After sharing some of my more legendary tales of the Autumn term (pupil standing on the desk shouting “I NEED A WEEEEEEE!”, anyone?) with my partner’s mum over Christmas, she asked me whether I was enjoying Teach First. I think my partner was actually quite surprised when I emphatically said “yes”.
It comes down to Mill’s higher and lower pleasures, I reckon. Even though it’s not the cushy city job like the one I interned at – where I could get free cappuccinos, and was never sworn at, and I could go to the toilet when I liked (god, there’s nothing worse than desperately needing a wee but having a solid 2.5 hours of teaching ahead of you) – it’s just not the same.
I go home on a daily basis knowing I’m doing the best I possibly can for over 100 deprived children. I go home knowing that professionally and personally I’m being developed and stretched like no other job could. I work with some truly amazing people who constantly inspire and challenge me to be better. I go to sleep proud of the job I’m doing. It’s not a cushy, easy, lower pleasure. It’s a higher pleasure.
(I still live in hope that the day-to-day will become easier though! I’m not that lofty and philosophical…)