I know no friend whose parents are teachers who have not then taught. I also know no friend who did not swear that they would never enter the teaching profession. Those same friends say the same of me.
I never thought that I would become a teacher. Throughout my career plans during my few twenty three years, I have considered being a gynaecologist, a dentist, a checkout girl at Morrisons (nee Safeways), a journalist, a beautician, a dog walker and a kept woman. Nothing overtly educationally minded and yet looking back, I remember writing out registration lists and holding pretend classes, writing stories and telling them to friends and I have always opted for jobs where I not only provided a service but where I provided information in a kind, friendly and enthusiastic manner. I always say it took me a while to respond to my calling but now I have begun it, it is like I was always meant to do this.
Until last year, I knew no other life than that which revolved around the academic year. My mother is a teacher and our New Year begins during the first week of September. I spent my gap year between sixth form and University at a Further Education College, studying to become a medical secretary. Even last year, when I stepped away from my own studies, I still remained in a learning environment, working as an Administrator for the IT Training Team at Hereford Hospital.
I am comfortable learning and studying. I find it overwhelming that I have reached the level where I pass this learning onto others.
It is true that it took a while for me to respond to the calling of being a teacher and I think when you have parents who are teachers, and you have grown up with the horrors and hilarities, it takes even longer than someone fresh to the vocation. For me, it was what age I wanted to teach that prolonged the decision. I love little children, though I could never eat a whole one but I never liked the idea of undertaking their education. There would be too much responsibility and too much emphasis on their welfare away from school. New, nervous and rambunctious... and that is just their parents.
Secondary school was also ruled out quickly. A while ago, I was talking to a young friend of mine studying Jane Eyre and this is a section from our conversation:
FS: Bertha went into Jane’s bedroom and ripped her veil in half. Can anyone tell me why she did it?
Student: Raving looney wife – she tried to kill ‘im, and ‘er too!
FS: Can you see how Jane and Betha are related though? How their characters are in direct opposition but they have strange similarities.
Student: Yeah! They both fancy the ugly git! Stupid women!
So although I am now teaching Performing Arts and not English as originally planned, I am teaching an age range that appeals to me. Things are clicking into place. I do not pretend to know what I will be doing in a year’s time as I had no an idea that I would be doing this a year ago. All I can do is keep working hard, preparing, organising and ticking the boxes, hoping that at least my children will see sense and not become teachers themselves.
