Exit from the teaching profession

Exit from the teaching profession

It is Friday, September 12th. Usually I would have finished my second working week as a teacher at an East London Secondary School after five weeks of summer vacation. New school books would have been distributed and fresh graffiti.

The initial enthusiasm of the students (and teachers) at the beginning of a new year would gradually disappear. And if it hadn't happened, I would regularly raise my voice out of anger about the general indifference of the students if their first housekeeping threatens.

As you can see safely - just take a look at the rest of our site - I don't teach at the moment. Actually, I don't work at all - at least not in the sense of nine to five, 40 hours a week.

Instead, I sit on a wooden terrace with a view of the Pacific Ocean and tap on my laptop as the waves roll in gently and the evening flood rises. I'm not trying to rub it, but only to set the scene. Well, maybe I'll try to rub it a little.

I submitted my termination in April. It was earlier than necessary, but I knew in April what I already knew at the beginning of the academic year last September: that my time in the teaching profession was finally.

When I left the teaching profession at the end of July, I knew it would be forever. I have been teaching too long for seven years and at least a year.

I will not write another insulted teaching of teachers - I only say that despite the fact that I was a committed and successful teacher, the salary and vacation were not sufficient to compensate for the suffocating bureaucracy and the relentless pressure that was exercised on the teachers.

The vacation allowance, often mentioned by friends as an unprecedented performance, was simply not an incentive enough to stay at work, and not to return enough for me.

Alt = “Out of the teaching profession” a heart -warming message that a student of my favorite class left on my whiteboard

Will I miss the lessons? Perhaps. There will be times when I am sure that I will miss the interaction and fulfillment that goes hand in hand with working at a school. However, I expect that whenever I have these ailments, an accompanying fear follows.

What will I do when I come back? I don't know. In fact, I have no idea. And I love not knowing it. It has been the first time in almost 10 years, probably since I was a student that I don't know what I will do professionally. In the end, I may be teaching English again as a foreign language-my TEFL qualification is hopelessly used too little. However, I know that whatever it is, it will probably be very different from what I have ever done before.

I'm happiest when I'm outside. I'm happiest when I am close to nature. Not on a cautionary hippie type-it is only that I am not a congenital city man. I spent most of my time in London to escape the city and to find secluded areas in which I didn't feel like I felt like in the "big city".

Whether the wild camping in the moor or downs, climbing mountains in Scotland in the high winter or just jogging around Fairlop Waters at the weekend, it still makes me a country boy who cannot ignore his formative years and his upbringing.

I suspect that if (or if) I return to Great Britain, I will be forced to teach at short notice or temporarily, just to make rounds. But it has to be temporary. My greatest fear in life, and I suspect that most people's life, it is to feel unhappy. And the wrong job can easily make it unhappy. I think I just left in time.

I have to be careful not to do my previous profession bad, as many of my good friends and former colleagues continue to work in teaching and continue to do great work. Being a teacher is a great and valuable job - but I know that I made the right decision.

About once a week, I wake up anxiously from a dream about the classroom. After a few seconds I realize where I am and a wave of relief flooded me. Knowing that I will not come back so quickly makes me happy.

In this sense, I don't regret my time as a teacher. I enjoyed a lot of it, met many fascinating people (adults and children) and found some of the best friends I will ever have. At the same time, I am looking forward to the future and I only know that I don't really know what I'm going to do. And I like it.

I close with the anecdote that made me think about all of this. We are currently camping on the island of Taveuni in Fiji. It is a fairly simple campsite with a kitchen and a common area with a view of the ocean.

There are two books on a table, and when we came up for breakfast this morning, Kia took one and leafed in it. She paused and read the following quote to me:

"Every schoolmaster knows that about 30 people who do not want to learn - a lot"

I just smiled and made a few eggs.

Mission statement: Dreamstime

.