So, there you have it. 1,095 days ago I was considering changing careers and becoming a primary school teacher and, three years on, the General Teaching Council saw fit to pass me as an English teacher at secondary level. I’ve taught in two schools, first in Peckham and then Greenwich, been on dozens of school trips both in the UK and abroad, had 18 parent’s evenings, two tutor groups, seen tears of rage, sadness and happiness – although mostly rage – and made the phrase, ‘who do you think you are?’ an almost daily mantra. But now it’s over.
I wondered how I’d feel after the final curtain dropped, and to be honest it’s a bit numb actually. The last two summers have been great, but at the back of my mind I always knew what I was going back to and did the odd lesson here and there to ensure I was prepared, but now I have nothing. OK, so the reality is that, while the last couple of summer hols did include some work, now I really have to pull my finger out (that’s metaphorical this time – thankfully). I’m officially unemployed at a time when no-one can get a job. Have I lost my fucking mind?!
Well? What’s the big idea then? I’m glad you asked. My hope is that I can take some of the stuff I’ve learned as a teacher and use it in a capacity where I’m not bullied by a bunch of 12-year-old girls every day. You know, so that the entire experience hasn’t been one colossal waste of time. I have a few ideas about this, but rather than brashly announce these to the world (9-10 people) I’m gonna work on them a bit first, in case it all comes crashing around my ears. Supply teaching, anyone?
In the meantime, I’m off to South-East Asia in late September until the new year where I intend to pretend I’m much younger than I am, exploit the hell out of the rate of exchange and learn how to play projectile ping-pong at the Chairman Miaow tittie bar. I’ll be back on the blog for this, so keep your emails and your minds open (yes, it’ll be a deep voyage of discovery) in preparation. I can’t wait to travel again and this’ll probably be the last time I get this kind of chance, so I’m taking it. Sorry, Mum.
I’m so grateful for the fact I had such a good last day, as it’ll be that which remains with me, rather than those days I felt like writing ‘shutthefuckup’ backwards on my forehead and head-butting my way out of the school gates. It began, as every other day had that year, with my tutor group and there were already tears in the morning of our final registration, as well as an unprecedented amount of farewell gifts. Apparently the girls all want me to be drunk and fat. Look at them all in the pic at the top which includes, as I understand it, a perfectly valid certificate of qualification. I will be adding this to my CV.
There was an assembly where the rest of the departing staff and I were sat at the front and told how great we were before receiving more presents. Loved it. Then I watched a film with my difficult year 9 class who, despite having me shout at them for talking throughout it, put together a home-made card with really touching messages in it. Appreciated it. Afterwards it was nearly time to go, but first I showed my tutor group the deliberately emotive film I’d made to get them all weeping, which worked like a charm. Relished it. (see it here: http://vimeo.com/26757821) And finally made a speech, got more presents and cards and achieved new levels of obscenity down the pub until the wee hours. Forgotten it.
There’s so much I haven’t told you about my time in the classroom. Deleted scenes, if you like, which never made it to the final DVD. The way the boys used to wait until a really tense moment in the lesson, where the behaviour had gotten so bad it’d driven me to scream at the top of my voice causing the whole room to go silent, before some anonymous voice would completely undermine me with the classic, ‘waa, waa, waaaaaaa’. Or when Ofsted visited, like the Dementors in Harry Potter, and everyone would be absolutely terrified except the kids, who drank it in like sweet nectar. ‘Why are you writing objectives on the board?’ they’d ask, adopting faux confusion on their face because they knew an inspector was in the room. ‘You don’t normally show us how to reach the next level’, they’d continue as teacher grinned and sweated anxiously.
No? How about sitting through an entire speaking and listening assessment where a girl debated the necessity of abortion and kept referring to foetuses as faeces? ‘Faeces have feelings too!’ Or even a classic case of confusion when a science teacher saw a couple of boys clearly pulling their trousers down and looking at each others’ bits. ‘What do you think you’re doing?!’ was justifiably bellowed across the room at the boys, to which one simply replied, ‘chill out, bruv; Jefferson just didn’t believe I had any pubes.’ Oh, that’s fine then.
It all happened and I saw it all. Well, most of it anyway. And that’s what I’ll miss the most. Not the pubes, but the unpredictability of children. Adults have to abide by rules and you very rarely see public displays of lunacy from them, but kids; well, they say and do the oddest things at times, which can be infuriating, but also incredibly funny and endearing as well.
I’ll also miss being a form tutor – the role in which I felt the most confident. Having kids confide in you and trust you completely is quite disarming and although it’s a big responsibility, I always did my best to sort out their issues. This included a wide range of problems which could be as serious as self-harm, but also as frivolous as self-tanning too much and staining the forehead.
In conclusion, I will miss a lot of things about teaching, but I’m not going to kid myself; it has been, without doubt, the most stressful thing I’ve ever done. Children are different now and prey on teachers for sport, making trying to teach them and reach targets exceptionally traumatic in a lot of lessons. How people do this job for decades is beyond me. I’m just grateful to have come out of it alive and without any pending court cases. To be honest, I’m not sure my bottom could take another one of those. Dad always told me that having a job you love was the most important thing in life – I loved lots of aspects of teaching, but it just wasn’t enough. Next chapter…
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