In many ways, the children at school remind me of animals before a storm. I don’t mean that in a terrible and demeaning way, I simply refer to their innate ability to sense a change of weather before it happens and react in a seemingly frenzied way.
The community served by my school has its own microcosm, something I am luckily used to due to the strange weather phenomena of my university days. As winter approaches and the journey to and from school is more dark than light and a light pattering of rain is commonplace, it was only a matter of time before the blustering days of wind and rain and grey caught us up. The last two days have been the worst so far, although I am not so foolish as to realise they are only a taster of things to come.
It’s not the puddles which slowly seep into my hole-y soled shoes or the wet rain on my face as I wait outside in the quad for line-up; it’s the way the wind seems to turn school upside down, it’s the crazy look on the children’s faces as they tumble through your door, it’s the need to say everything several decibels louder in order to compete with the simultaneously wailing children and howling gusts…
I do love my job. And I do love the children. 98% of the time. But the wind has changed and the crazy has been unleashed and it’s time to face the cold, hard realities of taming – sorry, I mean teaching – the wild (of heart).