Wave Goodbye...

The final few days of term have passed; although on the payroll until August 31st I have finished teaching for a few years at least. Despite being reassured by various people that ‘I’ve made the right decision’, my mental status hasn’t changed; I still feel more discombobulated than ecstatic upon gaining my freedom. I am strangely comforted in the knowledge that I must go back for results days. I’m still clinging on.....I tried to ease my passing by making a list of all the things I won’t miss about school, but it didn’t help as it was disappointingly short....marking , the bells , admin...In fact the list of things I will miss was disproportionately longer ...the students, colleagues, friends, camaraderie, learning, discovery, success, development....
In the last few days I’ve bid farewell to friends, colleagues and students in an emotional departure which feels more akin to bereavement than leaving a job. There’s the rub I suppose – teaching isn’t just a job; it’s a way of life. Working in a school environment, where the adults man classes alone (educational satellites) before returning to the sanctuary of the departmental office. The office is the hub, like a kitchen, where we sit around the teapot and share stories, plan strategies and schemes of work; it’s where we resolve problems together - professional and personal. The head of department is the matriarch; responsible for running the ship as well as the morale and well-being of her crew. As a result, my colleagues have become more like friends and family; saying goodbye not just to individuals but to that sense of shared experience, was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do.
I was given a good send off; students baked me cakes and gave me cards which made me choke (the cards not the cakes) with comments such as ‘gonna miss you Miss...you’ve been a quality teacher...’ (n.b. a female teacher remains ‘Miss’ whatever her relationship status) We had a departmental gathering at a local restaurant where the wine flowed almost as freely as the tears. My bsf (best school friend) was given the onerous task of presenting the gift; onerous because I’m notoriously difficult to buy presents for – exacting and extremely hard to please. Rather thrown by her hysteria, I didn’t react very well to the beautiful bronze horse ... accompanied as it was by reassurances that ‘it wasn’t a joke present’ I managed to mutter muted thanks... ‘It’s lovely’. The awkward moments over and my gratitude reaffirmed (albeit belatedly) Henry the horse has settled well onto the mantelpiece; he surveys the room with a regal elegance. The husband is less pleased despite my reminder that ‘he’ll be cheap to keep’ I was told ‘if any more equestrian memorabilia (we do already have quite a few pictures of my horses) enters the house then I’m going to build a shed and fill it with windsurfing posters...’ I’m sure he’ll grow to love him, just like the others.... For me, he’s a monument to friends, fellowship and the future....