How should I deal with imposter syndrome?

Imposter syndrome is a thing, and most of us suffer from it at least once in our lives. It is the idea that you don’t belong in your current situation as you aren’t able to internalise your successes and cope with them. It often strikes when you think you are least susceptible: in September, after having not taught since July, I stood in front of a new class of 28 baying teenagers who wanted to test my mettle as I set down a marker, as I have for decades, that the rest of the year would follow. Blow it and I would be crucified by the merciless teens. Smash it and they would know I am not to be messed with, that I know my stuff, that I am an alright bloke who will get them to the hallowed lands of great grades if they do as I say.

But as I stood for a brief second, I froze. How did I get here? Have I have forgotten how to do this? I am not an adult, am I? I am but an imposter standing here with all these eyes staring at me as I try to keep cashflow forecasts interesting for the next 100 minutes. Now to the observer there wouldn’t have been a flicker of emotion, yet to me it was real, and tangible, as I felt as big a fraud as those fakers who wear military medals and present at the Trooping of the Colour as the next Stormin’ Norman, despite a life spent undertaking activity no more interesting than driving a bus.

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The syndrome and its effects are not just felt by those at my level. A friend, who was until recently a head teacher, explained that in the week he reached the pinnacle of his profession, he was welcomed into the gang by means of entry to a heads WhatsApp group. The first message he encountered, from another newbie head was ‘how the f*** did I get here?’. He then explained that, unanimously, all in the same boat questioned their new roles and level of responsibility as they felt like imposters of the highest order.

The nub of the ‘syndrome’ is perception: of marrying the conflict between how others perceive you and how you perceive yourself. It is also thought that these feelings align themselves to anxiety and depression as those suffering then try even harder, and thus reach burnout, in their pursuit to eliminate the feeling of not being worthy of the position in which they find themselves.

Recognition or praise is counteracted by the belief that you got lucky, from being a johnny-on-the-spot, right place, right time type of guy. Dr Valerie Young, an expert, categorises us imposters into distinct categories: The perfectionist: which needs little explanation, the ‘natural genius’ who is a person who picks things up easily and hence, if they find something difficult occasionally, they give themselves an overly hard time. Then we have the ‘soloist’ who believes the only person they can rely on is themselves, the expert, who must know everything about everything before they proceed with any task, and the ‘superhero’: one who links competence to every position they hold, be it at work, marriage, friendships or as a parent.

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Despite claims to the contrary however, and attempting to overcome these doubts, there are, like true cures for anxiety or depression, no one size fits all ‘cure’. Many dole out advice like ‘learn to love yourself’, yet it is but bluster designed to shift a few books when the reality is, in lieu of a cure, all you can do is manage it.

Personally, if struggling with imposter syndrome, I simply do what we all must, and ‘ride the storm’. In a few days it will be forgotten about, until the next time, and all that we do, the tens of thousands of movements and interactions and tasks in the varying roles we have, in the long run, count for little. One day we will be gone and the only folk who will remember what we did are friends and family and that’s where our emphasis needs to be, not stressing over a mistake you made on a spreadsheet five weeks ago.

As for me, I will now go and edit this piece 32 times before I see my mug in the paper next week, and exaggerate the abuse that may come my way as I wonder how I got given this writing gig, when it maybe should have gone to someone far more deserving instead.

• Brett Ellis is a teacher