15th July 2008

In 1958, aged five, my mother took me by the hand to Thurcroft Infants School for my very first school day. Fifty years later, having never quite escaped the gravitational pull of education, I walked out of Farndon Fields Primary School for what may be the final time. With all the farewells behind me, I should now be free to relax and do exactly what I like, when I like. That’s the theory anyway.

The Final Few Weeks: A Gallop to the Finish

The end of term is always a blur, and this one felt like a three-week sprint through treacle. I attended several children’s discos, helped with the PTA Summer Fete, organised Sports Day and the Area Sports meeting, ran more assemblies than I could count, arranged two class trips (enduring a stomach virus through one of them), and somehow squeezed in a little teaching too. Add to that a slew of governors’, PTA, and community meetings, and it’s safe to say I crossed the finishing line not so much walking as collapsing in a dignified heap.

I wasn’t alone in my grand escape. Three brave colleagues were tunnelling out with me:

• Wilma, our Scottish Year 2 teacher, is heading home to Scotland after a tough year personally.
• Anne, our office ancillary, has opted out of the trendy rebranding of ancillaries as “Teaching Support Assistants” (and the sudden expectation to cover classes!).
• Eleanor, our school secretary and bursar, is wisely moving to a bigger post, likely to sidestep the incoming storm caused by a few questionable budgetary choices from above.

Anne and I, with 25 years each under the Leicestershire Education Authority, were awarded £250 for a retirement gift (which, naturally, came out of school funds!). Anne chose a bike; I went for a Satmap Active 10 GPS, a gadget to accompany me on the many walks I now theoretically have time for.

Presents, Pen, Paperweight and a Pint (or Three)

The farewell tour continued:

• From the Governors, I received a gold pen and a silver paperweight.
• The PTA handed over a voucher for a rotavator (because I’m now fully fused with the allotment), the dress I once wore for a Stars in Their Eyes talent show, and a generous case of wine.

The final staff send-off at the Angel Hotel was lively to say the least. The food was excellent, some of us got very merry, and I gave a carefully unplanned impromptu speech. Wilma closed proceedings by flinging England memorabilia at her mostly English colleagues, an act that can only be described as cultural diplomacy gone rogue.

The Leavers’ Assembly: Not a Dry Eye

The most difficult moment, as I knew it would be, came at the Year 6 Leavers’ Assembly. Richard, the Year 6 teacher, led a beautiful and moving goodbye. By the time it was my turn to speak, the hall was awash in hankies, and I felt like a condemned man walking to the gallows. But I kept it brief: “At the age of twenty, I had only three ambitions: one, to be happy; two, to have a brilliant job; and three, to meet wonderful people. I think I’ve achieved that.”

I just about held it together until I reached the corridor.

As the children filed out that afternoon, I was overcome with emotion. Parents and pupils sought me out to say goodbye, many with tears in their eyes, sharing stories I’d long forgotten but which meant so much to them. I’ve spent years comforting parents during difficult moments, but this time it was me feeling the full force of their gratitude. It was humbling and rather damp-eyed.

From Goodbye Hugs to Yellow Fever Jabs

At 4 pm, emotionally spent and hanky-free, I joined Sue, Sarah, and Jamie at the surgery for our Yellow Fever injections (nothing says celebration like a syringe). Jamie and I were also treated to a surprise Typhus booster. At £31.45 a jab, you’d think they’d offer a free sticker at least.

The Retirement BBQ That Nearly Froze Over

On Friday, Charlotte, Suraj, and Lucas arrived to help prep for my retirement BBQ. By Saturday, the garden was pristine, the meat defrosted, salads prepped, marquee and gazebo erected, and pool gleaming. At midday, British weather being the great leveller, we were graced with a thundering downpour, and the Met Office gleefully predicted more showers and a temperature of six degrees. Marvellous.

Fortunately, I’d had the foresight to provisionally book the school hall and Community Lounge. Cue an afternoon of frantic phone calls, logistical gymnastics, and a last-minute venue switch. It came together beautifully:

• Suraj and two friends manned the BBQs.
• Sarah distributed a quiz I’d written.
• Sue whirled about like a culinary tornado.
• Charlotte and Sarah looked radiant and made me incredibly proud (clearly, they take after their dad).
• Jamie wandered helpfully, ate generously, and posed for photos.
• Harriet joined us at 10:45 pm before the pair slipped off to another party. Ah, youth.

Little Lucas charmed the crowd, showing an early knack for both social disappearing acts and wooing the ladies. One to watch, that one.

For entertainment, I booked local rock band East-West, who were excellent. The highlight? An impromptu rendition of Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall”. The room belted out, “Teacher, leave them kids alone!” with a mixture of defiance and nostalgia. A perfect send-off.

We finally collapsed into bed at 1:30 am.

Back to Reality… Briefly

Sunday morning found us scrubbing the School Hall and Community Room from top to bottom, quite possibly the cleanest it’s been in a decade. We lunched (inevitably) on leftover BBQ, and that afternoon Sarah returned to Newark with Charlotte and co. Sue and I, in search of light relief, ended the weekend at the cinema watching Hot Fuzz. It was brilliant, exactly the laugh I needed. I highly recommend it.

So here I am. Officially retired.
It’s time for a new chapter. Or perhaps just a nap.