school's out for summer

A relatively large section of the working world will crow at this time about how teachers have it easy, and whilst in my teaching youth I used to prickle at this comment, I now retort with statistics of teaching shortages and how the profession welcomes newcomers from all walks of life - come join us. But be warned because, depending on how long they have been teaching, the summer holidays will hold different cans of worms.

The newbie They are about to embark on teacher training - whether via tried and trusted routes such as the BEd or the PGCE or their sparkly new cousins Teach First/Troops to Teachers/School Direct - so their summer may involve studying directly after finishing their old job or university course. Professors and tutors will drown them in pedagogical directives required to get ready for teaching and learning come September. They,on the other hand, will probably be downloading specials of Grange Hill,Waterloo Road, Gangster's Paradise, School of Rock or even To Sir, With Love in order to become au fait with teacher life on the frontline. As September draws closer the excitement at giving something back or inspiring the next generation makes way to a sickening fear every time they see a group of teenagers standing together speaking their yoofspeak. 

The new recruit They've been in the game a while but they're starting a new school - either for a change or a promotion. Their rational experienced mind will tell them that they have earned the new job, they know what they're doing and kids are kids, right? However their wake up thought for 6 weeks will be mixed with the relief that they have finally left their old school but niggling worries about suppose the kids hate them, suppose the staff do that aloof-you-have-to-earn-your-place-here-thing and suppose maybe they've made the worst decision of their life? August will be spent reading Ofsted reports and past academic data; learning the names of new students and remembering timetables and new rooms (if they are lucky enough to be given that new info - otherwise they have to sink or swim like the new fodder); writing lessons plans for a new curriculum; spending hours creating engaging and challenging PowerPoints to wow staff and students alike on September 1st.

The veteran with kids They've done all the above, worn lots of end-of-year t-shirts, and indeed if you cut them they are tattooed with the name of their school, like a stick of rock. End of term means they start their other life. As mother/father of those children living in their house. Years of teaching has enabled them to plan each day and week to encompass a range of individual, group and friends-allowed activities - which may or may not include a holiday (organisation skills:expert level required for this). Each week will involve indirect historical/geographical education, some sporting action (observed or partaken), timed computer access, a strict cleaning rota (maintained in weeks 1 and 2 but usually abandoned by mid-August on account of the sighs and pocket money involved) and a teeny bit of explicit learning as the holidays hurtle to a close so that the offspring don't suffer from the dreaded summer dip. Evenings are spent mainlining wine and/or chocolate whilst finishing unfinished projects from the last academic year and preparing for the new academic year. Somehow , there is always a new topic or method of teaching the same topic - even though they've been teaching for what feels like a million years.

The veteran without kids Whether offspring were not a choice, haven't arrived yet, or have flown the coop - this, to me, offers the ultimate summer. A week or two in work at the start of the hols completing projects, admin, lesson plans or sorting classrooms with the piece and quiet of an empty school. A couple of weeks messing about where, with and whoever takes their fancy. Back for the August results to get their data analysis done before the September panic sets in. 

I have yet to meet a teacher who sits from the end of July sipping cocktails by a bar, wearing a cravat and a hat tipped on the side of their head until the Autumn term. But if anyone knows one - I'd like to meet them and shake their hand; for they will have truly mastered the summer holiday.

go your own way

Leavers' assemblies. A momentous occasion of shirt signing, montages of five years in five minutes, last minute words of wisdom from exhausted teachers and tears from the even the most sullen, streetwise students.

This is the time we have all been working towards. Teachers are spent; having coerced and crammed knowledge into this cohort it is time for them to take hold of their own reins and move forward in their own future.  For even those who do come back to sixth form - as some form of education is now compulsory until age 19 - it's not the same; whether it's the lack of uniform or the reduction in subjects they study, the rapport becomes more mature and discussions foster a rising equality in acquired knowledge.

For many years this has always been a sombre time for me; saying goodbye to young adults that I remembered were sprightly stepping into the school hall to be grouped into form classes five or seven years previous. The year 11s , despite having crowed about how they can't wait to leave, now seem pensive as they enter a pivotal stage of their life: we are opening the doors to a future and releasing them from the cocoon of school days. Some return to specialise their learning but many move on to colleges or apprenticeships.  The year 13s are a different kettle of fish. This is the moment they really leave the river and swim out to sea. With the sixth formers there is an air of unbridled excitement, which I certainly don't remember having. You can see the eagerness with which they turn their back on school and long for the unknown. I loved the safety of school and sixth form college and at this point in my own life didn't know where I was heading at all. Having swam with the tide for so long without looking ahead, I felt I had suddenly come to the edge of the world. It was definitely a shock.

Is the preparation that students get now that makes them more confident and eager to move on? The guidance gained from websites and apps can often render the advice from well-meaning parents and teachers quite obsolete, as we realise we are becoming more out-dated, more quickly. When there are day trips to universities and intern blogs available, why would our experience from fifteen years ago be relevant or useful?

Most of the time I have no desire to re-wind back to the late 80's - I'm a content post40 mama on the whole - yet I do wish the options and path choices offered now were offered to me back then. Aging has enlightened me to a plethora of careers that I never even knew existed, jobs that with my post40 head perched on my 18 year old shoulders I may have chosen to study for. Unfortunately history was not so much of a passion with me then as it is now. How I would have loved to enter the world of genealogy or anthropology or the history of accents and dialects (I have recently discovered the role of a sociolinguist and it sounds fascinating). But what was offered at my moment on the crossroads? Well for one, I wasn't allowed to attend the careers fair so instead my mum went and brought back a mountain of leaflets on how clever I had to be to do teaching or journalism (my 14 year old career choices because I loved all of my teachers and I loved writing). I saw the word "university", had no idea about what university was or entailed, got scared, did mediocre in my exams, took ages to finally get to university once I realised what it was. How an open day to allow a first generation university hopeful may have changed the course of my history? Or even a list of where my strengths and passions could lead.

Hey ho. This is the wonderful thing about the future. It should improve on the past, right? After nearly two decades of wishing school leavers well, people will always vocalise about the hardships of the youngsters today; but they are so well equipped and armed with the many paths they could travel. Rather than focus on the murk and mire of adult life, we should be shoving the wonders of life in front of them. Discover vocations we have never heard of together. Bring the world to them before they go looking for it. 

Now someone just needs to create careers advice for the over 40s looking for a new direction.

 

This post first appeared on Post40bloggers : Education