Back to School

This week has seen the annual proliferation across social media of first day at school shots of children standing somewhat nervously, somewhat excitedly, all smart in their uniforms and ready to go off for the new school year. I felt quite emotional about this last weekend as this is the first year that nobody in our house is following this pattern. Neither of my children are packing bags with arrays of coloured pencils and newly chosen lunch boxes and I too, after almost thirty years of being governed by academic calendars, am not returning to a classroom or office of folders, waiting for my attention to help the children whose names are contained within them.

Although removed from that immediate environment, the first week back at school makes itself known in other little ways to the wider community. There are certain times of the day to avoid walking the dog in the park, when it would be busy with the newest intake to the local high school letting off steam on their way home, slinging off their heavy school bags to snack and chat with each other. My husband’s morning journey to work has become more crowded and taken longer than it did each day over the summer break, so he is back to factoring in more time for his morning routine. Just being out and about for a walk or to pick up a few groceries, there seems a renewed purpose to people as they travel to or from school, or pick up placatory treats on their way home for tired and not-so-tidy uniformed children who will want to chill out and play rather than settle to some homework after their long day of listening and following rules.

I think all of that gives a little context to my unsettled feelings this week. I thought I had adapted to this writing life, after all, I have been doing this now since Christmas. A discussion with my daughter last Saturday showed how similar we both are. She said that she felt like she wanted to be buying new stationery, even though she has no need of it, just because she used to like shopping for it and planning for the work ahead. I have always been a lover of new stationery too, even my writing now is still divided between laptop and notebook – part of the joy of writing is the physical act of letting your ink flow across the blank page and then selecting a new, funky notebook to begin the process all over again once the current book is full. My writing notebooks have become like sketchbooks to an artist and I am now half-way through my second one this year. A glimpse inside the covers and you would quickly see what I mean, not neat at all, jumbled notes, some even scrawled up the margins but nevertheless meaningful to me at the time.

I mention this stationery fetish as it is connected to that need to plan for what is ahead, to embark upon a new term, to give yourself something new to boost your mood so that you can continue with a renewed energy. Last week’s blog ‘Fairy dust and wishes’ talked about my determination to manage the part I have been given in our drama group’s pantomime, by setting myself goals to achieve – fitness, weight loss and learning lines etc. For me, the new school year was always a moment for personal reflection where I would think about what I wanted to achieve in the academic year ahead, what I might do differently this time round. I guess that is why I have been asking myself similar questions recently.

I have a new writing project in the pipeline and have been working on that almost every day for a few weeks now, giving both it and myself the structure that is needed to make purposeful strides forward. I also face a challenge connected to my writing. This month I am due to lead a talk about my journey into writing and publishing my book and some of the issues covered within the content of it – menopause, mental health, self-help and empowerment. Planning for this event, takes me back to times when I prepared training sessions for fellow teachers or presentations to support talks to parents. The difference, I suppose, is just the context. Whilst I have the skill set required to lead a discussion and I know the content from first-hand experience as, after all, it is my story, it will feel strange to introduce myself as an author.

I am not going back to school this year, in all honesty I do not think I shall return to school in future years – not in a professional capacity anyway. Yet this month still feels like a new beginning for me, reminiscent of all the new terms that I faced. I am growing into my new ‘author uniform,’ I am working out my own timetable and rules and if I need to, I may even get myself some new stationery.

Aged five or six, at my first primary school in Heston, Middlesex.