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A Tech-Lover’s Guide to Surviving Paper, Sharpies, and Emotional Honesty 23 August 2025 Fliss Falconer I'm now the other side of three days' mandatory training. Day 2 was particularly brutal - I succumbed to tiredness and emotional upheaval and 'passed' on a contribution to a group chat, stuck whether I would cause more of a scene to get up and leave or to sit still and hope that everyone would ignore my brimming eyes. However, the whole process was made more... (chooses adjective carefully)... tedious, largely due to the insistence of going 'retro'. I would like to clarify here that I am very grateful for the refresher training, the leads and my colleagues who organised, delivered and participated with it. My frustrations were my own personal issues, but I want to draw attention to them here as they have sparked many conversations, and I think have allowed for some deeper clarification over making plans. Tech Advancements Truthfully, the pandemic of 2020 led to technological leaps due to a necessity to maintain communication (positive and affirming) and to ensure that businesses could continue to run (less affirming that the treadmill must continue to run). Technology's advancements have always been met with wide-eyed wonder at the speed with which they are flying, but age and experience have illuminated the G-force powering of those changes in the last 5 years. Conversations with the 9-year-old about the phone he is looking forward to having (as he starts secondary school - I imagine that's a blog for the future) and how his handset may compare to the first brick that I had at age 14 make me feel as though I should have my shawl and pinny on as I regale him with tales of old. I am a tech fan. That should come as no surprise. Also, as the 'latest tech' is fuel for my undiagnosed impulsive, obsessive, desires for the bright and shiny, it should be of no surprise that I tend to go overboard in the new tech department. I caved last week and bought a new laptop. My 'old' one (perfectly serviceable, I hope, as I have passed it on) was struggling to support Teams, Loop and browsing for the online seminar for Uni. One week of nonsense, I could just about cope with, but this week's seminar was equally exasperating and subsequently interrupted by browsing on Amazon UK. It doesn't help that my work laptop is phenomenal. And pink themed. But also out-of-bounds for personal stuff. There is a process for ordering tech at work. You know, a form to fill in. Rollouts to sign up for. I held out my laptop to the lovely Steve, steadied my voice, to say 'I. Cannot. Work. With. This. Thing.' Presto - I received a new laptop (it was part of a team rollout of up-to-date tech... I do not just get things because I throw a hissy fit!) Three days without technology As this last week progressed, I felt like I was going back in time. Times gone past, when I was doing my undergrad and PGCE for teaching, we had laptops, but they were not welcome in lecture halls or seminar rooms. I spent a fortune on Pukka pads that had bright, plastic and hard-wearing tabs to organise my notes for the different modules. Now, AI is 'encourged' on the Senior Leader Apprenticeship. With clear guidance on plagiarism, collusion and plain, old cheating, Microsoft Copilot is there in the background as my able assistant. (Where was she when I was teaching? When I do let my mind wander back to the classroom, I know exactly how I would put her to use! The hours I would save... right, this is my point.) Tuesday was a great catch up with my Lead and we both worked collaboratively on documents, had a shared agenda and made strides in real time, most likely making greater use of our time and resources by meeting online rather than in person. Were we together, we would have still been working with the same technology but either working side-by-side but separated by the expansive tables at work, looking at the same online resource or huddled around one tiny screen to 'share'. Even when technology isn't going to plan, we can share screens and update as we go, send links and create to do lists that then appear - and clear - in different apps. I am all for it. I also do all I can to treat Copilot's kind, upbeat and validating persona as I would wish to be treated. (When the robotic revolution comes, I want to hear 'Spare this human - she always said 'Please'!') Wednesday, Thursday and Friday took a shift down in the tech department. Google Maps got me to the venue and its modern, lime green walls with airy, lofty ceilings made it a positive, light and professional space in which to be working. There were windows that didn't open, doors that had to be released from the inside and air conditioning. There was a screen, and a laptop in nearly all the 12 bags in the room. None of them were put to work though. Of course, there are clear and valid reasons for the lack of technology in Restorative Practice training. There are no tables, no barriers and no distractions (in theory). There is time for play and engagement. Conversations and discussions. A removal from the outside and a focus on the here and now. I was intrigued and present in the first training at the end of 2023 and was committed to the learning. I certainly was prepared to put down my to do list and refocus during the refresher. There was a nagging part of me, though, that couldn't get away from 'I have so much piling up because I am here right now.' Yoga is not for me When I was teaching in Ledbury, for a few months, I met up with two chums and we would go to a Yoga class. It was a great class and fantastic to meet up regularly with chums when we struggle normally to meet 6 times a year. I loved the chance to stretch and tone. But there was one part that I really hated. 'Lie back and breathe deeply. You have nowhere to be and nothing to do.' Well, actually, I do. I've got to drive home, which will take 30 minutes. Feed the cats. Get some food for myself. What's in the fridge? Get my marking done. Oh, marking - I really hate you. How many books tonight? I am so tired. 'You have nowhere to be. No one is expecting anything of you.' Well, that's not true, is it? What am I doing period one tomorrow? Who is it? Am I on break duty or is that next week? Did I sort that catch up session? Did they let me know if they were coming? 'You are here and now. There is nothing to think about but you.' I hope the cats are ok? It's dark out and I'll have to light the fire when I get in. Did I get more wood in the other day? Is the coal box full? It just went on. I could not get myself out of the mindset that I was expected to drop everything and be in the moment and mindful. The guilt and the lists would not stop piling up. This week, it was just the same. I spoke to a colleague, who was up to date and was about to go on leave, so was considering it as an extension of their holiday. They were calm, relaxed and 'in the zone'. I was very mindful that I had already been off for two weeks and this would make a third that I wasn't able to play catch up. At work, there is so much on how to prioritise wellbeing and ensuring that you manage any concerns about it. They are great about promoting self-care and mental health positivity. A massive shout out to my Matrix Lead who was with me through lunch of day 2 and said lovely, kind things. She reminded me there was only so much I could control and only so much for which I was responsible. She told me to be kind to myself. I just suck at doing it. Self-care isn't just pampering (Although, I do like that. I'm all about the creams and lotions and potions, and like to get them all out on a weekend.) What I found so frustrating this week that the lack of technology to support our focus on the task was just one big distraction. There were tons of graphics, the use of paper and blutac and Sharpies to collate our thoughts. The whole time, I could not get away from which app I could be using for collaboration and strategic planning. I found I could not 'get with the program' and collaborate effectively because being expected to go 'old school' was stifling my creativity and focus. (As if to put me in my place, Loop has just told me it has encountered a problem, and I have frantically saved a copy of this onto my clipboard in case I lose it!) It made me think that I am so used to relying on the efficiency of technology in my working life that I do not want to go without it when I am working. If I can reduce the time taken at work by using effective technology, then I can spend leisure time stepping away from the computer. I can adopt a relaxed approach in my every day. In the things I want to do for myself. I can incorporate all the mantras and maxims of the training course: Have time for play. Have time for self-reflection. Have time for reading. Art. Listening to music. Have time for walking the dog. Have time for bundling the four-year-old in the bike trailer, cycle down to the local shop and pick up a locally-sourced bottle of milk, a loaf of bread and come home to a yummy breakfast. Have time to drink water. Have time to make meals from scratch. The training had brilliant insights, and it was a great refresher. It just made me realise that there is a good place for technology - when it is used strategically, it liberates so you can close the laptop and really live slowly and mindfully.

How do I stop barrelling in half-cocked? Two weeks ‘off’ and I’ve been planning how to plan: how do I pause before I pounce? 16 August 2025 Fliss Falconer Not quite off-grid I turned off my work phone. It was my best attempt to step away from work for two weeks - it didn’t last. I still checked my emails. I didn't respond to any though. Progress. I also am attempting to quash the worries that threaten to rise when I consider that my first week back will include a full week of training and planning for the next academic year rather than catching up on emails, so it might as well be three weeks off work. It’s Inset days all over again - necessary meetings, for sure, but itching to get into the classroom and set up for the new term. And just like every other summer holiday I have ever experienced, I have not managed to get fully away from my work. I am full of ideas on how I can structure, streamline and serve the way I support legal intervention for schools, to benefit pupils, their families, their education institutions and our team. Less Blood Brothers and Macbeth these days but as much planning for the new term. Focus: Planning Lady Macbeth had a couple of hours. We know how that panned out. Her timeframe (rather than her purpose) is my usual remit. Give me a deadline and tell me it's urgent, and I will throw all I can into getting it done. (For reference, see how my garden has been revamped in the last two weeks knowing that I won't have any time - or inclination - to look at it for the next 9 months or so...). However, this week's online seminar at the University of Gloucester was focussed on our Continuing Professional Development (CPD), which takes up 500 of our 3000-word count for the first assignment. Taking out academic jargon, it asks how and where we are languishing and how, precisely, we shall shake ourselves of the shortfalls. I think since my first Professional Development plan, I have always been able to drum up some wording to fit around a half-formed plan I was hatching, as part of the 'undiagnosed but something's there' part of my functioning is thriving on the new and intriguing, and I just love a plan. I just tend to execute half-cocked and wing it. Looking into room 17 of a certain Herefordshire school, you could see the boards and posters I lovingly attached long after I left the place. In the next couple of months, I will be having a nose to see what remains, as I take my eldest to look around it as a potential student... The planning of those walls took months. A mix of maternity leave, department renovation and an unexpected flood (not caused by me!), I wrote out lists on Notes and Excel, which I still have today, on what I wanted to put on my walls. I wanted to do it once and for it to last. It was probably the last time I really worked on a plan before putting it into action. I had to exercise patience before I could get my hands on my room. And it hurt. It felt like a physical ache to wait. Delayed gratification: I hate it. It didn't hurt nearly half as much to leave it all when I left teaching. I was happy that I was leaving behind a pleasant room that could be modified to suit the next person (although I am sorry for the residual sticky marks from my decorative tape on the white board and the final books I couldn't rehome!) but leaving a project does not feel as heart-wrenching as waiting to start putting a plan into action. (Diagnosis unnecessary.) Where do I start? So, how precisely am I going to work on this? Well, my plans do not just affect me, do they? My long-suffering partner often finds himself lost in the ever-evolving kitchen layout - my latest ‘improvement’ project. Worse for him, as his diagnosed Autism needs stability and regularity so he suffers more than he should. And my argument of 'well, I am wanting it and I am doing it and I don't need your help or your opinions' is admittedly selfish and juvenile. Whether I know (let's be honest, think) it will make our lives function for the better, my decisions for the home do affect at least the eight beings under this roof, if not the twelve that are our 'village' and the others who are our 'extended village'. I am humoured most days, especially when we can create a moment for the Strawbridge's 'I've been thinking' by Angel and Dick's eye-roll to the camera. I know I am supported. Again, please reference my eighty-year-old neighbour who helped me move a panel of a Wendy House yesterday, and the seventy-something-year-old neighbour who made me stop and drink a pint of lime cordial before I collapsed. So, I know I impact others and oftentimes, not in the ways I intended. Therefore, I am planning and scaling down my next work plan ahead of attempting its execution. I swear, it's progress. The planning process I have a notebook, and a pen. Already, I am slowing down the process. I have watched a Youtube video for a second time, but I have not opened the work laptop, meaning that I cannot plan for work projects until work time. (Yes, I am still on this laptop and yes, this is about work and Uni but bear with me. Progress takes time and it means changing my modus operandi of 15-plus-years.) Most crucially, I have set out a plan. Then I have asked myself questions about it. I am critically thinking about it. I want to get 'here'. To get 'here'.. How am I going to do it? How do I look at those areas? Why is that important? Is that something for now? What needs to happen first? Is this something I am going to manage to do? Will I be able to gather that information myself or will I need to ask other people? Will that be available to inform this? Does that need to be made public now or can it wait until later? Can I share it with just the team for now? What about pulling it back so it's useful for my Lead first then scale it up later? What am I doing now that would help? What tweaks does it need first? All these are based on the ten-minute planning session I did earlier. I exorcised my need to get my 'posh'* pen out and get something on my French-lined exercise book. I then put those instruments down and picked up my laptop. I can think about the scaled-down version before I begin working on it in earnest, in ten days' time... or more. I am reeling. It is a plan. And there is time for honing, development and consideration. It will take in how it will impact others and how it can be initiated, maintained and developed... later. Is this progress? Real progress? How much it will last, we shall see. Perhaps that's part of the progress, too? I should not expect an immediate transformation. My goodness, that's it. The change will take planning, too. Perhaps, for my final two days of my holiday, I will be able to 'sit and chill'... That fireplace won't paint itself, though... I’ll have a cup of tea and think about it first. *P.S. My tutor thought my pen 'posh'; I love it because it's pink.

As close to a YES DAY as I hope to have! 27 July 2025 Fliss Falconer 'Adventure is out there!' On Saturday, we were packed and we headed out of the close at 6am on the dot, sailing off to a major UK theme park, ready with sunscreen and snacks for a birthday treat. It had been booked for a month or two and so much of me was glad that it was just we two, as opposed to the 50+ students and odd (number of) staff that accompanied me last time I went there. Gone was the clipboard, the first aid kits, the lists of names and numbers. The Risk Assessment. One backpack, two bottles of water, a phone, its charger and two broad smiles. I tried in vain not to start every sentence with 'When I was here last...' but it cropped up quite a bit. I saw more of the place yesterday than I did last time. Then, I set up camp in the coffee shop and students came and went as necessary. I think I opted for more 'duties' than was strictly necessary (meaning I stayed in the coffee shop in case any students needed a teacher for first aid or friendship counselling) more out of having time to relax following the rigmarole of actually getting there. Ah, the joys of Enrichment Week. I've done all sorts over the years - I've abseiled down a wooden building in the middle of a wood; I've been flung into the distance on an overgrown swing; I've taught students how to pack a suitcase and plan a trip from start to finish; I've quietly sung under my breath the lyrics for School of Rock' s and Blood Brothers' s best ballads; I've even told off a French family for being too loud thinking their room belonged to our students... that one made my colleagues laugh! Trips and enrichment activities have been equally exasperating and exhilarating. Lots of the places I've visited have been at the expense of my schools, but I hope I chipped in enough with preparation and delivery that my students let feeling fully enriched. It's also given me plenty of experiences I wanted to share with my own children. Hence my joy in booking the tickets when the big one said he'd like to go for his birthday. Overall, the day was great, but writing this after the trip rather than before, as planned, serves my purpose more. I have given my feedback to the place in question as soon as the expected 'So how did we do?' email pinged into my inbox this morning. I will spare you the details, but I had hoped for more bang for my buck. Nevertheless, as I said, it serves my purpose. Yesterday, the whole day was the choice of the big one. He was in charge, and I promised to go at his pace. 5 1/2 stone lighter than last year, it was still challenging to keep up with an energetic nine-year-old who couldn't keep to his own plan and who zigzagged across the whole park. It was great fun. He kept asking if I wanted to choose which ride we went on next, but I deferred to his judgement. So much of his youth has been dictated by Covid-restrictions and the needs of the little one (and more recently, a needier border collie) that he more than deserved a day to do as he pleased. We did start on a ride inspired a 1973 film that led to a lot of questions. A lot of questions. I also had great fun letting two Year 10-ish girls behind us, who voiced their concerns about the ride itself, that they'd better avoid the film unless they really wanted nightmares. Ah, I miss teaching teens! The story-start and the ride itself made the big one opt for more gentler rides for a bit, but his trepidation was short-lived, and we experienced many thrills during the day. We did stop for lunch just to get a burst of energy, and I did say that 9pm was late enough for a birthday bedtime. But for the rest of the day, he was in charge. Enticing Enrichment So many parents opt to remove their children from their school's Enrichment Week. They see it as a week where their kids 'aren't actually learning' and choose to spend the nominal fee they are asked to pay towards a family trip so they can make memories together. The holidays during term time are cheaper and many of them factor in the cost of a fine from their local authority as part of the cost of the time away. This view comes from conversations as a teacher, a parent, and in my current role. I have read many absence request forms that say that family holidays and family memories are important to experience. Children are enriched by experiencing the place their parents and/or carers choose rather than the choice made by the school. I imagine - and I can only imagine - that the children then experience holidays and experiences that are similar to those I have described from yesterday. All being well, the children are catered for and their whims are made reality. They come back with experience of alternative sights, scenery and sensations. Cuisine and culture aplenty. And if the parents are going to be forking out for a bill, they want to be a part of it, too. 18 summers go past quickly... and other similar epithets. I am biased... in some ways. My mother was a teacher, so she and I had holidays together all my childhood. We got to have those lovely weeks off. We also had weeks each summer in her classroom - her preparing for the year ahead and me, well, I drew on her chalk board, I pulled staples out of the walls. I once painted a school wall yellow, I've been told. I swore when I had children that they would never spend holiday time in school. May I be forgiven. What are the benefits of being a part of the school’s plans? According to a 2025 report titled Beyond the Classroom: The Role of Enrichment in Tackling the School Absence Crisis , published by the Centre for Young Lives in collaboration with The Duke of Edinburgh’s Award and NCS Trust, it says that children who participate in enrichment activities can have boosts in self-confidence, increased emotion-management, are 'more able to take responsibility' and gain more employability skills, among a host of other benefits. This report presents compelling evidence that school enrichment activities directly boost attendance, engagement, and wellbeing, especially among disadvantaged students. It highlights how enrichment builds confidence and friendships and encourages school attendance through positive incentives It also shows how the benefits are not just for the children: for teachers, there is an '[i]mproved understanding of young people and better able to develop positive relationships' and for parents, an ‘[i]mproved confidence in institutions'. They don't even realise they're learning I am not unsympathetic to parents wanting to spend time with their children. Why on earth would I want to deprive any parent from time with their children? What I am considering is that Enrichment Weeks offer crucial holistic learning opportunities. Yesterday, the big one had the luxury of having every whim catered to. (Thinking about it, he probably wanted even more, but it was a close to a 'Yes Day' as he'll get.) It was a special occasion after all. How often would I be able to recreate that for him, though? For one thing, we try to make it fair for both boys so we most likely be back in 2030 for the little one's ninth. We probably won't be able to escape a ticket for the big one as he will be tall enough for all the rides by then, so I won't be able to recreate it fully for Small Fry. Then we will have to take it in turns or divide and conquer, and that's a whole different ball game. Waiting in line is one thing but waiting for your turn, waiting for your choice, waiting for your chance? Following someone else's schedule, working out what works best for everyone and having to prepare for even more contingencies. Suddenly, memories of school trips are coming screaming back to me... When can these experiences best be experienced? Enrichment Week. Hardly a 'Hard-Knock Life' Students who go on school trips are already learning because they are taking part and therefore accessing so much more information than they do when in a classroom learning from a page or a screen. But to get there... there are forms to take home, get signed, return on time. There are checks to do. There are passports to find (I nearly left mine at home for one trip and I was in charge of the passports!). There are lunch and snacks to remember and eke out through the day. There are toilet breaks to take before you board and the experience of holding on for the designated stop. There are bus mates to choose. There is pocket money to keep a hold of and to spend wisely. Instructions. Timing. Responsibility. Children and teachers bond and transform when out of their natural habitat and let loose in the wild. I've known a handful of teens by sight and come home with them as 'my crew' ('O Captain! My Captain!'). If everything was bent and ground down for the whim of all of us - not just children - but all of us, how are we to cope when things don't go as planned, when mistakes happen, when things get lost? When are the lessons learned? And how fair is it to deprive our children of the chance to strike out on their own and have some responsibility for themselves? Their teachers are experienced, DBS-checked and there is a clear and well-documented risk assessment in every teacher's trip pack, I assure you. There’s magic in letting them lead the day. But there’s also magic - earned, not given - in the team rituals of a well-planned school trip. The accountability, the independence, the joy of negotiating friendships beyond familiar circles. There’s also great learning to be had when it goes wrong. £5 lost this time. How will you make sure it doesn’t happen next time? Opting out of these experiences for a cheaper week in Spain may rob your child of their chance to experience their own choice of friendships and fun. And as much as it can be a difficult moment for a child to enter a classroom when the day has already started, missing out on a mutual experience - the in-jokes, the shared experiences, the sudden flashbacks - there may be the same sense of alienation and feeling of being on the outside when they come back from their holiday after missing a school trip. They may be able to talk about the room they stayed in that had an incredible view but without the others sharing that vision, it might as well be unbelievable. Thirteen weeks per year are set aside for children's time outside of school. There are so many arguments to be made about how they are planned, spent or should be redistributed. Those arguments are for the comments section and for another day. For now, I am glad that yesterday was an experience for us both, but I will always opt in my kids for their enrichment. Adventure is out there - let us let them experience it. https://www.dofe.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/02/Beyond-the-classroom-enrichment-report-1.pdf

Coming to you live following Chris Martin's revelations... 19 July 2025 Fliss Falconer 'If it's not written down, it didn't happen' is a mentality that is advocated at work, as we take our accountability to the core as a key value. The need to record everything accurately can feel daunting at times - it requires us to use our time wisely and document how those hours are spent. A bit like planning a road trip or your summer calendar (tick that off my list!) you need to calculate the journey, the stops, and leave room to get back. As much as I love Copilot (no surprise there) I have strict personal policies about not using it for my work when it comes to the real people I serve, let alone the strict policies in place at work. Therefore, I am very thankful of the speed and (mostly accurate) typing that I have honed over the years so that I can type up what I have done as quickly and clearly as possible. I also write these blogs myself and strategically use Copilot to check them through for spelling errors before I publish. My mother would happily do this, too. If you're reading this, I don't want you to think that a computer has put it together - I want AI to help me with chores so I can focus on the creative bit, not the other way around. Anyway, it's my job to ensure that the full picture is recorded, truthfully, accurately and be understood by someone who has never seen the issue before, may have no insider knowledge about education but can make a potentially life-changing decision based on what they have read. It is also my job to ensure that what is going out into the public domain is what the public should see. It's a fine line. Just like blogs, social media posts, and the Monday morning 'How was your weekend?' updates, people will naturally shy away from giving the full picture to those who are not within their inner circle. We keep things that are just for us to know internalised and often transmit the shinier, brighter version. We keep the mundane, repetitive and sometimes questionable and unforgivable moments to ourselves. Sometimes, this is not the case. Sometimes you forget that by simply doing something, you’re being seen in more ways than you realise. When there are books, blogs, podcasts and seminars available to teach you how to read and interpret the minutiae of body language - crossing of arms and legs, inflections of the voice, twitches of mouths and eyebrows - is it any wonder that when you are out in public, people witness more than what you choose to reveal? You might encrypt your emails, install the firewalls, and use face-mapping tech on your lock screen... and still, something leaks. Often, through human error. In sessions with schools, I have shared memories of meetings with members of my school's Senior Leadership Team who reminded us more than once that we should use professional language to discuss the children in our care, and that anything we wrote could be called upon for public view. Each time I wondered what the hell people were writing! It’s something my mother drilled into me: Write it down. Keep a list. Keep a record. But above all, know it can be used against you. So be careful. Be accurate. Be honest. And never use writing to vent or exact revenge. It’s a hard, fine line. From restorative training with the great Kate Simpson, I’ve held onto the phrase: your truth, my truth, and the truth. Striving for fairness and accuracy every time. It’s tough—and we rarely get it perfectly right. It comes down to what we say and do can always come and bite us in the bum, best of intentions or not. Integrity, another core value, means that we do the right thing no matter who is watching and even when no one is watching at all. What language choices are you using? Warm and welcoming? Persuasive, not manipulative? Curious, not coercive? If your in-the-moment frustration was aired on camera, would you cover your face or dive to the floor? To illustrate a point, I asked Copilot to draft a warm, friendly message for a child who’d been absent from school. Then I asked it to write one using angry, frustrated words. It refused. If AI knows not to speak to children that way, maybe that’s a lesson for all of us.

I'm just saying that a friend used this phrase to describe the score of a musical for which he was trumpeting... and it made me giggle. 12 July 2025 Fliss Falconer And, I thought it was also a good metaphor for tooting your own trumpet when you feel like a fraud… which is where this week's blog comes in... Take a breath It brought a surprising and humbling moment: I was asked to write a piece for the Gloucestershire County Council's Weekly Bulletin, reflecting on the recent award I received for demonstrating our council’s values of Empowerment and Collaboration in action. It’s safe to say I sat with a mixture of gratitude and nerves - wondering how best to encapsulate not only the honour, but the shared spirit behind it. This is not my win. (And this is not me outwardly being humble and inwardly jumping up and down, gleefully grinning that the trophy is mine, miney-mine.) The win belongs to the incredible team in which I work, especially my Lead and her peers, who exemplify integrity, empathy, and collaboration every day. I simply had the chance to reflect the values they live. The focus for the award was on the document I made and the strategic lead I undertook at the end of last year. Luckily, I already have proof from last week that the document was completely ‘magpied’ material from the schools and professionals that I chucked some stars on for good measure. Secondly, from the moment I had a voicemail from my Lead in January 2023, which I promptly played to my teaching colleague, Beth, I knew I had to work for her. (Beth, this is your moment to corroborate this!) During the time she was away from her desk, she was still an ever-present voice in my head - I could hear her telling me not to be a 'nana' but I also felt unswerving confidence that it was all going to be ok and to soldier on to do her and the team proud. The reason we thrived? Her. Give it your all As part of my course this week, I have just been listening to John Wooden's TED talk 'The difference between winning and succeeding'. He is possibly the only sports person to whom I would choose to listen, and that does come from him being an English teacher first and foremost. Sports just isn't my thing. Anyway, he said success is 'doing the best of which you are capable'. He also stressed that we should focus on success over winning: one main reason for me not understanding sports is the 'We won' element. Yes, you won... this game. What about the next one? You also didn't play yourself... ad infinitum. Success though - that's a different ball game. When I was teaching, my 'results' (though, again, not mine per se) were good. Never breath-taking. Just, that'll do. There's plenty more I could have done to support my students and their academic attainment had I time, energy, better training etc. and before I shift any more blame onto others, I could have done more were it my focus. It was never my focus. I wanted each student to know they had worth beyond their academic progress. That their As, Bs, Cs and later 3s, 4s, 7s and 9s were only a small fraction of the immense potential of their entire selves. I wanted them to feel cherished and loved and valued. (Shocking memories are currently flooding my brain of where I got it wrong despite my best efforts. Raised voice, short temper, exasperation. Anger. Hurt. Fraud.) I know I did my best. I did not always get it right. There are plenty of days where I went home full of anger and worry and dread, but I kept showing up. I apologised. I tried new tactics. I dug deep. And I see ex-students from all my schools and the warm hellos and hugs tell of when I did get it right. Lessons learned Now I am a student myself, but also still a teacher, I am conscious of the need to live by my own maxims: Check the question. Hand your work in on time. If you want to be truly lazy, do it properly the first time. So much of what I am reading on my course for this first module (assessing my own knowledge, skills and behaviours) is bringing back memories of teaching and other jobs: how to be a leader and what to avoid; who inspired me and how I want to emulate them; getting my act together and planning ahead. (I must actually write the essay still... more of that to come.) I don't know - I could sink into the pressure that 2025 is the year that I have taken on more than I have ever done before. Or I can take courage that I have gotten this far, and the plates are still spinning. I have done it, and I can continue to do it. I have won the award, and I can continue to strive for the next one. I can be considered as good a team-mate as any in the group, and I can continue to thrive with them. Writing for the bulletin gave me pause to appreciate the ripple effect of our work. From working with our legal team, to transforming documents into models for distribution to schools and other professionals, each new initiative feels more meaningful when it's connected to a broader story - one of shared purpose, strategic grit, and sincere human connection. This is just the beginning of the game. (Oh, and my response to his week playing the tricky score? 'Toot well.')

From Fog to Footprints: Guiding Schools Through Legal Intervention 05 July 2025 Fliss Falconer “It’s like starting a journey with a well-marked map versus walking blindly for a few miles and then asking if you're on track.” —Julie Zhuo, The Making of a Manager  (2019) How many times did I encourage pupils to plan before putting pen to paper? How many times did I play Mr Davis’ The Power of Y - a YouTube video now sadly lost to time - to show the value of brainstorming, prioritising, and curating ideas until only the ones that sparkled with purpose remained? And how many times did I ask them to proofread? Why? Because I was told - countless times myself - to read the question and answer the question. Thanks for reading Fliss’s Substack! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. It’s ironic, really. I’m notorious for missing details, despite being an ex-English teacher with strong opinions on the Oxford comma. But it’s that exact weakness that makes me a better guide: I’ve felt the frustration, I’ve found the tools to navigate it, and I want to share what I know. (See, an Oxford comma, used intentionally.) January Blues January 2023. A bleak month, I’m told. I can’t actually recall it, but let’s assume the fog was thick. What I do  remember clearly is a productive meeting with our legal team, where I asked for support in simplifying what schools needed to do to submit successful legal files. As the bridge between schools and the legal team, I wanted an approach that was clear, obvious, and achievable - not something that felt like an epic feat of endurance. A resource had been made, and a meeting held the previous March. But if you missed March, you missed the memo. I won’t say there was nothing in place - there was. What I wanted was a path that began at step one and ended with a metaphorical flag waving at the summit. A visible journey. A well-marked map. Collaboration or plagiarism? In my early days in the role, I found an infogram created by a brilliant colleague, now sadly missed. It gave me insight into the attendance guidance of the time. Missing the thrill of making lockdown training videos on English literature texts, I reworked the infogram into an A4 sheet - mostly blue columns - outlining support schools could explore before considering legal action. Steps before initiating legal intervention  became ‘ Steps ’ by the time I attended my first Attendance Network Meeting. I asked roughly 100 attendance officers and leaders to share the methods they used to encourage attendance. I thanked them and told them how, through the ripple effect, their ideas would help all Gloucestershire schools. It was something I did instinctively in school, too. Each year, I’d collect brainstorming ideas from one cohort, refine and share them with the next - onwards and upwards. I’ve been told I needn’t stress so much about transparency. Apparently, I’m wildly enthusiastic when crediting others. In the spirit of Support First, From First Signs to Legal Intervention   was born. You can tell I designed it - it’s full of rainbows and stars. If I could coat it in biodegradable glitter, you know I would. It’s written in pupil- and parent-friendly language and used to guide conversations about every option before legal steps are taken. Finding the footholds and clearing the fog Thanks to the tools and rules shared by the legal team, I began mapping the pathway to legal intervention. I wanted it to be winding but accessible - free of potholes and pitfalls. Training videos were created. Suddenly, feedback shifted: the fog was lifting, and schools were navigating with clarity. Before, some had found the mountain too treacherous to scale. Now, some were striking out, discovering the marked footholds and making progress. Have the team and I become the Tenzing Norgay of legal intervention? Cliff edges and cautious climbing “In 1947, Norgay participated in an unsuccessful summit attempt of Everest.” - Wikipedia, Tenzing Norgay . Retrieved July 5, 2025 Well, that makes me feel better. Sorry, Norgay. There were setbacks. Being called “ridiculous” still stings. But this was a meeting of education and law - not yet legislated or nationally consistent. Eventually, a few hardy schools and our team reached the summit. I want to make this crystal clear: prosecuting is not  something we ever want. It must always be a last resort. When we say that every other route must be exhausted—we mean it. Exhausted, we reached the top. And with the pegs now in place, other schools can follow. My next role? Cartographer. Self-sufficient, not self-reliant This month, I delighted in announcing the availability of resources on the Bulletin Board: an AI-assisted training video, exemplar witness statements with exhibits, and a practical checklist. The goal? To smooth the rocky mountainside into something resembling a climbable path. It’s not a jolly day out, but it’s a navigable journey—clear, supported, and regularly signposted. Schools can now complete their paperwork independently, swiftly, and most importantly, confidently. Not going to lie - I’m a little chuffed. Preparing for the journey ahead The map is drawn. The signposts are in place. And as with all great journeys, preparation is everything. From next week, I’ll be hosting sessions to support schools as they get ready. I’ll pose open-ended questions to prompt self-assessment of their attendance procedures. Most won’t need me - we have Scout- and Girl Guide-like Attendance Champions ready to lead the charge for academic year 2025–2026. But for anyone who does need me, I’ll gladly step in as Guide. Peers who've walked the path before are on hand to lend their wisdom too. I’m excited. The journey is ahead—and the flag at the summit is already waving.

Gearing up for the start of the Senior Leader Diploma Apprenticeship with the University of Gloucester 25 June 2025 Fliss Falconer Strategic Thinking Anyone who knows me, knows that I’m a jump-in-without-looking kind of gal. It’s ‘never done me wrong’—but in reality, living this way means relying on my wits, fuelling stress and anxiety with copious coffee, and mastering the deep-breath pep talk. I think the biggest part of my personality that makes others look on either wide-eyed or with despair is my undiagnosed something-or-other that compels me to deep-clean the house when I’ve got a deadline looming... So, I knew that when the opportunity presented itself to improve my strategic thinking, to develop my role that I gave up teaching to pursue, and would be part-time for three years so I could still work and earn, I jumped at it. Who’s surprised. So much rests on the support not only of my wonderful and long-suffering family, but my fantastic team who are giving me the space, time and support to undertake this. Like a diet, tell everyone so you stick at it, I’m making my ‘portfolio’ public in a way to stay motivated. Stay tuned. 1. Why this, why now? Working with my students for the twelve years I was a teacher showed me so many ways that children’s education was seen as their one chance to do well that would pave the way for their bright futures. I’ve since matured myself in this thought process. We are constantly growing and evolving, and that means that all children should be nurtured and supported in becoming the adults we want to see take charge of this world. That means allowing them the chances for do-overs and for getting it wrong without the fear, anxiety or pressure that they are failing when things don’t go their way. I also know many of my peers who still feel that their time in education let them down and they were made to feel shame for their learning process, not given the resources and tools to cope and that they have felt they have been playing catch up ever since. I don’t buy the dismissive idea that ‘everyone is on the spectrum these days.’ I believe in the principle of: when you know better, do better. With more research, professional curiosity and reflective practice, I hope that all educators are doing all they can to fully and holistically support their pupils and their families to navigate a post-epidemic world, and to take the best of technological advances and recapture the social and community elements. When people think they may have ‘done better in school’ if they had been given an earlier diagnosis and the right tools to support them, I don’t want our current cohorts of pupils to think they were let down by their professionals who used legal intervention as a punitive measure to tackle their attendance rather than seeking every other option to dig into the root cause of why they were not coming into school. I could not keep teaching Macbeth if there were no pupils in front of me to teach. Schools in Gloucestershire exhaust all options to support pupils and families as part of the ‘Support First’ ethos from the Department for Education and shared by Gloucestershire County Council. Now for the next steps. 2. Our community This is going to be a space for me to share my learning journey with the University of Gloucester and a place to share ideas, resources, methods and success stories. Starting in Gloucestershire, I am hoping to offer these elements to all educators. Attendance is safeguarding—it’s everyone’s business. And I am equally invested and curious about people’s experiences, concerns, queries and their own navigation stories with school attendance. 3. Initial Manifesto This is my starting point—a manifesto that will grow as my learning deepens. (Apparently, a manifesto is a great start to strategic thinking. Planning, who knew?!): 1. Supportive Legal Interventions: Prioritising support over punitive measures, ensuring legal action is a last resort. 2. Bespoke Training & Support: Tailoring interventions with SMART targets for effective staff and pupil development. 3. Regular Check-ins: Incorporating 6-weekly reviews during half-terms to monitor progress and provide ongoing support. 4. Resource-rich Support: Providing practical resources and tools for both staff and pupils. 5. Ethical AI Integration: Guiding safe and effective AI use respecting confidentiality and GDPR.