Somewhere between exhaustion and end-of-year formality… we find our why.
I’m struggling to get back into the swing of things. Here I am in my 10th year of teaching and I STILL feel like I’m wading through treacle in September. Surely by now it should all feel seamless—like breathing, or making tea, or muttering “why is the photocopier broken again?” under my breath. But no. Every year, it feels like I’m starting a brand-new job in a foreign country where the main language is meetings.
Is it because I’m unhappy and can’t find my flow? Or is it simply that September is designed to break us? A mix of new timetables, new classes, new initiatives, and the annual game of “guess which corridor the Year 7s will block today.”
We’re now thick into half term one: the GCSE analysis meeting is done, the paperwork is (mostly) complete, open evening has been survived (smiles plastered on, pretending you don’t mind answering “so what grade will my child get?” 15 times in a row), and I’ve finally recovered from Illness No. 1 of the academic year. Always a classic. Always unavoidable.
The guilt, though. Oh, the guilt. Day one off sick and I was already running through worst-case scenarios: my entire department collapsing, Ofsted arriving, the caretaker having to step in and take Year 9. I always promise myself I won’t beat myself up about being ill—but there I was again, wrapped in a duvet, logging onto Microsoft Office like some feverish martyr.
And still, I can’t quite get back into the swing of things. Do we ever? Or is teaching just one long cycle of September chaos → Christmas exhaustion → March delirium → July triumph → Six weeks off → September chaos, repeat forever?
But here’s the thing: maybe that’s okay. Maybe we’re not supposed to have it all nailed down by week three. Maybe the “swing of things” isn’t about routines and paperwork and getting every lesson perfect—it’s about the small wins. That one student who actually remembered their book. That class who sang slightly in tune. That Friday morning coffee that tasted like salvation.
So if you’re reading this and still feel like you’re stumbling rather than sprinting, you’re not alone. Most of us are. The important thing is that you’re here, showing up, doing the job—even if you don’t feel like you’ve mastered it yet.
And trust me, the swing will come back. It always does. By July we’ll all be knocking sixes for fun, running on pure caffeine and adrenaline, and wondering why we ever doubted ourselves.
Until then: breathe, laugh when you can, and remember—you’re doing better than you think.
Even if the photocopier isn’t.
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