Today was the first day of the last half term of the school year for me. Seven more weeks of my class, my kids, who I have gotten to know so well over the last 10 months. Yes, there are times when they frustrate me, annoy me, and make me question my ability to be a sane and rational human, but they are amazing little people growing up and maturing in ways that make me so proud of them. They don’t always get it right, how could they, they are only 10! However, I am so privileged to see the little moments where they shine each day, where I see their personalities develop, where I get a glimpse of the person they are becoming.
The attack in my home city of London this week as well as my job as a primary teacher made me think pretty deeply over the last few days.
My first thought when I found out about it was obviously that I needed to check on my friends who work in the area to make sure that they were ok.
Then I thought about my class of 9 and 10 year old children. I knew that some would have watched the news with their parents and discussed it, others would have limited information because they are only kids after all and their parents wouldn’t want them concerned. These, plus the overly dramatic ones, can make for some interesting playground conversation. I knew I needed to discuss it with my class.
I’m my profession you often find yourself doing slightly abnormal things, or asking for odd things from friends, or sharing strange stories that others overhear. When you follow it with one certain sentence, the person initially confused suddenly connects all the pieces and finds your behaviour slightly more acceptable.
That sentence? ‘I’m a primary school teacher.’