What Is the Point of Dialogue?
Written by Sharon Booth
Founder & Director, Solutions Not Sides. Sharon has an MA from Cambridge University in Theology and Religious Studies. She taught English at Amideast in Tunisia and then went on to work in Amman, Jordan as a Productions Manager. She was employed as PA to the Defence Attaché at the British Embassy, then returned to the UK and began work in Israeli-Palestinian conflict resolution, founding the Solutions Not Sides Education Programme in 2010. Sharon speaks Arabic and French and has studied ancient Hebrew. In January 2016, she was awarded a master’s degree with distinction from King's College London, specialising in nationalism and religion.
Dialogue is fundamental to building relationships and resolving differences. It is a crucial tool for addressing conflicts, yet when pain and injustice run deep, the idea of engaging in dialogue can feel futile—or even wrong.
When faced with deep moral disagreements, people may question whether dialogue is worthwhile. Engaging with opposing viewpoints can feel uncomfortable and even counterproductive. In such moments, the instinct may be to advocate solely for what feels right. Yet, it is precisely during these times that dialogue becomes most valuable—not necessarily to achieve agreement but to foster greater empathy, reflection, and mutual understanding.
Dialogue in a Polarised World
These challenges are heightened in times of deep societal division. When issues are viewed in black-and-white terms, conflicts become entrenched, and meaningful conversations break down. This dynamic has been evident in Britain in recent years on topics like Brexit, immigration, and the Israel-Palestine conflict. Though often framed as binary, these issues are complex and multi-layered. Recognising this complexity is key to breaking through entrenched positions—but it can feel overwhelming, particularly for educators navigating these discussions in schools.
In England, the Department for Education requires teachers to maintain political impartiality in the classroom. While this guidance is intended to prevent partisan bias, it has also led to uncertainty about how to approach difficult topics. Some educators, lacking expertise in areas like the Middle East conflict, may choose to avoid these discussions altogether. However, shutting down conversations about political and social issues does a disservice to young people.
Without education on these topics and training in how to engage in difficult conversations, students miss out on opportunities to develop a nuanced understanding of the world. Worse, they may grow up ill-equipped to engage thoughtfully with societal challenges.
Dialogue as a Tool for Empowerment
This is where dialogue finds its true purpose—not as an end in itself but as a means to empower young people. At Solutions Not Sides (SNS), we developed the Olive Branch Award for schools, colleges, and community institutions as a framework for discussing Israel-Palestine. Rooted in values of non-violence, equality, and the rejection of hate, the programme takes a “win-win” approach to contentious issues. Within this structure, dialogue becomes a tool for critical thinking, helping students articulate their beliefs while respecting others’ perspectives.
The Olive Branch Award is not about reconciling opposing views or forcing agreement. Instead, its purpose is to foster understanding—of social dynamics, emotional experiences, and conceptual frameworks—so that students can make informed decisions about how to act. By engaging in dialogue within this framework, young people learn how to stand up for their beliefs while recognising that others may hold different views. Crucially, they also learn that hatred has no place in a diverse, compassionate, and fair society.
To be effective, dialogue must be approached with care and supported by specific tools that become embedded in school culture over time. Skills such as active listening, effective communication, and empathy are cultivated over a three-year period through the Olive Branch programme.
One common concern is that engaging with differing perspectives could be seen as endorsing them. However, dialogue is not about validating all views equally but about understanding why different perspectives exist. This allows students to reflect critically without feeling pressured to accept or condone harmful viewpoints.
At SNS, we emphasise that education is not about excusing or justifying views but about understanding why people hold them. This approach enables students to develop both intellectual rigour and emotional intelligence—essential qualities for active citizenship.
Supporting Schools Through the Olive Branch Award
Schools and colleges that participate in the Olive Branch Award benefit from a range of activities and resources designed to foster dialogue. We support staff and students through training, networking, an annual conference for staff, ambassador programmes, priority places on our residential courses for students, and opportunities to engage with peacebuilders from Israel-Palestine.
This summer, the first cohort of Olive Branch schools will complete the three-year programme and receive accreditation. Some of the initiatives we’ve seen include:
- Lunchtime and after-school clubs exploring conflict-related topics like journalism
- School murals dedicated to peace and justice
- Students founding interfaith initiatives in their schools
- Peer-to-peer learning projects following SNS workshops
These initiatives show that, when given the tools to navigate complex discussions, students become empowered to address difficult topics with inclusivity and empathy.
The Bigger Picture: Why Dialogue Matters
In today’s polarised world, it’s easy to feel disillusioned about dialogue, especially when faced with deep-seated divisions. But avoiding difficult conversations only fuels misunderstanding and hostility. Through structured dialogue, we can equip young people with the skills to engage with complexity with confidence and compassion.
The point of dialogue isn’t just to resolve differences; it’s to empower individuals to think critically, act ethically, and engage constructively—even with those they disagree with. In doing so, we prepare the next generation not just to lead but to build a society rooted in mutual respect and shared humanity.
At its core, dialogue is about more than talking—it’s about listening with purpose and acting with integrity. Within a framework that prioritises education over division and understanding over hate, it becomes one of the most powerful tools for creating a better future.
Why Every Child Deserves to Hear Their Own Song
Written by Matthew Dix
Matthew Dix is a primary school teacher of 17 years. He continues to work as a teacher whilst working as a primary reading consultant across Nottinghamshire. He is the Founder of resource website Manic Street Teachers and has recently launched 'Musician of the Month' to create a culture of musical appreciation and understanding across schools, with a focus on diversity and inclusion.
Growing up, music wasn’t just background noise – it was how I made sense of the world. It was my mum playing the piano, it was watching her dance to ABBA and playing, of all things, a mandolin! It was my dad blasting heavy metal one minute and Vivaldi the next. Nothing quite says ‘peaceful Sunday morning’ like Iron Maiden shaking the windows!
As I reached adolescence, my heroes ranged from Tupac Shakur to Freddie Mercury, from John Lennon to Annie Lennox. Following their lives taught me that struggles were universal and at the end of a struggle, there can still be success. Behind every composition, every lyric, every guitar solo was a person with a story – often one of resilience against all odds.
Music took centre stage when I formed an indie band in the early 2000s. It wrote songs, often with the children’s help, for primary school subjects when I began my career as a teacher. It was a focus of mine when I created the music resources for ‘Manic Street Teachers’. Music has always been in the foreground of whatever I do.
A decade ago, I took a job in an inner-city school in Nottingham with 98% of children having English as an additional language. In fact, there were 52 different languages spoken in total. And yet, the music curriculum offered very few mirrors of themselves or windows to other worlds. A colleague and I decided to introduce a new musician every month in the hope of engaging children who seemed vacant during singing assemblies, and often unable to discuss and share their likes and dislikes in music lessons.
It wasn’t until we chose Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan as a musician one month that parents started to leave emails, children started to talk and a buzz started to make its way through school. I remember a child telling me that their parents listened to him at home. We shared his life, his trials and tribulations, his achievements and videos of his performances. Children could explain his words and what they meant. They were fascinated to learn that he had come to England in 1985 and brought Qawwali music (a form of Sufi Islamic devotional singing originating in India) with him. Children finally saw themselves and their families in our curriculum.
👉 Free Sample (Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan) – sign in required
It got us thinking. What if a girl thought that she could never be a classical musician because she looked nothing like Mozart, Beethoven or Bach? Well, we created resources all about Florence Price, whose compositions were forgotten until, just 16 years ago, when a whole collection of her work was rediscovered in a dilapidated house on the outskirts of St. Anne, Illinois.
What about a child who believes music is impossible with a disability? We shared Stevie Wonder’s story, Jacqueline du Pré’s story, and we shared how Joni Mitchell had to detune her guitar to learn to play another way after polio affected her hand. Let’s show them how these artists found ways to keep playing, no matter what. The show must go on, as Freddie Mercury said!
We live in a global world – our music curriculum should reflect that. Instead of saying, “Let’s learn African drumming,” let’s say, “Let’s learn about Babatunde Olatunji, a Nigerian drummer who learned by immersing himself in the culture and following the master drummers in his village, eventually being given a cowbell and then various Yoruba drums, took his craft to America, became an important friend to Martin Luther King Jr., and became a world-wide sensation!”
If a child thinks you can’t play music when you’re old, then share the story of The Buena Vista Social Club – how Ry Cooder, a producer from the US, had a twist of fate when musicians from Mali had their visas delayed so he ended up in Cuba, reuniting forgotten musicians like Ibrahim Ferrer, who was still shining shoes to make ends meet. The musicians, most of whom were over 70 years old, finally had a chance to tour the world with their music.
👉 Read our EYFS eBook (Ibrahim’s Song)
Context is always king, and every child loves a story. I believe the person behind the music is as important as the music itself, and becomes the bridge to another world. Teaching children to empathise helps them feel less detached from the music they are studying. Music bridges cultures, generations, and experiences in ways that words alone sometimes cannot.
That’s why I created Musician of the Month – a simple, accessible way for teachers to bring diverse musical stories into their classrooms. It’s directly linked to The Model Music Curriculum and the 9 Protected Characteristics and, as the site develops, we hope it will help schools show every child that they too can be a musician. To a child in school, the right musician, with the right song, at the right moment could well hit the right notes!
👉 Musician of the Month + Free Sample (David Bowie)
True Inclusion Starts with Seeing Students for Who They Are
Written by Purvi Gandhi
Purvi Gandhi, MA MBA FCCT CPsychol is a psychologist, educator, and advocate for student wellbeing, leadership, and equity in education. With a career spanning clinical psychology, secondary and post-secondary education, and educational leadership, she bridges mental health and education through evidence-informed practice. She is the author of A Little Guide for Teachers: Student Mental Health, a practical resource for educators.
Imagine stepping into a new environment where your name is mispronounced or shortened to something more “convenient.” It’s a minor inconvenience, perhaps, but one that over time chips away at your sense of belonging. Now imagine this happening every day, in a place where you are supposed to grow, learn, and thrive.
For many students, particularly those from ethnic minority backgrounds, this is not hypothetical—it is their daily reality. And yet, within the walls of our classrooms, the power of a name is often underestimated. Names are not just labels; they carry history, identity, and cultural heritage. To overlook them is to overlook the student. To get them right is to affirm who they are.
Beyond Good Intentions: Why Inclusion Must Be Active
In a recent workshop with early career teachers, we explored what it really means to create inclusive classrooms—beyond policies, beyond slogans, and into the lived experiences of students. The session began with a simple but revealing exercise: storytelling.
One African tale set the tone. A great flood sweeps through the land, and every animal finds a way to escape—even the mighty crocodile. High up in the trees, the monkeys spot a fish struggling in the floodwaters. Moved by compassion, they “rescue” it, placing it safely on a branch. Of course, the fish begins to suffocate.
The lesson is clear: good intentions do not equate to good outcomes. In education, a one-size-fits-all approach can be just as ineffective as the monkeys’ well-meaning mistake. Every student has unique needs, shaped by culture, background, and identity. The question is, are we paying attention?
Consider this: A teacher, in an off-the-cuff remark during a classroom discussion on relationships, casually states that arranged marriages are “backward” or “unfair.” It’s not intended to harm, just a spontaneous reaction based on personal beliefs. But what if a student from a culture where arranged marriages are the norm is sitting there, quietly absorbing that statement?
Perhaps this student has spent years trying to navigate the space between two worlds—balancing the values of their family with the expectations of the society they are growing up in. Now, in a single moment, they are made to feel that their culture is lesser. They may go home carrying this conflict, questioning their parents, their upbringing, and where they truly belong. Suddenly, they feel like an outsider in both places—neither fully at home at school nor at home with their family.
This is the impact of uninformed assumptions. Educators do not just teach subjects; they shape perspectives. A thoughtless comment can widen the gap between a young person and their identity, making them feel alienated rather than empowered.
To be truly inclusive, we must move beyond our own perceptions and seek to understand the lived experiences of others. We must create spaces where students don’t feel forced to choose between their heritage and their education, but rather see their identities reflected and respected within the school environment.
Because, just like the fish in the flood, what a student truly needs may not be what we assume is best for them. Listening, learning, and adapting is the key to meaningful inclusion.
Rethinking What It Means to ‘See’ Our Students
An alternative version of the tale drove the point home. In this retelling, the animals hold a competition to see who can see the farthest. The eagle soars and surveys the horizon, the giraffe gazes across the savanna, and the monkey takes in the view from the treetops. When it’s the fish’s turn, it can only see the immediate waters around it. The other animals laugh—until the fish explains that while they focus on the distance, it detects subtle currents, hidden dangers, and movements they cannot perceive.
Here lies a second lesson: students should not be judged against a singular definition of success. The education system, often fixated on rigid measures of ability, risks missing the unique strengths that lie beneath the surface. A student who struggles with traditional assessments may have an extraordinary ability to lead, innovate, or empathize—if only we are willing to recognize it.
The Power of a Name
Of all the discussions that day, one stood out: the impact of names. Inspired by Bennie Kara’s work on diversity in education, we asked teachers to explore their own names—their meanings, origins, and the personal stories behind them. What followed was a conversation about identity, belonging, and the small but significant ways that schools can either affirm or erode a student’s sense of self.
One student shared how her intended name was “Yah Yah,” meaning “gift from God,” but her parents, wanting to make life easier in an English-speaking country, renamed her Ysabella. She was seated alongside another student, Anjali, whose name means “gift to God.” Here were two students, from different cultures, bound by the same idea: they were gifts.
Imagine the impact of recognising that connection—not as a coincidence, but as an intentional act of inclusion. When we take the time to pronounce a name correctly, to understand its meaning, or even to ask about it, we are sending a powerful message: You belong here.
Moving From Awareness to Action
It is easy to talk about inclusion in broad terms. It is harder—but far more necessary—to embed it into daily teaching practice. The workshop concluded with three core reflections for teachers:
- Cultural Competence: How much do I really know about my students’ backgrounds? Where are the gaps? What steps can I take to learn more?
- Equity Over Equality: Do I recognize the unique needs of my students? How can I tailor my support to meet them where they are?
- Celebrating Identity: What cultural capital do my students bring into the classroom? How can I acknowledge and honour it?
Education is not just about imparting knowledge; it is about shaping identities. A student who feels unseen will struggle to engage. A student who feels valued will thrive.
The work of inclusion is not grandiose. It does not require a total overhaul of curriculum or sweeping policy changes. It starts with the smallest of acts: a correctly pronounced name, a thoughtful seating plan, a recognition that success looks different for everyone.
And perhaps, that is the greatest takeaway of all—belonging is built in the details.
References:
Fernando-Smith,L and Aow, A, (2024), ‘Letting go of imposter syndrome: writing herstory.’ In Disruptive Women – A Guide for Equitable Action in Education, Corwin
Kara, B., 2020. A little guide for teachers: Diversity in schools, Corwin
Pierson, R., 2013. Every kid needs a champion. TED Talks Education.
You can’t just teach a child out of poverty
Written by Sean Harris and Katrina Morley
Sean Harris – Co-author and Director of PLACE (People, Learning and Community Engagement) at Tees Valley Education. Katrina Morley OBE – Co-author and CEO of Tees Valley Education.
One of the most urgent and complex issues schools face today is the deep-rooted impact of poverty on the communities they serve. For school leaders and educators, this isn’t just about data, it’s about real lives, and the daily reality of hardship affecting pupils and families.
The challenges of poverty extend well beyond the school gates. It influences everything from children’s learning experiences to their long-term life chances, often reinforcing cycles of inequality that are difficult to break.
But poverty and inequality do not have to be an inevitable part of the story we write in schools and communities.
Practice to Page
In Tackling Poverty and Disadvantage in Schools, we set out to create more than just another education book.
This is a collaborative guide, designed to support busy educators and stretched school leaders with practical tools and real-world strategies to help dismantle the complexity of inequality.
It reflects the voices of those working at the frontline, educators, leaders, and organisations who know what it means to walk within communities facing adversity.
This book is built on shared experience. It’s by the sector, for the sector, and with the sector.
It also challenges the rhetoric that the only or best way to tackle inequality is through excellent teaching alone.
‘While research consistently highlights the importance of high-quality teaching, policy and practice too often lean on this narrative to imply that a great teacher alone can overcome deep-rooted inequality. In reality, the schools making meaningful strides in addressing disadvantage recognise that delivering education in their communities requires a far more nuanced and holistic approach.’
Sean Harris: co-author
Director of PLACE (People, Learning and Community Engagement) at Tees Valley Education
No egos, no silos
What makes this project distinct is its collective approach. We brought together perspectives from across the UK and beyond: educators, researchers, policymakers, and thought leaders who are tackling educational inequality every day.
Each contributor brings school-based insight, evidence-informed thinking, and grounded practices. From making classrooms more inclusive and curriculum more equitable, to fostering a culture of social justice across whole-school systems, the book is packed with adaptable and proven strategies.
‘Schools alone are not the solution to tackling inequality, but they are an essential part of it. That’s why it was vital for this book to be shaped by the expertise and lived experiences of schools and organisations that are actively driving change. True progress comes through collaboration. Only by working together can we begin to understand and address the complex, enduring nature of disadvantage.’
Katrina Morley OBE
Co-author and CEO of Tees Valley Education
And let us be clear: while schools play a vital role in addressing disadvantage, they cannot do it alone. Education is only one component part of system change.
Optimism included
This book arrives at a critical moment.
Schools are contending with the lingering effects of COVID-19, the rising cost of living, and increasing poverty-related barriers to learning. We wanted to offer something constructive: a resource that doesn’t just highlight the issues, but offers a roadmap for making a difference.
The book has been written with busy leaders and educators in mind. We wanted to help educators foster environments where every child feels seen, supported, and capable of thriving, no matter their background.
Using the book
We know there’s no one-size-fits-all solution. Schools are diverse, complex places where staff face many competing demands. That’s why we designed this book to be both accessible and flexible.
The content is organised around three core themes:
- Whole-school approaches (e.g. leadership and school culture)
- Classroom practices (e.g. including teaching methods and curriculum design)
- Wider interventions (e.g. mentoring, family support, and industry partnerships)
These strands provide different entry points, depending on where your school is in its journey. Whether you’re a new or established teacher looking for classroom ideas or a senior leader seeking systemic change, we hope this book meets you where you are.
Each chapter follows a consistent and easy-to-navigate format:
Research Recap: We summarise key studies and evidence that help contextualise the topic. It’s rigorous but digestible, with signposts for further reading if you want to go deeper.
Case Studies: Real examples from schools and organisations that have put theory into action. These are not silver-bullets but grounded insights from practitioners who’ve tested and refined their approaches.
Reflection: Tools and activities for applying the ideas in your own setting. These can be used individually or with your team. Plus, we’ve included access to an online hub with templates, planning guides, and reflection exercises to keep the work going beyond the page.
Each chapter also ends with concise takeaway points—perfect for sharing over a quick chat with a colleague (caffeine optional, but encouraged!).
Professional generosity
What truly sets this project apart is the generosity and dedication of our contributors. Everyone involved has donated their time and waived royalties. Profits from the book will go directly to supporting initiatives that benefit children and young people living in poverty, through our work with Tees Valley Education.
This spirit of collaboration and shared purpose is at the heart of everything we’ve created here.
We didn’t want to produce another title that simply restates how hard things are or overcomplicates the problem. Instead, we focused on creating a useful, empowering, and hopeful resource for professionals in education.
Importantly, we’ve also been careful to approach the topic with dignity and respect. Children and young people facing poverty are not “problems” to be fixed. The real challenge lies in the systems and structures that make life harder for them. It’s those systems we must work to change—and we believe schools can be powerful agents in that process.
We hope Tackling Poverty and Disadvantage in Schools contributes something meaningful to the ongoing conversation about equity and education. Our thanks go to every school, leader, and educator who continues to show up, innovate, and stand with their communities.
From Lettuce to Leadership: The Recipe for Real DEIB in Schools
Written by Sharon Warmington
Sharon is a diversity of race advocate and trainer, and CEO of the National Black Governors Network. She is an experienced academy trustee and school governor, corporate governance specialist. As an international Governance Practitioner and local school Governor, Sharon Warmington is also a public speaker, facilitator and a strategic leader, having worked nationally and internationally on projects in the private, public and third sector.
The room fell silent. A lone voice cut through the air like a scalpel.
“If we always do what we’ve always done, we’ll always get what we’ve always got.”
A murmur of agreement rippled across the table, but the truth hung heavy. Governance in education wasn’t evolving fast enough. The diversity deficit on school boards was glaring, and yet the solution was tantalisingly within reach.
Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Belonging (DEIB). A well-rehearsed mantra, a neatly arranged acronym, but in practice? Too often, it was all lettuce—bland, predictable, offering little more than a base layer. And just like a dull, uninspired salad, governance without true DEIB lacked texture, colour, and depth.
The First Ingredient: Diversity
Imagine stepping into a kitchen with only one ingredient. The outcome is predictable—uninspiring, repetitive, and ultimately ineffective. The same is true for governance.
Without representation across different racial, ethnic, gender, and socioeconomic groups, leadership decisions are made in an echo chamber. Diversity isn’t a ‘nice-to-have’; it’s the foundation upon which every other principle of DEIB is built. Without it, equity and inclusion remain unattainable.
The Dressing: Equity
Equity isn’t about throwing different ingredients into the mix and hoping for the best. It’s about recognising that some have been denied access to the kitchen entirely.
A governing board dominated by a single demographic can never truly understand the systemic barriers faced by underrepresented communities. Equity means creating real opportunities, ensuring those at the table have the tools, training, and access they need to contribute meaningfully.
It’s the dressing that brings balance—without it, even the freshest ingredients fail to shine.
The Crunch: Inclusion
Diversity and equity alone are not enough. Inclusion is the crunch, the bite, the assurance that every voice at the table is not just heard but valued.
A tokenistic approach—where individuals from diverse backgrounds are present but sidelined—rings hollow. Effective governance ensures all voices are not just present but shape the conversation. That means active listening, real participation, and a culture where speaking up is met with action, not silence.
The Secret Ingredient: Belonging
The final element, the one that brings it all together, is belonging.
A salad with great ingredients but no harmony is still a mess. The same applies to governance. If board members feel like outsiders—constantly having to prove their worth, explain their existence, or justify their perspectives—then DEIB has failed.
Belonging is the ultimate goal. It’s the point where leaders no longer ‘accommodate’ difference but celebrate it. It’s where representation is no longer an initiative but an expectation.
The Governance Gap: A Recipe for Change
The Department for Education (DfE) mandates that schools and trusts prioritise diversity in governance. The Public Sector Equality Duty requires active promotion of equality and inclusion. And yet, how many governing boards truly reflect the communities they serve?
The data tells its own story. Governing boards remain overwhelmingly white, predominantly male, and heavily weighted towards those over 50. Meanwhile, young voices, Black and Asian perspectives, and disabled representation remain painfully absent.
The solution? A new approach.
Turning Theory into Action
If schools are serious about DEIB, they must move beyond rhetoric. This means:
- Mapping the gaps: Who is missing from your governing board?
- Expanding the search: Looking beyond the usual networks—engaging with Black professional groups, student unions, disability organisations.
- Creating real pathways: Making governance accessible for those who may never have considered it.
DEIB isn’t about optics—it’s about outcomes. Schools with diverse governance bodies are better equipped to navigate the complexities of modern education. They make stronger decisions, build more inclusive policies, and ultimately create better environments for students.
The Call to Action
So, the question isn’t whether DEIB is important—it’s whether we’re brave enough to do the work.
Are we prepared to step beyond our comfort zones? To challenge long-standing norms? To build governing boards that truly represent the schools they serve?
The choice is ours. We can keep serving up plain lettuce, or we can create something extraordinary.
I Am Not Afraid
Written by Rachida Dahman
Rachida Dahman is an international educator, a language and literature teacher, and an educational innovator. She started her career in Germany as a teacher trainer advocating the importance of relationships above academics. She then moved to Luxembourg where she teaches German language and literature classes to middle and high school students. She is an award-winning poet, co-author of the best-selling book, ATLAS DER ENTSCHEIDER Entscheiden wie die Profis- Dynamik, Komplexität und Stress meistern.
School hallways are noisy. So much simmers in those corridors during breaks, and even more seems to ferment in teachers’ lounges, in the spaces of our schools as a whole. One might call it a festival of unresolved relationships, one that struggles to keep pace with the relentless pressure of coexistence, confrontation, and interdependence. By the end of a school day, we often stand slightly hunched, worn out, with restless legs that refuse to find stillness.
Amid this disorder, schools often become arenas of fear, environments where anxieties are not merely tolerated but systematically nurtured. These fears dance unseen and unchecked while the guardians of order, the teachers and educational institutions stand by as mere spectators. But what if this breeding ground of fear is not simply the result of carelessness or overwhelm, but rather the consequence of constant monitoring, control, and evaluation?
In my own school days, things were not so different. Students were expected to know little, challenge nothing, provoke no one, and certainly not disrupt. Teachers, on the other hand, constantly provoked, carried their small scandals into the school and sometimes even into the classroom. They unsettled us, and when we went home after school, we had little to report. Math, German, English, sports—subjects isolated from one another. Even the teachers lacked unity; how could the subjects possibly converse?
I remember a history teacher who filled gaps in knowledge with half-truths about controversial topics, as though he were a chronicler from another era. His stories brought the past to life, yet within the fog of his legends, the facts remained hidden. In math class, so-called wisdom from “great thinkers” was often reduced to hollow phrases—”Einstein probably said something like this.” These words sounded clever but were no more than glittering packages. In physics, correlation was sold as causation, “The moon and bad weather? That can’t be a coincidence!” Stereotypes were used so liberally that distinguishing between reality and fiction became a challenge.
In sports, fear was a constant companion. Our physical education teacher constructed scenarios of dread, “No training? That could lead to serious long-term damage!” The art teacher presented false dichotomies: “Either you draw like Van Gogh, or not at all.” Where were the nuances? Where was the space for creativity and individual thought? The music teacher, meanwhile, sought constant excuses to shield herself from constructive criticism: “It sounded fine, didn’t it? The acoustics were just bad.” The pursuit of excellence seemed replaced by a need for approval.
Parents observed this strange game, unfolding beyond grades and lesson plans, a struggle for “the best” for their children, though it was unclear what that even meant anymore. The best opportunities, the greatest potential, the most tailored support, concepts they discussed without ever fully grasping, haunted by the question of how much of their desires were genuine and how much were projections of societal expectations.
Children sensed what adults dared not articulate — that this was as much about demands as it was about support. What simmered here weighed on all of us, a pervasive burden whose origins no one could pinpoint but whose presence was undeniable.
This was a time when sports and music icons of the 1990s sparked cultural revolutions. With their bold hairstyles and extraordinary performances, they left powerful impressions that extended far beyond their fields. They influenced not only fashion and trends but also the values and norms of an entire generation, embodying success, individuality, and determination. Yet the school corridors simmered. A cacophony of invisible tensions echoed between the walls, while the daily routines left unspoken feelings like a tangled web between teachers, students, and parents.
Parents understand that children learn as much about social dynamics in school as they do about academic content. The lessons taught in classrooms are only a fraction of the school’s essence. It is the interpersonal relationships and encounters that leave lasting imprints, shaping self-worth. Sadly, this invisible yet essential layer often remains untouched and unformed. Students seem to be molded into compliant chess pieces in the game of knowledge dissemination. But what of their independence, their ability to express themselves, their courage to be authentic?
“Tell me how you speak to my child, and I will tell you who you are to them.” Language shapes our self-perception, and this is especially true in schools. The way a teacher speaks to students often reflects how they perceive their relationship with them. Are the words mere rhetorical phrases repeated out of habit, or is there genuine dialogue? Students are perceptive, quickly recognizing whether a teacher’s words make them feel valued or dismissed.
When communication is honest and direct, it creates a space where students can trust that their thoughts and feelings are welcome in school. Sadly, this is not always the case. Too often, we encounter linguistic “theater tricks,” half-truths, exaggerated dramatizations, or the subtle construction of false dichotomies, “Either you understand it, or you just don’t have what it takes.” Language, however, could serve a different purpose, reducing fear and building authentic connections.
The days of teachers as untouchable authorities, almost divine in stature, are over. This venerable role, where educators not only imparted knowledge but also moral judgments and ethical frameworks, has been increasingly supplanted by social media. Today, it is platforms and influencers, not teachers, that shape the values and norms of our students. Algorithms and digital streams dictate what is right and wrong, eroding the teacher’s role as a moral compass.
When I ask educators, “What do you think was truly happening then, and is it definitively different today?” I rarely receive a clear answer. Perhaps the point is no longer the answers but the questions themselves. Asking the right questions is a form of resistance in this era. Questions that inspire rather than inflame, that touch rather than coerce.
The fear of new technologies like artificial intelligence (AI) may be significant, but the greater threat lies in the erosion of human connections that should form the bedrock of education. True education requires profoundly personal and meaningful relationships, not just to address technological challenges but to renew and solidify the interpersonal foundations of teaching and learning.
Children are acutely sensitive to language. They are deeply aware of repetition, which is why rituals carry emotional weight. As adults, especially in classrooms, how we speak to them matters immensely. Every word, every gesture reflects what we hope for them and believe in them. Relationships cannot thrive in utter chaos; they falter when they cannot take root in fertile ground. We must create spaces where these relationships can flourish, enabling genuine connections and fostering a positive learning environment. It takes courage to step into these spaces of vulnerability and to cultivate an atmosphere where students not only learn but also experience what it means to be part of a community. Every child has the right to sovereignty over their feelings and their story, and these spaces should be defined by openness and respect.
The future of education lies in empowering these voices, breaking rigid structures, and rethinking what is possible. As educators, we must rise to the challenge of creating spaces of vulnerability where students can safely express their fears and hopes, fostering an environment where learning is not only possible but joyful. By engaging in true dialogue, we can transform the corridors of our schools from places of fear into spaces of growth and understanding.
Only then can schools become what they were meant to be, vibrant places of learning where every person, regardless of their background or history, has the opportunity to thrive and find their voice. In honoring children as autonomous beings with their own stories and inalienable emotions, we unlock the fundamental relationships that make learning meaningful and transform schools into places of deeper humanity.
Al-Anon and Alateen - for relatives and friends of alcoholics
Written by Sonia Elmer-Soman
Sonia Elmer-Soman has a background in both law and education. She is a qualified law lecturer and has many years’ experience working as a legal practitioner in two prestigious law firms in the City and now within a reputable law firm local to her home town in Essex. She is also a qualified primary school teacher and is a guest writer for professional journals.
Most of us have heard of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), but less well known about is Al-Anon and Alateen.
I met with Cheryl, a long-term member of Al-Anon, and she explains what Al-Anon and Alateen do, how they work and what impact they may have on the lives of members who are suffering from another’s problem drinking.
Q: What is the difference between AA, Al-Anon and Alateen?
A: Alcoholics Anonymous (AA) is a fellowship who come together from all walks of life and who share one common goal – to recover from alcoholism and achieve continued and sustained sobriety. Less well known about is Al-Anon (18+ adults) and Alateen (12-17 yr olds). Like AA, Al-Anon and Alateen are groups of men and women, of all faiths and walks of life, however this time with a focus on the person(s) affected by another’s alcoholism.
Q: Are there any entry requirements to joining Al-Anon and Alateen?
A: The only requirement is that you are suffering from the effects of another’s alcoholism.
Q: Are Al-Anon and Alateen a religious organisation?
A: No. Though “God” is referred to, it is a spiritual God, a higher power and everyone is free to define their own “higher power”. For some that may be a bird, a rose or the moon. For others it may be the group, prayer or meditation. For some the higher power may change over time.
Q: What does it cost to join?
A: Nothing. There are no fees associated with joining Al-Anon or Alateen. This is a non-profit organisation. Members are invited to make a donation towards room hire and/or literature at the end of the meeting. There is no requirement to contribute.
Q: Do the groups offer advice and/or counselling?
A: No. We are not trained therapists. “Let it begin with you” is an Al-Anon slogan which is the primary focus of the program. It suggests we shift the focus of our attention from the alcoholic in our lives to ourselves and begin living our own lives rather than interfering with theirs. The program offers a welcoming, friendly and confidential environment where group members understand in ways others cannot the difficulties we have experienced. We are free to speak of whatever is on our minds and we may share our experiences. Whilst the newcomer may need to offload a challenge or problem, most people find the focus naturally shifts away from the alcoholic and they start to gain insight into their own behaviour and how we may have contributed to our situation and how things may improve. We refrain from giving advice. There are many tools within the Al-Anon readings. Together we can find coping strategies to aid recovery of ourselves and to help us concentrate on our own wellbeing, behaviour, actions and reactions. Together we understand that we are powerless over alcoholism, that our lives have become unmanageable and we seek ways to assist our daily lives. We cannot control what the alcoholic does or does not do and we should not seek to change or control that which we cannot. Instead, we focus on the control we have over ourselves. We acknowledge that alcoholism is a disease and we develop understanding that, through our actions, we aid recovery of ourselves and, potentially, the alcoholic if we seek to change our own actions and feelings about the situation rather than focussing solely on the actions and feelings of the alcoholic.
Q: What do meetings typically involve?
A: A warm, friendly, non-judgemental welcome from a group of individuals who are going through or have gone through the same/or similar challenging journey as you. A cup of tea and a box of tissues are at the ready if needed. Each week a different topic is covered. This could be anything from ‘Resilience’ to ‘Hyper-vigilance’ to ‘Boundaries’ to name just three, but there are many more. We may do an inspirational reading for that topic and then offer up the table to anyone who would like to contribute either with a reading or with their thoughts or own personal experience which may or may not be related to the chosen topic. There may be shared experiences , but each member will have their own unique perspective. By keeping an open mind, you may hear something you can identify with, which may assist you to move forward. Newcomers often feel they have nothing helpful to share but often they provide golden nuggets that are incredibly beneficial to long-time members.
Q: Will the meetings help me and/or my family and the alcoholic?
A: We receive so much positive feedback. Al-Anon is about changing the actions and behaviours of ourselves rather than focussing on the alcoholic (as we have no control over the latter). Let it begin with us. These meetings might show us that ways in which we thought we were helping may have, in fact, negatively impacted potential recovery of ourselves and the alcoholic. In the absence of judgment, blame, guilt and shame, individuals feel free to openly discuss matters and often say they feel like a weight has been lifted when they leave the sessions.
Q: What is the minimum amount of sessions I should participate in?
A: It is completely up to the individual. We say it is best to go for at least six sessions, to learn how Al-Anon works and decide whether the program is for you. Sometimes it may not be the right time, but often people come back. There is no minimum or maximum term. Some individuals come for a few weeks, some dip in and dip out when convenient for themselves. Others have been attending for many years.
Q: Will what I say be treated in confidence?
A: Yes, anonymity is the foundation of Al-Anon. In order for everyone to feel safe, it is part of the ethos and ethics of the group that everything spoken about within the group stays in the group.
Q: What may be the benefits of joining Al-Anon and Alateen?
A: There is something hugely comforting in knowing that there are others, many others, out there who share the same challenging problems as you. Alcoholism is a family disease which affects the whole family. Young people attending Alateen meetings or adults attending Al-Anon in person or online, can see that they are not alone and that they did not cause the problem, neither are they responsible for their relative’s or friend’s drinking. Young people can benefit from sharing experiences with others of their own age and this often helps them understand their alcoholic relatives and recognise they are not to blame for the difficulties experienced with their home/families and could, in time, lessen the effects of having lived with alcoholism.
Q: Which one word would you use to describe Al-Anon and Alateen?
A: Insightful.
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Poor mental health and resulting drug or alcohol addiction spans generations and boundaries of socio-economic and cultural backgrounds. It is not a life-style choice. It is a disease which affects the whole family, relatives and friends.
For too many families in the UK, there remains a stigma associated with mental health and addiction issues. Guilt, shame, embarrassment and denial prevent sufferers and their families from seeking early intervention. All too often, without support, sufferers and their loved ones hide in plain sight and battle illness behind closed doors which leads to isolation, depression, anxiety and desperation.
Speaking with Cheryl and seeing first-hand the wonderful support offered to families and friends of alcoholics is heart-warming and fundamentally essential to the wellbeing of those affected.
Wherever possible, it is crucial that institutions such as the NHS, Education, Social Services, Addiction Services and the Criminal Justice System signpost this free service, so that families and friends of alcoholics can, if they so choose, access this vital service. The hope is that their voices are heard and their lived daily reality is understood. No longer should families and friends be isolated behind closed doors and remain the silent witnesses to addiction.
What one word would I use to sum up these groups? Empowerment.