ALL CHANGE YET AGAIN

My seven-year-itch arrived two years early. The team remained wonderful, the kids even more so. But I had changed. I could plead burn-out. In reality it was boredom. The Scots have a word for it. I was 'scunnered' - too much of a good thing had blunted, dulled and finally destroyed my appetite for the endless round of meetings, consultations and conferences that bedevil the SENCO's life. Meat and drink to some, but to me as welcome as rancid haggis. We'd set up a system that worked. If only it would run itself and allow me to do what I'm born to do: work with kids.

Nor was boredom the only engine of change; there was also an arrogance born out of boredom. The Scots have a word for it. The word is 'puddock' - someone who rises in arrogance, only to fall flat on his face - and I was making a right puddock of myself on far too many occasions. I can pinpoint the moment I knew it was over. Carer and child had just left our office. I turned to my 'partner' - "Did I actually say what I think I said?" She nodded. "Did I just behave the way I think I behaved?" She nodded. "It can't go on like this, can it?" She shook her head, "No, it can't."
A dark night of the soul was followed by a bright dawn. Though the sky was unsure of its mood, I was not. I was light-hearted. I had made the right decision. I sought the headteacher.

"I can't be SENCO anymore."

"You sure?"

"Yep, absolutely sure."

"Ok then. What do you want to do now?"

"I'm leaving. I'm going to go and work in Canterbury."


"No, you're not. You're staying here. CCW needs you." Although the headteacher bore but a passing resemblance to Lord Kitchener, he'd used precisely the same ploy. To be needed! What human being or donkey can resist that carrot?!

"Develop what?"

"Go and develop the Sixth Form. We're losing too many students. Go and find out what they want and give it to them." The headteacher looked me straight in the eye and gave me a firm handshake. I knew he must be hiding something.

This is an opportune moment to record that every headteacher I have worked with has, to me personally, been fair and generous, at times absurdly so. In return, my advice has always been available, and the more they have heeded my advice, the more effective they seemed to become. I say 'seemed' since the relationship between my advice and their effectiveness was, as ever, correlative rather than causal.

Off I trotted and returned with the news that I'd be teaching GCE Psychology and English Language and Literature in September, the latter because, as the Head of English put it, "Nobody else wants to do it." As Holmes himself nearly put it, having eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, was what we were left with.

The headteacher decided to include the impossible with, "And add A Level Law. The academic kids will like that."

Momentarily flustered, I blurted, "I haven't opened a Law book in my life," to be met with, "If you decide to do it, you'll manage. Off you go. I've got some hot potatoes to sort out."