You have tears in your eyes and I can feel them welling up in mine. I’ve seen you grow from a timid, innocent child into a gregarious, self-confident young adult. I’ve been there for you when you’ve fallen out with friends, other teachers and even family. Our relationship is strong enough that we will be happy exchanging stories when we meet on the street and you’re with your own children. I will always treasure that bond. I will remember so many of you and your friends, even if your names escape me.
My colleagues are a different story. I respect you, admire your dedication and professionalism, but can’t quite understand why you put up with the way you are treated. Not by the students, but by the school. A bloated body of managers, many of whom haven’t taught in years. Driven by data and every new initiative, they have lost touch with where they came from.
Without teachers who prioritise their rapport with pupils and make learning a fun, collaborative experience, the school is losing its soul. That’s why I’m off. The school won’t blink. I’ll be replaced by a trainee at half the cost. My colleagues will train them and pick up the slack.
I am sick of being assessed solely on the hoops that you want us to jump through, every lesson. I want a job where who I am counts as much as what I do. I want my old job back.
I’m not bitter. I’m disappointed. I’m sorry if I’m letting down the children whose lives I’ve changed, and for whom I’ve made learning enjoyable again, but the rewards of my profession have diminished to the point they are no longer enough. Here’s to a brand new start.
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