My Teaching Journey

“It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.”

Now this isn’t an easy post for me to write. My journey into teaching hasn’t been a smooth one. In fact, it’s been pretty tough for me and has left me borderline ill at some points. But what inspires me to write this, is that it might help someone who is in the same position I was in a few years ago. Instagram, well actually all social media portrays many aspects of life as PERFECT. When actually life is far from it. My Instagram page may be guilty of this. I post all the lovely things I do, because that’s what the world wants to see. But lets be honest… that isn’t real life. The things I will say in this post will be honest, brutally honest in fact. This post is in no way meant to offend people, and of course, no names/ schools will be directly mentioned. If you know me personally, you may be able to put two and two together… So, in the words of Julie Andrews, lets start at the very beginning, it’s a very good place to start…

I will be honest, I never dreamed of being a teacher. Yes I know this is controversial, but it’s true. In fact, for most of my formative years I aspired to be the Pink Power Ranger. So much so, I would actually tell people my name was Kimberly! I never knew what I actually wanted to do, for a while I toyed with the ideas of working in visual merchandising/ creative sort of fields. But realistically, I wasn’t creative enough. I remember being sat at my desk, as a teenager trying to decide on a career route. University was a must for me. It was always something I wanted to do/ was encouraged to do. Not going to university wasn’t an option. My grades were bang average (at a push) so that narrowed down my options a lot. I decided to do some work experience at a local school, because we had to do a work experience module. I quite enjoyed it and a few of my friends were applying to be a teacher… So in true sheep fashion, I applied too. A dangerous game I KNOW. But hey, everything happens for a reason.  I applied and settled on The University of Winchester. This was and always will be one of the best decisions I ever made. I chose the four-year route into teaching (I wanted to maximise my university experience).

The first six months of university was blur, I was too busy having fun! I was 150 miles from home, living with my best friends and having a blast. My priority was living and this I don’t regret (life is meant to be lived).  It wasn’t until my first placement I started to take things a little seriously. I was put in a Year 6 class, in a small village in Hampshire. I then started to realise (ish) the importance of being a teacher. I’m sure some of you reading this, might find it a shock that it took me this long to realise, but I was a carefree 18 year old girl. The teacher I had was experienced, funny and honest. That’s all I really remember from my first placement, it was an observational placement and we were only required to plan and deliver group activities. Looking back, I should have pushed myself to do more.  Second year placement wasn’t my finest of moments, during this placement I learned how to be a more tactful person, around more sensitive people (tact never being a skill I’ve possessed). Once again, our percentage of teaching was low, so at this point, I still had no real clue.

Then my third placement came, and all of a sudden I was expected to teach a hell of a lot. This came as a shock. However, at this point, I was turning 21 and I had matured so much. I was placed in a junior school, in a deprived area. I was in a Year 3 class, with some serious behaviour issues. I suddenly realised, the importance of being a teacher. Creating positive experiences/ escapes for children who have had a really rubbish start to life. Here, I really started to learn how to be a teacher. Planning sequences of lessons, marking and making an impact. This is when my love and passion really began to bloom.

This third year of training was the year I really started to get my butt into gear. I raised my grades from 2:2’s and started getting 70+% on my essays and I really started taking it seriously. I applied for Camp America that summer, and jetted off alone to upstate New York for 3 and half months. This was a defining moment for me. Whilst, it didn’t really help my teaching, it taught me how to care and support children. It also changed me as person. Jetting off to America alone at 21, having to meet new people and put myself into new, scary situations did me so much good. My confidence grew. This is where my love of solo travelling began. However, this life changing trip set my slightly behind track on my dissertation… and I rocked up to my 4^th and final year with nothing but a wicked tan. Suddenly, in my final year it all got very serious. However, I still hold this year as one of the most important to date. I was placed in an infant school and without being dramatic an infant school that changed my life for the positive. I have mentioned this before, so I’m sorry to mention it again. But, I was placed with one of the most outstanding teachers, I have ever witnessed. Still to this day, (6 years on) I use so many tips that I learned on this placement. This was my defining moment! With a lot of hard work, and A LOT of support,  I developed my teaching style. I learned how to plan exciting and outstanding units of work. I learned everything there is to know about phonics, SATS and Year 2. I would say, up until recently, it was one of my biggest regrets not taking a job that was going in that school. However, my journey/life would look so different now.

After receiving and outstanding grade on my final placement, I bagged myself a job in a Year 1 class, in a one-form entry primary school. This is when I really knew what being a teacher was like. I was 22 and carefree. I had the hours and energy to put into making my job, my everything. I feel like there’s not a lot to say about my NQT year, as it went so smoothly. I learned how to be an actual teacher. I had so much freedom at my first school, all my observations went well and I worked with a fantastic staff. However, after a while I did start to burn myself out and I saw other teachers, who worked in bigger settings, sharing planning and having a life. And at 22 I craved this. Therefore, I made the decision to find a job in a bigger school. I applied for a job in a three-form entry infant school. I got the job and I jetted off for the entire 6 weeks holiday and travelled around Thailand and Vietnam alone. So far, my journey is still so full of naivety. I honestly have no idea how I made it 5 years being so naïve.

So my second year was an interesting year for me. I moved in with one of my best friends (I met her whist doing Camp America). It was so fun, we had a house, we had independence and we both had great jobs! The dream. The school I was placed in was an outstanding school. I can hand on heart say, I will never again want to work in an outstanding school. For me, I felt like I was wearing a strait jacket. At the beginning of the year, I was handed a set of LA, MA, HA books and told that I had to make sure my books looked EXACTLY the same as these. I was given all my topic planning, in a zippy wallet and was told to teach it.  The planning was reused from previous years (it didn’t even match the new curriculum). Maths and English planning was planned together (ish) and yeah, that was it. I lost my identity, however I did have life! Because all my topic planning was done, I could get super organised and I was in at 8am every day and left by 5 and that was it! I’d spend one week night doing all my resources for the week and that was it. Weekends mainly free. The dream, right? Absolutely not. However, how do you know what you want, until you really know what you don’t want?

So, in my pursuit of happiness, I applied for another job. Three schools, three years.  This job was in a tough, city school. This time, the school was two-form entry. This I thought, must the winning combination. This is the part of the blog I’ve been dreading writing. This was the hardest year of my life. This was the school that finally stripped me of my identity. Looking back, I don’t even recognise myself. However, if even one person learned from my mistakes, I would be over the moon. So, where to start with this one?

My third year, I was still teaching in Year 1. At this point, I felt I knew quite a lot about Year 1. I was sold the dream. I knew the school was RI, but I wanted to be challenged and pushed out of my comfort zone. My previous year had been so routine. I hadn’t quite realised the extensity of staff turnover at my new school. There was a new head teacher and in two years, there had been almost a whole new staff turn over. This didn’t ring any alarm bells, for my naïve self. IT REALLY SHOULD HAVE. The first few weeks were okay, I was allowed to decorate my classroom how I wanted and do some planning. What I didn’t fully realise though, is that my new school had a scheme of work for phonics, guided reading, guided writing and maths. To be quite honest, I don’t know what’s worse, being handed your planning in a zippy bag at the start of each term or being constrained and constricted by the rules of a scheme. Schemes of work are something I now feel so ridiculously passionate about. What I’m about to say is controversial, and I’m probably going to upset people by saying this… but schemes of work are just a waste of money. I know some teachers love schemes of work and adapt them well to suit their class. However, I find the restricting and frankly demoralising. Following a scheme, is almost like being told you’re not quite trusted to plan your own lessons. The phonics/reading/writing scheme was so unbelievably prescriptive that it had videos online, to show you how your lessons should look… Following a script is not for me. This I found out the hard way. This scheme wasn’t allowed to be changed. Thus began my demise. One day, I was called into the head teachers office and I can honestly say my life changed forever, and not for the better. The head teacher sat me down and told me that my observations hadn’t gone well. “I wasn’t following the scheme.” Due to this, my teaching was so poor she couldn’t even grade me special measures, I was worse. This was a shock for me. As a qualified teacher. I had never received anything lower good. Which she accused me of lying about. This has stuck with me since. Maybe, the head teacher didn’t realise the impact of her words (I personally, think she did). But as soon as you start to think you’re not good enough, self doubt takes over and it’s a downward spiral. I was then given weekly observations, this did not help my stress. I stopped sleeping, I felt sick every single time I walked into school, I was a shaky, fragile, nervous wreck. My anxiety was through the roof. The mixture of being observed each week and constantly called into the head teachers office and told how terrible I was, broke me. I cried every week without fail. To anyone that knows me, I’m not a crier. I do not cry easily, but I was a broken person. It got to the point where it became noticeable. It really did impact my job. I was so scared of not doing things right, that this anxiety overtook everything else. I agree, at this point I was no longer a ‘good teacher.’ I was in fact an emotional wreck. It all became too much and I went to the doctors. Looking back, I was not okay. Despite being told how much of a failing teacher I was, I wasn’t allowed to leave until the end of the school year. I didn’t want to be signed off by the doctors (even though this was recommended by my GP). I couldn’t do it to my class. So I soldiered on, somehow. Looking back now, I was being bullied. Now I know  this is a phrase used far too much and I wouldn’t use this phrase lightly. But it was true. I realised this as soon as I got in contact with my union. They were very keen to get involved, as this wasn’t the first case of this happening in my school… I applied for a few jobs, that year. None in teaching. I had made my mind up, I was a terrible teacher, and the children deserved more than what I could give them. My Mum begged me to stick at teaching for one more year. She begged me to try one more time to see. So, I applied for one teaching job. Just the one. At a small village school. This school was tiny, it only 40 pupils and 3 teachers. It had mixed year groups, something I was scared of. I went into the interview, fully knowing I wouldn’t get the job. Why would they want a failing teacher? I planned a poetry lesson, and suddenly when teaching that class the fire in my belly was reignited. All I needed was to be free. I got the job. I can honestly say this job changed my life. When I went back to my school the following week, the head teacher could not believe I had found a job in another school. She made many comments about how low their standards must be… The last half term at the school was a blur. I was still constantly pulled into the office, but their words could no longer hurt me. Except when they threatened to ring my new school and tell them I wasn’t meeting the teaching standards- that sent me into so much of a meltdown that I had to be sent home. Once again, when I reported this to my union they were not happy. Everything was my fault, one time a classroom had been left in a mess and I was summoned to sort it out. I hadn’t even been there. But the year drew to an end and I survived. I can honestly say, I wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for some of the staff that I worked closely with. I owe them my career. I am where I am now because of them. When I was down, they picked me up.

Looking back at this situation now, all I can say is ’Never be ashamed of being broken, because strength is nothing but pain that’s been repaired.” Unknowingly, I learned so much during this year. I learned how not to do things, and I learned how not to deal with people and I learned how important being part of a team is.  

This leads me onto happier memories. I have been at my current school for two years. I can hand on heart say it is the most incredible school ever. It is the first school I’ve worked in that I would send my own children. I have never worked in such a supportive environment. Everything and everyone is wonderful. No idea is too big or too crazy. And most importantly, I have my freedom back. No schemes and no reused planning. I currently teach 17 Year 2/3 children. It is incredible. So many people hear the number of my class and automatically say, how easy I’ve got it. Yes marking is a dream. But planning takes me forever. But I wouldn’t change that for the world. I now know that you can’t put a price on freedom. This past two years has been career defining for me. I have fell back in love with teaching and my standards are back to being where they should be. The staff I work with are so supportive and have helped me gain my confidence back. I am now English lead, I’ve supported trainee teachers and I take an active role in phonics within the trust. I have been on leadership courses this year and I have applied for some exciting additional roles for next year(fingers crossed). It breaks my heart to say that I am in fact leaving this school at the end of the school year. I was asked to move to a school within our trust. This school is a challenging school, with regular Ofsted visits. Despite being gutted, I’m so excited to get my teeth stuck in to a new challenge. I am ready and I feel strong enough to take on new challenges. It is the right move for my career. However, it has taken two years for me to get to this point. And I do have occasional meltdowns about not being good enough.

So, like I said this post was always going to be hard for me to write. It has been a bumpy ride. Nevertheless, I want to remind everyone going through a tricky career time that you can do this. You just need the right support. I can’t believe how much I have learned in six years.

It’s been a bumpy ride everyone. But damn, it is worth it. So here’s to future challenges and being a boss bitch. And to the ones that broke me, all I can say is… LOOK AT ME NOW.

Over and out.