I had a completely out-of-the-blue message today from a former pupil who I taught more than 20 years ago. It blew me away.
As a Christmas surprise, it was one of the kindest gifts I've ever had. Here's why...
As a Christmas surprise, it was one of the kindest gifts I've ever had. Here's why...
For those that don't know, I was a primary school teacher for all of nine months back at the turn of the millennium.
I'd trained at Cambridge, no less, and landed the first job I applied for at an excellent school close to home. Things were looking good for the 23-year-old me.
I'd trained at Cambridge, no less, and landed the first job I applied for at an excellent school close to home. Things were looking good for the 23-year-old me.
But it all started to unravel when I started work in September 1999. Up to then, on placement, I'd always had a 'real' teacher at the back of the room or close by. Now it was just me. And I couldn't cope.
It wasn't the teaching that was the problem, it was the discipline. I simply couldn't control a class of 30 children aged 9 to 11. My classroom was a place of riotous noise and disorder.
By Christmas, I was in pieces. I was already under increased scrutiny as a Newly Qualified Teacher and I couldn't see a way out. When the new term started I was off sick. I probably could have gone back after a few days, but I stretched it out for two weeks as I couldn't face it.
As Easter approached, I had had repeated inspections of my class and was told I could not pass my NQT year. The school reached agreement for me to leave immediately. I'd lasted just two terms and was mortified.
That failure has always followed me around, and despite the relative successes I've gone on to have since - first as a journalist and now in communications for the NHS - it's always eaten away at me. I've questioned whether I'm good enough. Imposter Syndrome.
And yet. I had some truly wonderful kids in my class. There were two or three who were exceptionally gifted.
One was talented in pretty much every academic subject. She particularly shone at maths, which was a strength of mine.
One was talented in pretty much every academic subject. She particularly shone at maths, which was a strength of mine.
She had a big personality to match. She certainly challenged me, and made me feel she could see me for the fraud I was beginning to see myself as.
I started giving her extra maths tuition as she was working to a higher standard than her peers, helping her to stretch herself. She listened, she got better, she kept coming back.
I didn't see this as unusual. All teachers want to help their pupils be the best they can be.
I didn't see this as unusual. All teachers want to help their pupils be the best they can be.
After leaving, I thought of this student often and wondered what had come of them. I always felt guilty that I'd let them down. The environment I'd provided was not exactly conducive to good learning.
This morning, I got some answers. She'd found me on social media and, as she soothed her new baby in the early hours of Christmas morning, she'd chosen to send me a message.
She told me she'd felt bad for being 'outrageously misbehaved' and 'outwardly ungrateful'. That wasn't true of course, she'd been a normal 10-year-old girl.
She told me she'd always appreciated the time I'd invested in giving her extra support, that I'd been the first teacher to do that and she'd never forgotten it. In a year of such disconnection, she said it had felt the right time to get in touch.
She told me how she' gone on to study maths at an Oxbridge uni and was now working for a charity, working with children at risk of social or academic exclusion.
I was quite emotional to realise she'd remembered me so positively. I think I'll always carry baggage from my brief teaching career, but - thanks to this act of kindness - maybe it will be that little bit lighter from now on.
It's also powerful, I think, to realise that you can make a lasting impression on someone without being aware at the time. I'll try to remember that, and keep trying to help those around me be the best they can be, even if 'm struggling myself.
If you've read to the end of this thread, then thank you for indulging me! Merry Christmas, and fingers fully crossed for a better 2021...