Last days.
So I promised you (darn fools) that I would talk about the end. The end of civilisation as we knew it, the day we were told that schools were closing and the day I discovered I was gonna have to dig deep and find my role in it all.
The last few days at work were strange, some people were already missing; having to self-isolate as they or their loved ones developed a cough or a high temperature. Some things at school have been a bit strange for me as currently I do not have a class. I am doing my best to become an effective reading intervention teacher, as this is new for me and the school, sometimes it feels like it's a dream come true and other days it feels like I am trying to make gold from straw. In the last two days before school closure, plans were set in motion: a) identify the children who would still need to attend and b) make a core team of staff who would be with those children. A meeting was called and the plan of action was laid out and at this point many of us discovered we would not be coming in to school. Those with underlying health conditions or those who lived with people with underlying health conditions were advised to stay away. I cannot fault my school in the manner in which this was delivered, all of us together, no divisions between staff - we were also given the opportunity to withhold the health condition in order to respect confidentiality - but in reality no-one wanted to stay at home and it is testament to a level of trust created that we shared our reasons with one another - with sadness and regret.
It is the oddest feeling in the world to be told that your services are 'no longer required', (even if it is for the best of a nation) and that meeting ended with many holding heavy hearts. There were tears of disappointment and I sensed a feeling of fear. This is our lives, this is what we do, what are we if we no longer look after children? If we no longer teach face to face? You reassure yourself that you are not 'just your job' but in reality every aspect of your life becomes so intertwined with what 'we do for a living' that it is difficult to find the you that is separate from your job. Of course we are all too aware that there are bigger issues at stake here but is it no wonder many people feel like part of them is missing (I cannot be the only one?) and that in some ways we are mourning a loss.
The last few days at work were strange, some people were already missing; having to self-isolate as they or their loved ones developed a cough or a high temperature. Some things at school have been a bit strange for me as currently I do not have a class. I am doing my best to become an effective reading intervention teacher, as this is new for me and the school, sometimes it feels like it's a dream come true and other days it feels like I am trying to make gold from straw. In the last two days before school closure, plans were set in motion: a) identify the children who would still need to attend and b) make a core team of staff who would be with those children. A meeting was called and the plan of action was laid out and at this point many of us discovered we would not be coming in to school. Those with underlying health conditions or those who lived with people with underlying health conditions were advised to stay away. I cannot fault my school in the manner in which this was delivered, all of us together, no divisions between staff - we were also given the opportunity to withhold the health condition in order to respect confidentiality - but in reality no-one wanted to stay at home and it is testament to a level of trust created that we shared our reasons with one another - with sadness and regret.
It is the oddest feeling in the world to be told that your services are 'no longer required', (even if it is for the best of a nation) and that meeting ended with many holding heavy hearts. There were tears of disappointment and I sensed a feeling of fear. This is our lives, this is what we do, what are we if we no longer look after children? If we no longer teach face to face? You reassure yourself that you are not 'just your job' but in reality every aspect of your life becomes so intertwined with what 'we do for a living' that it is difficult to find the you that is separate from your job. Of course we are all too aware that there are bigger issues at stake here but is it no wonder many people feel like part of them is missing (I cannot be the only one?) and that in some ways we are mourning a loss.
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