Time is a bizarre old thing. As is hindsight. It is hard to believe that two years ago I was finishing teaching to embark on the intrepid journey into writing. Twelve months ago I had just been granted a part time job in which I gave myself opportunity to write alongside. And now I have come full circle. Tomorrow is my last day and as arduous as its felt at times this year (and mind-numbingly boring for a good portion of it) I cannot believe that I have actually reached the final curtain. Suddenly, this last twelve months seems like a simple snap of the fingers. Before I know it I will be back in the North West plunged head first into the trials and tribulations of whole school life once more. Am I ready for it? You bet I am.
I am twitching now. I simply cannot wait to get into the nitty gritty of it all, can’t wait to get my hands dirty and climb back onto that horse. I am ready and excited. This time away from full time teaching has genuinely been the best thing I have ever done and although I have talked about it for some time, I never really appreciated just how close around the corner it was. As of 12.15 tomorrow lunch, I am done! Six weeks of lounging and lolly, packing, moving and planning for the future. Every thought I have been putting to one side in order to concentrate on these last few weeks, can come flooding to the fore. I can now think about the design of my new classroom, the lessons I will develop, the books I will read, the chapters I will write, the costumes we need for our upcoming murder mystery weekend! Its as if there has been a block put on all other things, my consciousness only able to cope with an immediate list of mundane chores. But already I am starting to feel free, feel different, invigorated and refreshed. That is, underneath the inevitable collapse of body which comes at the end of every school year.
I may not have worked as hard this past twelve months as I have in previous teaching years, but that doesn’t seem to matter to body and mind. A sense of sheer exhaustion is already eeking into my week and along with the heavy head, sore throat and seemingly constant sneezing, I now know this is no normal summer cold, this is the sheer relief ebbing its way through my system. The shut down before the summer can really begin. A few days of rebooting with some long hours reading in bed I think should set me up nicely before going away next week. And then the smile can really broaden.
As for the writing? As I’ve said in previous posts, that is also about to start a new adventure. No more ‘pretending’ I’m busy and procrastinating wildly, the hobby shall return and with it the contentment that only comes with such a creative streak, nestled into cosy corners on dark, stormy evenings.
But now, I am going to treat myself to a long, hot soak with a glass of red in one hand, my book in the other. With little left to do in the morning, I feel as if my year is already complete . . . I wonder what the chances are of getting Steve to take me out for a celebratory tea?! On second thought, the suspicious twitching of my eyes and the tremor of tiredness shivering in my bones makes me feel more like having someone wrap me in a duvet and feed me soup!