I have three roles in my classroom: teacher, parent and social worker. Sometimes the actual teaching part is the least important • More from the Secret Teacher

A child entered the classroom in floods of tears. His mother had lost her baby days before she was due to give birth. Nothing can prepare a nine-year-old for such a sense of loss, and his pain was clear for the whole class to see. I put my arm around him, ushered him away from the watchful gaze of his concerned peers and tried to find some words that might bring a shred of comfort to his broken heart. Then I had to gather my thoughts; as a parent, I couldn’t help but think how I would ever get over something like that.

That was tough to deal with, but another girl’s summer was just as traumatic for much darker reasons. She’d spent much of the holidays (and several years before), being sexually abused by a family member. I’d shared my concerns because I had a feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Indeed, it wasn’t. I was horrified and angry when I learned what this shy little girl had been through.

The two situations above are thankfully rare, and perhaps it was just an unhappy coincidence that I had to deal with them at the same time. Other situations are more commonplace, though. Another child’s mum and dad are separated but living together for financial reasons. The atmosphere at home is tense, and the girl in question recently burst into tears recalling an argument between her parents. All that mattered to her was falling apart and I had no words to help. So I did what a parent would do, I gave her a hug.

While the teaching standards are great at telling us how to teach good lessons, make accurate assessments and differentiate effectively, when it comes to addressing the emotional needs of children, they’re no help whatsoever. I have three roles in my classroom: teacher, parent and social worker. Sometimes, the actual teaching part is the least important of all. Part two of the teacher standards states that teachers must “at all times observe boundaries appropriate to a teacher’s profession”. This is suitably vague to ensure that many teachers live in fear of overstepping these boundaries. Why would you even go close when it could finish your career?

But the biggest obstacle to learning is not what’s going on in the classroom, but what’s going on outside it. Teachers across the nation face the baggage that children bring to lessons every single day and unless they feel supported to really become in loco parentis, effective teaching and learning is compromised.

We are a “good” school, but allegedly not yet outstanding because not enough pupils are making expected progress. Ofsted is not interested in the story behind her lack of progress. In the inspectorate’s eyes, that child is holding our school back and that’s a black mark against my name as their teacher.

The teacher manual – and Ofsted – need to wake up to complexities of modern teaching. Children spend six hours in my classroom every day, 30 hours a week. They spend more waking hours with me during the week than they spend with their own parents. I know everything about them. Sometimes, I think I know them better than their family. There is little space to hide anything in the classroom environment. Family problems, issues and secrets are shared with me. Children need to be assured that they’ll be treated in a compassionate, human way – not ignored by their teacher who is so anxious about crossing boundaries that they can’t offer emotional support.

Yes, my professional priority is that every child in my class exceeds or meets their progress target for the year. But that’s not why I got into teaching. I teach because I want to make a difference in children’s lives, not just in their education. I don’t have all the answers to their problems but by being there for them, and prepared to drop everything and listen, I can make life in some way more bearable.

Thankfully, there is a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel for the three children in my class. But all of these children will bear the scars of these tragedies for life, and I, as a teacher, was the person they turned to.

At the end of the working day, I return to my own family. Thankfully, their lives are worlds apart from some of those children in my class. Yet I can’t help but feel that my parental responsibility extends far beyond the walls of my own home. I have a class of 23 children counting on me.

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