Fessing Up.


I knew I’d have to do it, but frankly, for the past month it hasn’t seemed real and this week it’s all become real. It’s happening. I’m moving on. I got a new job. Bloody hell! I actually got the job!

The other teachers have been slowly hearing that I’ve got a sparkly new job through the grapevine and I’ve had more than one conversation with people who range between shocked to envious, to unsurprised. In general, I’ve been sparkly about it. This is exciting! I am totally stoked about my new school and the job sounds wonderful.

And then I got the conversation I’ve been living in denial about. Thankfully it was an email, but as I suspected, it made it real and brought tears.

{names have been changed to protect the usual}

Dear Mrs B,

I have heard that you may be leaving next year, I know this is probably confidential information but it really makes a difference to my a level choices so if you are I would love it if you could let me know.

Many thanks,

A student

My first response was to say that they should chose their subjects based on the subject! (I’m hoping they didn’t mean that if I was indeed leaving, then they’d want to take it up!). But, I confirmed my impending departure with a request for discretion as I want to talk to students in my own way (and time).

My decision was met with a lovely email thanking me for my trust. And I do trust them. I have a huge respect for my students and in the most part they return this to me in droves. Of all things, they in no way were a factor in my decision to move on. If anything, my avoidance of fessing up to the students is quite largely down to a nagging feeling of abandoning them. They have shown me a new love of computing constantly. I’ve played binary games with them, acted out classes and inheritance using funny hats and elf shoes (whole other post), created chocolate algorithms, and most of all been delighted by watching them fall in love with computer science that I didn’t do until my 20s. They have the world in their hands, and for many of them I have encouraged badgered them to take up them subject. And now I’m leaving them.

I am leaving them with some excellent teachers. Some outstanding teachers (literally) who I have massive respect for. But like every teacher, I am emotionally involved. I care deeply for the kids I teach and this is just an enhanced version of how I feel each time a year group graduates from the sixth form. You know the future is bright and it’s time to spread their wings, but there’s a little bit inside you that is so sad because you will miss them. You have a cry, and then in September, you meet new faces that you care for.

I understand more and more why you remember your teachers. What people sometimes forget is that teachers remember you with just as much fondness sometimes.


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