I made the decision to cover my hair when I began suffering from alopecia during the summer holidays. As a Muslim woman, I always had the freedom to choose if and when I would adopt this practice. But once the hijab was on, I felt the spiritual impact of wearing it and didn’t want to take it off.

This presented me with a problem. While my friends and family were supportive of my decision, I was worried about how my colleagues and pupils would react at school. Would it have an impact on my teaching and how the pupils viewed me? Would I be perceived as some kind of fundamentalist? Would they think less of me?

As the summer holidays drew to a close, I wondered whether I should email my head of department and headteacher to “warn” them that I would be returning to school wearing a headscarf. I drafted several emails but deleted each one. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say or how to say it.

On the first Monday of the academic year, I stood in front of the mirror and considered whether I could wear my headscarf loosely, to ease everyone into my new “look”. But I knew I had to bite the bullet and wear it fully.

There were butterflies in my stomach as I headed into school, anticipating the reactions of my colleagues. Yet I needn’t have worried. As I walked through the corridors, I received nothing but hugs and questions about my summer. No one was treating me as an outsider. No one looked at me strangely for showing such an outward sign of my religion.

Deep down, I had known my colleagues would be understanding but I still had to face my students. I was filled with dread as the first group poured into my classroom. It was Year 10: these were students I had taught since they were in Year 7. I knew they would notice. And yet nobody mentioned it.

So, as we were chatting about the summer holidays, I decided to bring it up myself.

“Ah, that’s what’s different about you,” one student exclaimed. And that was that.

The students treated me just the same and I continued teaching as normal.

But at the end of the lesson, a Muslim pupil stayed behind to ask me why I had chosen to wear the hijab. I explained the reasons behind my decision, while stressing that every woman should have the freedom to choose and that one choice is not better than the other. The student seemed interested to hear my thoughts.

It is not always easy to have personal discussions like this at school, nor is it easy to make ourselves vulnerable in front of our colleagues. But students need role models, not to encourage them to wear the hijab - or, indeed, not to wear it - but to demonstrate that difference is OK and that having the conviction to show the world who you truly are is not something to be scared of. I wish I’d had the courage to do that sooner.

Samarra Chowdhury is an English teacher in a South London secondary schoolThis article originally appeared in the 4 June 2021 issue under the headline “Holding my head high in a headscarf”Imade the decision to cover my hair when I began suffering from alopecia during the summer holidays. As a Muslim woman, I always had the freedom to choose if and when I would adopt this practice. But once the hijab was on, I felt the spiritual impact of wearing it and didn’t want to take it off.

This presented me with a problem. While my friends and family were supportive of my decision, I was worried about how my colleagues and pupils would react at school. Would it have an impact on my teaching and how the pupils viewed me? Would I be perceived as some kind of fundamentalist? Would they think less of me?

As the summer holidays drew to a close, I wondered whether I should email my head of department and headteacher to “warn” them that I would be returning to school wearing a headscarf. I drafted several emails but deleted each one. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say or how to say it.

On the first Monday of the academic year, I stood in front of the mirror and considered whether I could wear my headscarf loosely, to ease everyone into my new “look”. But I knew I had to bite the bullet and wear it fully.

There were butterflies in my stomach as I headed into school, anticipating the reactions of my colleagues. Yet I needn’t have worried. As I walked through the corridors, I received nothing but hugs and questions about my summer. No one was treating me as an outsider. No one looked at me strangely for showing such an outward sign of my religion.

Deep down, I had known my colleagues would be understanding but I still had to face my students. I was filled with dread as the first group poured into my classroom. It was Year 10: these were students I had taught since they were in Year 7. I knew they would notice. And yet nobody mentioned it.

So, as we were chatting about the summer holidays, I decided to bring it up myself.

“Ah, that’s what’s different about you,” one student exclaimed. And that was that.

The students treated me just the same and I continued teaching as normal.

But at the end of the lesson, a Muslim pupil stayed behind to ask me why I had chosen to wear the hijab. I explained the reasons behind my decision, while stressing that every woman should have the freedom to choose and that one choice is not better than the other. The student seemed interested to hear my thoughts.

It is not always easy to have personal discussions like this at school, nor is it easy to make ourselves vulnerable in front of our colleagues. But students need role models, not to encourage them to wear the hijab - or, indeed, not to wear it - but to demonstrate that difference is OK and that having the conviction to show the world who you truly are is not something to be scared of. I wish I’d had the courage to do that sooner.

Samarra Chowdhury is an English teacher in a South London secondary school

This article originally appeared in the 4 June 2021 issue under the headline “Holding my head high in a headscarf”Imade the decision to cover my hair when I began suffering from alopecia during the summer holidays. As a Muslim woman, I always had the freedom to choose if and when I would adopt this practice. But once the hijab was on, I felt the spiritual impact of wearing it and didn’t want to take it off.

This presented me with a problem. While my friends and family were supportive of my decision, I was worried about how my colleagues and pupils would react at school. Would it have an impact on my teaching and how the pupils viewed me? Would I be perceived as some kind of fundamentalist? Would they think less of me?

As the summer holidays drew to a close, I wondered whether I should email my head of department and headteacher to “warn” them that I would be returning to school wearing a headscarf. I drafted several emails but deleted each one. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say or how to say it.

On the first Monday of the academic year, I stood in front of the mirror and considered whether I could wear my headscarf loosely, to ease everyone into my new “look”. But I knew I had to bite the bullet and wear it fully.

There were butterflies in my stomach as I headed into school, anticipating the reactions of my colleagues. Yet I needn’t have worried. As I walked through the corridors, I received nothing but hugs and questions about my summer. No one was treating me as an outsider. No one looked at me strangely for showing such an outward sign of my religion.

Deep down, I had known my colleagues would be understanding but I still had to face my students. I was filled with dread as the first group poured into my classroom. It was Year 10: these were students I had taught since they were in Year 7. I knew they would notice. And yet nobody mentioned it.

So, as we were chatting about the summer holidays, I decided to bring it up myself.

“Ah, that’s what’s different about you,” one student exclaimed. And that was that.

The students treated me just the same and I continued teaching as normal.

But at the end of the lesson, a Muslim pupil stayed behind to ask me why I had chosen to wear the hijab. I explained the reasons behind my decision, while stressing that every woman should have the freedom to choose and that one choice is not better than the other. The student seemed interested to hear my thoughts.

It is not always easy to have personal discussions like this at school, nor is it easy to make ourselves vulnerable in front of our colleagues. But students need role models, not to encourage them to wear the hijab - or, indeed, not to wear it - but to demonstrate that difference is OK and that having the conviction to show the world who you truly are is not something to be scared of. I wish I’d had the courage to do that sooner.

Samarra Chowdhury is an English teacher in a South London secondary school

This article originally appeared in the 4 June 2021 issue under the headline “Holding my head high in a headscarf”