What keeps a teacher going after two decades - especially when those years have been spent working in a social, emotional and mental health (SEHM) special school?
That’s the question I found myself asking as I placed my certificate from the county council into a box. It was a thoughtful recognition of 20 years of service but it didn’t quite reflect what those years had truly been about.
In that same box are the real reminders of why I stayed: thank-you cards, photos, children’s drawings, even the odd sorry card. One reads: “We will be good tomorrow at dinner. Hope your leg is better.”
I can’t remember the incident but it must have been notable. These mementoes say more than any certificate ever could.
Back to the start
In 2004 I had turned 21, with a degree that had nothing to do with education. I was considering social work but needed life experience. Then I saw a job as a teaching assistant in a newly opened SEMH school.
It was known locally as “the naughty school” but its vision to provide a whole-school nurture approach struck a chord. I applied, got an interview and somehow the job: if I lacked life experience before, the job would soon change that.
I spent the first six months suspended between two states of being:
Complete shock that children could string together several expletives and weren’t bothered who they vocalised them to - even the mayor!
Awe and wonder at how the headteacher and deputy head always seemed to know exactly what to say and do. It looked effortless (though it probably didn’t feel it), like they were solving a puzzle they had done a hundred times before, while I was still working out the picture.
A puzzle worth solving
It’s an analogy that I often reflect on - working with SEMH pupils can feel like solving a layered puzzle, based around the key question: how do you make connections with children who have learned that connections are unsafe?
It’s part Rubik’s Cube, part chess match and a complex maths equation thrown in for good measure. It’s often infuriating, challenging and frustrating but incredibly fascinating and rewarding, and the highs kept me going back for more.
The thing about puzzles is you either love them or they’re just not your cup of tea. Especially when you have to accept that the puzzle you’re part of is just that: a part.
Some people move on and that’s right for them. It’s too hard. It’s taking too long. The picture changes partway through. Pieces are lost or found and, in the process, a deeper layer of the puzzle is revealed - one that may be too painful or complex to face.
However, the hardest pieces - the ones that I found have truly put me to the test - are ultimately the most important. They force you to confront yourself: triggers, limitations, biases, fears.
They’re the pieces you have to keep coming back to. Because that’s where the deepest learning happens. Not in solving the puzzle, but in understanding your place in it.
Support from colleagues
It’s also not a type of puzzle that you can work at on your own. The school has an incredible team and I’ve been privileged to learn from the most amazing and supportive colleagues.
Through all this, my love for the work, the children and the school grew, and it continues to grow. I trained as a teacher and progressed to assistant head nine years ago.
Since then I’ve witnessed - and been proud to be part of - tremendous development and change. The school has always been an incredible place to belong to and I’m immensely proud that it has grown into a highly valued, respected and outstanding SEMH provision.
A key part of my role is supporting new staff. I always tell them that they will feel many of the same feelings I experienced, but I also try to channel the same encouragement, guidance and belief that I received.
These children deserve the very best. They are not for the faint-hearted; they will throw everything at you (emotionally and physically) to test if you are safe, to ask, “Will you still like me if…?”
And just when you think you have that missing piece of the puzzle in place, they will empty the rest of the box on the floor. That’s when you need the support and care and copious amounts of tea and cake from the team around you, so you can come back the next day together and start picking up the pieces.
Another year ahead
For those thinking about working in SEMH, the fun and the laughs far outweigh the challenges, tears and tiredness.
The sense of achievement is huge. But bigger than that is the moment when a child who’s previously been excluded, isolated or simply told they can’t, skips into your classroom with a huge smile, a “good morning” and a massive hug, knowing they can.
I can’t think of any better way to start the day. Bring on another year.
Philippa Rollins is assistant headteacher at a specialist SEMH primary school
You can now get the UK’s most-trusted source of education news in a mobile app. Get Tes magazine on and on
