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SocietyAugust 24, 2019

Slow boil: Why stressed-out New Zealand firefighters say they’re at crisis point

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Faced with staff shortages, equipment failures, cancer risks, and a jump in critical calls that can leave them traumatised, some firefighters are wondering if it’s time to hang up the hose. Gareth Shute reports on the dissatisfaction inside Fire and Emergency New Zealand.

The state of our nation’s fire service is probably not something most people spend much time thinking about. It’s often only if we find our own home engulfed in smoke, fire threatening to devour the walls, that the issue becomes real. We expect a fire truck to arrive at speed from the local station, full of brave souls with the physical and mental fortitude to run toward the building we just escaped from and try to save it from the flames.

The weekend of March 23rd-24th in Auckland saw a couple of dry, hot days with top temperatures of 24 degrees. It was late summer, when fire risk is highest and scrub fires can break out at any time. Yet that weekend, three fire trucks in Auckland were designated “K0” (not able to be used) because of staff shortages, and another was sent out short-crewed. When fire trucks are taken ‘off the line’, calls have to be taken by stations outside the usual response area, potentially causing delays and reducing the number of firefighters on the ground. NZ Professional Firefighters Union (NZPFU) secretary Wattie Watson says delays can have serious impacts, given that firefighters have limited time to safely rescue people trapped in a fire or to resuscitate at a medical call. Such staff shortages are a health and safety issue for the firefighters themselves, she says, but also a risk to the community at large.

“In real terms, we don’t have any more career firefighters on the ground than we’ve had since the 1990s,” Watson says. “There have been new stations, but that hasn’t meant more firefighters – staff and appliances have just been moved from one station to another.”

There are also concerns about the standard of the vehicle fleet that firefighters depend on. Last year, it was reported that many appliances (fire trucks) in Auckland had tyres that weren’t safe to be driven at speeds over 100km. In response, FENZ’s Kerry Gregory told the NZ Herald that the appliances were still “safe at the open road speed limit and firefighters were not expected to drive faster than 100kmh”.

It wasn’t the first time firefighters had expressed worries about their vehicles. In January 2017 a fleet of Fraser-MAN trucks that had been purchased for $20 million were “blacked” – deemed unfit for use by the firefighters themselves – after a string of reported faults that included doors popping open at random, pumps not going into gear or dropping out, and throttles not engaging or ceasing to work.

Fire and Emergency NZ (FENZ) Auckland region manager Ron Devlin admits that some improvements had to be made to the vehicles when they were first introduced, but says that currently all 46 of the Fraser-MAN fire appliances are in service, and operating out of some of our busiest fire stations.

He also says that staffing shortages of the sort that led to Auckland firetrucks being taken ‘off the line’ in March don’t pose any risk to public safety – in fact, there are no chronic staff shortages in the city at all.

“The public can be assured that we do have enough staff to respond to all incidents in Auckland and keep the community safe. We will not compromise on the safety of our people. On the rare occasion an appliance cannot be fully crewed, it is taken out of service to ensure our people’s safety and cover is arranged from a neighbouring station.”

FIVE OF THE MAN-FRASER APPLIANCES THAT WERE BLACKED IN 2017 (PHOTO: SUPPLIED)

The NZPFU is also concerned about a reduction in the number of heavy aerial appliance vehicles in Auckland – only two are in operation, down from a previous five. ‘Heavy aerial appliances’ are fire trucks with ladders that can have 32 metres (ten storeys) of reach to attack fires in multi-level buildings such as apartments. The NZPFU’s Wattie Watson says the shortage is especially concerning, given that one of the two heavy aerial appliances in Auckland also has to be available for incidents in Hamilton. In July, the NZPFU said that the issue is nationwide, claiming that “every metropolitan city in New Zealand is affected by a faulty aerial appliance.”

Ron Devlin says worries about the number of aerial appliances are groundless, given that the two operational appliances are based in the city centre where they are most likely to be needed, and that they are backed up by three more aerial appliances that can reach to 17 metres. They’re also more available now that they’re no longer used to respond to initial callouts from private fire alarms. Over the past five years, the heavy aerial appliance stationed at the Auckland Central station had been used only seven times on alarm-callout fires, despite responding to 2520 activations in total.

A review of the FENZ national aerial appliance strategy is underway, Devlin says, and it has begun to purchase a “small number” of new aerial appliances to replace some older vehicles, including heavy aerials.

Like teachers and nurses, many professional firefighters in the major centres are under financial pressure due to high house prices and a rising cost of living. But firefighters also face issues that are unique to their profession. Most worryingly, there is increasing evidence that some cancers – including digestive, oral, respiratory, and urinary cancer – can be caused by the chemicals absorbed by firefighters while on active duty. There’s been an enormous rise in plastic and synthetic materials used in modern buildings, including homes, and a lot of them give off toxins when incinerated. Carpets, for example, were once primarily made of wool. Nowadays, they’re more likely to contain polyester, which when burned produces benzene, a known carcinogen.

In May, by a group of firefighters gathered outside parliament to push for ACC legislation recognising these cancers as an occupational risk. Governments in Canada and Australia, along with two-thirds of US states, have already introduced legislation giving firefighters the same entitlements and medical assistance for treatment of those cancers as for any other work-related injury.

“If a firefighter was burned in a fire there would be no question it was work-related,” says Watson. “There is a wealth of accepted credible evidence that has shown repeated exposures to the toxins in a structure fire including every-day house fires result in significant increases of particular cancers in firefighters. Firefighters should not have to fight for their wages and medical assistance when diagnosed with occupational cancer.”

The NZPFU is also fighting for screening and blood tests to ensure earlier detection of these cancers. Watson also says more could be done on the ground to mitigate the risks.

“Firefighters are going into fires with temperatures of more than 500 degrees Celsius and, within reason, their uniforms have to protect them from that radiant heat. That means their uniforms have to be able to breathe, but that means that smoke can go through the uniform and they absorb these toxins through their skin.”

FENZ is aware of these issues, says Devlin, and is working with firefighters and their union to reduce potential exposure to carcinogens and better educate staff on the proper use of personal protective equipment. Improvements are being made all the time, he says, pointing to the introduction of ‘dirty to clean’ transition areas inside stations to prevent carcinogens being brought into living and eating areas.

FENZ is also widening the scope of existing regular health checks, he says. “These will include monitoring occupational cancer risk, hearing, lung function and cardiovascular checks. We are working through how we will implement this.”

While welcoming the safety improvements, Watson says the NZPFU has received pushback from FENZ on implementing on-the-ground measures such as decontamination units, and that more focused, immediate changes are required.

Fire fighters in training. Photo: SUPPLIED / NZ Fire Service

Last week, Newshub reported on the “crisis” in firefighter mental health in New Zealand. It’s part of an uptick in mental health issues in fire services worldwide, Watson says, pointing to global research showing increasing rates of PTSD, depression, anxiety, and suicide among firefighters due to their repeated exposure to trauma. But there are also New Zealand-specific causal factors she says. An agreement with the St John ambulance service five years ago means firefighters are responding to far more medical callouts than in the past.

“What has changed is the number of ‘purple calls’ where the person has stopped breathing or is in great danger. That includes suicides, incidents of Infant Sudden Death Syndrome, overdoses, heart attacks, strokes, drownings and so on. This is in addition to the medical responses firefighters have traditionally undertaken in terms of removing people from burning buildings and from car accidents, then looking after them until ambulances arrive.”

Watson says that firefighters these days respond to the majority of critical calls received via 111, unlike other first responders who face a mix of emergency situations. She believes this makes their situation unique.

“They have to be mentally prepared to walk into fire to perform rescue, contain and extinguish fire in complex and toxic fires, cut down a hanging victim, attempt to resuscitate a baby in the presence of its parents or respond to incidents involving members of their own family and friends,” she says. “They also have to respond when one of their own takes their life. They do so knowing their job is inherently dangerous, has a significant increased risk of cancer and that the repeated exposures are a recipe for mental health disorders including depression, anxiety, and post traumatic injury.”

Ron Devlin says FENZ takes mental health issues among firefighters seriously, and the fire service has worked hard to make it easier for firefighters and their families to access the support they need.

“We provide free counselling, professional psychological support, peer support, dedicated safety health and wellbeing advisors, our health monitoring programme, chaplaincy, and tikanga Māori-based services,” he says. “Counselling is also available to immediate family members for any reason that they see fit. We are really pleased that more of our people are accessing support.”

Mental health challenges are most acute for full-time professional firefighters, who attend 80% of callouts and therefore have repeated exposure to these traumatic events. A fulltime firefighter who spoke to me anonymously told me that he knew of three colleagues who had died by suicide.

“Unless a firefighter joined after the [St John] memorandum of understanding, most of the firefighters joined the job when the role was very different. It was about fighting fires and performing rescues. Now a huge part of the job is dealing with the nearly-dead and actually dead. And worse, their grieving families.”

While the professionals are most at risk, trauma also has an impact on volunteer firefighters, who also attend critical medical calls in some regions. I spoke to one former volunteer firefighter (he also wished to remain anonymous), who told me that his decision to quit after 10 years was influenced by just such a callout.

“While dealing with nasty motor vehicle accidents on isolated rural roads is itself not easy, usually you didn’t have the wider family there too, uninjured, expressing their visceral grief. One particular incident contributed to me leaving (admittedly along with other factors). We attended a purple call for someone who had been deceased for several hours. My fellow firefighters felt compelled to attempt CPR, despite perceiving that it was long past the point where this would do any good. His immediate family was there and it was terrible. Part of it was that he reminded me a lot of my own father. I realised I hadn’t signed up for this aspect of the role.”

The volunteer system is under other strains, says Watson. Volunteers tend to work further from home these days, which makes responding to callouts from their local station more difficult. She also observes that employers seem less willing to release staff for volunteer firefighting, a particularly time-intensive ‘job’ which requires both regular training and the ability to attend to a callout at a moment’s notice.

There are more challenges ahead. An umbrella organisation encompassing the old NZ Fire Service and rural firefighters, Fire and Emergency NZ today has a far more broad remit than its predecessors. This is partly a response to the report into the Port Hill fires in 2017, which identified shortfalls in the ways the fire agencies worked together: at the time, responsibilities for fighting the Christchurch fire was split between the Department of Conservation, Selwyn District Council and the New Zealand Fire Service. The Nelson fires earlier this year suggest that such wildfires will be an increasing concern under climate change (though in both cases arson is suspected).

The NZPFU is broadly supportive of the changes, though the union insists that clear rank, role, and command structures should remain. This would essentially require that firefighters at each level are only managed by those with higher qualifications and more on-the-ground experience, rather than civilians with no direct firefighting experience being appointed to the operational ranks.

As part of the transition process, FENZ organised an external review of its work culture which found that 45% of staff had witnessed or experienced bullying in the workplace, though half that number did not report it. There have also been troubles within the NZPFU. It went through a period of “disarray” late last year when infighting saw two members of the Auckland committee expelled in a contentious manner.

Meanwhile there are more pressing issues for the people who put their lives in danger to save ours. The fulltime professional firefighter who spoke to me for this piece said the combination of factors outlined above has left him seriously questioning whether experienced firefighters are valued by their employer or by society at large. He described a recent incident when a fire chief was reluctant to call for for a HazSub (hazardous substances) truck to decontaminate the firefighters post-fire.

“I have children, so it does make me wonder whether I should really putting myself at risk week-in, week-out when basic mitigation isn’t being carried out,” he told me.

“These things do play on my mind – whether it’s the ongoing issues with the MAN trucks or the growing emotional toll of the job. It’s already a dangerous job, but if things can be done to make it less risky then why aren’t those actions being taken?”

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(Photo: Getty Images)
(Photo: Getty Images)

SocietyAugust 23, 2019

In their own words: what it means to be a teacher aide

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(Photo: Getty Images)

New Zealand teacher aides say their pay reflects an outdated idea of what they do. Elizabeth McLeod hears from four TAs, and one parent, about the classroom realities they face every day

Cleaning up poo, defusing violent situations, copping physical and verbal abuse: these are the realities of a teacher aide’s typical day. There are around 20,000 TAs in Aotearoa, working to support children who need the most help with their learning, breaking down schoolwork into steps that suit the needs of the individual child.

It’s highly skilled work, but it’s work that has historically been done by women, so notoriously underpaid and insecure. New teacher aides get paid minimum wage; the average annual income is $20,000. Unlike their teacher colleagues, teacher aides don’t get paid during term break and their hours often aren’t guaranteed from one term to the next. There’s no career pathway and often little professional development.

Support staff (including teacher aides) have just embarked on collective agreement negotiations with the Ministry of Education, but many believe a pay equity settlement is what’s needed to really provide the necessary step change to properly value them.

I spoke to teacher aides from around New Zealand about their work, and why they’re asking for equity.

Kate*, teacher aide at a decile 10 primary school

I’ve been a teacher aide for 11 years and the job has definitely changed. Before I was working one-on-one, whereas now, there are lots of kids with additional needs. I’m still allocated one child, but I also work with groups of kids who are struggling, and I’m doing more of the teaching side of things. I run literacy and maths programmes. But I’m also kind of like an extra teacher any of the kids can come to if they need help. And I’m managing behaviour because often the kids with academic needs have behavioural issues.

I’m pretty calm, but it’s stressful. Working on different programmes back-to-back, always against the clock. When I’m given new programmes, it takes a few sessions to get going and I stress sometimes that I’m not running them correctly. I give 100% and I’m quite tough on myself if a workshop hasn’t gone well. I’m always having to come up with better strategies to help particular kids without appearing to single them out.

I guess I take home with me the emotions of the day, like if I’ve been involved in a situation where a child has been abusive – verbally or physically – to me or a teacher. I’ve had a few situations recently where a child has hurt the teacher and I’ve had to get all the kids into a safe place so they didn’t witness it or get hurt. It’s hard to shake that off when you get home. It’s very distressing to witness it.

Over the years I’ve formed strong bonds with some students from challenging backgrounds. I take all that home with me and worry about these kids and how their evenings are.

Some kids I’ve worked with since they started school. Many are in year six now so I have a really good understanding of them. When they need someone, it’s me they’ll ask to see, even if I haven’t worked with them for a couple of years. If a teacher can’t get through to this particular child they’ll come and find me. There are certain kids who really need that person they’ve formed a strong attachment to. You just think if people like me weren’t there, what would happen to these kids?

I work one-on-one with a child that has autism spectrum disorder, ADHD and mild Tourette’s. His mum’s very insightful and helps me understand him, but I haven’t had any training in working with children with these conditions. I’ve been in quite a few scary, volatile situations with him. He’s lashed out before and you’re not allowed to restrain these days. We’ve had professional development on alternatives to restraining, but it’s still scary.

I’m a single mum with three kids, so I make ends meet by babysitting after school and taking in international students to help with the rent. It’s when you’ve got the unexpected expenses though: the car breaks down, or I need to pay for camp.

“If people like me weren’t there, what would happen to these kids?” (Photo: Getty)

I’d love to have the job acknowledged more. I’m embarrassed to tell people what I do. It was OK at first because I’d just gotten back into work after five years at home with kids and I was only going to do it for six months or so. Now, I don’t want to give it up: I love it, it’s what I do, and  I’m good at it. But when I think about it – and I do think about it a lot – the pay is degrading and people don’t understand what the role entails.

Having said that, I absolutely love my job and I know I make a difference. It would just be amazing if I could get paid what I’m worth.

Caroline*, teacher aide at a decile two primary school

I work with a 10-year-old girl who’s deaf, so I’m both her TA and her sign language communicator. She didn’t know any sign language at first so I’ve had to teach her while learning it myself in my own time. School has paid for some courses while I’ve paid for others. They’re always outside of work hours and I’m not given leave to attend them. I’m also not paid any extra for having that skill.

In class I’m scaffolding her learning: I break down what the class is doing to make it accessible for her. Her language and experience of the world are quite limited so I’ll use whatever ways I can think of and any resources I can find to help her understand.

She’s got quite a difficult home life, so she can be quite emotionally up and down. Part of being her teacher aide is keeping on top of what’s going on at home. Has she eaten that day? Did she sleep at home? If I know what’s going on at home it makes it easier to help her at school.

She has cochlear implants and sometimes things get broken or lost, so I’ll send equipment away for repair. I also take her to her cochlear implant appointments. We’ll spend a few hours there and during the break, I’ll take her off to Deaf Aotearoa so she can pick up some resources and talk to them. Then I’ll buy her lunch at a café where they do signing. So it’s kind of beyond the job description because she doesn’t get to do that otherwise. It’s a special treat, and it’s her community.

I’ll pay for that, and I’ve seen other TAs pay for things themselves. The TAs do a lot of the fundraising too. They’ll give up their time and put money in for raffle prizes. That all adds up because we’re not on a great income.

It’s been quite a journey really. I’ve been lucky in that she’s clever and despite everything, she’s a lovely kid. When I first started working with her, she pretty much had no spoken language and just a tiny bit of sign, and she had behavioural issues from the frustration of not being able to communicate. Since then her communication has improved and now she loves school. School’s really her happy place.

Teacher aides are seen as “mother helpers”, but we’re not just cleaning up paint. I feel like we’re paid for the idea of what we used to be and not for the job that we do now. The TA’s role is a lot more complex. It involves physical work (changing nappies for older kids, changing catheters) but it also involves you having to think on your feet. You’re constantly having to figure out “what do I do now?” or “how do I implement what the teacher wants to do?”

I’ve never earned a lot of money so I think I just always assumed what I was earning was what I was worth. Then my son got a job straight out of school at an engineering firm and he was getting paid the same as me. I was pleased for him but it was quite confronting. I thought, “not only have I got years of experience and I’m good at what I do, but I’ve also learned another language to do my job.” I feel like that’s not acknowledged.

Bridget*, teacher aide at a high-decile full primary in Auckland

I work with groups rather than individuals. There are students who get ORS (Ongoing Resourcing Scheme) funding but there are a whole lot of other kids with undiagnosed issues, or kids that are still going through the system, so the funding tends to get spread across multiple students.

For a lot of kids at our school, English isn’t their first language and probably a third of students struggle with English. I’m not a trained English as a Second Language teacher but I was made the ESOL teacher for a term when the regular teacher went on leave. I wasn’t given any training for it.

The funny thing is that even though there was another TA, they’d come and get me if there were any accidents across the school (we had one guy who was a chronic poo-er). I think it’s because I was a mum and the other TA wasn’t. I was doing the ESOL teaching work but I was still on call for accidents: I was the poo person. I remember finding out about the pay for that. I think it was only about $3 and you only get paid for one. And there were a couple of kids, so sometimes I was cleaning up five times a day.

I have two children with ASD (autism spectrum disorder) and I think it’s definitely informed how I do my job. I definitely have empathy for the parents. There was one mum whose daughter was very similar to my own and she always had a really difficult time with her when it was time to start school. I’d see the mum leaving with her eyes full of tears and I’d hug her and say, “it’s going to get better, go and have a coffee now. Don’t spend your whole day thinking about this, she’s going to be fine, we’re looking after her.”

I’ve worked as a TA for three years fulltime and never received professional development on working with kids with autism or other conditions, even though you’re specifically there to work with special needs kids. I’m training to be a teacher and I was shocked to discover there’s no compulsory paper on special needs in our training.

Now after three years, I’m on $20.83/hour, but I get just $13 after PAYE and Kiwisaver deductions. If I stopped working and studied fulltime, I’d get more on the student allowance. But I want to keep it up because I’d like to work at the same school when I’m qualified [for teaching].

What would pay equity mean for me? I’d like to be able to afford to send my kids to extra stuff they want to do. My six-year-old would love to do gymnastics and she’s pretty good at a forward tumble, but that’s just not within my means.

Relievers come into school all fresh-faced and joyful because they’re earning $200 a day.  TAs are supposed to be these amazing open-hearted people who will do everything – I never say no, it doesn’t matter what job they ask me to do. I know it’s not the school’s intention and a lot of schools really value their TAs and look after them, but it doesn’t matter how nice people are to you at work. When you get paid, the amount on that pay cheque says something to you about your worth in society. It says something to you about your place and your value.

We were talking to NZEI and they said one of the comparators they’d come up with were prison guards who get paid heaps more. My friend and I looked at each other and said: “We would make great prison guards!” And the thing is if someone says they’re a prison guard, you’d be like, “oh, they’ve got authority, they’ve got respect.” But if someone says they’re a TA, you’d be like, “oh, bless. Good for you,” you know?

Gina*, teacher aide at a low-decile primary

I work across a class of five- and six-year-olds but I also have a group of five children I focus on who are struggling and are below the level they should be.

We do play-based learning. At the moment I’m focusing with my group on spelling their names: that’s taken us quite a few terms. Some of them can spell their first names now, so we’re working on last names. I do a lot of just teaching them things like how to hold their pencil properly and how to tie their shoelaces.

With 20 in the class the teacher doesn’t have a lot of time to spend with the ones who are struggling. We do individual reading with them twice a day because a lot of them don’t read at home.

I make a lot of resources at home. I’ll google materials, print them out, and stick them in the kids’ books. One time I printed out shoe shapes and the kids coloured them in. Then I laminated them and took them home, cut them all out, hole-punched them, and threaded through wool so they could practise tying laces. That took me all weekend! Just to help the teacher, because she doesn’t have time.

I started teacher aiding last year. Before that, I was at home with my own special needs child. My son was born with a chronic medical condition that resulted in him developing a lot of impairments, including Tourette’s. It’s not too bad, you know. There are worse families out there. I’ve only got one, I’ve seen families with two.

One of the biggest challenges of being a TA has to do with “behaviour children”. We had one little fella at our school who would just pick up a table, throw it, and call the teacher every name he could think of if he didn’t get his way.

I’ve been punched, I’ve been called every name under the sun, I’ve been spat on … and these aren’t kids with special needs, so they don’t have teacher aides working individually with them because there’s not enough of us. When a child’s having a meltdown like that, usually I’ll get them out of the class and just sit with them, or I’ll grab a ball. A lot of the time if they’ve had a fight with the teacher, that’s where a teacher aide can have more luck.

I’m paid $18 an hour but it’s annualised so it works out to $15.85 an hour, and that’s with an NZQA level 4 certificate. I work five days a week, four hours a day. We’re a household of four – two adults and two children – living on a part-time wage at the moment. We get by, but it’s a struggle to make ends meet. My daughter’s looking at attending university because next year’s her last year at high school. But I’ve had to tell her we can’t save up for that at the moment because she’s wanting to go to Victoria University in Wellington. Yes, it’s free fees, but then there’s the accommodation!

I was really lucky that my son had a brilliant teacher aide. She was with him from the time he started primary school to when he left last year. She worked with him and she advocated for him. She pushed for him to do kapa haka because he seemed to really like it and she was very supportive towards me. I don’t think I would’ve handled the school as well as I did if I didn’t have her there. She even came to our doctor’s meetings at the hospital. Last year for the first time my son went away on a big school trip. His father went too but without his teacher aide, he wouldn’t have been able to go.

“When you get paid, the amount on that pay cheque says something to you about your worth in society. It says something to you about your place and your value.” (Photo: Getty)

We need teacher aides. There are a lot of kids who wouldn’t get help if we weren’t around, and we also do a lot of stuff behind the scenes (we have three TAs who are netball coaches). They do this stuff outside of school, it’s all voluntary. One of our TAs takes the boys out to play sport at lunchtime. I don’t know if he’s paid for that time.

Pay equity would make us feel like we’re a lot more appreciated. That’s just as important as the money: feeling appreciated and acknowledged.

Susan, parent of two children with additional needs

Our son Logan has a chromosomal abnormality so he’s developmentally delayed. He’s low-verbal and he can walk and run but not at the stage you’d expect of a seven-year-old. All three of our children are adopted: two were uplifted so they have ongoing attachment problems, which manifests in their behaviour.

For Logan, who was uplifted at nine months, that means he can be quite aggressive and oppositional, but also incredibly clingy to me. Leaving him has always been a real issue, and it’s only because of the work of a family therapist, TAs and our Senco [special needs coordinator] that we’ve managed to leave him at school fairly confidently.

With his TA’s help Logan can communicate through a computer app, and he makes stories to share with his classmates. All that has been just such an amazing thing: for him to be able to participate in a normal class environment, and for people to get to know him, and to know that he’s not that weird kid, you know? He’s a person too and he has things he wants to share. He can write his name now, and he can recognise maybe 10 words. And that for him is a huge achievement because I didn’t know if he would ever be able to do that. That’s a gift.

And it’s not easy. I love my boy completely, but he’s hard work. He’s big, he’s strong and he can be very aggressive. He’s hurt me – really hurt me – and I’m sure he’s hurt the TA too. He spits at people. How many jobs do you get spat at and you just have to say “that’s ok, I know you’re upset”? Keeping your temper under these circumstances: it’s a really special person who can do that, and not many people could.

* Names have been changed to protect the identities of the teacher aides and the children they work with. Accounts are abridged and edited for clarity. The author worked with NZEI Te Riu Roa in researching this article.