Gulp…it’s over. I’m done on my first placement, none of my doomy-gloomy thoughts about the rug being pulled happened. I met my required standards on everything. I cried. Twice. Once when I was leaving and once when the year 5s were singing “somewhere only we know” and doing it beautifully. Later, in the staffroom, several other teachers commented that they’d had tears in their eyes too.

This “card” was shoved into my hand by the little girl who I’d help to take her first tentative, faltering steps into becoming a swimmer, if you can take steps to become a swimmer if you see what I mean. I’m not entirely convinced I deserve to be called “best teacher” at this stage but I am nonetheless thrilled to have been given it. I hope that she remembers the hours of walking along beside her while she struggled to stay afloat and struggled to make progress through the water while I yelled encouragement from the side. I also got a “whole class” card and one of the messages in that said that I’d made maths into great fun. I now believe I will be able to get there. At one point in the “goodbyes” I felt like a premier league footballer who’d just scored a massive goal, I was in the middle of such a big group hug!

I'm completely exhausted and wish I could go down a burrow and sleep for a few weeks but my Mum and Dad have just arrived, I have an appointment with a pint of beer and a plate of egg and chips in the pub and I'm back on parade on Monday morning at 9am on campus. Yikes - it's never ending.