On Monday 15th April, I sat down at the teacher's desk in my new classroom at my new school to log on to a school computer for the first time. I was a bit nervous; the teaching part doesn't scare me so much, but the admin does - figuring out new policies and shared drives and how to print, etc. I'd been given a piece of paper with my login details and the temporary password I'd been assigned: stabilising.
And I may have done a little bit of laughing and crying and had a moment with the Lord, before logging on ready for my first lesson with my first new class (Year 9).
If you know me well, you probably realise I've been a little unstable recently. Not in the 'losing the plot' sense of unstable (although I've had my moments), but more in the 'the ground is shifting beneath me and I'm not sure what next' kind of unstable. I've spent the past few weeks veering about like a child on a bike with their stabilisers newly removed, swerving around whilst trying to make progress. Close friends have suffered near daily updates of "This has happened!" and "Now this!" and "Oh goodness - now there's actually this."
My work situation has previously been very steady. I worked at my first very lovely school in Hertfordshire for over six years, had son number one and realised I couldn't face the commute any more, then somehow fell into a job at a wonderful secondary just round the corner in Cambridge and stayed there for over eleven years. The stories I could tell about all the very special colleagues and students and opportunities I've had there, and all the stuff I've learnt, and how I've grown over that time! And the amazing support I got as a working mum - part time contracts and still entrusted with various responsibilities, like this: https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-being-in-the-room-where-it-happens Feminists of the world should rejoice!
Here are just a couple of examples of my enthusing over my amazing workplace: https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-danish-whales-and-quantitative-easing and https://sarahhadfi.wixsite.com/website/post/on-libraries-sex-and-passion
I won't go into the details of my departure, but I really did stick at it as long as I could, clinging on optimistically like a slightly deranged and tenacious limpet. It wasn't a surprise - a year earlier, I had broken down at Bible study group: "I just don't think I'll be able to keep working there!" When eight other English colleagues left our dozen-strong team, I was still so motivated to stick it out there, because of the debt of gratitude I owed the school, and how very invested I was in the school community - a student cohort of former neighbours, former Sunday school students, and friends of my own children. I've used the word 'devastated' a lot about my leaving, and it's no exaggeration.
I left some ripples in my wake, if the explosion of messages were anything to go by. I'm both saddened and heartened by the concern people have expressed about my leaving (thank you SO much for your care), so this is my statement that I am in fact alive and well, and any wild and exciting stories to the contrary are merely rumours (maybe I did something right at creative writing club?!).
I've already learnt that I am not indispensable for a school, and now I've learnt that a school is not indispensable to me either - life does go on.
I'm mixing my metaphors here, but a lifeboat appeared in the form of the school where a former colleague of mine works as a senior leader (actually two former colleagues, if you count my husband - we started off working together in Herts, so we have nicely come full circle). I went for an interview, and did briefly consider throwing myself at their feet. It was a temporary contract whilst I found my way, but we've just agreed that I'm staying on.
After I left the previous school in Herts, I said the commute was madness and I shouldn't do it again. But here I am, committing to an hour each way in the car again down into the depths of Hertfordshire. It seems I value stability more than I disvalue driving. One huge bonus is that it's very friendly to bump into my husband on the field on lunch duty. My Year 9s were EXTREMELY impressed when I found a Chelsea bun and a Bible verse hidden in my teacher desk drawer, "Ooooooh - did Mr Phillips do that?!" Plus it's very nice to hear school leaders say, "We want you!" just at a point when my confidence in myself had hit rock bottom.
I've written before about this Bible verse, and how it serves as both a motivator ("Work hard - God's watching!") and a support, reminding me I am ultimately working for God's approval and not man's. And I think maybe it's because I've held onto that truth that the little voice of my conscience is saying, "You did as well as you could. God saw your efforts. It's ok."
But to those people who have been impacted by my moving, to the students who suddenly found their teacher/librarian/Christian Union leader was gone, to the colleagues who have felt unsettled by my departure, I am sorry. I'm sad to go and I'm sorry for the impact on you. Particular shout out to the families of exam classes who would be most justified in expressing unhappiness and who have instead offered words of support, which mean more than you could know. Bless you. And thank you. It was such a privilege to work there with those people. I feel I've left all little pieces of my heart behind with you, and I think it shows in the messages with former colleagues, ("Year 12 might like this podcast...") the books I still gather for the library, the prayers I have plenty of time for on my daily commute.
In the wibbling and wobbling of the past few weeks, I kept telling my husband, "It'll be ok when..." (when my contract and school A ends/when I've started at school B; when the boys are settled at their new school; when the plans for next academic year are sorted; etc.) I think/hope we have now hit the sweet, settled spot, and I am very grateful for what looks to be a bit of respite and stability. And very very thankful that God has provided good work for us to do.
Comments