It was a strange and sad day last week when my wife and I called the staff into the music room to inform them that we had decided to resign from our posts as headteacher and deputy at the school. We did our best to explain our reasons for leaving. Nobody had seen it coming, and everyone was stunned. I couldn’t help feeling that we were letting them down.
The letter to the parents was even harder. We went through draft after draft until I was almost happy with it. Could it explain our reasoning clearly enough? What response could we expect? The next morning it was clear that not only had parents accepted our arguments but were wholly supportive of our decision, although many asked if we might be persuaded to change our minds. And as to the children, they remained as fickle and forgetful as ever. As anyone who has ever been told they are “the best teacher in the world” knows, a year later Mrs Smith will be taking on that heavy mantle in your stead. For most of the children it was very quickly back to business as usual.
Teaching is not an occupation that you can leave at the door when you go home at the end of the day. When couples are both in education the danger of taking the static and hum of a day’s teaching home with you is more than doubled. As headteacher and deputy we have found that we haven’t just brought the day’s problems home with us but have let school business permeate through our waking (and often sleeping) lives.
Peter Foggo is the deputy head of Longparish Church of England primary school in Andover, Hampshire
That couple is on a household income of somewhere in the £100,000 to £130,000 level I would have thought.
Five times median household income and they want to whinge about it taking a bit of time, including a bit of stress?
An entire 105 pupil roll?
Grow a damn spine man you’re rolling in clover there.