Looking-glass war

TEACHERS JOHN PEARCE

Many a trade union, rallying its members to the flag, which often turns out to be a flag of con- venience, booms sonorously the old battle-cry: 'In union there is strength.' To the newly qualified teacher, in a majority of cases, this old, blunt, and snaggle-toothed saw seems merely to be cynical. I joined the National Associa- tion of Schoolmasters four days after I joined the National Union of Students, for the simple reason that its representative lived next door in hall and got to me before the NUT represen- tative, languishing in digs in Newcastle. Mem- bership for students is free, and I must admit that this is a fair assessment of its worth.

There was, I remember, a beery evening held in one of the snootier pubs in Newcastle dur- ing which a man, smiling as desperately as a music-hall comedian in Hartlepool, made spora- dic speeches extolling the association's free legal aid scheme for teachers who assaulted their pupils, the joys of owing a building society the entire mortgage on a house rather than just 95 per cent, and the necessity of members of the profession joining shoulder to shoulder to fight the Ministry of Education and the National Union of Teachers. Most of us, smiling gently in euphoric semi-drunkenness, endured his ex- hortations as simply the price to be paid for a free night out. The only other visible benefit from this (apparently the most valuable hidden benefit was a feeling that The Organisation Needed You) was a monthly magazine, The New Schoolmaster, which devoted its space about equally to self-congratulations, slanging the Nur, and pictures of retiring members whose Untiring Efforts on Behalf of the Association are an Example to Us All.

But this vague and rather distant body, as soon as you are qualified, suddenly assumes a new aspect. It becomes your voice in Whitehall, the purveyor of your public image. And both bodies desperately want you as a member. The process of choice involved in joining one or the other reminds me of the first time I voted, in 1966: the feeling of power and consequence attached to a decision which in the long run would very likely have no effect at all. The NAS men came to see me at home: standing on the doorstep in belted raincoats and felt hats, they looked like CID men, bailiffs, or the men come to repossess the telly. They took it for granted that I would join; their follow-up letter reflected their attitude, which was that only a fool or a drunkard would not join: several of my NAS friends must have slipped in through a hole in the net, in that case. A further letter charitably assumed that my silence was due to mis- directed mail or a bad memory: I have not heard from them yet in reply to the letter I sent carefully detailing my reasons for not joining. The NUT man came as well: since, possibly, the word 'union' reflects a more workmanlike

approach, he wore a sports coat with leather elbows and a Fair Isle sweater. And its letters, for some reason, never got to me.

So far I've joined neither since I became qualified; nor will I join one of them. The

NAS is out because its policy of strike actions

seems to me unprofessional, unethical, and probably useless anyway: contradicting com- pletely its constant quacking about a teacher

being a professional man, like a doctor or a lawyer. The NUT, with its work-to-rule over

school meals, is similarly erring in my view: and added to this, its rejection of a 9f per cent pay rise at a time when 34 per cent is jocularly spoken of as a maximum, has alien- ated most of the younger members of the pro- fession; and they are the ones who need the money most. It is small comfort to know that it is still in there, fighting for a rise of 17 per cent: a rise which no sane person would expect for a moment. And further, when a young teacher, his ideals still fairly untarnished, observes the backbiting, the petty squabbling and the childish rivalry with which both of the organisations occupy most of their time, ap- parently, and presumably much of his subscrip- tion; when he observes the concern for political rather than personal victories; the apparent lack of concern for children, the persistent and tragic losers in all this bickering; the unrealistic salary demands, and the recruitment techniques which would not fool a child, then, if he feels

as I do that the only way to achieve profes- sional recognition, both socially and economic- ally, is to stop claiming to be a profession and just be one, he joins neither union, and gets on with the job of teaching.

This is jaundiced, personal, perhaps rather cynical. But I am writing about the appearances of these unions to one like myself, newly quali- fied and very disappointed to find his elders and presumably betters fighting as unreason- ably and causelessly as gangs in a playground.

Appearances are what matter in a professional body because those appearances are based in the nature and ethos of the profession: and the general public is not, as I am, either in- clined or in a position to make allowances. I recognise the need for a teaching union, one only, formed of all teachers of all types. I feel that such a union should be realistic in its approaches to salary and conditions of service: that it should not throw away, without benefit of referendum, benefits seriously offered it. It should manifest an honest concern for children, as distinct from sonorous agreement with the appropriate Government White Papers.

And, above all, it should constantly re- mind itself that the present battered image of the teaching profession owes much to the crass and ill-judged tactics of two unions whose priorities, along with their thinking, are upside down. Let our teaching union spend the bulk of its time and money on solving the real problems of salaries, conditions, teacher supply, auxiliaries, comprehensive education and over- crowding in a mature and adult way, instead of fighting internally over issues which do not really exist. Not until we approach teaching and its problems in a professional way will we be recognised as a profession, if that is what we really are. All civil war is extremely weaken-

ing: and this must be true of the fight between the unions. Let us act professionally where it

really and ultimately matters: in the classroom. The classroom is, after all, the place where we teachers are supposed to work. Let us, as the Oxfam poster says, stop talking—and do some- thing about it instead.