A teacher's view of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie

Being a teacher makes it hard not to be overly critical of Miss Jean Brodie.

It also makes it hard not to admire Sandy for what she achieved, given the paucity of her education (becoming well-known for writing a psychology book). Miss Jean Brodie seems to be viewed with admiration generally, noted for her glamorous, convention-defying ways, with general acknowledgement paid to her flaws - her manipulative nature, her way of being somehow 'above' morality and having an "excessive lack of guilt". Sandy, on the other hand, seems to be generally viewed as at the very least a conflicted character who made a problematic decision to 'betray' Brodie.

As a teacher, however, it is strange to read about such a legendary character whose charisma seemingly makes up for her disregard of actually teaching anything. Equally, I cannot help but sympathise with Sandy's choice - she seems correct in her justification of the 'betrayal':

"You are dangerous and unwholesome, and children should not be exposed to you!"

It doesn't seem like such a morally grey act as the repeated use of the word 'betray' would suggest. Brodie consciously manipulates impressionable young girls, attempts and succeeds to lead them to make dangerous choices, uses them to bolster her own self-image, and seems to believe that she is doing them all a favour. Poor Mary Macgregor. Of course, Sparks is being deliberately satirical of the cult of personality and reflecting on this theme seems like it will never not be relevant. That said, there is enough heft to the trope of a larger-than-life teacher to suggest that there is universal idealisation of it, even if largely subconscious. Jack Black in the School of Rock, Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society. These teachers all get too personal, too mixed up in the lives of their students.

Have we gone too far the other way? In teacher training, we all learn that relationships in the classroom are key. But these are made rather obliquely, in the small talk we can make as students are entering and leaving the classroom, in the short chats had while on duty. The lesson itself is a space embued with hyperawareness of the clock - countdown timers, 20-second blasts of 'think, pair, share', 10-15 minute blocks of 'microwriting' or writing elements of an exam answer against an extensive checklist, all to maximise student learning and time in the 'struggle zone' where they are extending themselves within their 'zones of proximal development'. 'Teacher talk' is a very negative phrase - and something all trainees must work hard to minimise.

Teachers who manage to balance this focused approach, rooted in educational psychology and research, create wonderful classroom routines and students who know exactly what to do and expect in each phase of the lesson. We get good results in both student confidence and exams. Reading The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie certainly doesn't challenge my conception of a teacher's 'craft' and its value. Rather, it makes me question where a student's education in character comes from in a room so focused on curriculum knowledge and skills.

Watching Sandy slowly remove the glamour Brodie had cast upon her is to watch her develop a moral understanding of the world. Do we not learn to judge character by having role models and anti-heroes to consider and to test? I'm now wondering if I'm so focused on my craft and half-termly 'end points' that I'm no longer spending any time at all thinking about how the character, or the 'teacher-persona' that I project, has any bearing on a student's moral education. Is it enough to set consistent boundaries, stick to an 'underpromise and overdeliver' philosophy and always keep my word? Or is this a bare minimum? Do teachers have a responsibility to also put effort into being charismatic, to attempt to inspire through our own force of personality? Certainly, the teachers I remember the most from my own schooling experience were those who pushed the boundaries of classroom behaviour. Most notable, perhaps, was my male physics teacher who wore high heels to demonstrate pressure and liked to come into class on his skateboard. In my own school today, I cannot imagine having spare the planning time, the corridor space, the lesson time in which to recreate a similar feat of tomfoolery.

So, a thought-provoking book. Lastly, a note on Sparks' technicality. This whole novella has no spare parts and is accomplished in ~130 pages. Sparks explores complex themes of religion, truth, coming of age, and so much more - all without explication. Consider the following brief lines and the weight they manage to pull:

“He looked at her with love and she looked at him severely and possessively.”

“All of the Brodie set, save one, counted on its fingers, as had Miss Brodie, with accurate results more or less.”

Now imagine 130 pages of such delights, along with morally grey characters and the overactive imagination of teenagers. A romp.