What would you have said? I told them the truth. Yes, I had cancer, and no, I wasn’t going to die. That one was a little duplicitous, as cancer has as much jargon as teaching, and “cure” isn’t a word that’s used very often, but was likely in my case.

What astonished me was their reaction. “Cancer” and “die” are words that seem inextricably linked for most people, myself included. Once we got over that hurdle - it helped that I teach science - all sorts of issues came pouring out. They had lots of questions, and lots of their own experiences to tell me about. So we used it. We had a lively PSHE lesson on “scary things” and “being brave”. Their scary things ranged from bigger boys to clowns. Being brave, we thought, was about being scared but finding a way to cope. They were very practical, suggesting ways I could cope with losing my hair (an Ali G-style hat), and helped me more than any counselling.

The news is full of conferences and strike threats, painting a picture of unmanageable pupils and a workforce near to breaking point. I haven’t experienced this. What I have experienced is an outpouring of goodwill, a flood of cards and thoughtful gifts from pupils and staff with whom I’ve worked only since September. So when I hear the horror stories,I want to say no, it’s not always like that.

I know I’m lucky to be teaching in a good school, but they’ve given me hope. Hope for me, and hope for them, for their future, that we are turning out kids you can be proud of. I don’t think I’m a particularly special teacher, but I do think that, as a profession, we are doing something right. It just isn’t something you can easily measure. But perhaps it’s the most important thing of all. Perhaps it’s time to pause for a minute and think about you. And I think most of you would feel the same.

Kristina Humphries teaches at Newcastle-under-Lyme school, an independent school in Staffordshire