I was fearful about starting my PGCE - I was sweating and nervous. But everyone else looked just as scared. We were directed like sheep through the registration process in Bath on the first day. There were 14 in history and they seemed like a nice bunch. The history mentor welcomed us warmly, and it all seemed rather more comfy than I’d anticipated. I’d read the student forum on the TES website and found tales of being bombarded with information and not having time to think. On the whole, they terrified me.

At lunchtime, we headed for a bar on campus and slowly the class differences appeared. Many on the course had been to private school, and boy could you tell from the conversation. It made me feel right out of my depth. It was as if they were setting the tone or gauging where everybody came from. I tried but was ignored. I tried again and was ignored again.

The conversation turned to old school days. I didn’t remember mine as I’d hardly attended. Stories circulated about tales of pinching books from the library. I took my chance and piped up :“I used to nick lead from the roof.” Everything went quiet.

It turns out, though, that although we came from different backgrounds, everybody wanted the same thing, albeit for different reasons. I wanted to teach to put something back into a system that had failed me and a system that I had abused. Others were not sure if teaching was for them and were using this course to find out. It was a diverse class and now we’ve got over the first nervy day, I think the variety of the group will help make the PGCE experience a more fulfilling one.

My school placement is in a small Wiltshire town. It has just come out of special measures. This is where I wanted to be - on the front line, teaching. At the school, three of us met: history, English and ICT. We were nervous but also excited. We were treated as professionals and all the staff welcomed us. I had looked up the school on the Internet and was not disappointed with the reality. The school was a thriving environment, lively and with a very professional ethos.

I’ve realised that when you first enter a place you can feel if it is right or not, and this school felt good. It’s been strange to be called Sir or Mr because up until now I’d still thought of myself as a butcher. I took my first lesson this week and it was the best feeling. All went well and I came out of the lesson on top of the world. I had done well, and although I knew I had made some mistakes they were not serious. I tried to compare the experience with my ancient memories of school. One major problem with this exercise is that I hardly attended school and was a nightmare while I was there. My main memory was of being thrown out and treated as a person of such low ability that I did not deserve to be there. These were sad memories, but it wasn’t just the school’s fault: I was equally to blame. I’m not a butcher any more: I’m a teacher of history. No words can suffice for the feeling of that first lesson. I feel like I’ve won the star prize, and I’ve only just started my course.