I was in my second year of teaching in a primary school when I met all 30 of you. I was jaded enough by my late 20s to not expect the simple, life-altering experience some of the other trainees were anticipating, but I didn’t expect to find it so overwhelmingly difficult. An anonymous letter to The Guardian.
My first year had gone well, but as I moved away from my mentor into a higher year group, cracks began to appear. I loved you all more than I could possibly describe, but your needs were so high and the level of support at the school so low; I felt like I was the only person you had to turn to.
Hearing about the daily struggles so many of you faced, I wanted to give more and more of myself – but it was never enough. I fell into a deep depression. It started at weekends, but quickly spilled over into the classroom. Lessons would go badly, and this would make my depression worse. By Christmas, one of the hardest-working and most understanding among you came to me in tears saying, “Miss, I just can’t get anything done in class. It’s always too loud and I hate it.” I went home and cried.
Read the full letter A letter to… the school class I let down
Please tell us your thoughts in comments or via Twitter ~ Tamsin
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