It’s fairly early and I’m snuggled on the sofa with just a side-lamp on whilst Howard catches up on some sleep upstairs and I’m writing a post that’s been swirling round my head since yesterday. I’m already fulfilling at least four of the introvert statements in the quiz in Susan Cain’s ‘Quiet‘ and that’s before I’ve really started –
- preferring to express myself in writing
- enjoying solitude
- ‘diving in’ without interruptions
- not showing or discussing work before its finished
‘Quiet’ was a book that genuinely changed my life. All of a sudden a lot of things made a lot more sense – not only that but I realised that the various oddities I have could be explained under a broad umbrella and it was amazing. Our world values extraversion and is geared up to promote and reward it but we need to take a step back and see how damaging it can be if we don’t recognise that this is not the way everyone is and see things from the introverts’ point of view.
Yesterday there were a couple of weaving Twitter conversations about ice-breakers and ‘motivational’ activities during insets. Some of it was tongue-in-cheek but much of it was a collective expression of doom at those fateful words ‘Everyone get up on your feet…’. I genuinely have a sinking feeling thinking about it. I wrote about my own feeling on this sort of thing a couple of years ago after my own ‘Motivational Incident‘ at a TeachMeet. I hadn’t read ‘Quiet’ then but having spent time analysing myself I think I’ve got more to say on it all so here it is.
There have been two occasions I can think of where I have flat-out refused to take part in a ‘fun’ inset activity. The first was a whole federation day where there were several activities to do and being asked to stand up and juggle fabric was too much for me. To the presenter’s credit she did tell everyone it was optional and we could sit it out if we wanted, but I’m pretty sure I was the only one. The second was a TA inset where we had to split into groups, come up with a type of machine and each act out a part for other groups to guess the machine. I can vaguely see why you might get people who didn’t already know each other to do something like this but even then I’d be horrified. There were two of us in our group who refused to do it and I did feel a little for the presenter as she’d possibly not come across this before but after some gentle persuading she just said it was very disappointing but we could sit it out. That second one was post-‘motivational incident‘ but pre-‘Quiet’ and I was, I have to say, proud of myself.
Coming out as an introvert is an interesting thing. I’ve not shouted it from the rooftops (which isn’t necessarily surprising for an introvert) but I’ve had a fairly universal reaction from the people I have told, most clearly from my mum who, laden with supportive sympathy, said “Oh, no, you’re not” as if I was putting myself down. The realisation that I’m an introvert has transformed the way I think about myself and for the better; by telling people I’m actually bigging myself up. My mum’s (and others’) reaction is perfect evidence of how society values the extrovert and why, as an aside, I think we need to keep it in mind with students we teach.
Me as an introvert
For me, the realisation I’m an introvert has explained a lot of things. For example, I like to spend a lot of time by myself – in the holidays if I don’t plan outings I could stay at home for the whole time not wanting to go and talk to anyone or deal with ‘people’. I think it’s an extension of Cain’s ‘If I had to choose, I’d prefer a weekend with absolutely nothing to do to one with too many things scheduled’. I recognise that it can build up and actually can be bad for my mental health so I do force myself to do things but it really can be forcing myself.
I also realise now that there’s a reason why I find social events exhausting and actually it’s good to give myself restorative space away from things. This recognition is an important one. Knowing that when I have to do something that’s going to put me ‘out there’ that I need to schedule in an opportunity to be away from it a bit too actually makes it easier. There are about 17/20 of the statements on Cain’s list that I would say are true for me but I don’t think that’s made me resigned to the fact I like to do things a certain way, I actually think it’s made me aware of how to cope with trying new things.
Why people are confused and think I’m not one
I can understand why people are surprised when I say I’m an introvert. I’m quite good at getting involved with things, I’ve presented at conferences, I quite like a bit of fancy dress, I’m quite vocal in discussions. All things that seem fairly extrovert. The thing is though I do these things as an introvert. I get involved with things I want to get involved with, I have presented at conferences where I know the set up, I like fancy dress I have control over*, I’m vocal in discussion with people I know and once I’ve got the measure of a situation – I’ll rarely jump in for the sake of it. The technicalities are perhaps subtle but I think for me it’s about controlling a situation.
Introversion and me
Control is key.
Put me in a situation I have no control over and I will panic. If I can find some control I can cope. Leading a project or volunteering to speak means I can control what’s happening. If I don’t have any control, familiarity is important. This can be as simple as obsessively planning a route on Google streetview or when doing a presentation I’ll start in a fairly scripted manner but by the end I’ll be more comfortable and chatty (not that I think this is unusual for people). I won’t start up a networking conversation but if someone talks to me I’m likely to be able to prattle on til the cows come home. It just takes time to get going sometimes.
*Fancy dress is one I’ve had a long-standing theory about. With fancy dress you actually have more control over a situation. My theory, probably starting as a teenager, is that if you are dressed bizarrely on purpose people can’t take the piss. If you’re dressed in something fashionable that you think makes you look hot-as and someone laughs their head off it is crushing. If you’ve covered yourself in glitter or you’re dressed as Bert Raccoon it’s quite clear you’re not expecting mainstream acceptance and you get away with more. It makes it a performance and you can control how people react to you.
I realise that defence mechanisms in extrovert situations are about control and I think introverts get quite good at them. Whether that’s faced with whole-group country dancing, sticking with a small group of friends to take the piss, or taking the plunge and muddling through til it’s over and controlling the come-down.
I think there are two types of extraversion – the one that you control and the one that’s controlled by others. The first you get to pick and turn on and off. If you want to join in you can and you have a good idea of the reaction it will have and how that will impact on you. The second is both controlled and judged by others – a step into the unknown. It may be this is short-lived and the situation quickly becomes familiar but it may be that the outcome is completely in the hands of others. I know it’s healthy for me to challenge myself and not get too comfortable but I’m more aware of my limitations now, how to deal with that and the fact that, actually, it’s OK.
I wrote a 2016 post last year and thought it might be nice to do the same again this year. I’ve been sitting on the vague headings of ‘personal’, ‘travel’ and ‘work’ for a couple of hours now and my frame of mind appears to be one of mild gloom which is making it bit more difficult. I’ll start with travel this time…
We’ve done a bit more travel than we meant to this year. It started with the planned trip to Stockholm for researchED in February – I got a new coat and everything. I love Sweden but have until now stuck to the south and my friend Cecilia. It was lovely and snowed (a teeny bit) and some good funtimes until Howard was poorly and I didn’t get a bus tour. Put a bit of a dampener on things but was still a nice trip and we’ll give it another go next year.
Last year we did big holidays in April and October and, whilst they were brilliant, I kind of missed having a summer trip so our plan this year was to have a week away at Easter and one in August. The first was our cheap package holiday to Mallorca (lots of reading by a pool and working through the all inclusive cocktail menu) and the second was a week in Lisbon (industrial tourism with some amazing art and sea otters). With the odd weekend away here and there, that was the whole plan. Then for various reasons we ended up in Cape Town in October. Still not quite sure how we ended up there (Expedia and Emerites had a hand in it but there was a slight element of ‘whim’)… We did so much in under two weeks but my favourite bits were a duck parade and cuddling penguins in actual real life.
Next year we really do think we’ll rein it in a bit. Long haul flights have turned into the only way we see recent films.
Plodded along this year really. We did some Ikea hacks for the living room and the decking in the back garden that we’re chuffed about.
We saw some awesome art this year including two of my favourites, Anselm Kiefer at White Cube and Rachel Whiteread at Tate Britain. I squealed at all of it.
I embraced my inner Hufflepuff (official sorting off of the Pottermore website quiz) and I committed to a favourite post-One Direction member of One Direction (Niall).
As I predicted the academy conversion (and MAT formation) has meant extra website work and, not quite as predicted, this has meant a few things have been put on hold for the start of this academic year. Hopefully I’ll be done with setting things up in the new year and can get some other bits done. There have been moments where I feel that I’ve stalled with a lot of things but as a wise Creaby once told me ‘You’ve just got to keep plugging away at it’. I’m trying, honest, and Relay is on issue 17 now – I’m not even sure it gets read but I’m plugging.
Another thing that’s stalled for various reasons is What Matters (the thing with the University of Nottingham). My enthusiasm knows no bounds however and I’ll see if we can revive it in some way next year (I’m still using it in conference bios, I’ve got to try something).
My focus for next year involves some professional development bits, some writing bits and some researchED bits so far. I may be picking brains.
Who knows. There have been moments when I wasn’t sure we’d get to 2018 this year but unless the next few hours goes to pot we will. With all the shifting round at work I’ve no idea what route that’ll be taking so I’m going to make a conscious decision to keep going with the work things outside of work. I’ve met so many fabulous people this year and my brain has ideas.
We don’t have particularly crazy travel plans for next year either. As long as there’s a bus tour or 6 I’ll be dandy. It’s been an interesting year but it looks like we’ve made it. Here’s to the next one.
Working in a school makes you think about your own school days all the time – the subjects, the teachers, the classmates. Despite the fact it’s 20 years since I did my GCSEs I find lessons are frequently peppered with anecdotes from ‘when I was at school’. It’s not just working in schools of course, nostalgia’s big business and as I type this my Twitter feed’s exploding with suggestions for the best kids’ tv themes (this is what happens when Mr Bennett doesn’t have a researchED to get to of a weekend).
Last week I had an unexpected trip down memory lane as we were watching The Last Leg and all of a sudden I spotted one of my first year uni flatmates (the thrown together by luck-of-the-draw sort) appear in the audience. Right there, grinning with a Australian cork-hat plonked on her head. To be honest it was lovely to see her – and lovely to have the flurry of texting people to confirm it was her. Sometimes things hit you a little bit more than others though.
Michael was in my half of the year from year 7 and part of our friendship group. He went out with one of my best friends for a while, we had various lessons together, I have an official photo of us (and the rest of the Geology boys) at the 6th Form May Ball. In April, having not seen him for 18 years, his face was filling the television. He had been killed.
He was one of those people that is peppered throughout my whole school life. I don’t know what his politics were or where his life took him (apart from what’s been printed in newspapers). I don’t do Facebook or hunt people down and there are very few people I went to school with I’m still in touch with, but the constant little snippets of memories that come with working in a school mean that I realised I think about him a lot. I don’t know who he stayed in touch with but by the few people I’ve spoken to about this with I know there will have been ripples of contemplation and memories across the country – the globe even. But time passes.
Last week I had to cover in science for the morning and it sounds over the top but there was almost something emotional about it. The boys were doing an experiment I’ve done a thousand times using equipment and terminology that’s just ingrained. They needed to be reminded to do things that most of us would probably do automatically. For the rest of the day I was back to thinking about what was. Then this week it was in court and in the news again.
Of course, most of the time it’s little flicks of memory that attach themselves to a school day. I think this has a lot to do with the way we work – whether we want to give the pupils what we had or whether we want to ensure they get the opposite. In many ways working in schools means you don’t move on, but it also means memories are always close to the surface and sometimes they’re lovely.
Some people have noticed there have been some less than satisfactory bits to 2016 and it’s likely that it will be a year that gets a mention in the history books (hardcopy or digital) of the future, but I rather suspect that 2017 is queueing up to, um, trump it and we’ll look back on this one as a dream. Every year we send out our Christmas cards (tree decorations) with a sheet of photos showing some of the things we’ve been up to; it saves writing about everything in detail and seems to get positive reviews so we stick with it. I’m always surprised at how much we’ve done throughout the year and despite worrying we’ll struggle to fill the sheet there’s always things we miss out. This year was no different and trawling through all our pictures from 2016 has served to remind me that we’ve done some brilliant things this year and maybe it wasn’t quite the shit-show I’m remembering it as.
Mixed bag but nothing too tricksy here. I turned into a 35 year old and I won’t lie, I was grumpy about that. New box to tick on surveys, increased likelihood of diseases, sure I should feel more like a grown up etc. But hey, who wants to be a grown up anyway?
Rather fabulously it was our 10th wedding anniversary this year. It means we’ve spent a lot of time looking at things we got as wedding presents and saying ‘That’s 10 years old now’ and thinking of people and saying ‘We’ve not seen them for 10 years now’. It also means I was particularly shocked when I was off to do the Christmas shop and Howard asked, for the first time ever, for Twiglets. How can you be married to someone for 10 years and not know they like TWIGLETS?! Clearly keeping some air of mystique.
We said goodbye to Jemima Destroyer of Worlds – the little white rabbit with blue eyes and a propensity to nap. Bert’s still here though and flourishing. We said hello to two new nephews, Frank and Thomas, born a couple of weeks apart. Meant a lot of travelling up and down the M1 but they seem like groovy enough chaps.
Finally, I’m pretty sure I made these happen:
So @CadburyUK, Wispa Bites are great, Twirl bites are amazing, but my thought for this morning is… Double Decker Bites. Please.
— Beth G-G (@bethgg) April 6, 2014
Not had any confirmation or freebies yet, but it was me, wasn’t it?
We ended up doing rather more exotic travel than we were planning this year. Our honeymoon had been a trip to Japan and we’d always fancied going back – particularly to see the cherry blossom – so we thought the whole ’10 years’ thing was a good enough excuse and went to Tokyo at Easter. We did lots of fabulous things including bus tours (obvs), art, blossom watching, cultural stuff, and most amazingly, cuddling hedgehogs at the hedgehog cafe. I love hedgehogs and Tokyo.
Our plan was a small UK get-away in the summer and perhaps a cheap package deal for some October sunshine, but I put a stop to that by putting myself forward for researchED Washington DC. Our cheap holiday turned into a trip to New York and Washington DC during which we did industrial strength tourism (mostly via bus tours, I have so many ponchos now) and witnessed pre-election America. We really did pack an extraordinary amount of stuff in, but if we could recommend one thing, both of us would go for the nighttime bus tour of Washington DC (part bus, part guided walking tour) where the monuments and memorials take on a whole new feeling.
Arguably the best thing we did during this trip was our tour of The (actual real-life) White House organised by researchED. Didn’t think that would be happening this time last year. Now we can look at it on the telly (it’s been on a bit) and say ‘We’ve been in that room’. Next year we’ll be able to look at it on the telly and say ‘We’ve been in that room before it was gold’.
Obviously some of the travel stuff is also a bit work-y so I’ll start there. I hadn’t really planned on doing any researchED presenting this year and I attended a couple of events just to participate – the usual eye-opening presentations and sharing of amazing projects, with good pub-chat afterwards. The opportunity to go to America was one that I couldn’t (Howard wouldn’t let me) turn down and I’ve met some brilliant people – all quite surreal.
This kicked me into action with Journal Clubs and I got myself sorted with a website to bring together all the Journal Club-y bits I’ve got (mostly on here) and add some more detailed bits of information, templates and helpsheets. It’s here if you’re interested EduJournalClub.com
Slightly connected to this is the launch of ‘What Matters’, an initiative led by the University of Nottingham School of Education to bring together schools, University and interested parties in Nottingham. I’ve spent some time this year working through ideas for activities and events with Howard Stevenson (another Howard) and the project was officially launched in November with a lot of initial interest.
At school we had another year of good Art GCSE results that make us increasingly confident in what we’re doing and proud of our boys. I also organised another ‘Blind Date With A Book’ event alongside organising the creation and publishing of a ‘We Are Writers’ book with work from every pupil in school. I’ve managed to keep going with Relay. Still not sure how many people read it but there are occasional mentions of something I’ve written about so I shall keep going with it. This year I’ve said goodbye to my two best work-mates, Courtney and Alison. One to go and have a baby, the other to relocate down south. I do have my lovely new room-mate Neihal now who is suitably nuts and a perfect addition to the team.
Onwards to 2017…
Despite impending global doom (I am a very good worrier, I’m trying not to think about it all too much) there is a good little line up of things happening next year. ‘What Matters’ is set to really get going with a series of special interest groups and bigger events on the horizon. I’m all signed up for researchED Sweden, had to decline the offer of Oslo as it’s our wedding anniversary, and I shall attempt to update the Journal Club website with some more factsheets and ideas.
School is ready to academise in March. We’re setting up our own MAT so hopefully it’ll be fairly smooth. As the person doing the school websites it’ll add to some challenges I’m sure. On top of the academy thing we’re also expanding both pupil-wise and building-wise. This will add a few more challenges but I’m trying to look at it as opportunity rather than impending chaos.
In amongst all this we will hopefully have a think about doing something with the back garden and I’ve started looking for some new living room curtains (who said I wasn’t a grown up?). Also thinking it might be good to get that cheap package holiday with a swimming pool and reading time in too – if Tom fancies #rEDAlgarve, we’re there!
There’s a phenomenon when it comes to forced participation. If it’s not quite for you and you don’t want to join in you’re accused (openly or implied) of being miserable and boring. I am one of these ‘miserable and boring’ people – to the point of stubbornness. Thing is, why should I feel I have to prove something? I don’t like clapping in time, I don’t want to join in with actions or move round a room in a role play. I’m far from mature but I’ve got a comfort zone for a good reason, and it’s comfortable.
Last week I went to a teachmeet that was kicked off with a positive motivation-fest. For quite some time the impending keynote was enough to make me not go at all, and I had to give myself a talking to – why should I miss an evening that I wanted to go to for the sake of 30 minutes at the start? I cringed my way through it (using ‘taking photos of the participation for Twitter’ as a superb cover for not joining in), but afterwards was left feeling that I really needed to prove my get-up-and-dance, look-at-me-I’m-crazy-you-never-know-what-I’m-going-to-do-next credentials. I had a bit of a moment at work the next day. Still irritated by the forced participation, I let my views on the subject be heard and heartwarmingly, everyone there agreed with me. I felt much better.
This isn’t a dig at our keynote speaker, they’re very good at their job and very successful at keynoting. Lots of people were probably there as much to see them as I was there not to. They were excited and happy and motivated in all the right places which is great. It makes sense that the best we can be for our pupils is happy and positive and for them to feel the same – it’s just that different people get that in different ways.
I’ve thought about it quite a bit – why, if we work with children, are we expected to want to jump up and down on command in a room full of people we don’t know? Or perhaps, worse, do know. Surely there’s a difference between being happy and being extrovert? Why should those that don’t want to be told how to have fun be labelled as – ‘lemon-suckers’ or ‘dark lords’? I did my fair share of joining in when I was a youth – sometimes it was ok, sometimes it was awful. After a careful consideration of my experiences I have decided I’ve done enough of that stuff and I’m happiest not to. Makes me think though, I’m a grown up and to a great extent get a choice, but what about those more introverted kids that we work with? We plan great events, performances, shows and for every child who revels in it, there’ll be those for whom it’s a nightmare.
Is it perhaps a primary thing rather than a secondary thing? Are you more likely to have an expectation of extroversion if you work in a primary setting? I had an interview for primary teacher training light-years ago that was enough to put me off schools for life, and there was certainly some gentle ribbing about singing with actions in assembly when one of our secondary trained staff left for a primary school. Do secondary schools go too far in the opposite direction? Do they turn their noses up at things like this? I certainly think there’s more reluctance among staff to ‘take part’ – a workload thing? Maturity? Losing face?
I’ve actually got some pretty good ‘get-up-and-dance, look-at-me-I’m-crazy-you-never-know-what-I’m-going-to-do-next credentials’, thank you very much:
- We very successfully ran the University of Essex Silly Society, that’s pretty daft. We were so good at that it probably had an impact on my degree classification…
- I’m quite adept at a Steps routine. Perhaps a little rusty nowadays, but give me half an hour with the Gold DVD and I’ll be fine.
- I make dens in the garden if I get bored in the holidays. Actually, Howard’s never quite sure what he’ll come home to. I’d created the whole Solar System out of coloured paper and stuck it to the ceiling one year.
- We used to have a sign on the back of the front door reminding me to check if I’d drawn cat whiskers and a nose on my face after I once went to the post office without remembering to wipe them off.
- Eurovision ALWAYS involves fancy dress.
- Actually, anything can involve fancy dress. I’d go to the pub as a pirate just because I’ve got the hat.
Why do I need to list these things? Maybe because there’s also these things:
- I make Howard go first and talk to people (restaurant, hotel reception, shops – anywhere).
- I make sure I miss out numbers in bingo so I don’t win and have to yell out.
- I hate talking to people I don’t know on the phone. Have to properly work myself up to calling any company to sort something out.
- I’m rubbish at networking or talking to people at parties. The chances are I’ll be sat sitting in a corner.
- I’m even more rubbish at self-promotion. I don’t have t-shirts or anything.
Turns out there’s not one thing or another. It’s perfectly possible to be a bit of both and to be honest, I think that’s what makes it seem natural. If you’re ‘up’ all the time it doesn’t seem genuine.
Now I’m fully aware that the comfort zone can be a dangerous place and I’m getting quite good at stepping out of it, just to test the waters. In the past few years I’ve done scary MEd tutorials, scary speaking at conferences, sat at the front in a comedy club and got picked on (seats were allocated, I’m not completely daft). I do a similar thing with olives – try them again every one in a while and see if I like them. I’m at a place where I wouldn’t pick them off a pizza, but I’m still not buying a pot from the deli counter.
There is one other reason we might be asked to do all these stupid things of course. The joy of uniting in hatred of the motivation. The swearing in corners, the days of feeling disgruntled either side of it, and the coming together with a common enemy. Maybe it’s all a clever tactic to unite us? The ultimate team bonding exercise as we debrief at the pub afterwards. Shouldn’t be at the expense of making us not want to go in the first place though.
Two days after the motivational incident it was my birthday and I got the most wonderful necklace from Howard that I think says it all. Meet the Indifferent Iguana. The card inside the box reads, “With the exception of you, this little reptile doesn’t really like human beings all that much. She is very sarcastic and will give you confidence and help you to stop worrying about stuff“. I think the iguana has got it pretty much sorted. Let’s listen to her.