It wasn't an easy decision to let the cameras into our school, but it was a great opportunity for us to show how proud we are of the work we do. Musharaf moments don't happen every day, but when they do, we're chuffed as chips

Going into Educating Yorkshire wasn't a snap decision. It was a long process and behind it were sound principles. We wanted to show that we're proud of who we are, that we offer a high standard of education, and that we work damned hard for every child who comes to us. We wanted to make sure that people see exactly what teachers do for your kids – whether it's in Yorkshire, Yeovil, Liverpool, Lincoln, Cornwall or Cardiff – and how they perform minor miracles on a daily basis. If we've achieved any of these objectives, then we're happy. It took a hell of a pair of cojones from our headteacher to give the green light to this – and lots of reassurance and help from the head of Passmores Academy, Vic Goddard – but to put your school on national TV, and hand over editorial control is a big thing.

Of course, people will disagree. That's fine. But what Educating Yorkshire has done is show off just how cracking the job is. People say it's "hard", "challenging", "tough", and I suppose it is all those things. Those words, though, have far too many negative connotations; I think the best way to describe it is "incredible". Since Thursday, when Musharaf's bravery and persistence left most of the staff in tears, the reaction has been absolutely crackers. There have been photographs, Twitter followers, interviews, and #teammushy et al, and it's absolutely incredible.

Some have vented, claiming it's terrible for our students to be shown on telly, and again, they're entitled to their opinion. But tell me this: how can hundreds of thousands of people telling this wonderful, hard-working young gentleman how proud they are of him possibly be doing him any harm? He's not one of the Jackson Five; he's not Macaulay Culkin, and he's categorically not going to film a music video snogging a hammer and gyrating on a wrecking ball; he's a top-drawer young man who is rightfully taking the plaudits for years of graft, much of it against the odds.

Personally, I'm absolutely bowled over by it. It's a project that I'm so proud and privileged to have been involved with, and I will remember it for the rest of my days, but I take far greater happiness from being lucky enough to be able to watch that moment – the moment – back for time and time again. When Musharaf "spoke" for the "first time", it was unbelievable. Quite literally.

I've had a few people tell me that it must've been set up, that those set of circumstances just don't happen. Well, they did. The poem was completely random – it happened to fall open on The Moment by Margaret Atwood – but little did we know how ridiculously appropriate it would be; the headphones thing was genuinely inspired by Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush and their depiction of speech therapy in The King's Speech; myself and my brilliant colleague Miss Lee's reaction, was absolutely genuine. This young man, who'd been teased about his stammer previously, who had been constantly, to no avail, trying to speak for five long years, had spoken. And by jingo, we were chuffed as chips.

Musharaf-type moments don't happen every day, but minor miracles do, and children make progress, and for that, we are so incredibly proud. So yes, the cameras may be off now, and I won't have to worry about heading to the gents' with a radio mic on, but I can head home and look forward to the next day at work, because it's business as usual.