I Am Woman

Many thanks to vivacious for the great header.

I am Woman

By

Helen Reddy – 1972

Treatment for tuberculosis came to an end, Boo was maturing into a well-mannered, if rather feisty little dog and I was offered another teaching position starting January 1972. By a strange coincidence the post was at another school in the town of Kirkby-in-Ashfield; it seemed destiny intended me to go there, although to this day I’m not completely sure I understand the reasons.

Kingsway was a large Junior school housed in an austere building on two levels, built in the nineteenth century. I’d already met the Headmaster; an elderly ex-forces gentleman who came across as very in control and not someone who would accept sloppiness. That first day of term as I boarded a bus for a forty minute journey on a cold January morning to my new place of employment, I admit to being terrified.

This was finally what I’d spent years in education to achieve. My own class with no one guiding or critiquing; the responsibility and fear of the unknown enough to make my knees knock and my stomach flutter with enormous butterflies. On arrival at the school I was given my registers, a dinner money tin and sent into the fray.

My first class was a group of over forty eight and nine-year olds. Through my years in teaching people often asked the question, ‘What do you teach?’ My reply was always, ‘Children.’ Below the age of eleven children have a class teacher for each school year, who covers every subject on the curriculum and rarely do they have much to do with any other members of staff. Those first few weeks with a new class are extremely important in setting standards and establishing a routine.

The staff were a mixed group; mainly women and of all ages. They welcomed the newcomer with some apprehension, but mostly showing warmth and offering help and advice. After my first week of teaching I was buzzing; a mixture of excitement, anxiety, exhilaration and exhaustion. Despite what people think about the short hours and long holidays for teachers, it’s a very tiring job requiring intense concentration and many hours of preparation.

The children were very pleasant on the whole; not dissimilar to the ones I’d taught in Barnsley, as Kirkby was in those times a coal mining area. I made mistakes of course; teaching is one job you can never achieve perfection in and one where teacher as well as pupils are forever learning. The unpredictability requires a lot of flexibility and the ability to change tack at any minute, despite any plans.

At the end of the first term I received something I’d rarely experienced in my former years. I discovered beneath the strict veneer of my Headmaster was a kind and dry-witted man who heaped praise and approval on me. This was almost alien to me but extremely appreciated. My confidence started to grow and I began to feel more of a woman than the lost little girl I’d always hidden behind. I still believe I was a little too soft-hearted to be a teacher, but there are many young children who respond to kindness better than over-strictness, as well as the few tough kids who may take advantage. I never did find teaching an easy or stress-free career and probably used up more than my fair share of adrenaline, but all in all I was happy in my work at that time and popular with children and staff alike.

Some of my first class of 1972. I still remember all their names despite the fact they’ll all be in their forties now.





The staff of Kingsway School 1972. Sadly a few are no longer with us but I’m still in touch with some of the others. As you can see, the mini skirt was still well and truly still in fashion.

My love life and social activities took a back seat as teaching became the biggest part of my days, but I still saw friends, went bowling with Nigel and my Mum and kept in touch with college mates in their hometowns. I suppose if there’d been some hunky, young male teachers at my school I’d have been batting my eyelashes as usual, but as it was there was only one younger male teacher and he was married.

I think I may have played down my relationship with Nigel somewhat; it was a long time ago and hard to remember or express the strong feelings between us. We were very easy around each other, comfortable and good friends as well as lovers. We’d have phases apart, bad times and arguments just like any other couple, but on the whole we had very deep feelings for each other. Whether it was true love I really don’t know.

But there was a rift forming as I forged ahead with enthusiasm in my new career and he plodded along in his laid back, casual way. Determined to bring some spark back to our relationship I booked our first holiday abroad together to Corfu. It was a truly fabulous holiday and one I’ll never forget. I’m sure his memories were the same.

Nigel and I on the beautiful island of Corfu.

After the long summer break, it was back to school for me in September and a new class. I think a teacher’s first class always remains special and although I liked my second class I didn’t enjoy them as much as the previous one. But if there was one mantra my authoritarian college had instilled in me, it was high standards and hard work must be maintained at all times. Something I feel has never left me in all areas of my life, for better or worse.