Resignation
Little did I realise when I swung
Into the car park at Calder Glen
That by the end of that week in August 2009
My days of teaching would be over.
It all began so well
Meeting an old colleague right at the start
Archie ,a jovial bon vivant
From an earlier placement.
No fault could I find with the well disciplined pupils
Hanging attentively upon every word
Or giving the impression of doing so.
No, the fault lay within me.
My outer self sounded the same
Inwardly the elan had flattened
And I felt my energy draining away
With every lesson and every class.
Was this imposter syndrome?
Or maybe it was the way footballers
Experienced that their time in the game
Was finally over, spent and burnt out.
By the time Friday of that week came
I just knew that I had taught my last lesson.
Just before I went to the office
To let them know I would not
Be returning, I was buttonholed
By an assistant head
Who regaled me with the kind words
Archie had said about me
And requested my return.
It was not easy to tell him
That I no longer felt up
To the demands of the job
And that I felt like a race horse
Which had just run its last race
And was longing to be sent
Out to pasture
In its own sweet way.
Copyright © Denis Bruce | Year Posted 2021
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