Tuesday, April 13, 2010

As good as it gets

Yes, my dear public, it has been a long absence. A new job is always demanding: new tasks, new practices and new colleagues always take some getting used to. Changing from higher education to secondary has its own set of challenges, and my silence owes everything to the need to pour all my effort into hitting the ground running (and in the right direction).

The Lent term started under several inches of snow. With my wrist still in plaster from a close encounter with an icy road, my high heels stayed warm and comfortable in the cupboard while I travelled the perilous 200 yards between home and school in walking boots or wellies. As it turned out, the surgeon wasn't happy with the repair to my wrist and re-set it with pins during the second weekend of term, so further damage was actually done not by accident in the wild, but in the controlled environment of an operating theatre. I didn't lose the plaster and pins until half term.

I have always enjoyed teaching, but nothing matches the fun, the challenge and the buzz of a secondary classroom. It took a while to get acclimatised to teaching in 35 minute periods instead of two-hour blocks, but once I got the hang of appropriate content it has all gone swimmingly. OK, I once lost a fourth form set, all twenty of them, but only once. Tutoring in a boys' boarding house is funny, infuriating and delightful - it's like our house used to be when all the kids were younger, but times ten.

My colleagues are without exception wonderful. I have been supported, gently guided, encouraged and affirmed at every step along the way. They must have wondered what kind of nutcase they had taken into their midst often enough, but by the end of term it felt as if I'd been here forever. We've made some changes in the department, tightened up a few things and made big plans, all in the space of ten crazy weeks.

In the middle of all that, a big birthday loomed, coinciding with the school's own anniversary celebration, so the eve of both was celebrated with a formal ball (acres of rustling blue taffeta) and the day itself with a memorial walk. It was especially good to reclaim the day for some personal merrymaking in the company of a dear friend who came round, helped me cook dinner, and then made me laugh and forget work for an evening.

And then, after a busy, busy end of term, another unaccustomed pleasure - three glorious weeks of holiday. A city break with my chap, a few days parenting in Sheffield, and then back home (and it does feel like home, though I have only been here four months). Thanks to my Dad's outrageous generosity, the modest car with which I was going to replace my Ka in summer morphed into a six-month old MGTF 85th anniversary edition on Good Friday. So the beautiful weather of Easter week looked even more inviting than usual for driving, and I had a couple of good runs with the wind in my hair and the sun beating down. Life doesn't get much better.

Summer term started today, and, no longer a new girl, I'm happy to be back in the classroom with the whole term ahead. I wake up each morning, wriggle my toes, grin, and think "They are actually paying me to do this!"