It’s not goodbye to teaching, not completely. I’ll be a teacher’s assistant for a while, but as for the whole classroom teacher caboodle that one seems to be on the way out. Hell, 30 children all vying for the same attention needing IAPs, national testing, social constructivism… not to mention positive strong male figures… anyone who really, really knew me would know that I wasn’t cut from this mould. Assisting I can do. Assisting I enjoy. It can be the bread and butter for a bit while I find my feet.

Resitting the final placement hadn’t seemed likely… until a word with the voice of maternal reasoning. When it comes around, I’ll probably give it a final shot. Though, as with history A-level and I knew that it just wouldn’t happen from the outset (I ended up with a D), I’ll jump through that hoop, because that’s what the buggers want. The leverage of my dependency on them, now after a few years of being independent and scraping by in London, must come to an end. The moment the TA job comes rolling in I’m outta here. Bye, bye Boughton. Hello life.