Eight years? 8 years is a long time…
My son was born seven years ago on my first summer fare as a head teacher in my new school. I remember turning up at 11 having not slept for over 24 hrs. Blurry eyed and ecstatic – a little like my first year in headship had been. I remember it because it was the first moment I knew I had made the right decision leaving my previous school and life in London. I might have been high on ‘new father’ and ‘lack of sleep’ pills but we clicked on that day. And now I am set to do the same again. Leave my school after eight wonderful years. I now tackle a million emotions daily, many are rather surprising.
I am excited – new job, new opportunities, new adventure and new suit!
I am sad – I will most likely cry in front of everyone. I am already reading self help books on ‘how not to cry’ in public. I’ll cry, someone will laugh and four children in Reception will end up needing therapy.
I am sensitive – it is REALLY hard watching your school go about the recruitment of your replacement… “IT’S MINE!” – Snatches prospectus from anyone who gets within 30 feet of school and makes that snarling sound vampires do in old movies.
The advert could read:
Look, he was alright but we want a better version of him! Now is the time for a dynamic, inspiring, inspirational and sexy NEW leader…
I just look in the mirror and think… ‘Those grey hairs are getting longer!”. I gave my current school everything. Suddenly it’s like a sad divorce with me screaming at the mirror, “I gave you my best years and now? And NOW?”… and the mirrors reply is, “Well, you left me for your fancy new bit of stuff. Tough! Have you seen my new partner? Think younger, funnier and sexier version of you…”
I will have to watch future head teacher’s, full of promise and energy trample over MY school… I’ll be fawning away behind them with bleach scrubbing out their footprints (Think Hunchback of Notre Dame). How dare they come in to MY school and do a BETTER job than me? And then I remember it is NOT my school and it was never ME who made it the school I genuinely love. It was my team – past and current. “MY bloody team future, imaginary, head teacher with better teeth, looks and social life. WE did this together! Bugger off! We laughed, fought, bled, laughed a little more, changed, grew, fell over, argued, had strops, pushed boundaries, helped, saved, supported, worried and (no end of other emotions and actions) WE did it together, under my headship… Just you remember that tall, mysterious and good looking NEW head teacher… Ok, I’ll stop the obsession with my replacements looks. I know, it’s a little creepy. I’m not sure why I see my replacement walking in and everyone going, “Oh, has Leonardo DiCaprio given up his film career?” or ” Miss Penelope Cruz welcome to your new school…” I think I may be a little sensitive about it.
I think my biggest fear is the area that I have dubbed, “My Dirty Laundry” It’s the part where the new head says, “What was he doing all these years? Seriously? What a clown!”. That has to happen because all new heads need to come in and build on the past. If they don’t they will fail. I know my strengths and I know my weaker areas… But they are MY weak areas because they worked in MY context. Suddenly they might just look like BAD leadership. Not looking forward to that bit.
Oh, and then there’s guilt. It started a week ago after I had done an assembly on ‘What do you want in your NEW headteacher?’… I was asked, “Why are you leaving?” I quoted Dr Seuss at the time
The truth is I had been at my school for 8 years. They need new ideas, fresher approaches to old problems… The truth is I was questioning my direction and motivations. But like an old couple I am still in love with my school – but it is a different kind of love, less pacy and more familiar – More slippers by the fire than weekend breaks to Copenhagen. I like it’s stubborn ways and nuances. I think the children are amazing. They make me laugh daily and I have watched many of them grow up into the beginnings of the brilliant people they can be. Seeing happy children as you leave is a hard thing to watch but rather that than unhappy children. What I know from experience is schools are very fluid. No matter how big you think you are the school goes on. I will phone up in 5 months time to see how everyone is doing and the secretary will say, “Who?”
I visited my new school last week. It’s weird this new relationship. It’s cold. We don’t know each other. We have awkward silences… But like many new relationships it does feel fresh and one hundred miles an hour exciting. What really changed it was the interactions with the children. They made me laugh and it was all ok suddenly. It was strangely familiar. We have the greatest job in the world sometimes and it does not matter where we work we can be reminded of this at any moment. As I left I wondered if the teachers thought – ‘Look at that new head with his snazzy suits and throw away smiles – I hope he has substance?’
I just hope that when I decide the time is right to move on again they will feel the same as I do now as I move from my school… I hope they will wish me well and look back at what we have achieved together and the memories will be as good as the ones I’ll take with me in July.
Oldprimaryhead 