Ooops, I nearly did it again...

Sitting here today, dear reader, rain determined to wreck another summer's day (but at least it is damping down the hideous honk of some intense muck spreading performed yesterday by the local farmer across the whole field that wraps around our countryside home) I find myself pondering the nature of the circle of life. Specifically, my life. Is it a) an ever-decreasing circle, that is following the same route over and over again whilst achieving worse results each time by growing smaller and smaller or b) merely going around, that is being repetitive whilst achieving nothing.

You see, having previously been most determined to leave teaching, what have I spent the last three weeks doing? Yup, supply teaching, that's what. During which time lead to various mutual conversations along the lines of, 'Would I like to do three days a week from September?' to 'How about I do full time from September to December on a temporary contract?' to 'Maybe continue on a permanent contract from January?' to finally, me having the kind of internalised panic attack in the dining hall on Monday where I really, really, REALLY wanted to bolt and run, to get in my car and drive to the edge of the world, press the stop button and get off.  I didn't, because I am generally stoical about fulfilling my paid work duties but I did immediately go and see the Powers That Be at the school and say, 'I'm really sorry, I have made a mistake, this isn't going to work. I shan't be accepting the contract for September.'

And oh! the sense of relief that flooded through me once I'd said my piece. And, as it turned out, peace. I had already agreed to provide supply on the Tuesday and Thursday and I honoured that commitment. This included a school trip to Lake Vyrnwy where I suffered several bouts of badly driven mini-bus induced travel sickness, midge bites and almost being knocked off my feet by an over-zealous dog. Twice. I earned my money that day. But I drove home yesterday wondering just HOW MANY TIMES I have to crack my head on the Wall Of My Own Obstinacy And Insecurities in order to get it through to myself that I need to get off the Teaching Roundabout, and bloody well stay off and maybe try the Rollercoaster of Writing or The Swing Boat of Sewing Stuff, even the Bumper Cars of Undiscovered Talent instead. (Hark at me and my 1950s fairground analogies...)

I tell myself, 'You can't keep pushing yourself against this turning tide. You have to listen to yourself, your gut instincts.' I have to remember that over 20 years ago I didn't think I had the confidence and skills to become a qualified teacher and that actually, it turned out that I did. And with a strong wind and Ofsted breathing down my neck I can even be an outstanding practitioner. But truthfully? Now? I don't want to be a teacher any more. I might be able to teach but should one do something just because one can? Because it is a safe and convenient option?

Of all the plays wot Shakespeare wrote, 'Hamlet' comes somewhere halfway down my list of all-time favourites. This is mostly because I want to give Ophelia a good shake and tell Hamlet to get over himself and find a proper job. But Polonius, despite getting himself stabbed behind the arras (oo-er, missus!) had a good point when he ends his advice to his son, Laertes, with the sage words:

Off to convince myself now, that above all I am a Writer and a Maker of Things...and that it is time to use my talents and abilities in other arenas. Just pass me the anti-stress and worry pills, will you? Ta!