What Does it Mean to Belong?
Written by Hannah Wilson
Founder of Diverse Educators
Some people think that framing DEI work under belonging softens it and dilutes it, whilst I do understand this critique, I personally believe that belonging is the door-opener to the conversations about DEI, it is the way-in for many to enter the space.
Belonging to me is being seen, being heard, being valued, being safe. Belonging is not about fitting in but about being accepted, loved and respected for who we are. When we belong, we feel included, we feel connected and we can flourish as we can be ourselves without fear of judgment. We belong when noone makes us feel like an outsider, noone others us. We belong when we are celebrated, not tolerated.
I always start my training session with any stakeholder group by exploring the language and unpacking the acronyms that can inhibit the work. I share the linguistic/ acronym journey of DI (Diversity and Inclusion) becoming EDI (Equality, Diversity and Inclusion) and iterating into DEI (Diversity, Equity and Inclusion). With the J for Social Justice appearing with some saying DEIJ and others saying JEDI. Noticeably, the addition of the B has been a more recent trend in the last 3 years.
Belonging appeared in our consciousness and in our vocabulary in the wake of George Floyd’s murder. As we saw corporate commitments to doing the work, I observed a trend on LinkedIn. People in my network who were Heads of DI/ EDI/ DEI were becoming Heads of Belonging. A subtle shift in language which reframed their role. Their remit was to be responsible for levels of belonging in their organisation and to use this lens to scrutinise policies, processes and practices.
I started sharing this observation with the school people I was training and it always resonated – show me an educator who would answer No to the question: Do you want all of your learners to belong in your classroom/ school? In some ways it is a bit of a trick question when you then follow up with more probing questions about belonging in the curriculum and in the library. They have already said Yes so how do they now do a U-turn and say No?
I began to extend the questioning to the adult experience: Which adults belong in your school? Which parents belong in your playground? Who belongs in our education system? Each question was a provocation to invite some reflection and discussion, to shift people out of their own bubbles and to exercise some awareness and some empathy for others.
Using my coaching skills to create a safe space, to take people beyond their comfort levels and to increase their consciousness is a facilitation strategy I am constantly refining. A safe space means that we can be courageous and that we can challenge one another but that we do it in a mindful way. The wheel of power of privilege exercise I regularly use is a tool that can create high levels of discomfort but it is a great way to unpack the ‘perception gap’ and emphasise why some people might have a greater sense of belonging than others.
Linking the census data for the country to the workforce census for our profession to attrition data for the sector to hate crime data in society to staff and student survey data, is another way to increase awareness of who belongs and why this might be. As an English teacher I use the data to tell the story of a space and I ask the question: What story is the data telling us about who belongs here?
So when I am delivering keynotes and workshops on Creating a Culture of Belonging, with the acute awareness that I am a cis-het, white, able-bodied woman who is facilitating the conversation, I am not letting people off of the hook, but I am instead creating a container for some radical candor. I am holding up the mirror to myself and to others to recognise that we might have taken our own sense of belonging for granted and that we might assume that others feel/ experience our spaces in the same way as we do, when the reality is that there are gaps which can quickly become gulfs.
I remind people in our training sessions that belonging and love are at the centre of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Noone can progress to the upper tiers of esteem or self-actualisation without a sense of connection. More importantly it is also a reminder that we do not belong if our physiological and safety needs are not being met. A stark example of this is found in the Just Like Us 2021 Report – Growing Up LGBTQ+ published as we came out of lockdown.
Belonging is the goal of our DEI work. Belonging is also the outcome of our DEI work. Belonging surveys can be helpful as they baseline how people are currently feeling about their experience – we can baseline and benchmark belonging by role, by group, by identity and listen to/ learn from what we are being told. Belonging is not fluffy, when used intentionally, it instead creates insight from the different portals it opens up for us to explore.
For example, women between 30-39 who are parents/ carers and who are seeking flexible working vote with their feet and leave our sector in droves each year. How can we create more family-friendly schools to create a greater sense of belonging for that group of professionals?
For example, mixed race is the fasting growing racial identity in primary school pupils nationally. How can we recruit and retain more teachers of colour who represent the communities that we serve? How does having increased role models in the staff increase the levels of belonging for our pupils?
A culture of belonging is one where we are courageous and curious, one where we are open to challenge and committed to change. It is one where we ask searching questions and where we listen to the often hard truths that are revealed.
So as everyone jumps on the ‘Belonging Bandwagon’ and it becomes the newest buzz word at edu-events, can we make sure we are not skirting around DEI issues but getting to the heart of the matter? And when we are talking about belonging at events and in our schools can we be more aware of who is in the room, of who is talking, of who is listening and what that also tells us about the sense of belonging or the lack of?
Diversity Doesn’t Begin at School
Written by Josiah Isles
Josiah Isles is an Assistant Headteacher and science teacher at Ladybridge High School in Bolton. He is passionate about improving the life chances of students from disadvantaged backgrounds.
As a member of the Diverse Educators community, I am clearly preaching to the converted when I talk about the importance of diversity in our educational settings. Instead, I want to discuss how you build positive relationships within a diverse school and the wider community. It’s a journey my school has embarked upon, full of unexpected twists and turns.
Listen to your student body
As a school, we lead by example, championing the values that are important to us. We want students to understand and see who they are, how their views fit in and how to develop their opinions. By pursuing that path, the school demonstrates behaviours that students can replicate in their lives.
But we have found that there are issues more important to the students that we wouldn’t even think of. For example, our Year 11 students recently highlighted the issue of colourism within the Asian community during a whole school presentation. We have also had to learn more about what our students call ‘pretty privilege’, a term associated with those deemed ‘conventionally pretty’. By listening to our student body, we can understand more and be better prepared when issues and challenges arise.
Immerse yourself into the community
We need to create an environment whereby students don’t have to switch codes or behaviour to accommodate school life. We should allow students to proudly display their cultural identity, which they can embrace as they transition into adulthood.
To do this successfully, we need to reach out enthusiastically to our local community. At Ladybridge High, we have a lot of Muslim students and have actively developed a relationship with our local mosque. Imams have been invited into the school to meet senior leaders. When an issue arises, we look at it from the student’s point of view. We need to step into the shoes of a Muslim student who attends school five times a week, an Islamic school on Saturdays and their local mosque every evening.
We need to remember that being a diverse school can have a huge impact on the wider community. A school is, after all, the heart of the community. Start by organising small events that will bring the community into the school. Low attendance doesn’t mean you are failing; staging regular events will send a powerful message to residents.
Ladybridge High recently held a Warm Hub event for our local community. We had people able to answer any questions visitors had about Universal Credit or food banks. They could purchase pre-loved school uniform. We even had NHS nurses offering smear tests. Attendance wasn’t great, but we will persist by staging further events. Why? We want people to see us as part of the community and an accessible resource.
Training, training, training
Yes, staff training is important when developing relationships within your school and local community. But remember to take your time. Change won’t happen overnight. Think about how you will embark on the journey. Identify areas where there are issues such as unconscious bias.
Ladybridge High has a zero tolerance to any student that uses racist or misogynistic language. The severity with which we challenge such behaviour sets an important tone for the school. Of course, there can be a wariness on the part of teachers about approaching the concepts of diversity. Individuals are rightly concerned about causing offence. Training should help teachers be comfortable with using the right words – especially when explaining offensive language. The BBC Teach website, for example, has articles written by teachers sharing their views and experience of diversity. Many more of us need to pore over its contents to take ideas that we can implement in our schools.
Let me be clear, building positive relationships within a diverse school and the wider community is not easy. It’s not something that can be completed in a term or even a school year. And you need to persist – even when you face insurmountable problems.
Josiah Isles is an Assistant Headteacher and science teacher at Ladybridge High School. For more information about BBC Teach, please visit www.bbc.co.uk/teach
What if we replace toxic masculinity with intersectional masculinity?
Written by Zahara Chowdhury
Zahara is founder and editor of the blog and podcast, School Should Be, a platform that explores a range of topics helping students, teachers and parents on how to ‘adult well’, together. She is a DEI lead across 2 secondary schools and advises schools on how to create positive and progressive cultures for staff and students. Zahara is a previous Head of English, Associate Senior Leader and Education and Wellbeing Consultant.
In 2021, I led a conference at Beaconsfield High School on how schools can overcome toxic masculinity by revisiting their gender behaviour policies. 16 schools, students and parents heard from Hira Ali, Harry Moore, Leila May Lawrence, Aaron Pandher and the Global Equality Collective, The Terrence Higgins Trust and Headteacher, Peter Tang, on how we can create equitable behaviour policies and create a culture of respect in secondary schools. Over a year on, the discussion continues as schools are now tasked with tackling the rise of online hate and misogyny fuelled by Andrew Tate.
In schools, amidst the pressures of a recruitment crisis, a cost of living crisis and exam period, education about misogyny and sexism is being called on. As someone who is heavily involved in leading, researching and writing about this area, I worry, as an educator, as a parent and as a human, we’re talking more than we’re listening. An uncomfortable opinion perhaps: in the age of social media, content consumption, likes, comments and information overload we are overwhelmed with the problems, the dangers and fear. Whilst these feelings may be justified, we are looking for quick solutions before we understand the problems of toxic masculinity.
For those of us who parent and teach, we know young people can be insecure sponges, looking for a sense of belonging, validation and acceptance. Amidst the doom and gloom of school, online comparison and tackling their mental health, they’re also looking for fun. We know how impressionable young people are. We know for the most part, they just want to fit in – and therefore they look and listen for where this might be. So many have found a sense of belonging, entertainment and acceptance online with accounts and material that perpetuates – in this case – historic and systemic misogyny. The conference I led and articles I’ve written are tools to support schools to resolve this. What I realise now, though, is I was yet again facilitiating a great deal of information (albeit, valid and necessary) without listening to those it affected: the boys.
Professor Scott Galloway explains that our understanding of masculinity has been misconstrued and in many ways, caught up, in toxic masculinity – or what we perceive to be toxic masculinity. The data, research and case studies show that young men need support, whereas social media and the news imply masculinity is the problem – this all becomes a vicious cycle of information where many of us end up none the wiser.
Of course, as a woman and a woman of colour, I am well aware of the whataboutisms, counterarguments and rebuttals that may be flung my way. For the sake, success and safety of all our students, we now need to pause and create space for intersectional male experiences of our young people.
I say this because, as simple as it may sound, every young boy we come across has a different lived experience and whilst we hurry to find out how to make sure our children are safe, educated and staying away from the vile content they come across online, are we actually listening to them?
- Are we listening to the boy who has sisters he loves and respects, and knows exactly how to ally with women – because he is surrounded by strong people?
- Are we listening to Black and Asian boys who are still living amidst the trauma of George Floyd’s murder, and recently, the tragic murder of Keenan Anderson?
- Are we listening to Muslim boys who feel their faith and identity are constantly under a negative spotlight, or a spotlight entrenched in patriarchy and misogyny?
- Are we listening to boys who don’t like sport, but don’t know where else to go on the school playground?
- Are we listening to boys who are gay and don’t know where to turn, who to talk to, out of fear of what may happen?
- Are we listening to boys who are constantly told to be strong, but don’t know how?
- Are listening to boys who are vulnerable, without dismissing their feelings?
- Are we listening to boys who are struggling with their mental health but don’t know where to turn?
- Are we listening to boys who are told they will take on responsibility for the family once they’re old enough?
- Are we listening to girls who have wonderful relationships with their fathers and brothers and are collectively working together for equality and equity?
- Are we listening to boys and girls who share healthy relationships?
I could go on, and on and on. And, I know the same questions apply to women – intersectional feminism is perhaps a more well known term than intersectional masculinity. Equally, there is an absolute understanding and appreciation that intersectional masculinity is systemically privileged and of course, within that hierarchy of privilege, some men are more privileged than others. Having taught boys for a good few years and now, parenting a boy, I think part of the solution here is not just to teach them, but to listen. To understand who they are and who they want to be; to listen and then question their understanding of social norms, gender stereotypes and more. To understand their relationships, their communication, their hobbies.
There is research to suggest teenagers fare better in group therapy; the best conversations I’ve had with boys is in small groups, in the classroom. It’s the best place to listen to their lived experiences, challenge and discuss their views and form trusting and safe relationships – for them and young female students, too. Plus, the banter can be pretty entertaining.
Listening is a part of a wider solution and I know we are all still trying to figure out what that is. For now, though, let’s change their algorithm and introduce them to positive online male role models such as:
- Steven Bartlett
- Vex King
- Jay Shetty
- Marcus Rashford
- Ali Abdaal
- Dr Alex George
…and I’m sure the list can be much longer. There is absolutely a need to rid systemic and social structures of misogyny. Part of that battle – perhaps, part of the solution – is to listen to the experiences of young men too.
“Andrew Tate is a father figure to me” - lessons learned from talking to young people in schools
Written by Bold Voices
Bold Voices is an award-winning social enterprise preparing and empowering school communities to recognise and tackle gender inequality and gender-based violence through the delivery of educational talks, workshops, training and resources for young people, teachers and parents.
On January 3rd, the Bold Voices team arrived for our first staff training of the year. We love delivering staff training in schools, and we were excited to be back, if slightly unprepared for the early start and January rain. The session ran smoothly and the staff were engaged and passionate, all seemed as usual until we asked if there were any questions. Dozens of anxious hands shot up and they all had the same question – “what can we do about Andrew Tate?”
It wasn’t a surprise to any of the team, especially after the most recent news over the Christmas break, but the number of times his name has come up in schools in January has been unprecedented.
Back in July 2022 we began to hear students talk about Tate, and in order to get ahead of what we could see was a growing issue, Bold Voices released our Parent and Staff Toolkits to equip adults with the skills and confidence to have conversations about the ‘King of Toxic Masculinity’ with the young people in their lives. As the education sector catches up with the fact that this popular figure is not going anywhere anytime soon, we have seen a whole range of approaches to dealing with his popularity amongst teenage boys.
One strategy which we’ve seen is the blanket ban – sanctions for anyone who says his name in school. Another approach is whole school assemblies to speak about the harms of his content and messages. The young people we’ve spoken to don’t feel this works; they either say they feel silenced, or that the school is making too much of it. It is completely understandable that this is how many schools are responding. We certainly don’t have all the answers at Bold Voices, and we are always keen to hear back from other educators and parents who have found effective ways to address this issue (please let us know!) but for now we are encouraging schools to focus on one method that we know can have an impact: starting a conversation.
However, the reality is, these conversations are not easy. Here is a snippet of how they normally go:
“Miss, can I ask you a question? What’s your opinion of Andrew Tate?”
“Well, I’m much more interested in your opinion – what do you think of him?”
“He’s a top G miss. He teaches men how to be men. He makes money. He gets females. He’s a fighter. He is a traditionalist. He has four Bugattis. Those trafficking charges are lies. Those things he says? Taken out of context. Miss, it’s the Matrix. He’s a father figure to me.”
These conversations don’t always feel possible, or respectful, because these young people have internalised the message that anyone arguing against Tate is an idiot, hasn’t woken up to the truth, or they’re simply wrong. This makes it much harder to do our jobs – but we have seen success. In a school which had banned any mention of his name amongst pupils, when we opened up a conversation in a classroom, the feedback we received afterwards was: “I thought Andrew Tate was good but I realised what he does and all the hate against women.”
So what can we do to make more of those conversations successful? How can we move from fear of even starting a conversation, and those that go nowhere, to helping young people to choose for themselves if they want to continue to support Tate and his harmful messages?
Our response is three things (and they’re not easy):
STEP 1: TALK ABOUT HIM – BUT DON’T CONDEMN HIM
This can feel extremely difficult when the messages Tate puts forward are so explicitly dangerous and incite violence, but the more we condemn his words, the more we play into a right or wrong binary that pushes defensive teenagers even further away. Narratives around the Matrix incorporate the idea that there is a “great lie” going on, and figures like Tate (and Trump and other populists who brand themselves as anti-establishment) use this condemnation to push the idea: “that’s what they want you to think”. Break out of this binary by opening a dialogue and empowering young people to see all sides and opinions and to have the autonomy to make their own decisions about who they follow and believe. The aim should not be to have our children believe everything we believe because it’s scary when they don’t; we want to raise a generation of critical thinkers who can form their own opinions.
STEP 2 – MAKE ANDREW TATE UNCOOL AGAIN
This ties into avoiding condemnation – when we stand up and tell young people he is dangerous we give him notoriety and power. Andrew Tate has branded himself as the antidote to cancel culture, so his popularity is not tied to his morality. Not only that, his messaging around gender roles mean that he can discredit those who speak out against him with misogynistic myths – case in point, I asked a student if he would stop liking him if Tate was convicted for the trafficking charges and he said “well, the women are probably just lying for money and attention.”
Attempts to laugh at Andrew Tate have been more successful in damaging his reputation than pointing out how dangerous he is. The closest to this that I’ve seen is this twitch streamer’s video and Greta Thunberg’s infamous tweet. What I don’t like about these tactics is that they use old tropes of emasculation to put a pin in his puffed up performance of masculinity. Relying on his tools to tear him down won’t create meaningful change in the long run (we’ll just see a newer version of him spring up to his place).
STEP 3 – ASK THE RIGHT QUESTIONS
This brings us to the most important point – we need to change what questions we’re asking about Andrew Tate – instead of asking “what can we do about him?” we need to ask “what is it about him?” And “what is it about this current climate that allows his version of masculinity to thrive?”
His brand of masculinity is what draws people towards him: words like traditional, realist, role model for how to be a man. To most adults he looks like a cartoon of all the most ridiculous tropes of toxic masculinity; the cars, the money, the ideas about mental health. The alleged trafficking of women, the misogyny. So when we’ve looked at why he’s so popular the next question needs to be, what is the context and climate that means he is appealing?
When having these conversations I like to zoom right in, then all the way out. Instead of arguing his actual points with evidence or debating his intentions, I ask questions about what he represents, then look at the bigger picture, and ask why is that appealing right now?
The context in which boys are gravitating towards Andrew Tate is one in which they feel victimised and powerless. As an educator in the gender-based violence sector this can feel frustrating. But ignoring it and saying, “suck it up”, men have had power since the beginning of time, is not helping anyone.
Conversations around violence against women have completely transformed since I was at school less than 10 years ago. In a way that we can see paralleled with the movement for racial justice, conversations around gender-based violence have been radically shifted by events of the past decade: The #MeToo movement, Everyone’s Invited, Ofsted investigations, Sarah Everard’s death and many more. It’s confusing for young people.
Girls, trans and non-binary pupils have more awareness and knowledge than ever (thank you TikTok) about the ways in which they are victimised within a culture of gender-based violence. And they still suffer many different forms of this. But boys feel under siege too. They feel more under threat of being falsely accused than ever. Andrew Tate offers them a different narrative from the one in which they feel they’ve been cast as the baddies. There are no alternative models of masculinity on offer. We go into schools and tell young people that what Andrew Tate puts forward is an unrealistic stereotype of masculinity that ultimately harms everyone. Sometimes they see that, but when we exist in a system that punishes those who don’t fit a stereotype, we construct a reality where it is preferable to be an Andrew Tate rather than a man who can express his emotions and show weakness and vulnerability.
The quote at the beginning says it all. “Andrew Tate is a father figure”. This is how teenage boys feel when there aren’t any other role models for masculinity that seem valuable in today’s world.
The options are; see the problem with masculinity and try your best to not embody it, or go sit with Andrew, the realist, who can show you how to stop apologising for being a man in a world where stereotypes are just ‘the way things are supposed to be’.
As educators on this subject we can tell you that having these conversations on the ground is hard work. It’s a painful slog that feels unrelenting and sometimes futile. Watching boys copy his physical stance, treat me with suspicion, shout down my logic and questions and cling to their idolisation of him makes me realise something; they are clinging tightly because he makes them feel safe and understood. And taking that away is difficult and can feel cruel when we aren’t offering good enough alternatives. If it was anybody but Tate, I would never question a vulnerable year 9 boy’s father figure and role model. I’m so glad he has that. I wish it wasn’t one who would teach him that depression isn’t real, that he should value women as possessions, and that his worth is measured in what he can win, and how dominating he can be. I want to give him a hug.
LET’S COME BACK NOW TO OUR THREE SOLUTIONS.
1- Talk about him, don’t condemn him. At Bold Voices we will keep going into schools and having these conversations. And if you have young people in your life please use our toolkits to start having these conversations too. This part is the intervention and it’s more necessary than ever. The aim is not to condemn and create a right or wrong, it’s to open a dialogue where there is more than one narrative to choose from.
2- Make Tate uncool – but not him specifically and not through emasculation. Instead through promoting other role models of masculinity who seem more appealing than Tate. We look to people like Marcus Rashford, Stormzy, and Steph Curry (get in touch if you have others you promote!)
3- Look at the conditions that make Tate popular. Ask questions and don’t stop asking.
WANT TO LEARN MORE?
- Toolkit: How to Talk to Young People About Andrew Tate – Bold Voices
- Article: (7 minute read) How to respond to boys inspired by Andrew Tate Mark Roberts – TES
- Article: (5 minute read) Andrew Tate: How schools are tackling his influence Alice Evans – BBC
- Article: (6 minute read) What is going on with this Andrew Tate hand gesture? Sophia Smith Galer – Vice
HOW CAN WE HELP?
Bold Voices is an award-winning social enterprise preparing and empowering school communities to recognise and tackle gender inequality and gender-based violence.
Resources: Activities for the classroom, toolkits, blog posts and lesson plans for discussing gender inequality and gender based violence. Sign up to be the first to hear about new resources we create through our newsletter.
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A Mother Tongue: Not a Metric of Disadvantage
Written by Elen Jones
Director at Ambition Institute. Former teacher in South London and West Wales.
We celebrate International Mother Language Day on 21st February. Let’s re-frame the discourse around EAL and celebrate the wealth that comes with being multi-lingual rather than considering those who have EAL as deprived because of it.
I had a great aunt who once explained to me why she didn’t teach her children to speak her mother tongue: Welsh. She was a passionate educator, a teacher all her working life and she supported me in applying to and eventually attending university. She believed that learning Welsh would take up space in her children’s memories, space that could otherwise have been used for something more useful. So the children didn’t learn any Welsh.
Now since my aunt made that decision, over half a century ago, we know much more about the process of learning and how our memories work. Thanks to the awareness of cognitive science that is accumulating in the sector, we know that long term memory has huge capacity. No knowledge is going to fall out of a person’s long-term memory in order to accommodate another language. However, being EAL, having a mother tongue other than English, is often framed as a challenge at best, a disadvantage at worst. Seldom is the discourse a celebration of the diversity of language in our communities.
Language is the tool we use to communicate, to make meaning and to articulate our thinking. We can only use what we know to do this. The word for turquoise in Welsh is gwyrddlas, literally translated greenblue. In Welsh to think and the mind are the same word: meddwl. These subtleties of perception and understanding give those of us who are EAL more, not less, to think with and about. Studies into the cognitive processes of those who are bilingual have found a number of advantages for cognition.
Like any aspect of identity, each individual with EAL is shaped by their own experience and one’s mother language is just one aspect of identity that intersects with many others. Many EAL learners who enter the English education system early in their lives fare well, at least as well as those with English as a mother tongue. Those who enter the education system later tend to fare less well. Pupils who are EAL and live in poverty are less likely to make good educational progress than their peers. Supporting EAL pupils to progress along language levels and grade boundaries, and to become fluent in the languages of their communities, is important, of course; but in the drive to do so, do we sometimes omit the ways in which EAL pupils can enrich the understanding of others by sharing their perceptions and experiences?
On International Mother Language Day let’s actually celebrate. The diversity of language, and of thinking and culture that come with it, add huge wealth to our communities. The day-to-day support for people with different identities that translation, re-explanation and careful communication requires of us as members of communities with a range of mother languages builds inclusion. It’s a habitual reminder that we are all both other and the same in many regards.
I recently had a long train journey from London to North Wales. On the last leg I shared a seat with a German family. I speak almost no German. They spoke almost no English. The mother had two sons and the boys squeezed in between the two of us. I understood almost nothing of their conversation, but as a mother of young children I completely understood the efforts involved in trying to keep two energetic, hot, excited and travel-weary children entertained and contained for a long journey. The final part of the train journey follows the coast of North Wales along the Irish Sea. As the train approached the coastline one of the boys called out meer. In Welsh y môr, in English the sea. Without a common language we all knew what we were talking about.
Using language is one of the qualities that unites us as humans. Let’s celebrate the way in which we all use language, and all use different languages, to communicate and form communities. All else being equal (and too often it is not) pupils are richer, not poorer, for celebrating their mother tongue.
Decolonising educational spaces: Lunar New Year 2023 reflections
Written by Isabelle Pan
Isabelle Pan is a secondary teacher. She is of Chinese heritage, grew up in France and England, and has studied in Scotland and California. She is from besea.n, Britain’s East and South East Asian Network, and is also working for MA Consultancy. Her interests are in equity in education, promoting books by authors of marginalised backgrounds to young people, and dance. She can be found at @readingwith.misspan (Instagram), and @mspanlanguages (Twitter)
For 3 of the 5 East and South East Asian Lunar New Year festivals, New Year’s Day was on Sunday 22 January this year (Spring Festival, Seollal and Tet), with some countries celebrating for 2 weeks until the Lantern Festival. To bring awareness to the festivals, besea.n (Britain’s East and South East Asian Network) published some Lunar New Year school resources which are culturally sensitive and accurate, and include lesson plans, assemblies, reading lists and form time resources to schools.
In my own school, I presented 3 assemblies, to Years 7, 8 and 9. These were my 1st assemblies ever in my teaching career. Needless to say, I was terrified in the leadup to them.
I had thought about doing assemblies on East and South East Asian (ESEA) cultures before, but though I may be a teacher who presents to 28 students a lesson 5 times a day, and a dancer who has often got up on stage in front of hundreds, speaking to a room of 300 young people for ten minutes was a little too daunting. I avoided materialising this idea, for fear of students being disengaged, or worse, racist.
Naturally, I was hugely nervous on the day. But what surprised me was how, as soon as I spoke into the mic, my nerves faded away. Being able to stand in front of an accumulated total of 900 students, to share with them the traditions of the 5 LNY festivals as well as my own family’s celebrations, and to see students engaging with the topic – this has been such a joy.
The assembly talked through the similarities between the 5 festivals as well as the unique traditions of each festival. Lunar New Year festivals in East and South East Asia mainly come under the following five types:
- Spring Festival – China, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Singapore, Philippines, Indonesia, Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia, Brunei, Macau
- Tết (Tết Nguyên Đán) – Vietnam
- Seollal – South Korea, North Korea
- Losar – Tibet
- Tsagaan Sar – Mongolia
In the assembly I also spoke about the growing tendency for the festivals to be more inclusively referred to as Lunar New Year (rather than just Chinese New Year) as an umbrella name for the five festivals, and to reflect just how many communities celebrate the festival. In addition, I featured photos and videos of my family celebrating in London but also my uncles, aunts, and cousins celebrating in China. There are many misconceptions about LNY and so the goal of my assembly was to give a fuller, clearer, and more sensitive view of the five festivals.
I was touched by the positive reception these assemblies had. Afterwards, students and staff congratulated me on the assembly, told me what they learnt, asked me more questions about LNY, and students I didn’t know greeted me and wished me a happy Lunar New Year in the corridor. One colleague told me ‘thank you for your assembly, it was really informative. I have a Korean guest staying with me and now I know to wish her a happy new year this Sunday’. Children told me ‘Miss now I know we should call it Lunar New Year and not Chinese New Year’.
I staunchly believe in decolonising our education systems, and the way the students (and staff) responded to this assembly is just another piece of evidence that such a change is desired and needed by our students. Young people want to learn more about a variety of cultures – it interests them, it enriches their minds, challenges them to think critically, and builds connection and empathy.
For the students and staff I presented to, this was only 1 assembly. It will not completely overhaul their belief systems. Even on the day I wrote this post, 2 students made ignorant comments with regards to East and South East Asian cultures, in front of me.
The effect such comments have on you does not disappear, but as a teacher you learn to take things less personally. It is still disheartening to hear such comments, but it reflects more on the other person than on you. And it also highlights the fact that education about ESEA cultures and communities is just so dire in this country. The education about ESEA communities in our system needs to exist – I cannot even say it needs to improve, as something needs to exist before it can be improved – in order to challenge anti-ESEA attitudes.
Though schools may occasionally speak on racism in PSHE and assemblies, the nuance is not yet there in many schools. Even when discussing anti-Black racism, I have seen resources that contain traumatic images or videos, triggering Black students who may be in the room. And painfully for me as an ESEA educator, I’ve noticed that issues facing ESEAs are often missing from resources about racism.
I wouldn’t say it’s the duty of ESEA people to speak up, as there shouldn’t be that kind of burden, but I also think change will be so much more powerful with ESEA communities believing we can take up space and speak up for ourselves in schools.
Equally, non-ESEA colleagues are also crucial. A colleague in the Y8 team, who is not ESEA, is the one who had convinced me to do the Y8 assembly, then convinced me to do the Y9 one, and then I thought, ‘I might as well do the Y7 one too’. I’m grateful for her encouragement and her belief that this was an important topic.
Throughout my career, students have always asked me “Miss, where are you from?” I never told them as I didn’t know what they would do with that information, and this fear heightened with every racist experience I had in school. But with these assemblies, I finally very publicly shared stories from my Chinese heritage and family. I was proud of my Chinese heritage.
My nerves which come with talking about ESEA cultures or even showing photos of ESEA faces will not simply fade away with delivering one assembly, because young people (and adults) will continue to make ignorant comments. But I feel increasingly better-equipped, motivated, and empowered to help young people overcome prejudices towards ESEA communities, and hope that there can be a movement to decolonise our education system, so that future ESEA educators and students can be publicly proud when talking about their ESEA heritages.
Diverse Educators: A Manifesto - Book Review
Written by Madeleine Spink
Madeleine completed a PGCE in Citizenship at the IOE after studying at the University of York and Goldsmiths. Madeleine now teaches Sociology, PSHCE, Oracy and History at Langley Park School for Girls in Bromley.
Diverse Educators: A Manifesto is edited by Hannah Wilson and Bennie Kara, with contributions from over 100 educators, structured around the Equality Act 2010.
It starts with a quote from Maya Angelou that “diversity makes for a rich tapestry, and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter what their color.” The books format is best described as a tapestry. It is made up of ten chapters, one for each of the nine Protected Characteristics (Age; Disability; Gender Reassignment; Pregnancy and Maternity; Marriage and Civil Partnership; Race; Religion and Belief; Sex; Sexual Orientation) with a tenth chapter exploring intersectionality.
The book is collaboratively produced and mixes personal and professional experiences. Educators generously sharing their experiences and learning include primary and secondary teachers from all age groups, backgrounds and life experiences. The book develops the readers empathy to the diversity of educators, as well as the diversity of opinion of people within each protected characteristic. For example, the chapter on disability includes personal experience, the need for disability in RSE, practical tips to involve students in curriculum planning and data on the permanent exclusion rates for disabled students. It feature’s ACT’s own Lee Jerome on Intersectional Citizenship as a status, a feeling and a process. The chapter on Transgender inclusion is also insightful and talks about Lucy Meadows, whose death should not be forgotten by teachers who have followed her into the profession.
Deep questions are asked throughout, and the contributions informed my thinking about whose responsibility inclusion is, whose work it often ends up being and whether inclusion work is for the long term or ‘en vogue’. I would have loved to have seen a chapter talking about working class teachers existing in the middle class school environment, and how this identity intersects with the protected characteristics.
The variety of editing and writing styles did make the manifesto lack cohesion and feel inaccessible at times. The structure takes time to get used to, and can be navigated either by starting with the editors overview and selecting the sections that appeal to a particular interest, or by focussing on the key takeaways and ‘contributions’ to the manifesto at the end of each chapter. This changes depending on how the chapter has been edited, and some chapters are referenced while others lack referencing. It is a tapestry of a book, to capture such a variety of perspectives is a huge achievement, but not everything will appeal to everyone.
Diverse Educators is a book to dip in to, reference and use as a guide to practical steps that can be taken to inclusion. It would be a good choice for a staff book group and comes with a reading guide and questions. There’s a lot of ways this resource can be used and shape teaching, learning and the school environment.
My Experience as an Neurodivergent Student Teacher
Written by Catrina Lowri
Catrina Lowri is the founder of Neuroteachers and a neurodivergent teacher, trainer, and coach. As well as having 22 years’ experience of working in education, she also speaks as a dyslexic and bipolar woman, who had her own unique journey through the education system.
I hid my Neurodiversity in my professional life for many years, and here is why.
Student days
When I first started teaching, back in the 90’s, I had never met another neurodivergent teacher. I declared my dyslexia on my PGCE. The course tutor had no idea what to do with the information and told me, if I wanted to learn about Special Educational Needs and Disabilities (SEND), I needed to take extra courses. Our only training on SEND was half a day of project work where we produced materials to support different ‘needs’, then shared them amongst ourselves.
As I thought this was inadequate, I offered to give a half hour talk about my dyslexia.
Attendance was voluntary.
Only half the cohort turned up.
Afterwards, another student commented that “Dyslexia is a class issue. If you are working class, you are thick’ and then he pointed at me “But if you are middle class you’re ‘dyslexic’”. He made air quotes and rolled his eyes. Not the reception I’d been hoping for. After that, I stayed quiet about my dyslexia.
My first Manic Episode
I had a serious car crash at the start of my third teaching practice. My car flipped and rolled onto its side. My passenger, and I had to escape through the sunroof. Luckily, I was driving a second-hand Volvo. Both of us escaped without a scratch.
No harm done. Or so I thought.
I stood on the pavement, watching emergency services deal with the debris and seeing to the driver, whose car hit me, (and escaped with only cuts and bruises). I had an overwhelming feeling that I must be special to survive such a terrible accident.
I remember telling the paramedic that I was fine and
“Didn’t even skag my tights!’, and then giggling hysterically.
I started to stay up late, writing down my brilliant ideas. I wasn’t sleeping and was hallucinating. Although I was still going into my placement school, my lessons went on tangents, and I swung between excitement and irritation. I was sent home until I’d seen a doctor, but they put me on the wrong medication.
As a quick caveat, I am not anti-medication. Medicine can save lives, but I was given SSRI’s (selective, serotonin, reuptake inhibitors) without a full assessment. My doctor didn’t know that I was bipolar. I had no diagnosis. SSRIs can trigger manic episodes in some people, and that is what happened to me.
Surviving the accident ‘proved’ to my manic brain, I was impervious to metal. I stopped looking when I crossed the road and started taking other risks. One day, I nearly got hit by a car. Fortunately, my erratic behaviour was witnessed by a medical receptionist on her way back to work. She persuaded me to speak to a doctor, who assessed my need as acute and found me a bed in a secure ward.
I was in hospital for 2 weeks, then a day patient for a further 6.
I had to re-sit my final teaching practice.
Resitting
I started masking whilst re-sitting teaching practice (TP) at a lovely inner city secondary school in the North of England. I did much better because I was no longer manic. I also moved to a tiny house on the edge of the moors, and lived alone, far from distractions. This had two advantages; I couldn’t afford to go out, and I had no one to go out with, so I worked and slept.
Occasionally my ND got exposed; I’d make spelling mistakes, or misunderstood what my mentor wanted because of my auditory processing difference. Generally, no one noticed. I kept my bipolar at bay by going to bed early, then getting into school at the same time as the caretaker, so I could have some headspace. Then my tutor came in to observe me.
“You seem so different to the last time I observed you – what happened?”
I had lied to him. I told him the reason I went to hospital was due to physical injury caused by the crash and that I missed some of my TP because I was ‘a bit anxious’.
I didn’t tell him about the suicidal ideation or being impervious to metal. I felt like if I said this, he would say I shouldn’t work with children. I love my work, so I stayed quiet
I passed the course.
I’m not proud of lying, but I did what so many ND people do to get through life. We mask. Because we will have to, until the world changes to accommodate us.
The Anti-Racist Journey of a Secondary School in Manchester
Written by Laura Morris
Laura Morris (@MissMorrisManc) is head of RS and Citizenship at a secondary school in Gorton, Manchester, with additional whole school responsibilities for SMSC and anti-discrimination. She has been teaching for 15 years. Her website is MissMorrisManc.co.uk.
Before the Black Lives Matter mobilisation of 2020, and all that followed, staff at the school I work at in Gorton, Manchester, would largely have felt positively about the work we were doing to celebrate our students, myself included. We went all out for Black History Month every year with relevant lessons across departments and external visitors invited in (as showcased in this video from October 2019), we had very few complaints of racist incidents from the students, and some work had been undertaken to decolonise the curriculum, particularly in subjects like RS, Citizenship, History and Geography. We could pat ourselves on the back for a job well done!
With all the work we’ve done since, and the huge changes that have been made, I now feel embarrassed to reflect back to pre-2020 when I thought we were already doing enough for our students. We weren’t.
Before we broke up for summer this year, I wrote a report detailing what we’ve done so far with the hope it could give ideas to other teachers and save them some time if they are starting from scratch. It’s been a process of trial and error and, while we’re still far from perfect and keen to collaborate with other schools to help us further improve, I am confident that we are now having a much more positive impact on our students in making them feel seen, appreciated, safe and loved.
In this blog I will summarise the most important parts from the report for people who are keen to improve the anti-racist practice in their school.
Named members of staff
Towards the end of the 2020-21 academic year, my colleague Ben Wilson was given a TLR to focus on anti-discrimination work in the academy and I was made associate assistant head with the same priority, which I realise puts us in a very fortunate position. Our head teacher included this anti-racist work as an objective in the school improvement plan and believed it was necessary to appoint people in posts to achieve our goals. I can’t stress enough how important it is for all schools to be willing to give time and money to staff doing this work and can only hope the example from our school will help other teachers feel confident to take similar proposals to their head teachers.
Staff groups
If I had to single out the most impactful elements of our process, it would be the staff and student groups. So many changes have been made but it’s hard to think of anything we’ve done that didn’t first come from conversations held in these spaces.
I realise how lucky I am to work alongside enough people who recognise the institutional racism present in education and were prepared to give up their time to do something about it, and that’s how the anti-racist working group (ARWG) was formed in September 2020.
We created sub-groups, each taking responsibility for a different area that we decided needed to improve, like the behaviour system and reporting incidents of discrimination, student voice, the curriculum, and staff CPD.
If you don’t feel as though you’ve got enough members of staff with the interest or time capacity to take on this work, there is no need to panic, as it is the students who have guided so much of what we’ve achieved. They are the experts and are invaluable to bringing about change.
Student voice
Student meetings started in early May 2020 during lockdown on Zoom with organisations like Kids of Colour (who still lead student meetings half-termly) and The Black Curriculum, and continued informally during lunch times when we returned to school the following academic year. It became clear how important it was for our young people to be given time to talk about their experiences of racism both in and outside of school.
At the start of the 2021-22 academic year we interviewed Year 11 students for anti-discrimination ambassador roles. They decide the agenda for the separate fortnightly KS3 and KS4 meetings, which are held during the 30-minute form time slot, lead the discussion, and, while I am in the room (to take back any pressing concerns to the ARWG), the ambassadors take responsibility for the meetings. Students discuss their personal experiences outside of school, what they believe needs to change in school, and anything that is going on in wider society that they would like to talk about. Any students who don’t feel comfortable reporting incidents of discrimination to teachers can go to the ambassadors who then feed back the details to Ben or me.
One of last year’s anti-discrimination student ambassadors said: “I feel like having this space for students is really important because we come together as a community to discuss issues that really matter to us and we think of ways to resolve it and deal with it.”
We have an annual anonymous anti-racist student survey, to help us identify issues that may be affecting students who don’t attend the meetings, and the student groups have delivered assemblies in response to the feedback to educate all students on discriminatory behaviour they might knowingly or unknowingly be perpetuating.
Towards the end of the 2020-21 academic year, Year 11 students wrote down examples of times that staff had said or done racially or culturally insensitive or offensive things. I recorded them reading out the statement of another student, to ensure anonymity, and played the video to staff during a CPD session.
Hearing the accounts woke up so many members of staff to the experience of the students, which has meant that all the work that has followed, that has resulted in an extra time commitment for pretty much everyone working in the academy, has been easier to achieve. There’s little room to question or complain about the need for change when you have student testimony to support the cause.
Discriminatory incidents
Discussion in the student groups highlighted the need for us to better deal with incidents of discrimination between students. Racism was very rarely reported but feedback from the student groups revealed this was down to the students feeling as though nothing would happen as a consequence, either because they had reported something in the past and hadn’t heard how or if it had been dealt with, or their belief that it wasn’t a priority for staff.
Ben created a reporting system (that you can read about in more detail in the report), which was trialled at the end of the 2020-21 academic year and put in place the following year, which has currently significantly increased the workload of staff who deal with behaviour incidents. But it has also meant we are in a much stronger position to educate and sanction students involved in discriminatory behaviour, as well as validate the feelings of, and bring resolution to, the victims. Different forms of microaggressions are the most commonly reported incident and students have responded incredibly well to the educational sessions they attend with Ben or me as a consequence. Victims are given the opportunity for a restorative conversation, once pre-restorative work has taken place with both students, and they almost always choose to take up this offer in the process.
The number of repeat offenders is minimal, if not close to non-existent. But the number of reported incidents has increased. Students now have the confidence in the school to respond appropriately to accusations of discrimination.
As one of last year’s ambassadors put it: “when I look back at when I was in Year 9, if someone said something racist to me I would just go home and cry. But now I would feel empowered enough to report it and I hope younger students feel that way too.”
Curriculum changes
All subject leaders completed The Key’s anti-racism curriculum review document, which identified areas for improvement for departments already on the journey of decolonising their curriculum and served as a fantastic starting point for teachers who didn’t know where to begin.
After being given department time to plan and create new resources, we’ve had a carousel format for whole school CPD sessions to share these across departments. Most departments now have a member of staff with an objective in their appraisal relating to diversifying their curriculum. During the carousel CPD we have a ‘speed dating’ format where staff spend a few minutes listening to the changes each department has made, and having discussions on the impact and any possible cross-curricular links, before moving on to the next department.
We recognised the need to better signpost these changes to students. Bennie Kara delivered a bespoke CPD session for our staff last December where she suggested posters to be placed around school. Now every classroom has a subject specific poster highlighting content relating to race (as well as sexuality, gender and religion) in our curriculums. Before breaking up for summer, subject specific PowerPoints were shown to all students too so they knew what to expect in the year ahead. Examples of what we teach can be found on our school website.
For more details on the processes above as well as other initiatives we’ve implemented, check out the report in full. Feel free to reach out to me on Twitter too!
Building a Multi-Faith Space
Written by Hollie Panther
DEI Lead, Mental Health First Aider, secondary Science & Psychology teacher and Teach First Ambassador.
Experiences of, and learnings from, establishing a space for prayer and celebration of religious diversity in a secondary school.
The last school I worked in had a majority non-religious student population, but a diverse spread of religions among those who did follow a faith; many religions had just one follower within the student body. A parent of one such student had mentioned that they were uncomfortable being open about their faith due to the amount of discrimination they’d received in the past. As D&I Lead, a large part of my strategy to improve religious inclusion in the school was to open a Multi-Faith Space. When I started, there was no designated place to pray; my previous school did have a prayer room, but it was hidden away and only students or staff who asked about it were encouraged to use it. I wanted to create a space that people from all religions could use, so that it would encourage some sense of community, which I thought those who were the solo followers of their faith within the school might’ve been lacking. I also wanted it to be a place of celebration and curiosity, so that any student could learn about diverse faiths if they wanted to. The space was initially opened as a work-in-progress during Ramadan, to give Muslim students a place to pray and be away from food if they needed it. During this time I also designated a toilet block for Wudu, the practice of washing before prayer, and delivered whole school talks educating students about Ramadan and how to support students who were fasting. Feedback from this was unsolicited and overwhelmingly positive — parents of Muslim pupils wrote in to the school to congratulate and give thanks for the ‘exemplary inclusion effort for Ramadan’; my wish is for this approach to Ramadan to become the norm in all schools, so all pupils can celebrate the diversity of religious practices alongside one another.
Working alongside the Multi-Faith Space was the Religion & Spirituality Society, which I established as a student-led club who met at lunchtime to explore and learn about various religions. The leaders of the society planned activities and presentations for the group, and brought in occasional themed snacks too — I’m hoping the society will meet in the Multi-Faith Space going forwards, to ensure they are surrounded by diverse religions, with the opportunity to learn about them being easily accessible.
The Multi-Faith Space is two small rooms off of the Library, where I have put up shelves on each wall and designated each of the six walls to a major world religion (Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Sikhism, Hinduism, Buddhism). I reached out to religious leaders in the community to see if they would be happy to donate a copy of their religion’s text or any artefacts that could go on the shelves. This took the form of finding email addresses of local Mosques, Churches, Gurdwaras etc, or filling in contact forms on their website, and Googling ‘free copy Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist etc text’, and making sure in my message I invited them to send my request on to anyone else they thought might be able to help out. As a result of this I had an incredible array of items gifted to the Multi-Faith Space by several local religious groups, and had an insightful and useful meeting with the representative of Judaism from the West Sussex SACRE (every county council have representatives of world religions, who are keen to come into schools to deliver lessons / assemblies etc on their religion, I’m hoping the next D&I Lead and teachers of RE will be able to make use of this otherwise untapped source after my introductions — none of the RE teachers in the school had heard of them). Several sources of items and books posted them to me or dropped them in to the school, but I also visited several organisations to collect their donations, which I really enjoyed, as it took me to places I wouldn’t have ordinarily visited within my local community.
I organised a Grand Opening for the Multi-Faith Space to which I invited all the local contributors, as well as staff and religious students. The student leader of Religion & Spirituality Society was invited to cut the ribbon; it was a great opportunity for me to connect up school staff and the pupils who will be running the Religion & Spirituality Society next year with community religious leaders (over donuts and cookies), so that they are able to lean on them for support with the society and also with RE teaching as the school grows. One community attendee at the Grand Opening came from the Baháʼís, a religion I admittedly hadn’t heard of when they initially made contact, but which I learnt much about through talking to this local follower at the event. They also donated several items and books to the Multi-Faith Space, and though they didn’t have a designated wall and shelves, I set up a table in the space to display their information, and was really glad to be representing a greater diversity of faiths than I had originally planned for.
I had a student volunteering with me for their Duke of Edinburgh’s Bronze award, who helped me plan the space and also worked in the Design Technology (DT) room on a signpost to go outside of the Multi-Faith Space, which featured laser-cut arrows, each one with a different place of worship on it — ‘Hindu Mandir’, ‘Sikh Gurdwara’ etc. Unfortunately, because the student could only work on this under supervision by the DT teacher, due to technology issues and absence, the sign was not finished in time for the Grand Opening — I look forward to seeing photos of it in pride of place when it’s completed in the Autumn term.
My advice to anyone thinking about building such a space would be to absolutely go for it — the only spend was on the shelves and snacks for the Grand Opening, as well a couple of items to represent religions who didn’t get back to me to contribute anything. The rest was furniture that was already in the school, and the items and books gifted by the religious community were invaluable — so it’s doable on a tiny budget, I would just encourage anyone wanting to build one to start early, and get your message with the call for help / donations really clear and send it to as many people as possible, ideally alongside an invite to a Grand Opening — and then chase them up if they haven’t replied; I got the impression that everyone wanted to help, but that sometimes there are multiple people within a place of worship who read the emails, so they may not get picked up the first time around.
On the whole, I really enjoyed building the Multi-Faith Space and I’m really proud of what I achieved with this — the Grand Opening was on my penultimate day working at the school, so it really feels like a legacy I’m leaving behind; a tangible asset to the school community that will continue my work without me.