a quiet as a church mouse

School with no pupils. It’s a strange, wonderful place. The corridors are empty, there are no PE bags hanging in the cloakrooms. Everything is eerily quiet.

In Church we have it drummed into us that a Church is not a building – that it is a collective of people meeting in God’s name.

Well a school is not a building either – and it’s not a work place (although it certainly feels that way usually) – it’s a group of people meeting to learn. The building, and the teachers, are just there to facilitate that learning.
Across the country teachers are returning to their classrooms a week before their pupils. They are preparing for the year ahead, doing a spot of classroom decoration, discussing action and development plans, deciding focuses for PRSD, welcoming new members of staff, enduring INSET…

This is a strange strange place when it’s quiet. It feels somehow wrong. Something’s missing. Without the pupils it has a dormant feel – an empty, hollow, shell of a building. A church without people is just a building – but it can be one impressive building; architecturally, aesthetically. An old empty church building has to be the single most emotive space possible . A school without pupils is just a collection of empty rooms and corridors – and I love it.

supply, supply and supply again

Back to subbing.

Different term, different kids, different school, same old challenges. Well for the most part anyway. However the task does seem a little different this year. In the past I have always been fortunate enough to end up working in the same school for the entire year. This year, however, I am facing the prospect of moving around looking for work where I can get it.

I have to admit that I have mixed feelings about returning to the chalk face. There is a certain amount of relief involved. If you include the summer holidays I haven’t taught in over three months. From a purely financial point of view the relief is immense. They say that most of us are only three pay cheques away from homelessness. I may not be in risk of that just yet but I was beginning to watch the outflow from my bank account with increasing concern.

It is, however, much more than just a financial relief. I was (whisper it softly) missing the working day. I missed the hubbub of the school, the flow of people in the corridors, the characters in the classroom. This may not sound like the cynical old grouch, lacking in any semblance of the youthful idealism with which he once glowed, to whom you have become accustomed – for that I apologise – but sometimes… well… I just miss teaching.

But, as I said, this is a new school and a whole new experience. New beginnings always worry me a little (you’d think I’d get used to them considering I go through this annually.) I’m not a huge fan of readjustment, and fitting in around a completely new system with a completely new set of rules, with a staffroom full of strangers and a classroom full of young strangers fills me with dread.

It’s a good dread though.