I decided I wanted to be a teacher when I was 7. By 9, I knew I wanted to teach History. My entire academic career was geared towards becoming an educator. And hey, secondary school teaching didn’t work out for me, but I made the leap to adult education and thought I’d found my place. That was 11 years ago, and in those 11 years, I’ve made a difference to people’s lives. I know I have. There are people who started new careers because of the qualifications I helped them gain. People who had always been afraid of English or Maths discovered that they could do it after all. And I loved it. I loved seeing people reach their potential in ways they hadn’t dreamed possible for years. But tomorrow is my last day working in education. And it’s weird.
I’m pretty certain it’s the right decision for me. I hate the pressure of Ofsted, the constant erosion of funding, the ever-present need to do more for less, and the ridiculous amount of paperwork that stops me being able to prepare effectively, and anyone who follows me on twitter knows that hate is too mild a word for me feelings towards my curent workplace. But I’ve been convinced for most of the last 30 years that education was the career for me, so it’s very strange to be leaving it for something completely different. It’s scary too. Education works very differently to other sectors and I haven’t worked in the ‘real world’ for anything more than a few weeks since university. My commute has gone from a 10 minute drive to an hour on the bus, again something I haven’t had to do since university.
I don’t start my new job until the first week of September, so I have two lovely weeks to prepare myself, which I think I’m going to need. But if I go a bit quiet (again), at least this time you’ll know why.
(I know I don’t usually post personal stuff on the blog, but I wanted to make an exception for this. Thanks for reading!)