MFL behaviour tips that have worked for me

I spent most of my career teaching languages in one of the most deprived areas of the UK. It came with enormous challenges. In my first couple of years, it was tough — very tough. There were Friday evenings when I went home in tears, wondering whether I’d chosen the right career.

If this is you right now, you’re not alone. And it’s not that you’re doing things wrong — it’s simply that your students haven’t yet understood what you’re made of. That takes time.

Over the years, I stayed consistent with my principles, experimented with strategies, and refined my style. By the time I left the classroom, I had a reputation as a strict-but-fair teacher — the kind you learn with. I’ll take that any day. A colleague once joked, “If there’s no graffiti about you in the toilets, you haven’t made it yet.” I’m not convinced that’s the benchmark for success, but it did remind me that being firm doesn’t make you the villain — it makes you the adult in the room.

What I’m sharing here is based purely on experience. Your personality matters, and so does the level of support in your school. I know too well that in some places you’re left to firefight alone while whole-school behaviour collapses around you. It’s brutal. I’ve seen this even more as a supply teacher — and I’ll share what worked for me there too.

I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I’m simply offering strategies that helped me survive — and eventually thrive. This post isn’t about perfection. It’s about survival, clarity, and the small, powerful shifts that change everything. These are the five principles I wish someone had handed me at the start of my career — the ones that helped me go from overwhelmed to in control, from firefighting to actually teaching.

Let’s get into them.

1. You are not their friend

I often see younger teachers confuse “building relationships” with “being mates”. I am not blaming them. I did the same. Yet, the truth is that you can have warm, human conversations with students — but only when you choose to. Not on their terms.

I learned this the hard way in France. Before moving to the UK, I worked as what you might call a prefect: a university student paid by the Department of Education to supervise pupils during lunch, breaks, and study sessions. We were thrown in with zero training.

The disaster

My first assignment was in a small town in Brittany. I wanted the students to like me. I expected them to follow instructions because… why wouldn’t they? I let them chat, move around, do as they pleased.

Then came the silent study session. I asked for silence. They ignored me. Chaos. They were out of control, and I was invisible. They pushed boundaries because they knew I had no authority. It was a nightmare — two weeks of pure survival.

The transformation

My second assignment was in a rural school, and I played a completely different role — one that felt totally unnatural to me:

• No facial expression

• Calm, assertive tone

• I controlled everything from the moment they walked in

• If they spoke, I challenged it

• If they moved without permission, I addressed it

• Every request went through me

At first, they hated it. But they understood it. And crucially, it worked.

Over time, I didn’t need to “perform” as much. They knew my expectations, the boundaries, and the consequences. Only then did I relax — slightly — while still maintaining the adult-not-your-friend stance.

I stayed a year. By the end, the relationships were excellent. They respected me, and I genuinely liked them too. The distance I put in place at the start paid off.

I still remember a Year 9 girl asking me:

“If you catch us smoking behind the building, will you tell the headteacher?” “Of course I will. That’s my job.” “Thanks for being honest. The last prefect said he wouldn’t… and he did.”

Kids are clever. They understand boundaries. They want consistency more than they want “nice”.

You are the adult in the room. You set the rules. They follow them. If they don’t, you apply consequences.

You didn’t sign up to make friends. You signed up to teach.

There’s a saying you’ve probably heard: “Don’t smile until Christmas.” It’s exaggerated, but there’s truth in it. Teaching is often a performance. You play the role that gets them learning — even if it’s far from who you are.

That’s how children understand boundaries. That’s how you stay in control.

2. Make you class rules clear.

Every year, with every class, my first lesson followed the same ritual: laying down the rules. I went through each one carefully — yes, probably boring students to death — but clarity at the start saves chaos later. Then they signed a written copy and stuck it in their books. It was our contract.

You’re welcome to download my version for inspiration, but your rules should reflect you, your style, and the reality of your school. They will evolve over time as your priorities shift. In mine, for example, I emphasised equipment because at that point getting students properly equipped for learning was a daily battle.

When you create your own rules, think about what you want your lessons to look like, sound like, and feel like. That vision should shape your non‑negotiables.

Once your rules are set, you must apply consequences every time a student breaks the contract. I’m not going to list every possible sanction — that depends heavily on your school’s behaviour policy — but I will say this: consistency matters more than severity.

I’m personally not a fan of the “C1, C2…” consequence ladder. It often turns behaviour into a separate performance rather than part of learning, and it can escalate friction unnecessarily. Schools want consistency, of course, but too often the debate becomes “Is this a C1 or a C2?” instead of “How do we get learning back on track?” In reality, teachers naturally choose the sanction that fits the situation. Students need rules, but teachers are trained adults with professional judgement. (That’s me ranting — back to the point.)

The one thing you must remember is this: if you promise a sanction, you must deliver it. If you say “You’ll have a full hour after school,” make sure that’s actually possible — no meetings, no clashes, and a behaviour policy that backs you up. You need to know exactly what you are allowed to do within your school’s system.

Boundaries only work when they’re real. And when students learn that your word is solid, everything else becomes easier.

3. The Golden Rule: If someone is talking for the benefit of the class, everyone listens.

This rule is simple and non‑negotiable. It removes ambiguity, protects learning time, and sets the tone for mutual respect.

Here’s what it means in practice:

• When you, the teacher, speak — everyone listens. Not because you’re “in charge”, but because you’re giving information the whole class needs.

• When a student answers a question or contributes — everyone listens. Their voice matters. Their ideas matter. And listening models respect and builds confidence.

• If it’s not for the benefit of the whole class — no one listens. Side conversations, muttering, calling out, whispering… none of it has a place in a learning environment.

This rule creates calm and safety. It creates the conditions for language learning to actually happen. And once students understand it — really understand it — everything else becomes easier: transitions, pair work, speaking tasks, even assessments.

4. Establish routines

Humans are creatures of habit. Students respond incredibly well to routines because they create predictability, safety, and a sense of calm. In MFL — with constant transitions, speaking tasks, movement, and cognitive load — routines are not optional. They are the backbone of the lesson.

The start and end of the lesson are especially important. These are the moments where students should know exactly what to expect, every single time. You can occasionally break the routine, but only with a clear purpose and as a one‑off. The unexpected can (and should) happen within the lesson — but never at the expense of the routines that hold everything together.

The start of the lesson

I always made sure students were lined up and settled outside before entering. You must gauge their energy before they walk in. Depending on what happened in the previous lesson, they may arrive hyper, distracted, or “off‑learning”. If you let that energy enter the room with them, you’ll spend the next 20 minutes trying to undo it.

More than once, I restarted the beginning of a lesson: everyone out, lined up again, silent, and re‑entering properly. Yes, it cost me two or three minutes — but it saved me twenty later. Addressing behaviour early is always an investment.

My routine was simple and consistent:

• I stood at the door, greeting each student and checking uniform.

• Students entered silently and stood behind their chairs.

• When everyone was in, I greeted the class in the TL; they greeted me back.

• Only then did I allow them to sit.

• A “Do Now” task was waiting for them, with a clear time limit.

• The whole start — greeting, settling, Do Now, correction — took no more than 10 minutes (less if possible).

This routine worked brilliantly in KS3. By KS4, it naturally faded. Older students didn’t need the “stand behind your chair” step anymore; they knew the expectation: greet, sit, start working. It’s like bedtime stories — at some point, they outgrow the ritual because the habit is already internalised.

About Do Now activities

Some schools expect you to hand out a 'Do Now' at the door so pupils start immediately. If that’s the case, you may need to drop the TL greeting — and that’s fine. The routine simply becomes: enter → sit → start working.

A good 'Do Now' should be:

• Quick to set up

• Based on prior knowledge

• Quick to complete

It should not swallow half the lesson. If your Do Now + correction takes 30 minutes of a 60‑minute lesson, it’s no longer a starter — it’s the lesson. The bulk of your time should be spent on new learning.

The end of the lesson

Energy levels vary massively depending on the time of day. Before break, before lunch, and before home time, students are naturally more restless — which makes the end of the lesson a crucial moment.

If your students leave your room hyper or unfocused, it’s your colleague who will pay the price in the next lesson. A calm exit is part of professional courtesy. A rushed ending is where behaviour unravels, so you must plan the end just as deliberately as the start.

My exit routine (all key stages, in the TL):

• “Pack up.”

• Once everything is away: “Stand up.”

• Students remain silent.

• Use the remaining minute or two for quick‑fire questions or retrieval.

• Dismiss row by row, with a TL farewell.

• Anyone who didn’t follow the routine goes last.

Simple. Predictable. Effective.

5. The tough cookies

Some classes are tougher than others. We all know that class — the one that makes your stomach tighten just thinking about them. I’m not a behaviour expert, but after years as a classroom teacher and more recently as a supply teacher, I’ve learned this: every class has a dynamic. If you can understand it — and disrupt it — things can change.

In most challenging groups, you’ll usually find three types of students:

The Leaders

These are the one, two, or three students who set the tone for everyone else. They put a surprising amount of energy into derailing learning: constant low‑level disruption, attention‑seeking, confrontation, rudeness. Their goal is simple — distract the class so learning can’t happen.

Often, these students lack confidence. They crave attention, and negative attention gives them status in front of their peers.

The Followers

Around the leaders, you’ll find students who actually enjoy your lessons but want to be seen as “cool” by staying close to the ringleaders. They’ll do some work, challenge you a bit, but rarely cross the line. They’re dangerous because they feed the leaders’ behaviour and reinforce the class dynamic.

The Observers

Good news: in most difficult classes, the majority are observers. They want to learn. They trust you. They are quietly frustrated by the constant interruptions caused by the leaders and followers. These students are your anchor.

So what do you do?

First, identify your three groups. Then:

1. Break the leaders’ influence

You can use sanctions, call home, involve Heads of Year — and sometimes that works. But especially on long‑term supply, you often end up feeling like you’re fighting windmills. You’re made to feel you are the problem.

So here’s the counter‑intuitive strategy:

2. Ignore the leaders.

Not the behaviour — you still challenge it — but you don’t feed it. No lectures, no emotional energy, no power struggle. Challenge, move on.

Instead, pour your attention into the observers and the followers. Make your interactions with them relentlessly positive. Plan activities that are fun but require discipline.

Explain the rules clearly:

“We’re going to play this game, but it only works if everyone follows the rules. If the rules are broken, we stop.”

Then stick to it. If the leaders sabotage, stop immediately:

“We’ll try again another time. Some people couldn’t follow the rules today.”

You’re not punishing the class — you’re exposing the behaviour.

And here’s the key (or at least one key): leaders crave attention. When they do something positive — even tiny — acknowledge it quietly. Not a big public show (that can backfire), just a small, sincere comment.

I used this approach with a particularly difficult class on supply. Three girls thought they ran the room. I chose my battles and refused to give them the confrontation they wanted. I invested all my energy in the observers. And one day, it happened: the three leaders got bored of being ignored and started working. I praised them immediately — genuinely — and made it clear I valued having them on my side.

It took weeks. But persistence pays off.

2. Sway the leaders

This doesn’t always work, but sometimes it’s magic.

Give them responsibility:

• “Could you hand out the books for me?”

• “Would you mind collecting the worksheets?”

It signals trust. It opens a channel. It gives them a chance to choose a different role in the room.

Sometimes they’ll say, “No, why me?”. If that's their answer, the connection isn’t there yet. But sometimes they say yes, and that tiny shift can change everything.

Final thoughts

This is what I wanted to share with you about behaviour in MFL. It took me longer to write than I expected, and I think I’ll do more posts with specific strategies in the future.

Behaviour is challenging. Always has been. Always will be. The only advice I can give is this:

• Stick to your principles.

• Be consistent.

• Be fair.

I’ve observed lessons where students didn’t dare breathe without permission. That’s not my idea of good classroom management either. Children need to feel safe. They need to feel they’re learning. And you — the adult — makes that possible.

But remember: it’s ten times harder without strong whole‑school support. Beware the classic line, “They always behave in my lesson.” Often, that simply means their expectations are different from yours.

You’re not alone in this storm. Don’t beat yourself up. It’s not personal. Every “bad” lesson brings you closer to many more good ones.

Please feel free to share your thoughts — I genuinely love hearing different perspectives. And if you ever want more specific advice, just reach out; I’m always happy to help. If you’d like to stay up to date with future posts and join our little community, you can subscribe below.

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