and returned to school. The mention of the PE kit had not only reminded the boy that he didn’t have it in school, but had also brought to mind events from the night before.

This was a good first lesson for me. It taught me early on not to make assumptions, but to know my children as individuals, with their own stories that were not always obvious or visible.

I recall one year, in the lead up to Christmas, a colleague at that time was getting irritated by one of her pupils’ lack of enthusiasm. She complained that he was moody, when he should have been happily looking forward to Christmas. The child was 8 years old. The teacher was ensuring plenty of fun-filled Christmas themed learning and most of the children responded to the Christmas themed tasks with enthusiasm and excitement, thinking of the fast approaching holidays. However, the teacher complained to me about this particular child’s attitude. I carefully explained to her that Christmas is not fun for everyone. This child’s parents were in the process of separating and the boy had no idea how Christmas would be, who he would be with, where he would open his presents or indeed anything about how it would feel. All he knew was that this Christmas was not something he was looking forward to, as it would not be as previous ones. None of this could be known by watching him play football with his friends at break-times, by how he got on with his work in class or by his interactions with others. He was always pleased to see whoever collected him at the end of the day. The only way this could be known was by building the trust and simply talking with him; opening up the right conversations and gently allowing him to share his concerns. Most of the time he found school to be an escape from his worries, but every mention of Christmas proved too much for him.

Another child, this time a teenage girl who was getting told off in class for not concentrating. Again the gentle discussions revealed more than simple idleness. Her brother was in court that day and she was sure that this time he would be convicted. Under those circumstances is it any wonder that her mind was elsewhere?

There have also been the ‘class clowns’ over the years, the experts at avoidance strategies to hide a form of SEND. A child with dyslexia may just try to disappear into the background to avoid being asked to read – as indeed I did, always quiet in class. Another child might use low level disruptive behaviour for exactly the same reason, to hide an area of SEND - better to be considered a bit of a joker and gain peer popularity than admit that there’s a problem with the work. Many a child has been labelled as lazy when the reality is an area of SEND that makes the work nigh on impossible without appropriate support and strategies. AS (Autism) is an area that can end up being treated as a behavioural concern when the AS is causing immense stress, resulting in a meltdown that is even more distressing for the child than for those observing it. Some of you will have read my blog about working with a child with Selective Mutism (SM). This child could present as defiant to one who neither knew nor understood her condition. What appeared to be dumb insolence was actually high anxiety, freezing at the possibility of being expected to speak. If the whole child is not understood then misunderstanding occurs and any issues are so easily exacerbated.

We can’t be expected to know what’s behind the face that the child presents to us. By the same token, how can we make assumptions? Yet that’s so easy to do, especially when faced with large classes, and in Secondary schools, a large number of large classes. As a SENCO it was my job to ensure teachers were aware of what they needed to know. Sometimes there were confidentialities involved, in which case I had to ensure that my colleagues trusted me so that I could say that, without going into details, this child is struggling at the moment for personal reasons. Obviously were the behaviours due to an area of SEND, not only would that be shared, but strategies provided to support the child. That requires follow-up to ensure that the strategies are actual being used!

So look beyond what you see. Know that there is more to the child than is immediately apparent. We need to get to know the children in our care, as people, with stories of their own.

Brave Teaching

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Mon, 08 Apr 2019 09:51:46 GMT

Imagine a child, 7 years old, who is constantly on the move, unable to settle to a task, climbing over the furniture when trying to express herself and stammering over what she is trying to articulate. The child is not producing much work at school and the teacher has classified her as an ‘also ran’.

This child is then assessed using a range of standardised tests including: NFER Verbal Reasoning, Maths and Non Verbal Reasoning; BPVS, (British Picture Vocabulary Scales); Neale analysis of Reading Assessment, and others. This assessment reveals that she is indeed exceptionally able, with scores of 140 in the NFER tests.

This information is fed back to the school at the start of the next academic year where she is then reclassified and taught as one with more potential and natural ability. Within a month of this her parents report that she has been moved to the top spelling group, is more ‘cuddly’ and less ‘prickly’, she has improved self-esteem and eating habits. She is also going to school more willingly. Nine months on and child R is producing work of greater quality and quantity, she is reported to be happier in herself – a subjective term but validated by observable differences in behaviour: improved articulation, reduced climbing and an ability to focus on a task at length. Add to this a new found ability to discuss her own strengths freely and without embarrassment.

Watching this girl grow up was fascinating. She had, and indeed still has, a most enquiring mind. In an environment that nurtures, answering endless questions and posing still more, she has been able to grow in confidence to try new things, gradually reducing the fear of making mistakes as she begins to understand that we learn through these mistakes. Initially, when her school had not recognised her true abilities, she had a conflict within of always wanting to know more, yet all the while fearful of not getting things right. This is not uncommon in children who find things easy to learn. They see errors as an intrinsic fault in themselves, so avoid them. This girl also proved to have dyspraxia, and some areas of slow processing – in contrast to other areas of extremely fast processing. This was extremely confusing, not only for her but also for her teachers.

One thing that I have found helpful over the many years of my teaching career is to not make assumptions about people’s innate abilities. We all learn differently, have different areas of strength and things that we find harder to learn. Environments and teachers need to be able to adapt to provide a wealth of opportunities for everyone to learn. This does of course mean taking a risk ourselves as teachers – not rigidly sticking to the plan for the lesson, but adapting to meet the needs of those we are teaching as opposed to the ‘what they should be able to do at this age’ approach that our current education system seems to demand. I know that this can be hard in a climate of inspection and often fear – as seen in my own research about the effect that inspection can have on teachers. However, when we can be brave and go with what we truly believe is the way our children learn, when we provide different learning environments, when we take our children out of the physical classroom, when we provide dynamic opportunities for discovery the effect that can have on our children is awesome – truly awesome – filling us as teachers with the wonder that brought us to the profession in the first place. Teaching is a magical job, when we get the chance to actually teach and help our children to truly learn.

I’ll end with a different child. This young boy had undiagnosed dyslexia, really struggling with the written word. He was extremely risk adverse educationally and had taken to the ‘clowning around’ route of avoidance. We had TLS lessons – thinking and learning skills. These were wonderfully free times when we could explore ways to learn, ways to discover, ways to be creative and to think critically. Rarely did these involve writing. This particular child proved to be an absolute whizz when it came to anything spatial – give them a tangram design to work through and he’d be the first. When solving critical thinking puzzles as a group, he rarely got the final answer, but he was the class stepping stone. By this I mean that he somehow always knew the questions to ask that would enable those who were quicker at processing and articulating their thoughts to then solve the problem. What an amazing person to have on your team, someone who can help you to reach the answer, to solve the problem, to think differently! Yet so often he was overlooked by teachers as one with low abilities due to his difficulties with the written word and his cover-up behaviours. So if we see the whole child, encourage our children to take risks, teach creatively, then our children can flourish and so, as teachers, can we.

Enjoy the school holidays and recharge!

More Reflections on Leadership

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 31 Mar 2019 15:12:10 GMT

Leadership matters. Before I studied for my Masters in Leadership and Management from Learning, it wasn't an area I'd reflected on particularly. Doing the Masters changed that, and changed me. It forced me to become more reflective and also more critical - not criticising, but critical: considering things in context; seeing how they could be developed; raising awareness not of what did and didn't work, but also of why that might be. Things that I dfid naturally as a leader, that worked, I was then able to analyse, consider why they worked and build on that. A silly example would be my home baked goodies. I always took in something home baked for the staffroom. It meant that when I was asking favours - extra info on this child, attendance records on that one etc, I felt less guilty. It also meant that staff felt appreciated - baked goods were for all staff, not just the teachers. Feeling appreciated is important for self-worth, and has another dimension. Feeling cared for helped people to open up and discuss things that were bothering them, and this meant that they felt heard and any burdens were shared and eased. Working on my doctorate I found the same to be true in teaching generally. When teachers felt cared about they found the inspection process less daunting and less fearful. So leadership has become an area close to my heart. Good leadership includes caring for those we lead; a sense of shared, common purpose; supporting each other to learn from mistakes as opposed to being fearful of asking for help. With these in place it's easier to take decisive action, and as a leader, to be supported.

Here are some further reflections from when I was studying for my masters, ideas that I still feel are relevant now.

Started reading Giuliani’s book on leadership - powerful stuff. Lots of parts highlighted already but a few things in particular struck me. A simple line that supported what I was thinking about when last I wrote in this journal “Leaders have to control their emotions under pressure.” p xiii. Now the situation with my colleague in my last entry was hardly vital, however, I was not focused and that was mainly due to my emotional state at the time. I also know from experience that my mood when in a leadership position - be it teaching, inputting at a meeting or directing others- affects the outcome of the situation therefore it is vital that the emotions are left at the door. It’s like my Tae Kwon-Do sessions, we bow before entering the hall & in doing so leave all personal baggage outside the hall, then bow again as we leave when we are free to collect the emotional baggage should we so choose. It’s very effective & I need to develop a mental ‘bow’.

Other thoughts from this book are:

p. xiii,”…paying attention to “minor” infractions like aggressive panhandling, graffiti, and turnstile-jumping would greatly reduce all crime, including major felonies.”

This is an approach I have always taken in the classroom & generally around the school. This has been particularly effective regarding inappropriate language since I won’t accept words like “crap” and “shit” from my pupils so I very rarely have issues of major swearing in my presence and should a pupil inadvertently swear, s/he will usually apologize before I even remark upon it. Another example would be expectations about school uniform - I expect it worn correctly. Such simple expectations about behaviour and general attitudes from pupils tend to keep the real behavioural issues to a minimum. Though returning to my own ‘emotional baggage’, when I am distracted the pupil behaviour deteriorates.

p. xiv, “Two of the lessons in this book involve the importance of seeing things with your own eyes and of setting an example.”

Again I agree wholeheartedly with this thought. When encouraging pupils to read I try to ensure that they see that I read. I often borrow pupil’s books so that I can discuss them properly and they see me show a real interest in what they have read. I dress more formally when teaching as I expect them to wear correct uniform so I lead by example. If they are expected to complete a task I will ‘have a go’ alongside them or in advance. If on canteen duty I actively clear away litter as I ask the pupils to do so. I would also advocate seeing for myself whenever possible.

p. 29, “The importance of the “morning meeting” cannot be overstated.”

This whole idea and the subsequent thoughts on it seemed important to me. I have always been frustrated when unable to attend the staff briefing as I felt less prepared to face the day. ‘Surprises’ that had not been relayed to me would occur leaving me unprepared to respond. It may only be that pupils in a given year would have an assembly during lesson 2, but knowing this in advance would affect my teaching. When I lead my synagogue’s religion school I would meet the teachers before the session whenever possible so that rules were consistent, “working off the same page” p. 30, and messages to or from me would be received. One week I had to inform the religion school that a pupil’s father had died. Especially being such a close community, it was essential that this was not ‘news’ to the teachers when I informed the pupils as they had to prepare themselves so that they could support the pupils.

p. 32, “(these cabinet meetings would be held at a different borough each month, a reminder to myself and my commissioners that we served all parts of the city.)”

I hope that should I be in a school leadership situation I remember this one. I have taught, in more recent years, in AEN. I have noticed that in each school our department has felt like the poor relation as it is never visited when head teachers say that they are doing a walk-about to see what happens around the school. This has a negative effect on morale for both teachers and learners. To compensate I have always made a point of taking pupils to see the head teacher with examples of good work, so that they get the recognition from the head teacher, but I still feel that being visible in all areas of the school is important for the head teacher.

There’s more besides but that will be for another session!

Giuliani Rudolf W Leadership : Time Warner 2003 edition

Reflections on Leadership

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 24 Mar 2019 16:07:28 GMT

This is from a reflective learning journal that I kept when taking my masters over 12 years ago. The reflections are stil relevant, so I thought i'd share them in this week's blog. Hope you find them useful.

This journal is proving useful. It’s allowing me the chance to think through the process and analyse what I do. I know we all do this anyway on a subconscious level, but what’s so useful is that having to keep this journal forces the thinking onto a conscious level, thus clarifying things more. It’s being especially useful coming at a time when there is so much change happening at work. Although it’s yet another time commitment, it’s actual proving worthwhile as I am clearer about what I’m doing and that ultimately makes my job easier.

We studied an article in the first real session about experiential learning. The diagram in it – Jarvis (1987, 1995) on page 6 of the article sums up what I have been doing. I seem to be following the “Reflective learning” model instinctively. I am going between the ‘reasoning & reflection’ box (7) and the ‘practise, experimentation’ box (5) and the ‘evaluation’ box (8), over and over with each geography lesson & it is making a real difference analysing things in this way. The table can be found in Jarvis, P. (1994) ‘Learning’, ICE301 Lifelong Learning, Unit 1 (1), London: YMCA George Williams College. As reference in the article, ‘david a. kolb on experiential learning.’

Lots to reflect on tonight as we looked at some of the history of thinking on leadership & management. One article was about current thought, by Michael Fielding in which he raised the various issues about personalized learning. In an article he writes,

“…uncertainty about what we take education to be for mirrors the wider and deeper crisis about the kind of society we wish to sustain and create, the kinds of activities that enhance human flourishing and assist us in living our lives wisely and well.”

This certainly reflects my view on education. I have never been a ‘qualifications are the most important thing’ type, possibly due to my upbringing that valued the whole idea of study for its own sake and put a high value on education in general, but as a way of developing self rather than as a means of amassing qualifications. My father always told me that provided I had gained and grown by studying whatever course I followed, the resulting qualifications were a bonus.

Fielding agrees with MacMurray – who inspired him – when he says,

“Just as the personal needs the functional to realize itself in action, so too the

functional needs some element of the personal to achieve its purposes.”

This is no new idea, in Pirke Avot, an ancient Jewish text about societal ethics, Hillel says,

“If I am not for myself who will be for me?”

Focusing very much on the functional in so far as it’s about personal responsibility and needs which surely motivate the functional. But he goes on to say,

“If I am only for myself, what am I?”

Expressing the need to develop self through interaction with others and forming personal relationships, i.e. the ‘personal’. This is the philosophy on which I was brought up, thus accounting for much of my educational ideals. The issue is whether or not these sorts of ideals can be realized in schools. I think that they can as I firmly believe that the so-called ‘functional’ relationships work so much better when merged with the personal, whether this be when purchasing goods in a store or when trying to get the targeted GCSE grades from a year 11 class. It’s surely the ‘personal’ aspect that motivates the pupil. As Fielding goes on to say,

“Within systems of compulsory public education, schooling (the functional) is for the sake of education (the personal); within schools themselves, administrative, management and other organizational arrangements (the functional) are for the sake of a vibrant and creative community (the personal). What is crucial to remember here is that each depends upon the other; their relationship is reciprocal and any attempt to obliterate one or the other or deny their distinctiveness and integrity is bound eventually to fail.”

Bad day, so why? It’s hard to be an effective teacher, leader, manager in any way when not focused 100% on the job. My journey to school took an hour longer than usual due to road closures; the road closure being due to a fatal car accident that I’d feared had included my husband – fear thankfully unfounded. I also had to sort out secondary school transfer for my fourth child as the papers had gone missing and we were 1 day away from the deadline. Consequently I arrived at work late, and distracted. To add to this the leader of the dyslexia Provision was out, leaving me to work with the only other teacher in the provision with whom I find it hard to work as we don’t share core values, nor do we approach education with any of the same commitment, attitudes or methodology.

I survived the day, teaching all that needed to be taught but felt compromised as I often do when working with this colleague. I managed behaviour in a situation where, had I have been working with the provision leader, I would have team taught, alternately taking the lead in the lesson. However, although the lesson was in an area where I would have been the appropriate leader, as my colleague had assumed leadership already and is insecure so feels threatened easily, I sat in a strategic position for behaviour management and felt frustrated throughout the lesson.

Later I ended up doing what my colleague wanted me to do during my preparation lesson, although I had an agenda of my own for that time. Partly due to my personal distractions and mainly, if I’m honest, due to the fact that I haven’t developed my strategies for managing my colleague’s insecurities when working with me. I suppose I spent a lot of time today doing the wrong job inadequately – as I would define it after last night’s MA session, and hearing how Bennis defined leadership and management – leadership meaning doing the right job & management meaning doing the job right. I will find some books by him to research over half term. I can be more assertive about my own agenda usually, indeed I was yesterday, but being distracted, especially as it was about my own child, meant that I didn’t have the energy for assertiveness. If I am to be an effective leader or manager in my future I will need to find a way to siphon off personal distractions.

As an aside, I found myself evaluating every social interaction according to whether it was functional or personal – much to the amusement of number one son.

Fielding Michael Leadership, personalization and high performance

schooling : naming the new totalitarianism. School

Leadership and Management, Vol. 26, No. 4, September

2006, pp. 347_369

Hillel Pirke Avot – Ethics of the Fathers, ch1, v14

Keeping Going

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 17 Mar 2019 14:59:14 GMT

I decided to go with another personal blog this week, following on from reposting the dyslexia assessment one. It’s been an odd week. On many levels it has been an uplifting and amazing week as I am fortunate enough to have close friendships with inspirational people, one of which is Alex Ntung, whose TED talk I watched. He is one of the educators with the charity Education 4 Diversity (E4D) who do wonderful work. Their website: https://education4diversity.co.uk/ is well worth a look. The TED talk is at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bz1albPWxRE and, knowing Alex as I do, is extremely inspirational.

I mention the above because that’s what helps keep things in perspective and the resilience strong when facing difficulties caused by my own dyslexia. My issues are nothing when I see what people with real difficulties face daily and overcome. The week ending as it did with the atrocities in New Zealand also place my own worries of the week in clear perspective. They are nothing. The bigger picture of standing up against hatred, speaking out against injustice is much more important.

However, my own difficulties this week, although minor against the bigger picture, are ones I will share as many people are affected by this on a daily basis and they do need to be addressed.

As some of you will know, I am currently working on my rewrite of thesis following my viva last summer. The viva, as it happens, went ok. I could explain much of what they needed to know and asked about. It was a long, gruelling affair; however, I could get my points across. The problem, it transpires is that much of what I spoke about in my viva hadn’t actually reached the page. This is one of the issues with dyslexia, the thoughts in my head merge with the words on the page so that I think I have written things that are still in reality only in my own head, something that others can neither see nor read! So I’m busy adding and changing things throughout the thesis. The research itself is good. Daniel Muijs, head of research at Ofsted, certainly found it so when we met to discuss my findings. Bits that I’ve rewritten to date I can see have greatly improved and developed what was previously written. This has been accomplished through carefully chunking the changes I’ve needed to address, focussing on very specific bits.

This week I decided to read the whole thing before reworking the analysis chapters. That’s where it all fell down. In reading the whole thesis, I also read the reports from the examiners – pre and post viva. These talked of details that I found overwhelming. These were things like the referencing, the appendices, inconsistencies in presentation, some inconsistencies of ordering and other aspects that run through the whole thesis. All of my insecurities came flooding back to me as I sat sobbing at my computer. I had this all engulfing feeling of being stupid and inadequate, of never getting through this and never achieving the actual doctorate.

Now on one level, this is all irrelevant. What I wanted to achieve when starting out on my research about teachers’ emotional response to inspection was to make a difference and have the voices of the teachers interviewed heard by those in positions of authority in Ofsted. As I said before, I met with Daniel Muijs in October and spent an hour talking through the various issues raised in my thesis, with him making copious notes. What it leads to, who knows, but the voices have been heard. However, my own sense of academic inadequacy still needs the bit of paper – rather like the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz. I took a step back and decided to read my dyslexia assessment report. That was a smart move. It reinforced the positives, that I am intelligent, do have good ideas and have many coping strategies. It reminded me that the issues facing me were about my processing, my speed of reading (reading my own thesis had taken a ridiculous amount of time), my working memory and my difficulties with ordering my own ideas, getting these down on paper. Fundamentally, my research and my thesis were good. It was presenting all of it on paper, with academic rigour and procedures that needed more time and patience on my part.

Sensibly, having done this, I emailed my supervisor – she’s amazing. She told me to go through the reports annotating them. Tick off what I’d already achieved, make notes about what was still to be done and chunk, chunk, chunk. This was all advice I could easily have offered to someone else, but is so much harder to do it for myself. What I have also found overwhelming, in a good way, is how it feels to have someone championing and supporting you though this. I’m used to being that someone for other people; it’s what I’ve done throughout my 34 years as a teacher and educator. Being on the receiving end, for the first time in my adult life, is strange and makes me both emotional and thankful. It’s strange, as I’m currently lecturing on an SEN module, supporting students, mainly TAs, who are facing adult education, many of them for the first time in a while. Several of them have talked of their own diagnosed or suspected dyslexia issues. They’ve said that my openness about my own dyslexia has helped them to manage and admit to theirs. Supporting others is so much easier than fully recognising my own strengths, but it is helping me to see my own abilities and recognise achievements, refocusing me for my own continued work on my thesis.

I will get there, I’m determined. Recognising and being aware of why something is difficult and challenging is an important part of addressing the issues and moving forwards. Dyslexia, as with many other areas of SEND, requires us to recognise the specific areas that affect us and work out how to remove the barriers these cause. Chunking, something which sounds so simple, is actually a really big help in managing tasks. The other thing is sometimes to walk away, take a bit of time out and come back afresh, having taking time to do something affirming to enable that resilience to shine through.

After all, the problems I face are nothing compared to what so many people endure on a daily basis. The bigger picture is what really matters here.

Me and Dyslexia

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 10 Mar 2019 18:41:16 GMT

I have uploaded this entire blog again, along with one from Charlotte Golding, since in the last few weeks I have been approached by several adults about being assessed for their dyslexia. I wrote the original blog as I was going through the process of assessments, so it is an emotional account, but one that those who have read it so far have found helpful. So no apologies, here goes:

Initial Thoughts

There is an issue with word retrieval. This is fine as a type, since I can take the time to find the words needed; however, in a viva I will need to sound competent and knowledgeable about my own research and I will appear less so if I can’t even find the words to express myself. Words frequently float just outside of my brain. They’re there around my head and I feel like I should be able to just reach out and grab them; yet they are so often elusive, leaving me with a frustration and sense of stupidity. It’s hard to explain, but I do know exactly what I want to communicate; I can visualise the concept; I close my eyes, wriggle my fingers as though I could snatch the words from the air around me – but they’re gone.
Then there’s the issue with processing and memory. Just as I’m about to say something, it’s gone – floating again just outside of my reach, like those elusive words. I may be 54, but this is not yet dementia. It has ever been thus. I remember as a child, sitting at the dinner table surrounded by wonderful conversation and knowing that I had something to contribute, but the gap so often came when the thought had run away. I would get it back and sometimes even voice it, however too often the conversation had moved so far that as I spoke it sounded irrelevant – I was back to being the endearing dumbbell. Or else I spoke in time, but that delightful intruder – Mrs Malaprop – would arrive and I would talk of par carks, specific oceans and basketti, the cute little doughnut that I was. In a viva I can hardly afford to lose my thoughts, I would again sound ignorant of my own research.
Pressure is an extension of the above. If under pressure, either because I’m being rushed or someone speaks with an impatient tone, I go to pieces. Always have. The words run away so fast and the thoughts themselves escape me. As the frustration of that builds, especially in a situation where I really need to say my piece, tears become the intruders. This only makes me more frustrated as I then feel even more stupid – worse still, I feel like a silly little girl. I’m a strong powerful woman – or so I’ve been told. I’m good at SENDCOing, I’m good at teaching, I’m good at helping others and finding strategies to support them through life, I’m also truly resilient – so where are these tears coming from? Why now? Why when I have something so important to say am I left feeling utterly pathetic and out of control? This fortunately doesn’t happen in my professional capacity. I think it’s almost as though I’m playing a part then. I have confidence in my professional abilities and am in control. A viva is so much more personal. It’s the culmination of 5 years’ hard work and a chance to prove to myself that maybe I’m not stupid. Please don’t let the tears invade during the viva – yet it’s a likely time for that to happen. It certainly did in my First Review. The invasion was absolute. I was a sobbing, gibbering wreck. Yet I gained so much from the experience of abject failure – oh yes I failed! I had been going down the wrong route for what I was trying to research. The chairman was a wonderful lady who guided me to a much better path and I thanked her for her support while apologising for my tears.
Next comes reading. Reading in the viva? I queried. Well I will need to find where I have written various bits as I am quizzed about them. Reading is a real issue for me. I can decode words or I can understand them – doing both simultaneously and at speed is another issue entirely. I know my data. I can tell you who said what and how they said it – laughing, crying with anger – it’s all there in my head. But finding it in the text of my thesis is another matter. I could be shuffling pages for an age. The use of a laptop to locate key parts of my research would support this – something I would definitely have considered for someone else but needed my supervisor to explain to me. Likewise I will need the space to spread out any notes I bring in– I do like to spread out! Up until my thesis was submitted my entire study was covered with papers, books, notes and quotes – all in the appropriate piles, colour coded and perfectly at hand. This is not how it would have appeared to anyone else entering my space. To them it would have seemed a total mess, utterly cluttered – exactly like my office at work. I sometimes think, when I look at my spaces, that my mind must be the same – all cluttered with so much stuff, making sense only to me.

The Assessment

The day of the assessment arrived. I set off early – allowing half an hour for a journey just a few miles up the road. I checked, double checked and checked again where the assessment was to take place. I sort of knew where it was, after all my university has a campus there, but this was another part of the complex – good word for it actually, complex! I arrived, took a wrong turn, re-routed myself and finally was able to check in with 2 minutes to spare, totally justifying my need to allow 200% extra time to get there. I was by this time ready to cry. It’s hard to explain just how fearful I was of being found to be stupid, the unintelligent fraud. Those who see me professionally, and often even socially, would think of me as confident, self-assured; the reality is that I am full of self-doubt, always have been.

The assessor was a delightful young lady, keen to put me at ease. We chatted at length about me, my family, my childhood, my career, with me alternately laughing, crying and apologising for my tears. I had been feeling emotional, but being faced with the actual assessment that multiplied. It’s the talking about me personally, especially the things I find difficult that did it – always does. On one level I was keenly interested in the whole procedure. Assessing children for learning support is what I do day-to-day; this was assessing an adult, so had a new spin to it that fascinated me professionally. Whenever the professional me took centre stage I was able to talk freely, sharing expertise; then the personal would step forward in response to a specific question about me and tears would start to flow. I have this crazy thing where my right leg gets a severe tremor whenever I am under extreme stress – boy was it going that day! It seemed strange taking the proffered tissues and the appreciated drink of water when it is usually me making sure that these things are ready for those I am meeting with; another clear indication that I was on the receiving end this time.

Even though I am writing this just a few days after the event, I am already muddled about the order of assessments. However, I do know that it started with things I love to do – puzzles. There was a series of non-verbal reasoning tasks, knowing how the sequence continues. Loved that. Then I had to copy a design using blocks – another set of puzzles to enjoy. Had the whole assessment process consisted of things like that I would have been in my element, but was told that I had proved that I could do these and needed to face other challenges. The word work was also fun, defining words, explaining connections between them, it’s what I do as an English teacher, it’s fun. As usual, I talked my way through all of these tasks – the verbal and non-verbal alike – sub-vocalising, one of my strategies, especially as there were no visuals to accompany the verbal tasks. I sub-vocalised, asked for repetitions, and talked – always I talk! It somehow fixes things more if I talk them through.

The rest of the challenges are totally jumbled in my mind now, even with my scores in front of me. This is probably because there was a lot more stress involved once I had to face memorising digit strings and working with the written word, whether real words or non-words, real letters or symbols. The digit recall had me in tears before I even started. I know that I struggle to even deliver this element of an assessment, and boy did I struggle on the receiving end. Then there was the ‘reading’ of pictures and digits at speed – I say ‘at speed’ but in reality that is not the case for me; speed just doesn’t come into it when you have to mask off every picture or digit in order to keep the other ones on the page from jumping into your head and mouth! I could successfully read the real and nonsense words, as I have a good knowledge of vocabulary and so many decoding strategies to hand – these do however slow things down, but I’m used to that, it’s what I do. Comprehension was easy with the passage in front of me; I took my time, located the correct part of the passage that I had already read (or rather decoded, if I’m totally honest) then asked for the question to be repeated so that I could formulate my response.

There was of course the severe attack of the giggles when ‘reading’ the passage. I mentioned that I ‘decoded’ the passage. I’m good at that. I have a super understanding of syntax and grammar so can read unfamiliar passages with expression. I can also use syllabification and phonic knowledge to decode the unfamiliar. However, I’m not really taking in meaning. The up-side of this is that I sound fluent; the downside is that I get distracted by phrases for which I have taken in no context. Hence, in the case of the passage read about the history of chocolate, when it came to the phrase ‘chocolate houses’ all I could do was visualise little houses made of chocolate. I giggled, and giggled. In fact I giggled so much the assessor had to stop the clock for 45 seconds while I was giggling. In actuality the ‘chocolate houses’ mentioned were like coffee houses, places where people would go to drink hot chocolate. That distraction kept returning as I competed the reading aloud, and again when I had to answer questions on the passages, and yet again when I had to summarise the passage with it no longer in front of me. I kept stifling my giggles, trying so hard to focus on the actual task. This example is typical of how I go through life. I can easily be distracted, especially if something strikes me as funny, creating an absurd visual in my mind. I’m known for giggling at inappropriate times and just hope that it doesn’t happen in my viva!

Something that strikes me after the event is how desperately hard I tried to get everything right. A good example of this would be the first handwriting task. I had to copy the sentence ‘The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.’ I know this sentence well and had to write it as many times as I could in the given time. Because it was to be done fast, there were crossings out and the writing was at times totally illegible. At the end of this I explained that I often use this sentence for giving children handwriting practice, as it informs me about the letters that they struggle to form correctly. I not only told the assessor this, but like a school child, I asked if I could show her how neatly I could write it. I then proceeded to painstakingly write the sentence in my best teacher handwriting. It was beautifully neat, in total contrast to what I had written at speed; however it was also a tediously slow task – as it is every time I prepare the children’s handwriting books for them to trace and copy my neat example. The assessor’s reaction to my slowness at this task made me realise how much extra time I have always put in to everything – things that other people can just simply do. It also made me suddenly aware of how desperate I always am to prove myself, to myself and to others.

There were a few different writing tasks: the sentence mentioned above; a sentence more in line with academic writing; typing an academic style sentence at speed; the précis of key points from the chocolate houses passage and a free write. I was allowed time to gather my thoughts for the free write and enjoyed writing about how one of my sons acts as a critical friend to me. I haven’t yet seen the speed of the free write, but expect it to be far better than the other writing tasks – it certainly flowed better than the précis, which I found embarrassingly difficult to write coherently, in full sentences and in any logical order!

The spoonerisms were difficult, but achievable by employing strategies. I did my usual sub-vocalising; I openly talked things through and asked for repetitions. When asked in the pre-assessment form about any strategies I employ to support any difficulties I may have, I had written at length – best part of 200 words on the subject. I think I employed most of them during the assessment. I had given my ‘fidget string’ to the assessor at the start of the assessment, since she hadn’t seen one before and showed an interest. She hadn’t seen one as it’s my own invention of a fidget to help children to focus in class – I always have one in my bag. Instead of using the fidget string, I used the plastic ring from where I had removed the lid from the bottle of water given to me at the start of the assessment process. I slowly destroyed it in much the same way as I regularly destroy paperclips during meetings. I asked for repetitions, a lot. I repeated things to myself, sub-vocalising, to cement the information in my mind. I talked things through. I used my fingers. I made connections. I visualised. I used phonic knowledge and syllabification. I used prior knowledge – after all, I had conducted some elements of the assessments myself on countless children over the years.

Even knowing that I was employing these strategies, I was still relieved to hear the words “You are dyslexic” after the assessments were completed. So relieved, that the tears flowed once more.

I was then faced with my scores. My first response was that of a SENDCO; I looked at the scores as though they belonged to someone else – after all, it’s what I do. I commented on the spikiness of the profile, how some scores were on the 99.8th percentile while others were as low as the 1st. As it was clear that I fully understood such scores, the conversation flowed, until I was reminded that these scores were telling my story. These are scores that indicate not the stupidity I feared but actually very high levels of comprehension and reasoning, verbal and non-verbal; yet at the same time confirmed my concerns for the viva, showing a weakness in working memory and speed of processing. My reading accuracy was fine, top average; my comprehension was better, above the 95th percentile; yet my reading rate was on the 5th percentile, far slower than I had thought, even though I knew that I struggled with reading for my studies. My speed of writing was very slow, on and below the 5th percentile, while my typing speed – which I had considered to be fast – was low average. So in fact it was very fast when compared to my handwriting, although slow for my intellect. This was the pattern that kept repeating itself – high accuracy (or average when it came to spelling) but slow, slow, slow. The discrepancy between my scores is apparently found in less than 0.1% of the population. So yes, I am dyslexic. This has been a lot to take in. In some ways it simply confirms what I knew, certainly as far as having problems with processing and working memory, spelling and reading; in other ways there were surprises, both in terms of my intellect but also regarding the extent of the difficulties with processing speed and working memory. It explains the feeling stupid when I can’t keep up with conversations; it explains the keeping quiet when I disagree but can’t think of how to express my thinking; it explains my successes to date, both academically and professionally. I think differently, and through hard work and creative strategies I have not only achieved all that I’ve challenged myself to do, but I’ve been able to help so many children to believe in themselves and to find strategies to help them to face their challenges. But there’s more!

Had I been found to have dyslexia when I was younger, would I have achieved the same things or would I have limited my horizons? I’ll never know. What I do know is that the same parents who lovingly called me dumbbell and doughnut also believed in me. They told me over and over that I was loved and that I could do anything I set my mind to. They set the example themselves. My father unknowingly has always used strategies: my mother checks his writing for errors; he leaves post-its everywhere with reminders; he always has a pad of lined, yellow paper for writing (Irlens maybe?) and he works hard, creatively, having run his own businesses. Likewise my mother has a super work ethic – Di will do it, is the oft heard phrase. They both believe in solutions, as opposed to problems, a belief which has given me a determination to succeed. When I didn’t get the A level grades I needed, while I was busy getting upset it was my mother who was already phoning the admissions at Middlesex Polytechnic about the B.Ed honours degree that started me on the path to become a teacher – definitely the right route for me. That attitude was surely the foundation of my resilience, for resilience I do have in immense quantities. That attitude would have been there with or without the label of dyslexia. It is surely the attitude, the resilience that makes for success when stumbling blocks exist. Everyone faces difficulties in life, it is what we do about them that matters. So I thank my supervisor for persuading me to have the assessment; I thank the assessor for her gentle approach and patience; I thank all those who have supported me over the years, but most of all I thank my parents for giving me the values and resilience, mixed with love and a belief in me that have enabled me to face the viva!

Dyslexia and Me by Charlotte Golding

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 10 Mar 2019 18:38:56 GMT

When talking about my dyslexia it is bitter sweet. I was diagnosed in year 5 after 2 years of being called stupid, lazy and a child who just couldn’t be bothered. I don’t remember the exact moment being told I had a learning difficulty but, I have come to see my dyslexia as a gift, this is something that may seem strange to some people, a learning difficulty being a gift, but here’s why.

With my dyslexia, I spell everything phonetically which at times can be challenging especially when spellcheck doesn’t even know what you are trying to spell. (I can now spell ‘any’ … with an A not an E!). My reading is slow compared to the average and so is my processing ability. Through school I have struggled to keep up and at times I found myself giving up. One of the most challenging parts of my dyslexia was colours. I couldn’t see red, yellow, orange or pink writing or black writing on these coloured backgrounds, they all looked blurred to me, like someone had gone along and smudged them. I am happy to say that with the help of blue colour overlays and tinted glasses I am now able to see words in any colour. Although if I am tired or have been reading long passages, and studying a psychology and sociology degree means I have A LOT to read!, my eyes do get tired.

After finding out I was dyslexic my new teachers were very accommodating and helped me through the rest of my primary years - to which I cannot thank them enough. Moving to secondary school was a big deal and having to tell all my teachers and some friends was a big step and something I didn’t particularly enjoy. Looking back now, I was always quite ashamed of being dyslexic, as to me it was just a polite word for stupid. I have 2 sisters who are incredibly smart, and I am forever comparing myself to them. What I have realised now, is that I shouldn’t compare myself to my sisters, or to anyone as we all have our own strengths and weaknesses and all we need to do is be proud of what we have accomplished, no matter how big or small the accomplishment.

Since moving to college for my A levels and now going to university I have realised that I can’t imagine my life without dyslexia. It’s strange but it’s like having a little friend constantly beside you making you unique and helping you solve problems in ways that others would never think of doing. But it has also become something that I rely on. When I went to take my post-16 assessment I was so scared the results would come back and say that I didn’t have dyslexia because it would mean losing a part of who I am. Dyslexia used to define who I was, making me scared to do anything but now I use it as something that makes me, me. It’s a bizarre feeling going from despising something for making you different from everyone else, to not being able to imagine your life without the creativity it brings.

What I found is that everything I have been through has made me want to accomplish more and makes me more determined to do so. With a combination of being looked at like I was a freak and being told I was stupid and believing that what people thought of me was true, my confidence was knocked severely. I became very shy, not wanting to talk to someone for too long just in case I made a mistake or thinking they would find out that I was not as smart as my sisters were. I did my best to blend in with the background, I got very good at being invisible. Saying just enough to be included but not too much to give anything away. This approach worked for me, teachers wouldn’t really know I was there, but I was always terrified that a teacher or friend would blurt out that I was dyslexic in front of people. Unfortunately, this fear was a reality for me and I have had to overcome teachers speaking about my difficulties in front of other students, and friends talking to other students. I don’t believe they had the intention to hurt my feelings or make me want to hide, but it made it harder for me to tell people.

I have always had a huge fear of speaking in front of others, I get embarrassed just saying “here” to the register. Embarrassment and fear can control you if you let it, I have had a panic attack in the middle of a hall full of people because I psyched myself out, counting how many eyes would be watching me. It has taken me a long time to be who I am, getting my confidence back isn’t all down to my dyslexia, but the experiences I have been through or pushed to do have helped. It’s always

good to have people around you that will push you just the right amount – not there to judge but to stand beside you. They don’t need to voice their support but can be silently egging you on. You may not find these people right away but when you do they are worth waiting for. I am incredibly fortunate to have a supportive family and friends who encourage me to try new things. It’s not their fault but as much as they try they will never truly understand the struggles that we face, and never understand the joy we get when accomplishing something. The things we go through make us who we are, our experiences may not mean anything to others but if it means something to you then don’t let anyone tell you it’s not something to be proud of.

I am very lucky and grateful to have met Hélène just before heading off to university. We sat down, and she went through my post 16 assessment and explained the whole report to me so I could clearly understand my dyslexia. One thing she said to me was that dyslexia has nothing to do with intelligence. This gave me a real boost because she showed me that I was smart, and I could get far if I wanted to, it would just take me longer to do so and a great deal of hard work. Although Hélène may not know, she has been a real inspiration to me. I had to go through my dyslexic experience by myself, so I didn’t have anyone who had gone through it before and who could show me what might work for me, or just someone to talk to when I get down or angry when I don’t understand something. So, to meet Hélène and just have a conversation about my experiences and how I feel, and to know that I’m not crazy or to hear that she has felt the same as me, made me more confident as I had someone to relate to. I know if I need someone to talk to she will be there to explain, reassure and support me. So, Hélène, thank you. I urge everyone to find their own ‘Helene’, someone to encourage, support and make you feel just like everyone else. My confidence has grown and is still growing, I’m not ashamed any more of having a learning difficulty because it has made me into the person I am today, and that person is someone who I like.

Since learning more about my dyslexia and experimenting on what techniques work for me and what doesn’t, I have been able to advise others on techniques like revision. As well as helping them, it has also helped me, as having dyslexia doesn’t have to make you an outcast, strange or different - it makes us special. We can see problems and solutions where others can’t, what seems like an impossible task to others may seem like a simple task to us. I have loved being able to help others as there are still people who don’t believe dyslexia is real and those who don’t believe we are entitled to help and support, so it’s our job to help, advise and encourage each other.

I have to say that I am extremely proud of the accomplishments that I have achieved, from taking 13 GCSE’s of which I passed all and gained 100% in one exam including spelling, punctuation and grammar marks, 3 A levels (psychology, sociology and history) and an extended project qualification, gaining me entry to university. University has been very challenging, I have only been there for the first term, but I am sure all the hard work will pay off, because at the end of it I will go into a job that I enjoy. I have also found that I have been more open to the friends that I have made about dyslexia than any other group because I have earned my place at university just like everyone else. So, for people to say that dyslexics are stupid, or that you will never get anywhere, I challenge you to prove them wrong. You won’t know how capable you are until you try.

In the end, this is your life, and whatever you choose to do, make it count. People will try and tear you down, telling you that you won’t succeed, or this path is too difficult for someone like you. Prove them wrong because you won’t know how strong you are until you try. Don’t be afraid to ask questions because they’re how you get answers - if things were easy then anyone could do them! Life is supposed to be challenging and just because we have a little friend beside us adding weight doesn’t mean we aren’t like everyone else.

As my dad always says it doesn’t matter how long it takes you, once you’ve got it, you’ve got it.

Inclusion

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 03 Mar 2019 15:46:43 GMT

It’s been an interesting week. I have been lecturing on the foundation degree for childhood studies, in particular the history of SEND. It’s been a reminder both of how far we have come and how much is still required. I’ve been particularly pleased to see how much care and concern there is amongst people working in our schools to support those with SEND. This is also true of the many SENCOs embarking on the NASENCO qualification. I have chosen to deliver my lectures using a range of teaching strategies that I would employ when teaching in schools, both children with SEND and those without. This is because there is precious little time in the module for discussing support strategies, so I considered incorporating them into the lectures to ensure that there would be some opportunity for discussion thereof.

One of the interesting by-products of this has been the support that these methods have afforded to my students. The strategies employed have been simple ones:

· Spacing out the texts on the various PowerPoint slides so that they are easier to read.

· Alternating the colour of the text with each new paragraph so that it is easier to locate where we are on the slide.

· A coloured background for each slide and coloured text, so that none have the glare of black print on a white

background that makes reading difficult for those with Irlen Syndrome.

· Fidget strings for each student to use or take back to their schools for their pupil’s use. A simple, silent strategy that

can aid concentration.

· Interspersing input from me with group discussion, encouraging people to move should they wish during

discussion. This also aids concentration.

· Pre-learning, in that all resources for the sessions were given in advance of the lectures, to afford time to absorb

and process the information.

· Active reading tasks – a simple task to accompany the pre-session reading so that the information could be more

easily processed, understood and recalled.

In addition to this, I openly discussed my own dyslexia and the assessment I had last summer (details of which can be found in my first 2 blogs). This discussion led people to mention areas of SEND that affected them or members of their families. This open discussion was especially interesting in light of what was being discussed. Historically SEND was seen as a stigma. Prior to the Warnock report in 1978, the language surrounding SEND reflected this stigma – words such as handicapped, feeble, imbecile. The Warnock report introduced the term Special Educational Needs, and started to introduce the practice of inclusion for those with SEND. It is in these more inclusive times that such open discussion can happen.

In theory we now live in these more inclusive times, removing barriers to learning and ensuring that there is access for all, without discrimination. In many places this is the case, although funding cuts can make this harder to achieve. Attitudes are changing, although some still see those with SEND as a problem rather than seeing the need for society to remove any barriers. I take encouragement from those with whom I’ve been fortunate enough to work – as SENCO, teacher and tutor. It’s so very important that we take our part and speak up for those with SEND. In addition to giving voice for those who may require the extra support, we can put in place supportive strategies wherever possible. These strategies will do no harm and not hinder the learning of those who do not require them; however by removing barriers we may support more than just those who are known to require the additional strategies.

Reflections on Class Behaviour

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 24 Feb 2019 21:24:00 GMT

09/10/06

Geography! Not a good lesson today. One of the thoughts that occurs to me is that I always teach this group first – yes, the one with our dyslexics in – and maybe that also has something to do with the other set being easier to teach. Maybe it’s down to confidence and familiarity with the material . However well I prepare the lesson for geography, when I teach this set it is always the first time I have taught whatever it is.

In all fairness, some of today’s issues had nothing to do with geography, but more to do with logistics . The set is taught at the opposite end of the school from where I do the rest of my teaching, consequently I am always late for the lesson. Today the class had apparently been extremely ‘high’ in science immediately before my lesson, arrived early only to be brought into the class by a senior member of staff who was annoyed at their poor behaviour while waiting for me. When I arrived she had told them to sit with their heads on the desk and eyes shut to try to calm them down. The ADHD pupils were finding this extremely difficult, so I ended up sending the class out to re-enter quietly, thus giving them all a legitimate reason to physically move and a chance to start again . It worked but I had taken up a lot of time by then simply sorting behaviour. This left very little time for the actual lesson planned. With my own subject I am more confident about what to cut out; here I was unsure & feel that my lack of confidence impacted on the teaching.

What do I learn from all this? To some extent I’ll know more tomorrow when I’ve had the same basic lesson with the other group. Maybe not though as they are generally a more settled group – or is this a reflection of my greater confidence by the time I teach them? I still have to gather my thoughts here, no doubt I shall return. I need to do some reading here, simple classroom management reminders for the set up, as I will continue to be a few minutes late as this appears to be unavoidable. The settled start has always been important to me. Maybe I need to ‘brain Gym’ them. It would add structure to the lesson & give a definite start. I’ll try that Wednesday, I use it with all my usual classes – it’s being in a new environment, it’s thrown me a bit.

11/10/06

Certainly the lesson went so much better with the other group on Tuesday. I taught it very differently, using more concrete, kinaesthetic examples, and they grasped the concepts more easily . But it is equally about my mood and attitude – my confidence in teaching it for a second time impacts on the lesson. I found it easier with the first group when teaching them again today as I limited what we were to cover and brought in the same kinaesthetic examples. Brain Gym also helped to settle them initially. I did however learn a new idea for working with these diverse pupils who are so immature socially. The learning came from a conversation with my closest colleague – we both have a mixture of learning styles, one of which is ‘social’ and many of our ideas for teaching come from these chats. This idea was to draw a ‘comic strip’ to represent the behaviour of the pupils as a way of helping them to see for themselves the impact of their behaviour. She has tried it with a group of our year 8 pupils to great effect and I intend to have a go when the opportunity next arises.

15/10/06

This journal is proving useful. It’s allowing me the chance to think through the process and analyse what I do. I know we all do this anyway on a subconscious level, but what’s so useful is that having to keep this journal forces the thinking onto a conscious level, thus clarifying things more. It’s being especially useful coming at a time when there is so much change happening at work. Although it’s yet another time commitment, it’s actual proving worthwhile as I am clearer about what I’m doing and that ultimately makes my job easier.

Reflective Learning Journal

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 17 Feb 2019 10:23:17 GMT

When I was studying for my Masters Degree one of the requirements was to keep a reflective learning journal. Initially it felt like yet another thing I had to do on top of a full time job, studying, doing small scale research projects and the minor task of bringing up 4 boys. However I soon came to find this an extremely valuable exercise, something I would continue, albeit to a lesser degree, even after my studies were over. This has included reflecting not only on my teaching practice, but also on my role as SENCO and my approach to my doctoral studies. Looking back at some of my earliest entries, back in 2006, I thought some of them worth sharing in this blog. I may well add to this over the coming weeks.

These first three short entries are focused around year seven geography groups that I was teaching at the time. I’m not a geography teacher, but the school where I was teaching at the time felt that lower ability groups didn’t require specialist geography teachers. I was also told that didn’t actually matter what I taught them. This concerned me because surely every child should be valued equally. As is my nature, I found the positives in the experience. It’s interesting to note that this was 12 ½ years ago and the needs of ASD pupils and those with SLCN (speech language communication needs) were beginning to become more noticeable in schools. The special needs code of practice (CoP) in place at the time, just as the current one, highlighted that every teacher was a teacher of those with SEN, however the training and CPD required to enable teachers to accommodate the various needs in their classrooms and remove barriers to learning was not really in place. What follows are three brief entries to the learning journal that may be of interest.

20/09/06

Teaching geography – may sound fairly straightforward, but I’m no geographer! My specialism is SpLD (Specific Learning Difficulties, dyslexia, dyscalculia dyspraxia), and I graduated to teach English; geography was dropped at the earliest possible opportunity at secondary school. Thus a significant learning curve is taking place as I attempt to teach geography to 2 low ability sets in year 7 – each class being taught twice weekly. This is actually, in many ways, a positive development – although I have only really started to see that this week. Initially I was angry about having to take on this dreaded subject; partly because of my own limitations regarding subject knowledge, leading me to feel extremely vulnerable and insecure; partly as it was a fait accompli; partly because of the rational presented to me when I was told that I would be taking this on – I was told that it was felt that all teachers in the school needed to do proper classroom teaching. This undermined all that I do on a day-to–day basis, teaching pupils with a SpLD profile 1:1 and in small groups (up to 10 pupils). Was this teaching somehow less ‘proper’? I think not.

So why do I now start to view it more positively? I am fundamentally a SEN teacher. I spend my teaching time adapting materials to suit the pupils I encounter, often revising my ideas on a lesson by lesson basis as I discover that concepts I had taken for granted are alien to the pupils in front of me. I have to constantly find new ways of leading their learning so that they can grow less dependent on me as their teacher and discover ideas for themselves, the whole directed discovery process. The pupils in these geography groups are not only low ability, but have a range of SENs. One of the groups also contains most of the year 7 dyslexics who are in our provision. Thus this is simply an extension of what I already do. The materials and curriculum provided for me by the department have proved far too difficult for the pupils in these groups, so every lesson has had to be adapted and analyzed so that the fundamental concepts and knowledge required can be taught.

Adaptations I have had to make range from dropping the worksheets and taking the whole class outside to direct each other through a human maze of fellow classmates using only the terminology of compass points, since a holistic and physical approach was the only way I could help them to internalize the information, to simply using 2 sheets of paper for copying based exercises, so that worksheets are single-sided instead of one double-sided sheet, so that pupils didn’t have to cope with turning the page, memorizing minutia of detail and change of orientation as one side of the given sheet was portrait and the other landscape.

This has also helped me to see an area of development that I would like to pursue, namely the leadership and management of inclusion in our schools. Another incident that focused me in on this today concerns of one of our pupils with an ASD profile. This pupil had been late in handing in his homework for science. He was told that if it wasn’t given in the next day he would receive a detention. The pupil took this to mean the next day that he had science, so he duly handed in an extensive piece of homework today only to be given a detention slip at the same time. He was told that the detention was for not handing in his homework. He could not understand why he had been given this detention as he was handing the homework in at the time. The teacher simply kept telling him that it was for not handing in his homework. The situation was resolved with the help of the TA who was with him at the time but the incident highlighted the fact that we have a growing number of teachers in schools who are having to cope with ASD profile pupils in their classes yet have neither the specialist training nor the experience to cater for their needs. They also have the added complication of teaching them in larger sized groups than is appropriate for such pupils.

21/09/06

Planning for my geography lessons next week I encountered another of the inappropriate homework sheets set for the geography group. On the front side a seemingly simple sheet, yet the reverse side, containing all the necessary information for completing the sheet was so crammed full of information that the font was tiny and the information 100% inaccessible to the pupils in my groups. Study it and discover the concepts and skills that it is trying to reinforce, then ‘hey presto’ a simple homework sheet, containing a single sentence instruction and the basic information. The advantage of not being a subject specialist when teaching the subject at entrance level is that I am not making assumptions about the knowledge they have. I have to break down the work into its simplest components, so can deliver it ‘bite sized’. I have taught mainstream classes throughout my teaching career, it’s the non-specialist aspect that’s new to me and that’s where my learning comes in – not so much in the area of subject knowledge, but in getting back to basics in breaking down the learning. It’s refocusing my teaching.

27/09/06

Classroom management and getting the most from TAs. The geography group – yes, them again – that contains many of our dyslexic pupils is by far the most challenging of the 2 groups. Not because of the Dyslexics per se but simply because of the complex mix of the class. It falls naturally into 2 groups, one of which is predominantly female and the other totally male. In addition, having finally got to look at the SEN register details on these pupils, the needs are as many and diverse as I had already surmised.

The other group also has a range of needs and an equal number on the SEN register. Why then is it so much easier to manage them and direct their learning? Back to basics; it appeared to be largely down to the seating plan and a need to reinforce ground rules and reassert my authority on the class. This is where the TAs come in; firstly, they work with this group day in day out, so they know all of the dynamics far better than I do; secondly, I have found that the pupils show the TAs little, if any, respect even though they do show me respect and see me as someone of worth.

Solution – I spoke to both of the TAs after Monday’s lesson and discussed with them my ideas for the seating plan. They were able to add their thoughts so that I was able to devise a seating plan that really made a huge difference today. Then, at the start of today’s lesson, I reinforced all of the class rules, ensuring that the pupils understood how the TAs were there to help & that their authority counted and needed the same degree of respect that all people in the class deserved. I paid extra close attention to the treatment of the TAs so that I was able to quickly intervene where necessary to support the TAs and ensure that pupils asked them for support instead of always wanting to ask me. This in turn allowed me to teach more effectively, leading their learning more efficiently and using my own skills in a more productive way.

It is interesting that the other group is equally happy to ask the TA in the room for support, not needing to always ask me. They are a group with as many general additional learning needs but fewer social or speech and language type needs. With the growing numbers of ASD pupils in our classroom this is surely an area that is presenting and will continue to present major issues for leadership and management of learning as these pupils impact greatly on the learning in their groups. It is mainly my special needs training that is helping me to teach these groups, simple things like: using the pupil’s name before giving an instruction, so that the pupil knows that the instruction is for him to follow, so has listened to the instruction; asking the pupil to repeat back the task, the instruction or the action and its consequence in a way that shows whether he has actually understood my expectations; breaking the task down to doable sized chunks.

Hélène Cohen

Amazing Children - A child with CP

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 10 Feb 2019 11:33:00 GMT

I’ve been thinking about the various children I’ve taught over the years and thought I’d write about Dave – not his real name. Dave has CP, Cerebral Palsy, and I had the privilege of teaching him for three years. I have to admit that at first it did not feel like a privilege. He has the quirkiest sense of humour and initially I didn’t appreciate it at all as I was trying to teach my class comprised of children with various SEND, such as dyslexia, autism, dyspraxia and now this new boy with CP who thought the best way to join a new group was to clown around. In between: hearing ‘I can’t, I can’t’ from the girl with autism as she bit her hand in frustration when her ideas weren’t flowing; repeating the instructions to the boy with dyscalculia who took a while to process what he’d been asked to do; supporting various spelling and word retrieval issues and generally trying to teach, I now had someone who said random things that seemed totally unconnected to what we were doing, but made the others laugh, probably because his utterances were so random. Added to this, I soon realised that this child whose SEND was presented as CP and nothing else, was evidently one of the more severely dyslexic children I had encountered in a long time – including children I had taught in a specialist dyslexia provision.

Deep breath time. He seemed to cope perfectly well moving around the school, always cheerful, always cracking weird jokes, so I focussed in on the dyslexia. I soon realised that he was highly intelligent. We would be sharing a text for comprehension, and provided it was a text that had been read aloud so he could easily access it, his answers were not only spot on, but went far deeper than those from the average 9 year old. It was an interesting group. One of the girls who had autism was an excellent artist and an exceptional writer. Using a laptop (one with a ‘pen’) she created amazing illustrations for her work. Using the laptop allowed her to write superb fantasy stories, setting a scene more beautifully than I ever could, once she’d accepted that she actually could do the task. This girl was on an intellectual level with Dave and they struck up an amazing rapport adding a super dimension to the group. Aware of how supportive it could be for someone with dyslexia to use a laptop, and being unable to decipher a single word written by Dave, I asked his parents if they could provide a laptop for him to use in school. This they did and it was a game changer. He was immediately more focused in class, although always the jester in the group. Being able to read his work now that it was generated on a computer, I could see how extreme the dyslexia was. Sentences were often incoherent and a total mismatch from what he would say in class. We worked on this, obviously, with a mixture of me scribing, him typing, always us talking. This still seemed to be the main issue, and in class, with Dave sitting down, it was easy to forget the CP, until his first OT/PT (occupational and physio therapists) session that I was able to sit in on. What a revelation.

It transpired that Dave was in constant pain, something he had always covered up through joking around. I discovered the special wishbone pens and pencils that had a grip that lessoned the pain in his fingers when writing – I also gained the respect of the OT and PT for having set his working using a laptop, as they were going to recommend that. Together, over time, we made the physical changes Dave required. We changed his routes around the school to avoid certain steep and uneven staircases and minimised the use of stairs by allowing him routes that were usually for teachers only. We gradually put up handrails around the school to make even the places with just a few steps easier. We had an exercise routine pinned up in the SEND classroom, so that he could do the exercises that would enable him to join in the rugby that he loved. We had his wheelchair in school for use on days that were more physically strenuous that others. But most importantly I learned to ask Dave what was needed; I learned to recognise when he was in more pain; I gained his trust so that he actually admitted when his pain was more severe, something that he would happily hide behind another of his quirky jokes; I learned that when he joked most he was probably hurting most.

Dave taught me so much about resilience. I’m pretty resilient myself – it’s either that or give up when you grow up with undiagnosed dyslexia, and I developed a determination that I only appreciated after my dyslexia was formally assessed (see earlier blogs). Dave’s resilience was on a whole other level. He joined in Games and PE sessions, playing rugby, cricket, football, athletics, sometimes having games and PE on the same day as well as DT lessons in a totally different part of the school site – these would be wheelchair days. When he went on a trip that included an assault course, he was pushed around in his wheelchair all day, but got out and completed the assault course – he’d been saving all his energy for that bit!

Although it embarrassed him, at times I would let others, who were complaining about something and nothing, know just what Dave endured on a daily basis, without complaint. If he ever did complain, which was rarely and after prompting, I listened. Apparently at home it all came out. The pain he’d kept to himself all day would often mean that he went home exhausted. His parents were great, supportive of us as a school and making few allowances for the CP, while ensuring that he had all the support he needed. One open day, the children in his year group were showing people around the school. One of his friends came to find me to saying that Dave was crying. I was immediately concerned as this wasn’t like him at all. When I found him it transpired that he had been overlooked for the school tours as the people visiting all wanted to see the area that was furthest away and had the most and steepest steps. Time for some serious thought. There was no way that Dave was going to miss out on showing off the school. Fortunately one of the school governors was around. Asking her if she’d like a guided tour, and explaining the situation, I asked Dave if he would mind showing one of the governors around as there were no more parents visiting. Dave visibly puffed out his chest at the importance of such a task. Being the tour guide for a governor was something that made him feel really special. He loved it, and so did she. I asked him to specifically show her his special routes as it was important for her to know how his CP needs were being met,. He was in his element.

Dave set an example of what we need to do as SENDCOs. We need to look beyond what we see. We need to truly involve parents and children in our planning for removing barriers. We need to really know the child and gain trust. We need to try to see things from the child’s perspective. We need to open our minds, be creative and learn what we can from our children.

Hélène Cohen

No More Tears

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 03 Feb 2019 11:19:39 GMT

This week’s blog takes a slightly different turn, linked more to my own doctoral research. It’s been prompted by reading posts on Twitter and Facebook from teachers in tears, exhausted, frustrated and considering leaving the profession. It need not be like this, and for many teachers, where they are led with consideration and respected by their SLTs, teaching remains a rewarding and wonderful profession. One of the positives of social media was the support that poured in to those posting such thoughts and concerns. There’s a huge network of support, reassurance and positive ideas out there that can help us to feel less alone when things are difficult.

So why the tears? My own research explores teachers’ emotions, but specifically regarding inspection. It considers the state (Ofsted) and independent (ISI) sectors and finds differences between them. My research is based in the primary age group, however my own experience covers primary, secondary, state, independent, specialist SEND provisions and higher education. Positive and negative emotions can be found in all of these.

What my research found though is that the way the schools are led and managed has a huge effect on how teachers feel about themselves and their work. I analysed my interviews through a leadership lens of Fullan’s Six Secrets of Change (2008). These are:

1. “Love your employees”

2. “Connect peers with purpose”

3. “Capacity building prevails”

4. “Learning is the work”

5. “Transparency rules”

6. “Systems learn ” (Fullan, 2008, p.11)

What I found to be of greatest importance were the first three: 1. feeling cared about and respected by employers; 2. having a shared sense of moral purpose in our work; 3. working in an environment that works with the successes and learns from the areas that have not quite worked. The idea is that all 6 of these feed into each other and create a more successful environment for pupils and teachers alike.

Support from those around us goes such a long way to help us cope when things are difficult. I found that in the independent sector there was less pressure from inspection, but an everyday pressure from some parents, paying for their children’s education. The whole child was more easily addressed in the independent sector as parents were expecting a full and rounded experience for their children, and as fee payers, they had more say in the type of education provided. ISI expected each school to have its own ethos and there were currently practicing teachers on the inspection teams. As teachers interviewed often talked of members of their own SLTs being ISI inspectors, they were fully aware of inspectors’ roles within schools and were often happy to talk openly about all aspects of school life, without fear of consequences.

In the state sector, teachers expressed feelings of stress at being constantly judged. The vocabulary was so different from these teachers, and there were tears throughout the majority of the interviews. It was a fear of consequences that teachers said meant that they were reluctant to share any concerns, for fear of being judged inadequate. They felt that they had to teach to an externally imposed agenda and felt disconnected from what they felt to be the way they should be teaching. The sad thing is that ideas about stress and fear in inspection have been raised for 20 years (See Cullingford, 1999, An Inspector Calls ; Jeffrey and Woods, 1998, Testing Teachers: the effect of school inspections on primary teachers )

There are teachers feeling: the pressure of a class with so many behavioral issues; frustration that children aren’t making the expected progress; fearful of trying something new; fearful of asking for help; concerned about lack of resources to support SEND within their class - and I could go on. What these teachers need is the security to ask for help without fear of consequences; they need the opportunity to see how other teachers cope in similar situations so that they can take on ideas and try them out; they need to be able to be observed and advised in a critical friendship way, again without fear of consequences. They need to not feel alone.

Please, if teaching is leaving you in tears, think about who you can turn to for support, reach out. All teachers need that support network at times. Teaching is such an important job. We really do change lives. It is demanding, but with people around to support us, we can rediscover the joy and rewards that are and should be integral to this profession. And please, if you’re a leader of a school, think back to those moments when things were on top of you. Think about what’s best for the child and think about how you can support the teachers in your care. Loving employees not only matters on a personal level, but will also yield better results, as supported, enthusiastic teachers are what our schools and children need. Teachers are the best resource schools have, let's treat them with the respect they deserve so that they feel valued and can help our children to fly.

"I'll be a Nothing" (Raey and William, 1999)

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 27 Jan 2019 16:08:28 GMT

I have already blogged about number crunching with care and today I’m sort of revisiting that. A phrase that has stayed in my head since first I read it is: “ I’ll be a nothing ” said by a child in Year 6 and found in an article by Raey and William (1999). This child, by age 10, had already defined herself as worthless based on her grades in school. What does that tell us about the messages we can so easily give the children in our care! I read that as part of my doctoral studies when trying to find my own understanding of truth. I’m no philosopher, so that’s not the direction I’m going in here, but I do care about people - how we view ourselves and how others view us.

Educational assessment plays a part in this. If the child is viewed only as data, numbers on a page, then so much is lost. This can have an enduring effect, as Rowntee (1987) states, “- educational assessment… The ‘truths’ that emerge from it tell other people (and often ourselves) what to think and feel about us – and thus open or close to us life’s opportunities and rewards .”. The truth from the assessment is only part of the story, as Tomlinson said (2014), “the scores you get will tell you something, but they will not tell you everything.”

As I’ve written in previous blogs, I am dyslexic. For years I saw my slowness in reading, difficulty with spelling, lack of distinction between words I’d written and words in my head (so that words thought had often not reached the page), my slowness at processing, weak working memory and my malapropisms as signs of my stupidity. Ironically it is scores on a page that finally helped me to see that I am not stupid, not a dumbbell and doughnut but someone who is actually intelligent (the unpicking of intelligence can be for a later date). So what does this mean for us as teachers and parents?

Along with ‘dumbbell’ and ‘doughnut’ I was always praised for my efforts, told that I worked hard and could accomplish whatever I set my mind to. I had an English teacher in what would now be year 9 who believed in me, who focussed on the content of my writing as opposed to my handwriting and spelling, enabling me to believe for the first time that I could succeed in English. Mrs Hurlihy (no idea of the spelling) I thank you. You made me the English teacher I later became. Other teachers couldn’t understand how I could get full marks in a spelling test, yet make errors throughout my written work, not understanding the effort that had gone into learning those few words for the test, spellings which were forgotten the moment the test was completed. I would get told that my work was messy. It was, as it was full of rubbings out, crossings out and scruffy writing to disguise the incorrect spellings. This English teacher saw beyond the presentation, saw the effort and saw any ability that I had. She also took the time to know us as individuals, so that we were more than a score on a page.

If as teachers and parents we focus on test scores, we are defining our children by the numbers they produce. We can lose sight of the effort they have put in and not see the other contributions they make. There was a child I taught several years ago who I likened to a stepping stone in the class. He was one of our SEND pupils, with low reading and writing scores who struggled to get anything down on paper. His test scores did not reflect his innate abilities and he was easily overlooked for anything other than being a bit of a ‘class clown’, ‘attention seeker’. The clowning and attention seeking were his way of masking his low scores and weaker written work. He thought of himself at stupid. I used to do lots of general ‘thinking skills’ type of activities in class. I would set challenges for the class and these were not reliant on writing skills. This young lad would invariably be the first to get an idea of the answer. He wouldn’t necessarily solve the problem, but what he did was work out where the problem was going and make a contribution that enabled others to find the solution. He was a vital member of the team and the recognition he gained for this helped to raise his self-esteem. Hearing others praise him by acknowledging that they wouldn’t have found the answer without him was a tremendous boost. He was also one who would come up with some of the most creative thoughts for open-ended discussions, again receiving praise from his peers as well as from me. Scores in assessments could so easily have led to him feeling like the child I mentioned at the start of this “ I’ll be a nothing ”, but going beyond assessment scores enabled him to know that he was so much more.

Schools need to find time for these activities, whether they’re built into subject teaching or have their own dedicated time slots. We need time for children to find their worth in ways that aren’t necessarily linked to assessment. We need Music, Art, Drama, Sport. We need discussions, problem solving, creative thinking and more. Yes we need some form of assessment, yes we need our basic skills of numeracy and literacy, but we also need to value the rest of the child. The individual person that we each are.

References

Reay, D. & Wiliam, D, (1999) ''I'll be a nothing': structure, agency and the construction of identity through assessment ', British Educational Research Journal, 25: 3, 343 — 354

Rowntree, D. (1987) assessing students, how shall we know them . 2nd Edition. Kogan Page London

Tomlinson, R. https://twitter.com/BarrowfordHead

Heard on, Radio 4, Woman’s Hour 10am 15/07/14 http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b0496c07

©Hélène Cohen

Learning Quest

Sun, 20 Jan 2019 16:55:17 GMT

A few posts ago I mentioned the idea of learning quests, saying that I would explain in another blog post, so here goes. The spark for the idea of a learning quest came from my doctoral research. My thesis explores teachers’ emotional response to inspection, comparing state and independent sectors through a leadership lens. I found that teachers from the state sector were generally fearful of inspections and this spilled over into their everyday teaching. The state sector teachers interviewed talked of being under constant surveillance, with observations and judgements becoming ever more a daily part of their work life, filling them with a sense of threat and of never being good enough. They were especially upset that they felt totally disconnected from their sense of purpose, with children being reduced to mere data. What shocked me was the depth of emotion, with most of those interviewed crying about past inspections, even when the inspections had occurred years earlier. By contrast, none of those interviewed from the independent sector cried. Instead they spoke of observations far more positively, as being opportunities for learning and development. They spoke of support and working collaboratively, with the whole child placed securely at the centre. I started to think about how teachers could take back ownership of their classrooms, so that they would be less threatened and daunted by adults coming in. Chatting with a colleague and friend, bouncing ideas between us, the idea of a ‘learning quest’ starting to take form.

What are we learning today?

When we meet people on a learning quest, we can help by:

inviting them into our classroom
telling them about our learning
showing them our work
asking them if they have any questions

KEEP ON LEARNING

Not only does this help the teacher to feel that the classroom is theirs, but it also helps children to see that learning is a life-long process and that adults need to learn too.

Dyslexia and Me by Charlotte Golding

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 13 Jan 2019 11:42:18 GMT

With thanks to Charlotte for writing this guest blogWith thanks to Charlotte for writing this guest blog

With my dyslexia, I spell everything phonetically which at times can be challenging especially when spellcheck doesn’t even know what you are trying to spell. (I can now spell ‘any’ … with an A not an E! *). My reading is slow compared to the average and so is my processing ability. Through school I have struggled to keep up and at times I found myself giving up. One of the most challenging parts of my dyslexia was colours. I couldn’t see red, yellow, orange or pink writing or black writing on these coloured backgrounds, they all looked blurred to me, like someone had gone along and smudged them. I am happy to say that with the help of blue colour overlays and tinted glasses I am now able to see words in any colour. Although if I am tired or have been reading long passages, and studying a psychology and sociology degree means I have A LOT to read!, my eyes do get tired.

As my dad always says it doesn’t matter how long it takes you, once you’ve got it, you’ve got it.

* For those of you trying to spell 'any' with an 'e', I recommend 'School Spelling Dictionary' by Barrington Stokes.

Seize the Moment

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 06 Jan 2019 12:05:32 GMT

Following on from last week’s blog I’m deviating slightly from my intended discussion of the ‘Learning Quest’ which can now wait until probably next week. Instead, in the shower this morning I got to thinking – many of my best ideas and thoughts come to me in the shower. It occurred to me that I have been extremely lucky in my teaching career, working where I’ve been trusted to teach my way and not having been under the constraints that were described to me by teachers who I interviewed for my doctoral research. This freedom has allowed me to seize learning opportunities that suddenly presented themselves in a way that some teachers feel unable to do for fear of deviating from the plans and schemes so carefully constructed. Children are individuals, each learning at their own rate in their own way; sometimes the plan just doesn’t fit them. I’m going to share two very different occasions when I deviated, took a different path that supported the learning in ways that I hadn’t planned.

The first was a wonderful opportunity when I was team teaching English in year 4. It was a Friday morning and we were about to start a unit of work on fantasy writing the following Monday. The stimulus materials were all prepared for the nest week and we had a spelling lesson planned for the lesson following assembly. As we left the assembly hall to go to our English lesson we saw that a blanket of fog was covering the ground. I looked at my partner in crime and we agreed wordlessly that this was one of those moments that had to be cherished. We took our classes for a walk through the school grounds, pausing every so often to talk through the experience. We saw buildings appear as if by magic as we approached, buildings totally obscured by the fog would rise up and be unveiled the nearer we crept. Then, as we turned to retrace our steps towards our classroom, a backwards glance showed the buildings to be hidden once more, enshrouded by the curling fog.

On our return to the classroom we shared our experience, giving the children the freedom to discuss it in groups of their choice. The language was rich with metaphor and similes; the vocabulary powerful creating wonderful imagery. The writing they later produced was a delight to read. We couldn’t plan for fog. In some schools we would have felt obliged to ignore the opportunity for wonder in our children, tied to a pre-planned scheme that allowed for no deviation. That was the sad experience of many of those who I interviewed when researching teachers’ emotional response to inspection. They felt disconnected from their sense of purpose, unable to seize the moment.

The second occasion that I wish to share was during an inspection. This was an ISI (independent school) inspection, but I would have behaved the same way had it been Ofsted – it’s how I teach. I had an English lesson prepared, with the plan dutifully handed to the inspector who entered the room with the class. It was a lower ability English group, comprised of children with a range of SEND. I had a simple starter about conjunctions; one that was revisiting previous work that I thought had been understood. Consolidation. As I wandered among the children it soon became apparent that they had forgotten this work. They were getting on quietly, behaving impeccably, but definitely without any real understanding. The inspector started to congratulate me on the way they were working just as I decided to totally change what I had planned to do. Instead I wanted to make conjunctions fun and learning to happen.

I kept in my classroom sets of conjunctions and clauses, each clause and conjunction on a separate laminated strip. I told the children to put all of their work under their chairs to clear their desks. I then paired and grouped children, giving them sets of clauses and conjunctions to play with, moving them around to form their own sentences. The more able were encouraged to vary the placement on the conjunction and when they had sentences that worked, they could then write these up in their books, highlighting the conjunctions. It was a very successful lesson, not at all the one planned, and deeper learning took place. The children were engaged throughout as they love the chance to physically manipulate the laminated strips, working well collaboratively. The inspector liked it too!

The important thing on each of these occasions, as with many others, is that the children and their learning came first. It could be seen as a gamble to change direction from the lesson planned, especially when the said plan is in the hands of the inspector watching the lesson. However, I truly believe that any inspector worthy of the role should be focussed on the children, their engagement and their learning. Keeping the children at the heart of the lesson is why I have been doing this for the past 33 years. So take heart and seize the moment. Keep alive the passion that drives us and makes learning something that children want to do.

Leadership Role

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Mon, 31 Dec 2018 10:59:09 GMT

I have more recently found one of Fullan’s leadership models. Having read a range of his work during my Masters, I rediscovered him for my Doctorate. His theory which runs through my own doctoral research is one that he calls ‘Six Secrets’ and this resonates well with the SENCO role. He lists these factors as:

“ Love your Employees”

“Connect Peers to purpose”

“Capacity building prevails”

“Learning is the work”

“Transparency rules”

And “ Systems learn” (Fullan, 2008)

All of Fullan’s other ‘secrets’ follow on from these. It is easier to develop when we feel cared for and when we believe in what we’re doing. As a SENCO and senior leader I found it helpful to keep this uppermost in my mind. For me there were simple ways of doing this – I regularly brought home baked cookies or brownies into the staffroom (for all staff - cleaners, teachers, TAs, Head teacher etc) so that people felt cared for. I learned a lot about who had what preferences, and also who had what allergies! This helped whenever I had to ask for that little bit extra from someone. Likewise a slot at every staff meeting enabled me to keep SEND uppermost in people’s minds so that employing the strategies needed to support different children was more likely to happen. Regular ‘learning quest’ walks enabled me to not only see how children were doing in class, but also gave teachers plenty of opportunities to ask for help or advice about whatever. There needs to be trust for people to ask for help, and feeling cared for and valued helps to build that trust. The trust is so important for an open system where teachers can ask for help and support without the fear or threat of judgementalism.

Another blog will explain about the learning quest – a helpful way for transparency without threat.

References:

Fullan, M. (2008) The six secrets of change. What the best leaders do to help their organizations survive and thrive. San Francisco: Jossy-Bass, Wiley Imprint.

Katzenmeyer, M. and Moller, G. (2001) Awakening the Sleeping Giant. Helping

Teachers Develop as Leaders. Corwin Press Inc.

©Hélène Cohen

Me and Dyslexia

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 23 Dec 2018 10:27:29 GMT

This is a subtitle for your new post

That’s the fear of the assessment – what if they find me out to be the fool after all?

Even knowing that I was employing these strategies, I was still relieved to hear the words “You are dyslexic” after the assessments were completed. So relieved, that the tears flowed once more.

Anxiety and Stress

183:688930814 (Helene Cohen) — Sun, 16 Dec 2018 13:51:29 GMT

Earlier in the week I received one of those ‘Facebook – I bet no one will share this’ messages. It was about Anxiety. It was timely that I received this though, as when out running that morning I was thinking about writing a blog on the same issue for this weekend. I was considering this as, since leaving full time employment, I have been able to support several people I know through various mental health issues simply by having the time to be there for them. At the end of this blog I shall paste the words from the Facebook post.

What has struck me most is that the people I have been able to be there for are those who would typically be described as the strong ones, the copers, the ones people turn to for support; the ‘surely this could never happen to me’ ones. For most of the people uppermost in my mind at the moment, this ‘mental health’ issue is like many health issues – something from which they will ‘get well soon’. This is anxiety, stress or even depression, brought on through something specific – teachers and head teachers with work related stress. For some, the work related stress has brought long term depression to the fore, so that they are now diagnosed with clinical depression, for others it is addiction related mental health. I am no expert in these matters, and take care not to cross the line between ‘being there’ and pretending I can solve their problems and make them better. Being there has been what’s needed though.

When known to be the strong one, it can take a while to recognise that what’s happening is more than having a bad day. It’s harder to recognise warning signs and harder still to ask for help. Those of us who are always there for others often find it hard to reach out, even to those close to us, and say “I’m not coping” simply because coping is what we do. I’ve been there, at that early stage, and said those words, “I’m not coping” and it was hard, so very hard to say them. The response was “You’ll be fine” and those words would have sent me over the edge had a couple of close colleagues not seen me shortly after and given me the support I so sorely needed. These were people who had known me long enough and were perceptive enough to understand that if I was saying that I couldn’t cope then something was really wrong. I thank those colleagues and friends for understanding and ensuring that I had the few days I needed to get better. A few days was all that was needed, but had they not been there for me then, I think things would have been a lot worse.

As I said, I am no expert in this field, although counselling is an area I may well pursue once my rewrite bits for the thesis are completed. Although no expert I do know that reaching out to people, throwing out the right ‘hooks’ that help people know that you’re there for them, making it easier for them to text back, phone or come over for a coffee can make a real difference. With anxiety, stress and depression, it’s not always obvious to people that there’s anything wrong. A broken leg is easy to spot; if someone has a bandage or a plaster people will invariably ask what’s wrong and how can they help. Anxiety, stress and depression give out far more subtle signs. Maybe someone who’s always cheerful is smiling less, more tired, a bit forgetful. It’s worth sending out the caring signals that cold encourage that request for help. A coffee together, time to talk, listen and share can help.

Here’s the post I promised you. Please read.

Clinically dia gnosed anxiety is not just being a bit worried, you can't just "chill out a bit" or "get over it". It eats into your well being, your confidence, your health and your life and it is 24/7. When someone cancels, or ducks out, or makes a pathetic excuse please understand that it isn't personal, it isn't laziness, it isn't being rude. It's because they can't physically do it. When someone needs supporting/encouraging/ hand holding it isn't pathetic, it isn't attention seeking, it isn't childish - it's because they are desperate to beat it but can't do it alone.

"Anxiety sucks, being isolated and believing your friends don't care sucks even more �� .
How many of you have had a night out planned, or arranged coffee or a beer with friends and suddenly the 4 walls you inhabit seem the only safe haven because it's the only place you don't have to pretend you are ok, so you cancel.

Or when you are invited out you tell them how terribly sorry you are but you're already booked up that weekend, when you are actually just really busy holding it together in your safe box. And so the first problem starts, all by itself.

People stop asking you and the isolation that at first wasn't true becomes your only truth.
Please don't give up on your friends. Ring them, go round, even when they don't want you to. Because they really do they just don't know how to say it.

And in work every passing comment is a negative, you constantly do more to get over the feeling you are not good enough. The exhaustion from not sleeping because you panic all night over what you cannot influence means you make mistakes, you live in a fog and it is a vicious circle.