Hello friend.
In the past five years, I’ve proudly trained thousands of teachers on classroom leadership and engaging vulnerable students.
I've preached trauma-informed practice and how excellent pastoral skills unlock learning.
But I think some people get my work a little ‘twisted’.
No matter what, one statement always pops up in my training sessions.
“Karl, this stuff sounds good, but mate, I’m a teacher – you’re trying to make me into a psychologist. I can’t ‘fix’ the kids' issues.
And I always give the same reply.
“You’re absolutely right. You can’t ‘fix’ their issues, nor is it your place.”
Life isn't a Hollywood Movie
If you are like me, you’ve probably watched all the great Hollywood films about teaching:
· Lean on Me
· Coach Carter
· Dangerous Minds
· Dead Poets Society
· Karate Kid (the original one – not the naff one with Jaden Smith)
And you thought that you would be that ‘magical’ teacher that unlocks your students’ potential.
In 180 minutes, the credits roll and the delinquent rascals are model students. That’s ‘quick-fix-teaching.’
But when you finish your teacher training, the brutal reality sets in. You can’t whisk your students out of poverty or solve their domestic violence situation.
You can’t rewire your students’ brains to instantly understand the curriculum or permanently soothe their nervous systems so they don't always kick off in your classrooms.
But you try anyway – bless your heart.
And here’s your reward:
• Burnout
• Decreased job satisfaction
• Declining mental, emotional and physical health
Raging against the education machine and trying to ‘fix’ your students will leave you feeling broken.
I know because it happened to me.
My 'Burnout' Story
At the end of my tenure as NEETs coordinator, I was inches away from burnout.
Dealing with some of London’s most challenging students deep in the East End took an emotional and physical toll on me.
Some of my students had the most tragic backstories you wouldn’t believe. My team and I were moving heaven and earth to keep our kids safe, educated and on the straight and narrow.
But then my health started to pack in. I developed a tight chest, dizzy spells, brain fog and stomach problems (sorry TMI.) But we soldiered on. Then, the centre lost funding, and we pack up the whole project.
When I hopped into mainstream teaching, I thought it would be ‘easier.’ But as I climbed up the ranks, the same ol’ problems started happening again. And I was ready to quit teaching (for the second time.)
We all know the system is broken, but I still wanted to help the students.
I started to reflect deeply on what was happening to me and my next steps.
Then, I realised I had the wrong perspective. I was part of the problem.
If I wanted to stay in the education game, I had to look at things differently. I knew I was over-extending myself, but I had to do it in a way that wouldn’t blow up my life.
Then, I found what I was looking for:
To explain this change, I came up with this analogy.
The Paramedic and the Surgeon
If you’ve watched realistic hospital dramas, you know what paramedics do. If you find someone severely injured and unresponsive, you call an ambulance. A paramedic arrives, stabilises them, and takes them to the hospital.
But have you ever seen a paramedic perform surgery on the roadside or set up a week-long care tent? Of course not—they don’t have the tools for that.
Their job is stabilising patients and getting them to the right specialists for deeper assessment and proper treatment.
As educators, we are not psychologists—we don’t diagnose students or create ‘treatment plans’ to ‘fix’ them.
Some vulnerable students have complex, delicate needs beyond our ability to help, and sometimes, our uninformed attempts might make things worse.
Our role is to:
a) Create a stable, affirming environment with clear boundaries to reduce triggers and ease ‘fight-or-flight’ responses.
b) Direct students to the right professionals who can properly support them.
The word 'paramedic' can be broken into two words. 'Para' means 'alongside', and 'medic' means 'doctor.' Paramedics work with the doctors but don't attempt to do their jobs.
You are an emotional paramedic – you don't do the nitty-gritty psychological work of a mental health professional but work as part of a team to help our children thrive.
Part of that responsibility means that you look after yourself, too. If you are not taking care of your emotional and physical health, you’re no good to anyone – especially if you have your own kids.
Here’s how you become an emotional paramedic:
• Have clear rules and procedures
• Master body language and tone
• Have clear rewards and sanctioning systems
• Create enticing ‘social contracts’ that earn buy-in from your students
• Understand how to frame your messages to get the right ‘emotional responses.’
• Learn how to de-escalate and solve flashpoints effectively
• Be able to spot safeguarding issues and report them to the appropriate staff member.
Even with all my knowledge, I wouldn’t dream of calling myself an educational psychologist.
And I’m not trying to make you one either.
But we can help.
While you can’t ‘fix’ all your students’ problems, you can create an environment where they feel seen, respected and be able to get the help they need.
Do that, and you’ll make a massive difference in the student’s life without ruining your own.
That’s all for today. I hope this helps.
The next TOTR edition comes out on Thursday 3rd April 2025.
See you then.
Karl
