Two leaving dos, three last days and countless goodbye hugs later and I've finally left my job. I've spent the last three years in a job I absolutely love, helping teenage cancer patients to stay engaged with education during their treatment. Although I technically finished my job at the end of August, I was asked to come back last week, challenged with the task of handing over my job and everything that went with it to my replacement. It was so strange to be introducing somebody else to all the families I've spent so long working with and saying "as of next week, this is who you'll need to speak to instead of me", there's a part of me that is itching to phone up the office and check that she's remembered to speak to so and so about what we discussed last week, or to ask her to check with such and such's school about the whatdyamacallit. I've never been in a position where I've left a job I truly cared about before, and it has made me strangely protective of it.
I'm trying really hard to put my slightly obsessive attitude towards my old job to one side and let the new girl have her new beginning there in peace, whilst in the meantime I focus on my own new start. This week I've got my induction and registration day for my PGCE and in a few weeks I'll be let loose in front of gaggles of secondary school students whilst I try and teach them English. To say I'm scared is an understatement, but I'm also incredibly excited. I've gone from a job where I felt like an expert, and suddenly I'm at the bottom of the ladder again. But actually, that's not a bad thing at all, I'm excited to challenge myself, learn lots of new skills and become an expert in something new.
So here we go. Teaching, I'M READY FOR YA.
(If somebody could remind me of this positivity in a month or so when I'm drowning under piles of lesson plans and marking it'd be very much appreciated...)