FEATURE: DIVERSITY IN THE CLASSROOM


made it her mission to require teachers to create a curriculum which represented the students it served. Decolonisation was and continues to be my intent and the rich and diverse curriculum which now exists at my current school, co-created with a love for students at its core, speaks to the necessity of representation and diversity we clearly need.


In Pearson’s recent School Report, over one in 10 teachers (11%) see lack of diversity and representation as a barrier to pupil learning. It is often assumed that the reason diversity is not being achieved is because there is a shortage of talent. There is no shortage of talent; there is a shortage of opportunities.


Leaders, who are you appointing? What do the individuals who are leading your classrooms look like? Are you bringing a range of ethnicities to the table - and creating a safe space for them to exist once appointed - or do all of the teachers you appoint look the same?


journey I have been on ever since; one that has been fraught with questions regarding the legitimacy of my presence in the classroom. The first placement school during my PGCE year was an eye-opening three months. I was one of two black women who worked there and both of us were only there temporarily - as trainee teachers. Students assumed the other black teacher and I were sisters but, unlike the secondary school rumour which I had willingly accepted, I only felt resentment to this assumption.


The school, predominantly white and male, left


me feeling as though I was the sole representative of my race. I was burdened by the knowledge that some members of staff and students were encountering black womanhood for the first time through me. How could I realise my potential as a teacher when I was plagued with the pressure to dispel the stereotypes that they held about me? I could not be free to be myself. My second placement was a ‘contrasting school’ and, in some ways, I felt I was headed back to familiar territory: a girls school, majority black and faith-based. There, I hoped to be myself, to find myself. Unfortunately, I didn’t.


The lack of confidence I had felt during my first placement followed me into this new classroom and although I used my drama background to perform my way through each lesson, I would regularly leave the classroom replaying every moment and critiquing what I had delivered. The work prior to each working day was tiresome. The students were studying Jane Eyre, a text I had never read before and I was terrified that I would stumble on a word while reading aloud, or worse, be asked the meaning of a word and not know the answer. Preparation for each lesson entailed spending hours googling each word - the meaning and pronunciation - to avoid being caught out. I knew I did not belong in the English classroom but my worst fear was letting my students see through the concrete facade I was trying to build.


The following year, my NQT year, was characterised by attempts to prove myself worthy of the label ‘teacher’. I worked harder than those in a similar position, arriving at school as early as 6.30am. I didn’t want to be seen as inferior -


April 2023 www.education-today.co.uk 33


although this happened many times irrespective of my efforts. Here I was forced to contend with the facets of my identity and the role they played in how I was being perceived. After each uncomfortable encounter with a superior, I would often ask myself: has this happened because I am black, because I am young or because I am a woman? Is it because I am all three? The weight of trying to convince those around me that I belonged in education kept me on the ground when I should have been flying. Years have passed since the onset of my career and I am a long way from performing in order to be recognised as an equal. In this time I have assumed positions such as Deputy Head of English, Head of English and now, Assistant Headteacher. I no longer feel like the imposter who taught the GCSE class Jane Eyre, googling and practising every single unknown word. I no longer feel like the English teacher agonising over each word written by Shakespeare, afraid that my lack of understanding would cause my students’ confidence in my ability to teach them to fall away.


That teacher became a department head who


Teachers, think about who you choose to answer questions in your classroom and who is picked to attend the trips reserved for the ‘gifted and talented’; who is reprimanded most in your class and what your ‘problem students’ look like. The kindness extended to me by those two black women all those years ago validated my presence in the classroom. They looked like me, loved me and saw me in ways I had not experienced prior. Their investment in me propelled and prepared me for the opportunities I have been afforded as an adult, resulting in changes that will continue to be felt by students from all backgrounds in the years to come. Representation allows for the change we so often speak about to become actualised. Representation matters because it allows new questions to be asked, new voices to be heard and new people to be seen. It allows young people who are habitually forgotten to become forerunners, leaders and thinkers in spaces where they otherwise might not have been invited. This is the power of representation.


To see what other organisations and teachers had to say about diversity and inclusion in education, visit: uhttps://www.pearson.com/uk/ educators/schools/issues/school-report.html


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