The last night of the School holidays is a strange one for any teacher. There is always talk of the mythical bad dreams and visible, palpable nerves as we try to ease our way back into work.
This has never lessened for me from my first day of teaching (I looked so young and scared that I got offered half fare on the bus). No matter how much I look forward to the next class or getting something done, it never changes. It's hard to say why this is although my Dad had some uncharitable theories.
I guess much of it is down to the performing aspect-always being on show. I find being a teacher such an unnatural way to be. All that fussing over noise, lost pencils, where to sit, whether or not an action will result in occular impairment is just not me. But as a teacher, one has to do it.
This led me to the rather sad conclusion over the Summer. Although I love education, actually I rather dislike schools. Not the one I teach in particularly (not at all; I enjoyed going in over the Summer). It's that lumpen effect that one is required to reach for; the systemic and uniform provision one needs to dole out. Schools are so fear driven that there is little scope for rational action much of the time. English schools are in danger of becoming like English Town Centres: identical.
Of course, I will give my all to the coming year. The children I teach deserve the very best and I will make sure they get it.
But the bad dream tonight won't be rooted in fear of the unexpected. It will be based upon the terror of rehashing of the over-familiar.
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