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So it begins… or ends…

This is the post excerpt.

So, been thinking about doing this for a while… I’m a primary school teacher. I won’t be able to say that for too much longer. And that feels weird. I mean, defining myself weird. I’ve been able to say that I’m a ‘something’ for a while. Nearly 15 years in fact. When people ask “what do you do?” I don’t say what my job is, what the job is that I do. I say what I am. I am a teacher. For now…

When I started this job, it was a bloody hard slog to even get through the training. Hours of work, assignments to write, college to attend, placements to complete, and all to a high enough standard. Because educators should be working to a high standard right? Yes. Yes they should. And the level of dedication I have seen throughout the years of doing this job has been second to none. People who give up their evenings and weekends, because they love what they do, because they love their children. And that’s the weird thing that I learned quickly. Every child in my care has been called ‘my kid’. They are my kids. They are mine for 12 months to worry about, to care about, to pick up when they fall, literally and metaphorically, to soothe woes, dry tears, make smile, make feel valued, make feel loved (when sometimes they have no adult in their world who does that for them), and lastly, to educate. To teach them new things, skills, knowledge, or just fun stuff!

I thought that the system wasn’t good, it didn’t work. And I thought that I could make the most difference and change from within the system. I could topple it from within. Ha! My naivety was huge! I write this now as a cynical shell of the teacher I was when I started. I believe in children having a strong start to life. I believe in making children resilient, happy, confident, risk takers. I always have. I always will. But I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired. I’m tired of the bureaucracy. The goal posts of where I should be getting the children to changing year after year, government initiative after government initiative. I’m tired of being constantly told by education ministers, people who seem to have never had contact with a small child in their life, how I should be providing them with the best start in academia. Please!

It breaks my heart to say that I haven’t effected the change I wanted to when I started out. It breaks my heart that I have had to become hardened to the shitty situations some children live in, and that whatever I do, I am not single handedly able to break the cycle of depravation that some children exist within. It breaks my heart…

So, here I am. Saying “I quit”. This weekend I worked until 11pm on Friday (I started school at 7:50am), I worked 5 hours on Saturday, I worked 3 hours today (Sunday), and this is just to keep my head above water. This isn’t classed as going ‘over and above’ to most of my colleagues. This is ‘normal’. Schools are run primarily on the goodwill of the staff within them. We spend hours of our own time, hundreds of pounds of our own money (Amazon Prime loves me!) This is without any overtime pay. This is without any acknowledgment from parents. All they say is “where’s their jumper?” or “they’ve lost their water bottle”… is it named? No. I’m supposed to memorise everyone of the cherubs bloody belongings like Derren fucking Brown! And that gets tired, and tiring, after a few years.

I shall try to keep you posted about the thoughts, fears and musings of leaving teaching as I enter into the last phase of my career. I finish on December 19th. A career I thought I would have until I was too creaky to get up off the floor after being at a child’s level (turns out that that’s 41!). I’m sad. I’m tired. I’m done.

What’s scary is, there are many more like me who aren’t able to quit, and they are the ones who are caring for your children. Think about that when you next demand from the woman who is dead behind the eyes “where’s their (un-named!) jumper…

Look at me in the picture… smiling! It was summer. The well earned summer. And I’m happily trading 6 weeks ‘off’ (what a joke that is!) for, well, I don’t know what. But it has to be better than this…

 

Lou. x

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The Art of Procrastination

Oh my! I am soooo good at procrastinating!

It’s not productive in some areas of life, and great for others…

The laundry basket remains constantly empty. The dust barely has time to settle. Things get put away after they’ve been used. Dishes are done every evening. The garage is tidy! WTF?!

But, this brings me no closer to larger goals. I have been gainfully unemployed for 3 weeks now. The worry over the bills is kicking in as I near the date of payments looming. Yet I find that the more time I have free to pursue the stuff I promised myself that I would pursue, the less I pursue them. I told myself that ‘when I have more time’ I would get on with making things happen.

Have I?

Have I heck as like!

It’s amazing how much time you can fill doing anything but what you SHOULD be doing. It’s almost as if, the less time I have at my disposal, the more I manage to cram in.

Maybe this is the key?

Impetus seems (for me anyway) to stem from having limited time in which to achieve things.

Don’t get me wrong, the things I have filled my time with have been cleansing for my spirit and my mind. De-cluttering is brilliant! Clearing the path for clearer thinking. Yoga every morning (I ache! So out of shape!). Meditation. Being ‘mindful’ in the garden, being in the ‘now’, the moment.

I thank the stars for my partner who is keeping me afloat financially. But the guilt that comes with that scenario, after being a relatively high earner, is weighty.

A change is coming. But I need to start putting some serious work in to make that happen.

And unburden my partner.

Although his home may become less clean and tidy…!

June-Years Resolutions

My New Years resolution this year was to waste less and not buy any new items of clothing. I made an exception for second hand clothes, but in an effort to

a) reduce the impact of manufacturing on the environment

and

b) reduce the impact of clothes buying on my bank account

I decided to try a year of not buying anything new, but rather, re-discovering the clothes I already have. And I have a lot…

I mean… honestly… it makes me cringe when I think of all the clothes I have, that I never wear. Some even still had the labels on. How wasteful.

So far, it’s been a nice little voyage of reacquaintance, like meeting up with old friends who you haven’t seen in a while, and you’d forgotten quite how much you enjoyed their company.

‘Hello little black trouser suit I bought on a whim with the hope of looking chic and like I belong on the French Riviera’.

‘How you doing retro dress that I bought in London on a fateful visit that confirmed that I am now, really and truly, a Country Mouse’.

Some clothes have, just as with some friends who you now realise are actually toxic to your life and your mental wellbeing, been relegated to the ‘what was I thinking? Why did I hold on to you for so long?’ pile.

Talking about this resolution with people has meant several discussions around clothes we hang on to, and the stories associated with them. Where we were when we bought them, geographically, mentally or emotionally.

And this led on to my colleague George saying that she wanted to have a new years resolution but it was pretty late in the year to make one… after all it’s nearly June..

“A June-Years Resolution!!” (She was particularly chuffed with that!)

And so it is born. The making of resolutions after testing out the first 6 months of the year, and what you resolve to change or do differently for the latter 6 months of the year.

It could become a ‘thing’…

I’ve got a couple of June-Years resolutions to make…

One of them might be to make pants exempt from the New Years resolution….!

 

A Question of Trust

This week I left the comfortable temp job. When I said it was my last day, people would ask me “What have you got lined up next?”…

…It’s very liberating to be able to say ‘Nothing’.

The blank expressions, the looks of surprise, were most amusing!

You see, I no longer plan each step of my day, my week, my month.

I no longer think in weeks and terms, targets and objectives.

I don’t know what happens next.

 

That’s exciting! Scary, but exciting.

Trusting that something is always going to happen next, whether you plan it or not, that the universe has a canny way of bringing what you need when you need it, if you have the courage to trust it.

And that’s a hard thing to do. It means breaking years of conditioning, through our schooling and into the workplace.

What’s coming next.

Where are you going?

What level are you going to progress to?

 

Letting all that go… it’s brilliant. I never was an ambitious person. I never craved to be management, top of the tree, running the show. I’m quite happy just plodding along, being who I want to be and working out what it is I want to devote my time and effort to.

 

The older I get the less status means to me, I care less what everyone else thinks of me, what opinions they form when they look at me. Maybe this is just a natural part of aging. Maybe this happens to everyone?

 

As I leave one job, the universe brings me more children to tutor… doing something I enjoy, that I feel I am good at and I find fulfilling. Something I believe in.

 

Trust the universe.

 

Something will always present itself. And now I have the courage to say ‘Yes’ when it does.

Feeling the ‘Fear’

Time flies when you’re having fun…

…so they say. I must be having a whale of a time! Where have the last few months gone?!

I have regularly made notes about what to write about, and they invariably end up lost in handbags or on top of the microwave (where I tend to absentmindedly put bits of paper, and where my partner finds them and puts them in the bin!).

Temping in an office has been a blast. That may sound strange, but it has been a lot of fun. I’ve worked with some lovely people, I get to talk to lots of people on the phone all day, some of whom are very happy to speak to me, others who swear at me and my colleagues, but even those ones are the cause of much mirth in the office. But I’m aware that I’m getting comfortable with it. And that’s dangerous. So, I decided that I needed the ‘fear’ to make me look elsewhere for another job, perhaps even a ‘proper’ job?! I told my employers that I would be leaving on the 24th of May.

BUT, they like me. I have a pretty good idea about what I’m doing now. I know my way around the various computer systems.

They have offered for me to work part time. Hours to be dictated by myself… How the bloody hell did that happen?!

 

I have started tutoring a small person, helping them with their early reading skills. I’m enjoying spending time with a small person again. I’m exploring the idea of tutoring teensy tiny people, and their big people… After a few months I’m feeling like there may be a way to marry the skills that I spent years gaining with what I believe is right for young children, without having to sacrifice my principles. The plethora of resources that still take up half of the garage, ‘just in case’ I decided I had made a mistake, or wanted to chase the money and supply teach, are beginning to be moved to the loft.

Many folders have been emptied of their years of planning, the good ones went to the car boot, the knackered ones went to the tip. The man at the tip was most amused to see me throwing away folders with labels such as ‘Behaviour Management’ and ‘farms and Easter’.

Now, I’m not knocking anyone who does supply teaching when I use the phrase ‘chase the money’. I’m aware that it pays well and can be a more viable way for people to remain in the education system and reduce the stress of the job slightly. For me, I left teaching because the fundamental principles of the current Education regime had become so far removed from my own beliefs, that I no longer believed I was a force for good. I didn’t feel like I was making a change or being the change I wanted to be. So, to supply teach feels, personally, to be hypocritical. I don’t believe in what I’m doing, that it is for the best of the children, but I’ll put up with it for the money? That’s just not who I am, nor who I want to be. For many who do continue to teach, full time or supply, it is a fulfilling and worthwhile vocation, and that’s brilliant.

That’s why I had to think long and hard about whether to tutor or not. I came to the conclusion that I had to look at what my core beliefs are, what do I feel is right for children? I concluded that I believe that fundamental vocabulary and reading skills underpin so much future learning, that this is an area I feel happy promoting. But, I wasn’t willing to coach children in order for them to pass tests. Granted, those early skills should contribute to their ability to do well in tests later in life, but I’m not happy to hot-house individuals for that sole purpose.

So, the seed of an idea has been planted and I’m going to water it for a while and see what grows from it…

Dicky Ticker

With all of this new found ‘free time’, I’ve been busy making my own dog food. I feel like the Annabel Karmel of the spaniel world! Our dog is a princess. Plain and simple. She will eat dog food when there is another dog around. Otherwise, she will turn her nose up at dog food. What do we think she is? A dog?! So, I started researching what I could feed her. She was the runt of the litter and is pretty small. When she started getting bony, it seemed the logical step, feed her what she WOULD eat.

Now, every Saturday, the big cooking pot comes out and she knows exactly what that means… her humans are completely whipped!

Today she is having a heart ultra-sound scan.

We weren’t aware of any problem with her heart until taking her to the veterinary hospital to be spayed, and during their routine checks they heard a murmur that they weren’t happy with.

So, I’m sitting in a tea shop, with my laptop, catching up on e-mails and blog posts and generally looking, I imagine, quite ‘wanky’! I’m even wearing black from head to toe. Wanky.

Wanky and worried…

Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst.

Relativity and The Application of Old Skills to New Environments

A Wedding!

Last time I posted I was about to head off to the wedding of two theatre friends. Another example of the theatre and the love of it and the mental-ness of our hobby, and how that understanding can bring like-minded souls together. It was a lovely day. The lovely Hannah Kelly of http://www.hannahkellyphotography.com was taking the snaps, and I took some of her at work… mainly she seemed to be on the floor!

The theatre is where I tend to be when not at work or home. It was the place that took me out of myself while my Mum was dying of cancer. It was the place where I always knew I would find a friendly face, a smile, a hug, no questions asked if I didn’t want to talk. It has always been the place that has reminded me that there is life outside of work. Whilst teaching, it was a difficult juggling act. Where I compromised in many areas of my life, this was where I drew the line, I didn’t compromise (although often I would take school work with me whilst also rehearsing). It’s been my haven.

Now, after years of acting as part of the company, I find myself directing a play! It’s a great piece, ‘Playhouse Creatures’. I have a lovely cast and we are currently crafting a piece of which I hope we will all be proud. If you’re around Kidderminster from April 9th… drop in!

Having the ‘head space’ to also direct a play has been a breath of fresh air. I had never felt able to contemplate it before. I can merrily stuff envelopes, type letters and file paperwork whilst also running through scenes from the play in my head. Luxury!

One of the women who voluntarily works at the theatre has just started her own blog. I am excited to see what she writes, as I think that it will be a fascinating read… she is a brilliant technician of lights and sound. If you’ve never seen a woman with one arm run a lighting desk or operate sound cues with her feet… it really is something! Please take a look at theonearmwonder.wordpress.com 

Relativity

After a few weeks of temping, I’m getting to grips with the new pay scale. Some might say that it is in bad taste to discuss money… but if you’re thinking about making your own escape, you need to know the financial reality. So… I have picked up just shy of £300 per week. In real terms, a shade over half what I used to earn. The lack of stress can, and does, make up for some of it. I certainly pay lots less tax! But this is probably not sustainable long term. But it’s better than a poke in the eye! And everything starts coming into a new perspective. What I wouldn’t have flinched at spending before now seems like a fortune. And I think that’s a good thing. I am re-thinking how I spend and what I spend. It’s all relative…

Old Dog, Old Tricks

I find myself dusting off the old memory stick and dredging up something I didn’t think I’d need… I have been tasked with drafting an Improvement Plan! For the office. When presented with a (very) rough draft of what they wanted, I saw the format and titles and immediately knew what I was looking at… and I have written many an improvement plan in my time. I’m actually rather looking forward to doing something so familiar in an unfamiliar context. I reckon the same rules apply… just to a new situation…

A dress, Shakin’ Stevens and lunchtimes with Millenials

A Dress…

A fun week has been had… the banter is still keeping me highly entertained, the lack of stress or even not having to use most of my brain is enlightening, and my New Years resolution has resulted in me wearing a dress to work for the first time in a long time!

My New Years resolution was to reduce waste caused by manufacturing and to reduce my own costs. I am a bugger for clothes! I love having something new to wear. But, I also have a dreadful habit of buying things on a whim, and then never wearing them. So I decided to not buy any new items of clothing for the entire year… I have more than enough and then some. This is beginning to make me be slightly more adventurous in my clothing choices day to day, and to dig out things that have never been worn. The dress I wore this week I had bought on a whim from Pop Boutique in London… about 6 years ago… I had to cut the price label off before I wore it to work! I rarely got my legs out at school… with 3-5 year olds with little understanding of physical boundaries, it was just too risky!

A dress... at work...!
The first time I’ve worn a dress in about 15 years…

Shakin’ Stevens…

I am enjoying working with people who are at least 20 years younger than myself… it’s almost as entertaining as working with 5 year olds! Last week we had a corker from my lovely colleague who I sit opposite in the office. She’s 25, beautiful, an annoying combination of being pretty and really nice person, and hilarious without intending to be. I love her! So, the scenario went thus…

Colleague – “That person you’re just about to call has changed his name by deed poll to Shakin’ Stevens”.

Me – “Does he have a green door?”.

Colleague – “No!”.

Me – “He’s missing a trick there!”

Beautiful 25 Yr old – “Why? Is Shakin’ Stevens a real person?”

I love her…!

Lunch with Millenials…

Lunch with Millenials is also a new phenomenon. Eating with someone who is 18, enthusing about this amazing film that they’ve just seen… they outline the plot. You think, ‘there is something familiar about this plot’ … And then they drop the bombshell… “Titanic. Have you seen it?”

Bloody hell! I saw that film when I was only a couple of years older than this boy…!

And he loves it, he bloody loves that film! And that makes me smile. Because it reminds me that some of the things that I have grown used to and perhaps don’t ‘see’ anymore, can be shown to me anew through the eyes of someone who is discovering it for the first time.

In many ways, working in this office isn’t that dissimilar to being in the classroom when I think about it…