When I’m sitting at the table,
My little name card perched in front,
Declaring I’m an English teacher,
And parents walk past with their kids
And nod and smile, like I’m a human,
Not like when I worked the night shift at
The petrol station and they turned their noses up.
Now they ask me questions, holding breaths
Waiting to hear what the grade will be,
It’s nice to be treated like a human being.
I’m currently sitting in my living room between appointments for Year 9 parents’ evening. And I can’t help but stop and smile at where I am right now.
I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting to have a stress free job in a shop, leaving your cares at the door as you sashay out at the end of a shift. In fact, I think there’s something quite noble about forgoing money for less stress and more freedom.
However, as somebody who never felt that they would even be capable of having a responsible job, I still find it really difficult to process the fact that I have gotten myself here – and I’m maintaining it!
Unfortunately, parents’ evening is virtual these days, so I don’t get a table and a name card in the sports hall. But I do get the privilege of knowing that people trust my opinions and want to hear what I have to say. That’s something that is going to take quite a while to get my head around.