Is it just me?

As I headed home after a frustrating, chaotic and exhausting Tuesday in the classroom, relishing in that moment of silence and stillness, a thought occurred to me. I've felt like this everyday since we returned to the new 'normal', post pandemic. The good old British stoicism we all upheld during lockdown has been gradually ebbing and flowing away, trickling from our overflowing mental load tap and fast approaching the barren wasteland.

But when did this feeling first begin? When did the vocation I love so much become....well, a job?

I've always considered those two terms on the opposite end of the career scale. A vocation feels so personal, linked to your personality, a piece of your DNA. But a job? That's just something that pays the bills, you temporarily endure but only do until you find your true vocation, right?

It is difficult to pinpoint the exact moment these feelings started. Somewhere between Teacher Assessed Grading, post recovery curriculum plans and endlessly moving classrooms to maintain 'bubbles', the mental, emotional and physical pressure began to take hold. No longer did it feel that our roles as teachers were about meeting the expectations within our subjects, but had evolved to fulfil a crucial need for counsellors, entertainers, life coaches, mental health ambassadors, first aiders, IT experts, social media referees, LFT providers, drill sergeants; the list is endless. Don't get me wrong, there was a time in the pre- covid world where all of these factors came to the fore, but the seismic shift post pandemic meant that all of these roles were being fulfilled daily.

I have always been an active ambassador for mental health and wellbeing and when arduous days become more frequent, I initially sought solace from my colleagues. I am incredibly fortunate to work in a department where I feel supported, accepted and loved unconditionally. I can hand on heart say that without this diverse mix of women, I would have left teaching years ago. But when I looked up, I could not say the same for others. How can we be expected to support our young people when we are running on empty?

So it leaves me this question; is it just me?