A Year Ago

A year ago, I was packing up my classroom resources, clearing my desk and trying not to panic as the farewells to colleagues and pupils came ever closer. I had decided to leave: to travel, to do some further training, to be explorative. And, by December, the leaving was upon me. I knew I would see colleagues again for they were also friends. But pupils, no. This was goodbye.

They blew me away. There was the cake in the shape of a book, made by a class with whom I had been reading Romeo and Juliet, and which featured a brilliantly adapted quotation.

There was my sixth form class, with whom I had shared the pain of First World War poetry on wintry Monday mornings, and who made the most of their knowledge of Othello to say goodbye.

As well as being a teacher, I was also a tutor. I had shown my tutor group round the school when they were still at primary school. Several years on, I had to tell them I was going. I knew it would be difficult and indeed it was, especially seeing the wry smile from the child who didn't live with mum and dad and whose smile revealed that this was what adults do: leave.

Writing this post recalls for me my sadness at leaving the young people I had taught: who had exhausted me, delighted me, made me laugh, made me cajole and made me cheer them on, over and over again. But I knew I needed to go: to blossom and explore. I don't regret it but I can remember the sadness.