Like my father, when I retired from English teaching in 2002 I was sixty. In his day that must have been regarded as unusually early, but in mine it was quite common, although it is now far less so. I had enjoyed most aspects of my career, but when I was asked whether I would be willing to have my name added to the list of supply teachers I firmly said no. Retirement was to be spent in a very different way from my working life.
About five years ago the school at which I had taught for 33 years asked me to come back for a few weeks, as a former colleague had been off sick for weeks and the succession of supply teachers who filled in for a few days each did not set or mark much work. There was no continuity, and many parents, especially those whose sons were in examination years, were expressing concern and irritation. I knew the syllabuses/syllabi - sorry, specifications (old habits die hard) - so was begged to return. I did, for two or three weeks before Christmas, but was unavailable in the New Year, by which time the sick colleague was able to return. My extra stint of teaching was enjoyable in many ways, quite apart from the extra money I received, and despite having to be CRB-checked to work at the school at which I had spent most of my career without any such red tape. I found that I was teaching many of the people I had said goodbye to when they were a size or two smaller, and their warmth towards me, no doubt linked to relief at having someone in front of them whom they could depend on, was gratifying. I had quite a bit of work to do to get up to speed with what was going on, and found I was very tired each evening, when I faced a large pile of marking, but it was good to be back in the swing of things, surrounded and supported by many old colleagues and by several new ones, who weren't quite sure what to make of me. At the same time, I realised afresh why I had decided to retire in the first place, and was happy enough to reach the end of term.
'Once a teacher, always a teacher.' Perhaps. Over the last seven years I have given private tuition at home, at levels from KS3 to university entrance, and have enjoyed the one-to-one contact with pupils. Gratifyingly, I have not sought, or needed to seek, customers/clients: I'm not really sure what the right word is. (Really? Bit unusual for you, Dad.) I now have three pupils, one of them the sibling of someone I tutored a few years ago, whose parents have come back to me. The other two came to me because their parents were friends of someone whose child I once tutored, and who recommended me. A fourth pupil, whose parents are friends of mine, will be returning for some pre-GCSE top-up lessons after Easter. I've been able to put all my recently earned money into the sum I'm raising for Leukaemia and Lymphoma Research when I do my charity walk on Easter Monday, and I'm pleased about that, but there's also the feeling that I'm still a teacher, need to keep my hand in and enjoy doing it, partly because, despite not being the most versatile of mortals, it's one of the things I do well.
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