Last week was my first week as a Newly Qualified Teacher. Strangely though, not much has changed except the classroom I am in. I was employed by the school in which I have trained for most of the past 2 years and now find myself covering a long term sickness as a Y4 class teacher.
So why teaching?
Up until 2 years ago I had a nice career mapped out in the Royal Air Force. I was going to serve until the ripe old age of 55 then cash in my chips and retire properly. Then I got a phone call that promised to rip me from the family home, confine myself to a life of weekend travelling up and down the A1 (I know lots do it but…) and spending lots of my precious time on the military training areas of Northern England (Catterick and Otterburn – it is always cold and it always rains!). Something had to change…
I am married to a
teacher Deputy Head Teacher (she’s been promoted since I started) so thought I had some insider knowledge as to how this education system works. I was also a school governor at my daughters’ school, where I have roamed the corridors, with a clipboard, making observations on life around the school. Surely it cannot be that hard.
The tremors started the first time I stood up in front of a class. Fortunately (or unfortunately – you be the judge) it was in front of my oldest daughter and her classmates in a split Y3/4 class. My first term was served in her school, which made things slightly awkward for her and some of her friends (and other friends and neighbours who have children at the school) but it was an excellent experience that really made me consider what I wanted to do. 27 children simultaneously using Modroc to make Greek theatre masks was an experience in behaviour management that has taught me valuable lessons that I still use today.
So what am I trying to achieve with this blog?
I’m not sure who will read it; I’m not sure if I will even publicise the existence right now, but I will use it to celebrate my successes, torture my soul over my failures and, maybe, just maybe, share some of the ideas I have that help me in my classroom.
Oh, to finish – one of my class described me as “cool Mr G” to their parents last week. I’m 44, going grey and overweight. I drive a family bus and have previously owned a caravan (and am looking for a newer one). It’s a long time since I’ve been called “cool” – I’m taking those #smallwins and sticking them in my jar of memories.
The tremors have stopped for now though, although I’m sure this is just a temporary feeling of comfort bourne from the idea of finally being qualified (on paper at least) to do what I do for a living now.
I’ll let you now how it goes…