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The recent School Leaders Scotland manifesto urged us to “reset the public narrative on education”, emphasising the benefits of celebrating our system’s successes.

At present, there are challenges in both the public and more personal narratives that we construct around working in our schools. Indeed, one of the biggest changes I’ve noticed in my 25 years in teaching is the nature of the stories we tell about Scottish education in both of these spheres.

Once upon a time, revealing my job to a new acquaintance was an uplifting experience. They’d respond by telling me about favourite subjects they’d studied or an amazing teacher they’d had.

Now the conversation is different. It’s about how impossible a task teaching must be, the challenges of teenagers, general social decline and, too often, the ways in which they perceive their own local school to be failing.

‘People don’t like teachers any more’

Much has been written about the breakdown in relationships between schools and their communities since Covid, but the very public dimension of this phenomenon is increasingly problematic. Whether on the parent group chat, the local Facebook page or via the national behemoth that is Mumsnet, there are multiple ways for grievances to be aired publicly, and there is limited scope for schools to respond with their side of the story.

There will always be legitimate concerns to be addressed, but it’s almost guaranteed that while the complaint will be in full view, the resolution won’t be, leaving gaps within narratives and a privileging of the negative.

I was therefore sympathetic towards younger colleagues who recently confessed to having developed whole alter egos for social small talk. Rather than leaving themselves open to the hostility that identifying as a teacher can provoke, they instead played the role of hairdresser or cabin crew. To quote one, “People just don’t like teachers any more.”

A role that was a source of pride for me at that stage in my career has become a discomfort, because the story of schools has changed.

It’s easy to blame our media for the current public discourse around education, but we also need to take some responsibility as a profession for the conversations we have at a personal level.

Understandably, our discussions in schools often focus on difficulties: tightening budgets, increasing rates of additional support needs and subject shortages. These are real and present dangers having an impact on our ability to serve young people, and shouldn’t be ignored. It is worrying, though, to have colleagues present, as an axiom, the idea that “education is broken”.

Encouraging new teachers and leaders

Let’s be honest, accepting this as truth has a seductive power. If education really is broken, it means we are no longer responsible for making it better. We are absolved when things go wrong. We can stop feeling guilty, at least for a while. But it also means that we accept the consequences of telling this story to ourselves and others, especially those who could become teachers and leaders, who we should be welcoming and encouraging.

Figures for initial teacher education show that less than half of are being filled. Around one in five newly qualified teachers don’t make it past year one, with a further 30 per cent attrition rate after another year.

While the reasons behind this are complex, we need to think carefully about the messages these teachers are getting about their brand-new careers, from those who are a few chapters ahead. Scottish education isn’t a fairytale, but it’s not a horror story either. If we want to recruit and retain, we need to get some balance in the discourse.

There’s a phrase I use with my own team: “Both things can be true.” Young people can feel impossible to reach, but make us laugh daily. Partnerships can be exasperating, but offer so much. Accountability regimes can be stressful, but huge learning opportunities.

Choosing which side of the story we spend most time telling has real-world outcomes. To develop great new characters in the story of education, we need to think carefully about the tales we are telling.

Gail Preston is headteacher at Rosehill High School in East Lothian