Some of you who read my last post (including my dear parents) are asking themselves a very worthwhile question – if I’m having such a hard time at the school, why stay?
To paraphrase the great Tevye (From Fiddler In The Roof), I stay because “The School is my home”.
Let me explain.
I am on the road to becoming a newly qualified teacher. That road is filled with numerous potholes, oil slicks and off-piste lay-bys. I could find the nearest taxi rank and hope that a car would come along and take me to my destination. Alternatively, I could continue my journey on that rocky road; avoid as many potholes as possible; get up and dust myself down when I slip on the oil and find my way back to the path when I venture off into unchartered territories.
Eventually, I would still arrive at the same destination and hope that when I travelled along another rough and tumble road, I’d have enough sense and experience to avoid the various curve balls that undoubtedly would be tossed along my way.
The school I am teaching at is not a place for quitters. In such an environment, you need swim in order to survive. Yes, the rapids are fierce and sometimes I find myself swept a little up-river but I know that my final destination is at the end of that long, winding and pretty stormy river. The kids can steal my memory stick, call my Jew Teacher and even take swings at me, but when I do decide to move to an easier school, the experience that I’ve shored up along the way will no doubt get me into pole position in the race to fill a teaching post that I really want.
Additionally, the staff at the school are some of the most decent people I’ve ever worked with and it is these individuals who keep me going on those days when the wild, wild river overflows and submerges the rocky, hole-ridden path.