No...this is not a post about uniforms, labels, new shoes, PE bags and sparkly pencil case (although who doesn't love a sparkly pencil case?!) No sirree bob, this is about the trudge of trainered and sandalled grown-ups sporting jeans on a Monday for the last time over the next seven weeks; the picking up of the work-day handbag, crammed with spare gubbins, favoured this morning over the casual cross body bag, usually delightfully crap free bar chewing gum, keys, phone, small purse; the hum of yawning senior managers preparing first day welcomes versus the end of holiday greetings and still to be shaved beard scratches as school opens on INSET day.
It is the job of head teachers everywhere to get their message about the summer results and the new academic year ahead in a short space of time; too long and they will see minds wander and eyes glaze to remnant memories of the life in the slow lane just yesterday; too short and any words of wisdom will be lost in the relief that staff can get on with sharing stories of beaches and good books with little interruption.
Fortunately I am not a headteacher. And for the first time in 16 years I was not in a position to welcome or inspire anyone on teachers' first day back. For the first time since I was a shiny newbie teacher I was able to bask in the responsibilities of others. It gave me the opportunity to pay attention to a new headteacher address the staff without contemplating what I was going to say later to my own team. And I listened. And I felt welcomed. And I felt inspired.
But I still missed my old, previous, comfortable, brilliant school so very much. It fit me so well - like my favourite tshirt. This one feels like a brand new, oversized blazer.
Teachers have first days too. If only we all walked into school like my 3G.
This post is linked with The Photo Gallery 198 - Sticky Fingers School