Secret Teacher: we're afraid to use unions, but we must stand together

I grew up surrounded by political and union activism. My grandparents passed down the ideal that I had an unspoken right to be part of a movement that would defend me as a worker and as a human. But when I joined my current school, I was wooed by a conviction that we “do not need the union here”.

Now I have come to feel that speaking to or involving a trade union in any school matter is sealing the deal on your marching orders. There is no union representative at my school, and in my naivety I felt that this was proof that they were truly not needed here. I was told that if any issues were raised, they were better dealt with internally by management.

The truth is that members of staff dare not join forces to put forward how their workload is impacting their lives. Instead it appears to be business as usual, as demands for after-school meetings and wave after wave of interventions are being met in teachers’ own time. All I ever hear are hushed conversations in grievance of the new initiatives, yet as soon as you suggest the team works together to address the problem you are met with silence.

Most staff in my school will admit to being part of a union, but they would never dream of phoning or asking for representation in any matter. I have never worked in a place so terrified by acts of unity. Teachers will turn a blind eye to bullying in the workplace. I have seen people interrupt colleagues to change the subject in the staffroom, shutting down those who are simply trying to say that the latest diktat may not be in the best interests of the team.

Heads of department are encouraged to reveal anything their team has expressed, either formally or informally, about their workload. This information has then been used against colleagues who have dared to express concerns about their working lives.

A pattern has emerged. People are pulled in for meeting after meeting for an old-fashioned telling off. A member of senior leadership team appears at their door for a last-minute learning walk or work scrutiny. As staff crumble under pressure, the demands increase. Their colleagues suddenly avoid eye-contact and lunch is spent in awkward silence. There have been resignations and long-term absences.

When it was my turn, I did the unthinkable and contacted my union. I was struggling with a new initiative during my lesson and had asked for support. A meeting was called. I was told that I was a “naysayer” and that I needed to decide if my future was in teaching, as I did not seem to be flourishing in my role. My mental health was also called into question for the first time during my career.

I felt powerless as I bumbled through the meeting. Humiliated, I returned to the staffroom, but when I tried to speak about what had happened I was met with silence.

Later, when I spoke to the union representative, I felt a wave of relief and realised that I might be heard. I decided to remain anonymous, for fear of being found out, and didn’t take it any further.

Despite this, the union had provided a shoulder to cry on. I needed to hear that I wasn’t alone and that I was entitled to representation in meetings. And the union rep said something that stuck with me: “You might not feel like you have rights today, but we can assure you that you do.” I wondered why I had feared contacting the union so much.

It reminded me that trade unions are not just for striking, but for representation and rights for all. As we face so much uncertainty in the profession, with a funding and recruitment crisis gathering unfathomable speed, we need to come together and stand as a united front, because as the old adage reminds us: divided, we fall.

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