SurvivingFE

Ah, Wednesday. The day when Monday’s mess is still lingering like that coffee stain on my coat, and just when you think you’ve made it through the week without further drama… ping—you’re summoned.

Yes. Summoned.

By the observing manager.

To receive my feedback. Dun, dun, duuuuun.

Now, I’m no stranger to observations. I’ve survived two decades of them, thank you very much. But this was the first time this particular manager had observed me. He’s new-ish, still settling into the ecosystem that is our beautiful chaos of a campus. Naturally, I wanted to hear the verdict straight from the source—not just via the carefully-worded report that’s to be emailed by the end of the week in case I don’t want to talk (what kind of teacher doesn’t want to talk?).

So I went. First thing in the morning, caffeine in hand, hair just about obeying gravity, and nerves slightly more steady than on Monday.

He greeted me with:
“How are you?”
…
Then again: “How are you?”
…
And then: “So, how are you?”

Three times.

Now, I’m tired, yes. But do I look that bad? Do I give off unstable “she might cry if I mention PowerPoint” energy? Or was he just stalling because he didn’t know how to start?

I generously assumed the latter.
I was wrong.
Apparently, that’s his usual soft launch approach to feedback. My colleagues confirmed this with a sort of exhausted camaraderie in their eyes.


The Moment of Reckoning

Then came the classic ambush:

> “So… how do you think it went?”

Ah yes. The trapdoor question.

I launched into my explanation, half-defensive, half-professional.

I only teach that class once a week.

I didn’t teach them last year.

The lesson content was a continuation from another teacher.

I followed instructions.

There was a test. They answered it. We marked it. There was participation!

Everything was going so well… until that blessed slide!
(Which I didn’t mention because I’m not daft.)


He nodded thoughtfully. I braced myself. And then…

> “I really liked your lesson.”

Wait, what?
Say that again. In a slower, more dramatic tone.

> “Based on what you’ve told me, I’m actually surprised at how well your students performed.”

(Surprised?? Excuse me?)

> “The rapport you have with them is impressive. They participated, came to the board, explained their answers. It seemed… natural.”

And there it was.
The backhanded compliment.

> “It didn’t feel like it was rehearsed just for the observation.”


Now, dear reader, let me pause.
Because I didn’t know whether to feel immensely proud or mildly insulted.

What did he expect, a dramatic re-enactment of “Dead Poets Society” just for him?

Rising from the Ashes of Monday and tacking back the power

I adjusted my chair. Composed myself. And channelled my inner department lead.

> “Well, it is standard practice,” I replied with a smile that said, obviously.
“I’m proud of my students. They range massively in ability, but they all try.”
“I believe in rapport. I balance sarcasm, fun and discipline in every lesson—or else you achieve nothing… and slowly go insane.”

He nodded earnestly, as if I’d just revealed a secret scroll of ancient wisdom.

> “It’s just surprising,” he said. “Most people assume A-level physics students are all very bright.”

I paused. Smiled wider.

> “They are bright in their own ways. But this group? They’re a spectrum. And I love teaching them for that very reason.”

Bless him.

I explained that my class is made up of a real mix of abilities and backgrounds—but what they share is effort and respect, and that’s all I ever ask for.


Conclusion: Slightly Sassier, Slightly Smugger

No mention of the PowerPoint fiasco.
No “next steps” list of doom.
Just praise.
Mild surprise.
And the kind of polite confusion managers have when they realise something went well without them knowing how.

Would I have preferred a chocolate medal and a confetti cannon? Yes.
But I’ll take this quiet, midweek victory and wear it like a badge of honour.

Because when a manager says:

> “It seemed like that’s your usual practice…”

My internal monologue whispers:
“It is. Welcome to the show.”


Stay strong, stay caffeinated, and don’t trust a student who says “we’ve done that” without checking.