School’s well and truly out for summer. It’s been an interesting term and a bit, with highs certainly being the lovely welcome back I received from many of my students and some of the wonderful new colleagues our department gained while I was off on maternity leave. I even shed a tear or two at one point when personal goodbyes were said.
Now it’s time to move on.
I’ve always liked changing schools – it’s character-building in that you have to hit the ground running every time; there is just no space in my job for easing in. So you become flexible, chatty (‘Where is the loo?’) and almost the adventurer we all set out to be at some point when we were very little.
The first few weeks are my favourite. People make an effort to get to know you, your strengths and quirks. It is also the ideal opportunity to re-define who you are and who you want to be seen as. I know that, in my last work place, who I was seen as was not quite who I am and a far cry from who I want to be seen as. Time to change that.
So, typical for this time of year, I have spent the best part of this morning preparing – out with the old: worksheets and scribbles never to be used again, pens, which have stopped working a decade ago thrown in the bin. And in with the new: a box dedicated to all my marking materials, files for my new Performance management cycle and my classes bought and labelled, print-outs of important pieces of paper on the list for later on.
Then there’s the issue of new looks, but they will be dealt with once I have lost the stone or so I need to lose in order to fit my clothes again. No point buying anything new if I won’t fit into it by the end of summer.
The prospect of September in a new place has me excited like a child in a sweet shop. So many things to choose from, so many things to change. But it’s a good change indeed.