“Thank you”, delivered in a cheery tone by a grateful student as they exit a lesson never fails to melt my heart. Sometimes they mean it and sometimes they just recognise that I need to hear it, but it is always warmly welcomed. Over the past year or so the voices have included those of Ukrainian students – nearly 15,000 of whom are now integrated into our education system.
The science of gratitude is well-established now too and statistics reveal numerous benefits, so embracing it in terms of our schools would facilitate a badly needed shift of perspective away from the many challenges our system faces. These cannot be denied and will remain very real, even if this column is an invitation for us to turn our collective focus elsewhere (and more broadly) for a moment.
There is much for those of us in schools to be grateful for, and also for the wider population to be grateful to schools for. And yet it is the difficulties and problems we face that we choose to be most vocal about. We express too little collective gratitude both within our education system and towards it.
Like many people, I was reared on reminders of how many others are worse off; perhaps that is why even the smallest whisper of entitlement brings to mind more worthwhile things to complain about. The very absence of many such issues here in Ireland is in itself something to be grateful for.
Parents’ group criticises closure of hundreds of schools to facilitate general election
Students deserve a reformed Leaving Cert that prepares them for the modern world
Explainer: why are second level teachers protesting outside schools today?
Students ‘cannot afford to wait’ for Leaving Cert reform - Norma Foley
When schools in Ireland reopened last September, some 2,500 schools in Ukraine had already been damaged, among them 300 which had been completely destroyed. Teachers in occupied Ukraine currently face impossible choices: be forcibly “certified” in the Russian curriculum and risk prosecution in Ukraine, or risk their lives by refusing to do so. As this war continues, Ukrainian teachers battle to protect their language, history and curriculum.
It is pointless to emphasise the more sophisticated aspects of education when poverty is the everyday reality for everyone in the class
We take it for granted that girls here may attend school. Since September 2021, more than one million Afghan girls have been denied access to secondary school and higher education under the Taliban regime. Even if it is the only country to forbid girls from receiving an education, how is it still possible that this is happening anywhere in 2023, let alone for a prolonged period? The long-term impact on individual lives and a whole generation of the Afghan population will emerge in time, but to inform ourselves of the effects of this significant step backwards for Afghanistan is to both educate ourselves and deepen our gratitude.
Class sizes here are unremarkable if we look globally, rather than just compare ourselves to other EU countries. Data from 2018 for China shows the average class size for primary schools was 38 pupils, and 46 for lower secondary. While class size is undeniably challenging here and highlighting the issue remains important, we must also be prepared to look at the figures in a broader context. After all, there is no indication that our pupil and teacher numbers are declining at the same rate.
Many aspects of our working life as teachers also seem positively luxurious in relative terms when we look further afield. Children from slums go to school too, and these schools are situated in slums because that is where the children live. To teach in a slum can mean accepting poor learning outcomes and low transition rates from primary to secondary, and indeed from class to class.
It is pointless to emphasise the more sophisticated aspects of education when poverty is the everyday reality for everyone in the class. Teachers choose to spend their careers in these schools because they recognise that the children in slum schools are as entitled to a good teacher as anyone else. While in some ways this brings incredible rewards, it also involves sacrifice. And so what we in Ireland access – and perhaps take for granted in our classrooms every day – is what those in slum schools do not even dare to dream of.
To express gratitude for everything in sight that is right is to build a habit and create everyday access to the benefits of gratitude
School inspections must always be carried out in the spirit of support. Surely their principal function is to enable and empower schools to address any areas they may not even have realised required attention. It is vital that they come with an emphasis on raising awareness rather than administering blame. Even if there is a broad continuum of different attitudes towards inspections, there is almost inevitably some degree of apprehension.
Recent news stories from neighbouring countries paint a stark picture of inspection experiences, and it is no small matter if in the UK more than 235,000 signatures (and counting) have been gathered petitioning for an inquiry into a recent report. Inspectorates could commit to expressions of gratitude as an essential feature of any inspection report. All schools have their own individual strengths, and these achievements always merit acknowledgment.
Gratitude for the teachers we currently have would go a long way towards keeping them. Teacher-bashing has never needed to be quashed more urgently than it does now. Where do those who continue to belittle a role they have never held – and probably have no intention of holding – think future teachers will come from? Worrying patterns of early retirement and emigration mean those who could teach here are choosing not to.
Many students openly demonstrate their appreciation of teachers, and this is admirable. To express gratitude for everything in sight that is right is to build a habit and create everyday access to the benefits of gratitude.
Missing obvious opportunities for gratitude is a mistake we cannot afford to make if we truly value our education system. It is to risk one day seeing nothing to be grateful for.