Well, there's no denying it, it's been an eventful week. I have given away most of my wordly possessions, sold a house, formally handed in my notice and moved back in with my mother at the age of 43.
Ok, so on the surface that sounds like a recipe for disaster. However, as those closest to me must surely be tired of hearing by now, this is all part of my 'grand plan'. My grand plan (in the highly unlikely event that you are reading this and don't already know) is to save some extra travelling funds and, by the end of December/ beginning of January, move to Spain and, er, pretty much do what I'm doing now but for less security and almost certainly less money.
I have lost count of the number of people who have called me 'brave' over the last few weeks. I am not entirely sure what the subtext of this is. 'Brave' could well be a synonym for stupid, maybe even reckless. My considered response has been to say that it isn't brave, as I'm simply doing something that I want to do. Really, it's not as if I have signed up to fight in a war or struggled against any particularly major adversity. I'm actually extremely lucky to be in this position. To be honest, though, my own perception changes by the minute - from exhilaration to the kind of generalised panic someone might experience on a boat that has slipped its moorings and is heading out, rudderless, to sea. The panic doesn't stem from being in Spain itself. This, without any doubt, is the good part. What worries me slightly, and what has always worried me when I have considered this process, is how my working life will shape up. It's not that my job is particularly grand, high status or significant but it is, in it's own small way, important.
Right now, I am a Functional Skills (basic English and maths) teacher at a Further Education college in, what could roughly be called the second-most deprived area in Kent and, incidentally, one that can also lay claim to having the second-worst rate for obesity in England. I have worked in worse-hit areas (well Thanet, anyway) but, suffice to say, we are not always greeted by model students. However, when I returned to my current role at the end of this summer, I knew for a fact that, thanks to some dramatic improvements (and, being a smidge cynical for a second, the proximity of an Ofsted inspection) I would be in for a comparatively easy ride at the start of this academic year. This is mainly due to some scrupulous planning and, for once, a genuine show of commitment by the powers that be. Absurdly, and for the first time in many years, I am currently focussed on my teaching as opposed to administration. Nevertheless, it still holds true that most of it is done in the face of collective opposition. Because you are teaching a subject that they have not chosen to do and because it also makes their shortcomings in English and maths explicit, it is very easy to push students' buttons and tap into their worst behaviours. You need to be pretty robust at times and definitely 'in the zone' for your powers of persuasion to work. I had been worried, therefore, about whether I would be able to apply myself to the job, whilst my mind was, and is, so clearly elsewhere. I needn't have, though. If anything, being in class is currently giving me a welcome break from thinking about anything other than the here and now.
Although I have never yet had a year where, at some point, one of them doesn't reduce me to tears of despair (although I have to admit that these times are now few and far between and that last year was exceptionally fraught on many levels), my students are also some of the people most likely to put a smile on my face. And over the past two weeks, just to prove how much good planning and collaboration can work, two of them have specifically sought me out after a class to say how much they enjoyed it. This, just to make it clear, is absolutely unheard of. I really had to work hard today to hide my elation when one student told me that her group are still talking about the maths class they had with me last week. However, even on an off-day (of which, in an average teaching year, there are many) there are plenty of things about the students I work with that make me smile. There is nothing better, for instance, than seeing someone's eyes light up with enthusiasm despite themselves. This, alone, is one of the joys of teaching that no amount of money can buy. So, sometimes, is knowing that they remember you long after you have forgotten them (although some will always stand out in my memory). There is so much about them that I have come to admire and respect over the years. It could be that person who has the guts to make a sincere and unsolicited apology, the one who arrives well-ahead of time in order to sit an exam or the one who literally squeals with excitement at passing it. A few (and thankfully, it is only a few) 16-18 year olds deal with hardships that I can't imagine having to face now, let alone at their age. This, to me, is bravery. The other truly joyful part is watching the switch from childhood to adulthood that occurs in the space of two years.
There is a Jim Carrey video of him receiving an honorary degree at The Maharishi University of Management (and apologies to any alumni of said university, but whatever tin-pot institution that may be) doing the rounds at the moment. I first saw it a few months ago, just before I left the house for work and someone I know shared it again on Facebook the other day. It's a little odd in places (as you might imagine), but there were some parts which resonated with me at the time. In particular, Carrey's assertion that the purpose of his life was to 'free people from concern'. Roughly speaking, this is what I aim to do in my teaching and it seems like a pretty good aim in life, if you ask me. It's easy to think that students taking English and maths classes against their express will don't care about what they are doing. But I don't believe that. Deep down, I think the overwhelming majority want to do well. Their concern, in most cases, is the fact that they have to come to classes in the first place. That this, somehow, places them lower down the pecking order than their peers. My job, first and foremost, therefore, is to let them know that they are valued, significant and respected in their own right. My second task is to let them experience some joy in what they are doing - and to see that it is okay, and even desirable sometimes, to be less than perfect in what they do. My third is to give them room to grow as people, and that includes forgiving them for giving in to their fears and frustrations and celebrating them when they step up to the mark. I don't always get this right of course. I can't really believe anyone does 100% of the time. But I try. At the end of the day, my real aim is to be an example of an adult in their life that they can trust and, for this reason, with even my most recalcitrant students, I will hang on until the bitter end in an effort to make them see that.
Which is one reason why my current crop of students will not be told about my imminent departure until it is really necessary to do so. I thought that, with Spain looming on the horizon, that I would be mentally packing my bags and hopping on a plane before the ink was dry on my first register. It's not the case, though. If anything, I am more determined than ever to get them off to a flying start so that they are better prepared to cope with any kind of handover. I have seen students go off the rails with less experienced teachers taking over the reins and it's frustrating. Luckily, I think we have a pretty solid team on board this year and I am trusting that my colleagues will be able to pick up and run with them, maybe more successfully than me. If they do, good on them.
All I've got to do now, of course, is free my own self from concern. I have learnt so much from the last four years in my current workplace, that I don't want to let any of it go. Like my students, deep down I just want to do well. And I am worried that I will perceived by my peers as running away from my career responsibilities (even though, in fairness, I am not sure what they are) and somehow placing myself even lower down in the pecking order. I am, of course, also comfortable. And, Spain or no Spain, I couldn't let that state of affairs go on for too long. It's definitely time for a change, whichever way you look at it. On the whole, I've loved working in teaching so far and don't see any reason why that love won't continue - just in a different context. And I have always known that a life in Spain was the future I wanted. Maybe I just need to accept the next year or so as my first, faltering steps to attaining it. Last time I was in Spain I had the weirdest sense that I was, in fact, growing up. Maybe that process will continue. I liked it actually. And if it turns out that I am less than perfect in what I do, well that's a good thing, right?
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