A couple of weeks ago, I started my new job. After a funny few months of change, adjustment, general discombobulation and some madness, I made the eminently sensible decision to get a new job. A fresh challenge, after all, is good for the mind, is it not?
You may have established by now that my mind is somewhat troublesome. It never bloody stops doing mental somersaults, and boomerangs from one potential catastrophe to another at lightning speed. If I Iet it, it has the power to consume me.
And so, to feed my unsatisfied and naughty psyche, I have embarked on a journey to kick-start my career. I have headed back to school to teach – not as a “proper” teacher (for I am not quite brave enough to tackle planning, curriculae and assessments just yet) but as a cover tutor, where I never know what I am doing from one day to the next. Winging it is what I do best, after all. And I am pleased to report that I’m quite enjoying myself.
It could have all gone wrong from the start, however, when , on my first day, during staff training, I did my usual trick of over thinking. I was on time – early in fact.I walked into the hall and had my pick of 200 chairs to sit on. By the time I realised I had such a choice, I also realised that I couldn’t stop and deliberate the merits of each one in the aisle for much longer without looking like a ninny, so my legs carried me forward until I ran out of options – there was I, setting my bum down in one of the front rows.
Ok, that’s fine, I thought. Soon, the seats around me will fill up with friendly new colleagues. We will exchange excited glances, and raise our plastic coffee cups at one another in a show of cameraderie. We may share a joke about how peaceful schools are without the pupils (which is not in fact a joke at all), and we will probably be drooling at the thought of the free lunch, whatever it may be. For a free lunch is a free lunch. Or is there no such thing..? I digress.
Nine o’clock came and went and the latecomers had a few minutes’ grace. I sat smugly, on time for once, ready to listen and learn. But just after nine o’clock, when the proceedings began, I realised my error. I was still alone on that front row, which also happened to form part of a half-hexagon, meaning that not only was I alone in that front row, but I was also largely facing almost every other f@cker in the room. Nobody had joined me, and I started to realise just how exposed I felt, sitting opposite the senior management team who were running the show, and in full view of everyone else. It was awkward.
I have often made strange choices in life, and this is just another to add to my repertoire. I am not averse to being alone, nor standing out. The problem with this scenario was that it looked like I was distancing myself, and whilst that may be what I was subconsciously trying to do, it’s not the right stance to take if I want to encourage my colleagues to like me. Who is that knob, siting alone in the front row? They must have thought. Why is she there? Does she smell? Instead of kick-starting my return to work, I was at risk of being THE weirdo to avoid.
I am probably doing my colleagues a disservice. They probably gave me no more than a passing glance, but sitting there at the front, alone, on full view, I suddenly realised just how much I fidget, how many times I cross and uncross my legs, how itchy my head is (!) and how I am physically incapable of sitting still. Did it show?
After we all reconvened, post-coffee, I was in two minds; should I return to my previous spot, thus reinforcing my stance as a Billy-No-Mates, plus making my initial seating choice look deliberate and completely not something I’d been wrestling with in my head all morning, or should I make an effort to blend in a little more..? And even though being Billy N-M doesn’t really bother me, I chose to blend (or hide) further towards the back. And I must say, it felt more comfortable there, from an itching point of view.
The next day, by the time our second day of training had begun, and I was yet again faced with the “where the f@ck to sit” dilemma (because my brain likes to revisit all of its past failures), I was just about to overthink my position once more, when a loud voice rang out .”Becky!” it boomed, and at first, I thought the call was for someone else. I am not usually Becky at work. I glanced around and there she was, standing up in the middle of the seated throng, unashamedly waving me over, un self-conscious, unfettered by the insecurities that obviously plague my brain – my new colleague, the lovely Gemma.
To be honest, I didn’t even realise that Gemma knew who I was that day. But the woman possesses a skill for names, and she’s not afraid to use them, I have since realised. She is friendly and caring. She’s noted everyone’s birthday in our little team, and sought out much-needed training to make our jobs easier.
Gemma is a legend.
I am a knob.
But I’m back in education, and I’m learning.
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