Fighting Talk!

My first thought this morning when I woke was, bizarrely, 'I should have fought for my classroom.'

Now, given I left my last permanent teaching post eight months ago you would have thought I'd have got over the circumstances of my resignation by now, wouldn't you? Clearly, my quiet psyche had other ideas. I must have been clinging on to residual resentment that, having spent over two years building up my classroom into a warm and welcoming, calm, creative and safe place in which my pupils could learn I was told, without consultation, that I would no longer be teaching my subject - English - from that classroom, but would instead be peripatetic i.e carrying a box from room to room and delivering my lessons from that. At first, I thought they were joking.

I wish with all my heart I'd put up a fight. I wish I had said, on behalf of my pupils and my subject, 'No.'

Gone were the displays of pupils' work on the walls, the collection of learning aids for pupils to access if they felt too embarrassed to ask a question out loud. Gone was instant access to all my teaching resources - text books, work sheets, visual aids, practical accessories like scissors, glue, craft materials. Gone was my mini-library. Gone was that safe place that pupils actually enjoyed visiting and working in. Even if they didn't have an English lesson they would often ask to work in the English classroom because 'it is the best room.' They would use my store cupboard to keep their personal belongings in because 'things are safe in here with you.' All gone.

I wish with all my soul I'd argued more, been more defiant in the face of such a thoughtless and destructive management decision.

Oh, I did voice my misgivings. However, I was so shocked that such a decision had been made without staff consultation that I had the wind of fight knocked out of me. I was told I could keep my bookcases in small side room - they soon got wrecked; my filing cabinet of resources was given safe haven by a sympathetic colleague in her room. Resources that I bought I took home. Everything else I shared out amongst the other classrooms. So not only was I running around with a box trying to teaching each lesson in a different room, I was also running between other rooms trying to access books and resources in between times.

Now, I am an organised person. The chaos the new regime wreaked on my professional practice was overwhelming. I felt I was failing when, in hindsight, the failure did not belong to me, it belonged to management.

I wish I had fought harder against the stupidity of it all. I wish I hadn't let 'them' beat me.

The loss was theirs, though. I resigned. A vestige of spirit returned, enough for me to say I was not going to have my years of experience and professional integrity compromised in such a way. My pupils were making good progress because of what I'd put in place in our English classroom. If those in charge wanted to wreck it, that was their decision - I wanted no part of it.

Of course, as often transpires when these events happen, there are bigger reasons for change that go beyond the initial catalyst. This change helped me realise my teaching years are done. I miss my pupils - whilst often infuriating and chaotic, they were also engaging, funny and wholly unique young people. However, I do not miss the politics of work, the pointless directives, the divisions between 'them' and 'us'. I do not miss the government of my time. Change has brought me enormous freedom over the last few months, the freedom to do what I damn well like with my life. It is a wonderful gift.

But I shall remember the very clear message that came through this morning - that I should have fought for my classroom. And I shall use the energy and learning from that message to fight for what really matters to my life as it is now - as a Writer and Maker of Things.