17 August 2026

“The average teacher explains complexity; the gifted teacher reveals simplicity.” – Robert Brault

Teaching is a curious profession. On the one hand, it is incredibly visible. Every lesson is played out in front of thirty young people who are often more than happy to tell you how well it is going. On the other hand, some of the most important aspects of great teaching are almost invisible, even to the teachers performing them.

A recent article by Sufian Sadiq in TES explored this challenge. Drawing on the work around didagogy, Sadiq argues that expert teachers frequently struggle to articulate exactly how they make decisions in the classroom. They are not consciously weighing up options moment by moment. Instead, they act through a combination of purpose, experience, professional identity and instinct.

That observation will ring true for many teachers. Most of us can think of colleagues whose lessons seem effortless. The students are engaged, the classroom feels purposeful and learning happens. Yet if you ask those teachers precisely how they achieve it, the answer is often far less clear than expected. Perhaps the reason is simple. The secret is not a particular technique. It is a superpower.

The teachers we never forget

Most teachers can immediately recall someone who inspired them early in their career. It might have been a head of year who combined empathy with absolute authority. A teacher whose classroom behaviour management appeared almost magical. A colleague who somehow knew every student in the school, along with their interests, aspirations and challenges.

What stands out about these people is that they are rarely identical. Their methods differ. Their personalities differ. Their subject knowledge, routines and classroom styles differ. Yet they often achieve similar outcomes. The common factor appears to be their ability to connect.

Whether describing highly effective classroom practitioners, successful pastoral leaders or outstanding mentors, the same theme surfaces again and again. The teachers who make the greatest impact were those who built genuine connections with young people while maintaining clear expectations and professional boundaries.

This goes beyond simply being liked. Students do not need teachers to be their friends. They need teachers who are fair, consistent and genuinely interested in them as individuals. When those foundations are in place, every other teaching strategy becomes more powerful.

Expertise is more than technique

One of the most interesting points in Sadiq’s article is the warning against “teaching by numbers”. Over the past decade, education has rightly benefited from a greater understanding of cognitive science and evidence-informed practice. Shared language around techniques such as retrieval practice, cold calling and scaffolding has undoubtedly helped professional conversations.

However, there is a danger in assuming that successful teaching is simply the correct application of a set of techniques. Any experienced teacher knows this is not true. Two teachers can use the same strategy in the same lesson with vastly different results. One generates enthusiasm and deep thinking. The other sees limited impact. The difference is often found in factors that are harder to quantify. Relationships. Credibility. Consistency. Authenticity. These are not alternatives to good teaching techniques. They are what make those techniques work.

Discovering your own superpower

If every effective teacher is different, perhaps professional development should focus less on creating identical practitioners and more on helping teachers identify and develop their unique strengths.

Ask a group of experienced teachers what their classroom superpower is and the answers are rarely the same. One teacher may excel at bringing industry experience into the classroom. Complex programming concepts become meaningful because they are connected to real applications in software development, banking, cybersecurity or engineering. Students begin to understand not only how something works, but why it matters.

Another teacher’s strength may be relentless reflection. They constantly ask themselves uncomfortable questions:

• Why am I teaching this topic in this way?
• Is it producing the outcomes I want?
• What would happen if I tried something different?

This mindset turns teaching into an ongoing process of experimentation and improvement. Rather than accepting established practice at face value, reflective teachers continually look for better solutions. Both approaches can be enormously effective, despite appearing completely different on the surface. The important lesson is that neither teacher is trying to copy someone else. They are building upon their own strengths.

Why questioning the orthodox matters

Computing has always been a subject that rewards innovation, and perhaps the same should be true of Computing education. Many of the most successful developments in classroom practice have emerged because teachers were prepared to challenge assumptions.

Consider flipped learning. Traditionally, homework has been used to reinforce content already taught in lessons. The flipped classroom reverses this sequence, allowing students to encounter core knowledge before arriving in class and freeing lesson time for discussion, application and problem-solving.

Or consider retrieval practice. The goal is not simply to test knowledge but to strengthen memory by repeatedly revisiting key concepts over time. Students often encounter the same questions again and again because remembering is the point.

Programming education provides another example. Many teachers introduce subprograms relatively late because they are perceived as difficult. Yet some practitioners have found considerable success by teaching them early. The reasoning is straightforward: concepts that appear difficult become easier with sustained practice. Students who regularly work with subprograms from the beginning may stop viewing them as difficult altogether.

None of these approaches emerged because someone accepted conventional wisdom. They emerged because someone asked, “Why do we do it this way?”

The Computing teacher advantage

Computing teachers possess a unique opportunity in this regard because the subject naturally connects classroom learning with the wider world. Students often ask questions that begin with “When will I ever use this?” The strongest Computing teachers rarely struggle to answer.

Whether discussing algorithms, networking, databases or programming, they can connect learning to careers, industries and real-world applications. Students begin to see themselves not simply learning about technology but becoming creators, problem-solvers and innovators. Young people are more likely to engage when they understand how the skills they are developing relate to the wider world beyond the classroom.

Finding your unique selling point

Sadiq argues that professional development should help teachers understand their own decision-making more deeply. That is an important goal. Yet perhaps there is another question worth asking alongside it. What is your superpower?

Not the strategy that appears on a lesson observation template. Not the initiative currently being discussed in staff meetings. Not the technique everyone is talking about online.

What is the thing that students and colleagues remember about you?

Whatever it is, it is worth recognising and developing because great teaching rarely comes from becoming a copy of somebody else. It comes from understanding what makes you unique and using it to make a difference. If teaching is your product, then your superpower is your unique selling point. The challenge is making sure you know what it is.

Want to know more? Watch the latest ‘At the chalk face’ video where we go into more detail!

22 May 2026

From the outside, teaching careers often look deceptively linear. You qualify, you gain experience, and then you take your first promotional step before landing a Head of Year or Head of Department role. Then, if ambition and opportunity align, you step into senior leadership. In reality, most teachers discover very quickly that the path is anything but straight. Along the way, opportunities present themselves that sit awkwardly to the side of that ladder: paid projects, secondments, temporary leadership posts, governor roles, mentoring, outreach work, exam marking, subject associations, or county‑wide responsibilities. 

The question ambitious teachers quietly ask is, “Should I apply for roles that don’t clearly lead to senior leadership?”

Early on, it’s tempting to measure every opportunity purely in terms of progression. Will this role make me more promotable? Will the head notice? Will it be a direct route to SLT? That mindset is understandable, especially when the workload is high, time is finite, and you are keen to move up the ladder. However, teaching careers are long, and if you try to take the direct route, there’s a risk of missing roles that make you better, happier, and more intellectually alive in the classroom. 

Paid roles that pay back differently 

Some paid roles sit in this grey space. Exam marking is a perfect example. Financially, it rarely justifies the hours. Working through holidays for what often feels like a modest reward. Yet, the professional value can be immense. Hearing the conversations examiners actually have about scripts, ambiguity, and standards fundamentally changes how you teach exam classes. One year of marking can sharpen your instincts more than a decade of reading the specification. It may not move your application closer to SLT, but it can transform outcomes for your students and your confidence, both of which are essential for your future prospects. 

Other paid opportunities, like freelance authorship or curriculum development, offer a different return. Writing resources for external organisations rarely help you manage people or lead whole‑school initiatives, but it stretches you intellectually, connects you with wider professional communities, and occasionally pay far better than internal school roles. Crucially, it reminds you that teaching expertise has value beyond your own building. That realisation alone can be career‑shifting. 

When schools invent a role around you 

Sometimes schools create bespoke roles tailored to individual strengths. These can be exhilarating and risky. Reducing contact time to innovate and lead specialist work can reignite enthusiasm and allow you to make a visible difference. Yet these roles can also stall progression if they remove you from the experiences senior leaders ultimately value: line management skills, accountability for results, and genuine whole‑school impact. When viewed too narrowly, these posts can feel like a leap forward; viewed later, they may look like a sideways detour. 

Voluntary roles and the hidden power of professional growth 

Voluntary roles carry even more tension. Mentoring trainees, for example, offers no additional pay and little formal recognition. Don’t be too quick to write them off, the professional development is profound. Being responsible for another adult’s growth forces you to articulate your practice, confront your blind spots, and model what you believe good teaching really is. For many teachers, mentoring reshapes their identity — from competent practitioner to reflective professional. It won’t guarantee promotion, but it can quietly raise the ceiling of your own practice. 

Governance roles similarly operate beyond the classroom. Serving as a governor whether in your own school or elsewhere offers insight into budgets, accountability, politics, and long‑term strategy. You see how decisions are made, why compromises happen, and how leadership thinks under pressure. For teachers curious about the bigger picture, it can be eye‑opening. It also demands time, emotional energy, and a tolerance for paperwork! Taken on lightly, it becomes draining; done well, it can reshape how you understand schools as institutions. 

Subject networks, national roles, and the Risk of overreach 

National subject networks and professional bodies occupy another interesting space. They rarely lead directly to promotion within your school, and headteachers may value them only insofar as they benefit results locally, but the professional renewal they bring by working with passionate specialists can be career‑defining. These roles remind teachers that schools can be insular places, and that professional identity doesn’t have to stop at your department door. The risk, again, is overcommitment. Even meaningful work becomes problematic if it competes with your core responsibilities. 

Perhaps the most powerful “sideways” opportunities come in the form of temporary leadership, particularly maternity covers or short‑term secondments. These occupy a unique middle ground. They may be temporary, but they offer genuine exposure to senior leadership realities—decision‑making, scrutiny, pace, and pressure. They are as close to a “try before you buy” model as teaching gets. Done well, they provide evidence that no interview answer can match. Done badly, they can be career‑limiting. Rare is the experience that doesn’t teach you something vital about yourself. 

So how should teachers decide? 

The key is intention. Roles that are not direct pathways to SLT are still worth taking, but for the right reasons. 

Ask yourself: 

• Will this make me better at my core job? 
• Will this broaden my understanding of education? 
• Will this allow me to change practice and evidence making a difference? 
• Will senior leadership genuinely value this work? 
• Do I actually have the time to do it properly? 

If the answer is “yes” to at least some of these, the role may be invaluable, even if it never appears on an organisational chart. 

Teaching careers are rarely ladders. They’re more like networks of paths, some of which loop back, intersect, or dead‑end. Not every detour is a mistake. Some are where professional growth actually happens. The real risk isn’t taking the wrong role. It’s taking roles without being honest about why you’re taking them and what you’re expecting them to give you in return.