Two years ago, while on holiday in France, I decided to quit the job I loved. This decision, prompted by a phone call to my school for the seniors’ exam results, came completely out of the blue. The results were OK, probably slightly better than OK, but they were not up to the usual five-star standard I had come to expect.
I was devastated. Over the course of the day, I steadily drank vodka (my husband entertained the kids) and watched We Bought a Zoo on the only English channel on TV. I cried when the tiger died. I don’t even like tigers.
I lay awake all night dissecting what had happened. Staffing issues had played a part for sure, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the problem was me. I was stale, my banter was old. My teaching style dated. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually learned a new skill. Like Matt Damon’s character in what can only be described as a truly average film, I needed a change. I woke my husband at 6.30am and told him I was resigning.
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But by the time I went to ring my headteacher at a respectable hour, I knew I couldn’t really quit. Instead, I hit upon the idea of a career break.
The following Easter I began a quest to upskill. I enrolled at Edinburgh College for evening classes, attended writing seminars, earned my Apple Teacher badges and completed every online tech course I could find. I went to several free workshops, delivered history lessons at my children’s primary school and actually had time to attend the Scottish Learning Festival - both days! I reflected on my inability to deal with perceived failure, faced my insecurities and thought about what I really wanted.
Most of my friends presumed I would not return to teaching. It seemed to be an unspoken belief that I must be stressed or unhappy (emotions I genuinely only experience watching my football team, Spurs). The more I stated I wanted a new challenge, the less people believed me.
The merger of my school with our neighbour gave me a golden opportunity to change my fate. I decided to give up my principal teacher (PT) post, a decision greeted by some with more shock than when Trevor Jordache turned up under the patio in Brookside.
In teaching, a desire for change or a new challenge seems intrinsically linked with promotion or a move to a post with the council. Mine seemed like semi-retirement, final confirmation that I must have been under pressure and needed to get away.
On the contrary, now I feel reborn. It took me seven months while away from teaching to miss my pupils, but once I did, I could think of nothing else but getting back into the classroom.
I’ll miss being a PT, but I’m excited that for the first time in 18 years I have absolutely no idea what opportunities may come my way and what new skills I may learn. Without my career break, I would never have believed that was possible.
Dawn Walsh-O’Neil is a history teacher in Scotland
