Why.

Wondering why... (Lake Wanaka)

Charlie is working away cooking dinner so I’m going to be called to dish up (my job) at any moment. I just need to put something down in writing to try to mentally digest my day. I came into this week in a much more settled place. The last couple of weeks have seen the end of three Internals* and the start of three more. This means lots of marking and lots of prep for something that eight weeks ago I had no idea about let alone how to teach. I thought with my 5 years UK experience I could surely teach the Maths by now, but these NZ Internals are a whole different ball game. I quite enjoy parts of them, but have never felt more like an NQT** than I do right now. Though thankfully I am a bit more confident in my planning and delivery ability than I was back then.

I have also been calmer this week because Wednesday is a strike day (pay and workload) and Tuesday (today) was a half day of teaching. The latter was so because Sir John Jones came to talk to the staff at my school. Sir John Jones is a British educational professional, one of a select band who have had their achievements recognised in the New Years Honours List. Before last week, I had not known of him, and was also a little sceptical about what could possibly be worth staying an extra 80 minutes after school for. Considering my cynical attitude and previously unimpressive Professional Development talks I’m unsure which contributed more to this lack of enthusiasm. Probably a combination. But nonetheless, I was calm because this week contained a workload I was relaxed about, and I knew meant that I could deliver my lessons really well, not just adequately at best.

So in we filed to the theatre, waiting patiently to be Professionally Developed, and I left three and a half hours later entertained, enlightened and really bothered by one thing. The afternoon had confirmed to me that I’m doing a good job, but I was annoyed at myself because I couldn’t think of three words to explain why I am a teacher. It was an absolutely fantastic and enjoyable afternoon of stories, insight, laughter and thoughts. We practically demonstrated how outrageously poor the working memory is (the seven words were Window, Memory, Electricity, Microphone, Oboe, Road and Yacht - i think) and learnt that Lions have sex up to thirty times a day. But when asked why we were teachers, many around me said things along the lines of ‘make a difference’ but I wasn’t happy with that. Yes, I think I do make a difference, but I knew there was more to it for me. I just couldn’t put my why into words. I knew I had one, because it gets me up every day and makes me feel like I must be cheating at this work thing when others complain about their jobs. But I couldn’t digest what it was.

So the afternoon of Professional Developing was done, and I must say that Sir John is the best Educational Speaker and Inspiration I have listened to. If your school gets a chance to listen to him, take it. It confirmed to me that some of my thoughts, despite not quite aligning with some of the ‘protocols’ or ‘policies’ of schools I have worked in, are good tools for children and their learning. Not to say I will ignore a school policy - I think consistency also needs consideration. But being aware of a bigger picture to try and drive change has to begin somewhere, even if it’s within initial limits. But even after all of this great stuff, what was my why? I drove (no bike - Auckland has been wet) to the gym (where else), thinking about this. I did the Crossfits, still thinking a bit about this, and then began to put a few pieces together on the drive home to try and understand my why.

It started in my Reception class at school. In the UK ‘Reception’ is the year before year 1. Weird I know, but anyway. I had a teacher who I think was in her first year of teaching. She was nice, I wanted to be her best friend and I probably learnt some things. I then skipped off into Year 1 and learnt some more things. Then I went into Year 2 and had the Reception teacher again. And I loved her. She was THE MOST AMAZING PERSON IN THE WORLD. Now that I am 29 years old, I can’t tell you why, but she made me feel like I was her best friend. Six year old me had subconsciously already decided what she was going to be when she grew up.

Amazing teacher then got married, changed her last name and moved to Cornwall. I think I cried on her last day but then moved slowly on with my life and into Year 3. Although I do remember going on holiday to Cornwall when I was about nine and wondering if we could go to her new town so I could see her.

Despite the pain, I managed without her and made it to Secondary School (year 7). A pretty hardworking student who enjoyed working hard and getting stuff right, I sometimes thought it would be a good idea to try and be cool. Me and my friend Tristan were messing around one day and our Tutor (aka mentor teacher, form tutor…) pulled us to one side to talk to us. He was super cool, I liked him, and he just looked at us both and said ‘Wow, you two have the choice to be anything in the World you want to be.’ And he said it as if we were special. As if we had this gift nobody else had. And it made me feel amazing. I know now that we had nothing that anybody else didn’t have, he just helped me to feel like I had it. Whatever it took, whatever I wanted, I had it.

Said Tutor also left and moved to another school. I was angry about this, but again moved on with my life and made it into Year 9. I think I knew which school he had moved to and whenever we drove past it, I looked in to see if he was there. Why he’d be just stood in the gateway I don’t know, but I looked anyway.

Someone else that showed me that I had it was my PE teacher. Just the words ‘You should go along to the local athletics club’ made me feel like I had just won the Olympics. She thought I was good enough. She could see I had something. So off I went and ended up running Internationally for a few years, but that’s beside the point. Whether I’d gone to the club or not, I learnt that day that I had something.

These three teachers only begin to describe all the great ones from day one through to Year thirteen (final year) of my school life, but having thought about my why, it is clear that it all happened before I was even a teenager. These aren’t teachers from my later school years. They’re not the ones that taught me calculus or the intricacies of algebra (although they are also FANTASTIC and I love them in a different way). They are the ones that showed me I had something when I suppose I didn’t know, or didn’t believe that I did. My later teachers definitely confirmed this, but it was these three pivotal moments that are my why. I can’t put it into three words though Sir John, I’m sorry about that.

For me now, in each class, each day, maybe there’s a student who doesn’t yet know they’ve got something, or doesn’t quite yet believe it. They might be in year two like I was, or they might be in year thirteen. And just in case it’s their day to realise, I’ll be ready to help them see.

…....................................

Charlie finished making dinner about ten minutes ago, so I better not keep him waiting any longer!

*Internal Assessment. Something in New Zealand a bit like the old coursework in the UK, but done in assessment conditions across 2-3 lessons.

**Newly Qualified Teacher.

…............................................

I sat on this for a couple of days, thinking it over and whether I even recalled the events properly. After talking to Mum, we can’t remember if amazing reception teacher even taught me twice, but that’s how my child brain wants to remember it. And the child brain is what turns into the adult brain that we all have now. I’ve concluded that it doesn’t really matter is the stories are accurate. What matters is that each person in the stories had such a profound impact on me.

I also reflected on the fact that the first two teachers in the stories left not long after they came into my life. Only during the afternoon with Sir John Jones did I cry because I was missing out on the journeys of some amazing students I taught back in London. When I had told them I was leaving to move to New Zealand, they cried, I cried, and we has a class hug. But maybe leaving was the best thing. Maybe it’s the only way for them to learn that they have the magic, not the teacher that helped them see it.

And finally here's an NZ picture because I know you've been missing them and they always get the views....

Tongariro Alpine Crossing - Emerald Lakes