I am a teacher. I qualified more years ago than I care to remember, particularly when while chatting to a colleague I realise that I started teaching before he was born. Since then many things have changed. I started working under the so-called Christian National Education system in South Africa at a time when education was fragmented into numerous ethnically-labelled departments and education was neither free nor equal. In my first year of teaching, I was form tutor to Standard Nines at Wynberg Secondary School many of whom were in one of my English classes (English Second Language Standard 9) which had 47 pupils in it; some of them older than I was.

Since then, many things have changed: I moved countries and education systems, currently finding myself working at an inner London school. My school boasts that it operates in one of the most culturally diverse boroughs in the country offering education to speakers of more than eighty languages. My journey to Park View has been an interesting one taking in Lambeth borough south of the river and Earlham High School in Norwich, Norfolk.

In my time as teacher I have played many roles in many different educational systems built on more pedagogical models than I care to think about, but the truths on which my teaching rests remain exactly what they were more than twenty years ago.I am a teacher of children, a moulder of lives: not a teacher of English, History or whatever subject I may be called upon to teach. What an awesome responsibility this is. Sometimes we become almost blase about who we are and what we do or we are overwhelmed by the weight of bureaucracy that every year seems to set a new standard of excellence that leaves us all wallowing in the mud of our inadequacies of 'unsatisfactory' or 'needing to improve' ratings.

Truthfully, however, it is also an immense privilege. Many of us we get to share in the lives of young people we would otherwise never have met. For just a brief moment we are able to be a part of their lives, to share with them our knowledge and our life experience and to equip them with the skills they need to live. Let us never lose sight of this. Tomorrow is the end of the penultimate half-term of this academic year and we will enjoy a well-earned rest. I know I am looking forward to a time of quiet relaxation with my husband and boys but I also look forward to those last few weeks with children I have grown to love and who continue to challenge and inspire me every day that I am privileged to spend with them.

To all my English friends, have a wonderful Whitsun break.

You needed me

I'm sitting outside the gym waiting while Tim does whatever it is that he does at the gym, and I'm listening to Anne Murray. Why? Well, it started with the title of a blog I read earlier today: 'Find 100 Ways', which is the title of a James Ingram song. But, why Anne Murray I hear you ask? Well, because when I got married, 26 years and 6 days ago, I sang a song that she had made famous:

You may not be familiar with this song, after all even in 1986 it was no longer a 'new' song. It is, however, a song that contains within it all the paradoxes that go into building a marriage. You can watch a video of the song if you like: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dP4RaDctCnM&feature=related

I cried a tear, you wiped it dry

I was confused, you cleared my mind

I sold my soul; you bought it back for me

And held me up, and gave me dignity

Somehow you needed me        

You gave me strength to stand alone again

To face the world out on my own again

You put you high upon a pedestal

So high that I could almost see eternity

You needed me, you needed me

And I can’t believe it’s you I can’t believe it’s true

I needed you and you were there

And I’ll never leave why should i leave I’d be a fool

Cause I’ve finally found someone who really cares

As a bride, I thought I knew exactly what those lyrics meant. Now, twenty six years later, I know just how wrong I was. Edward and I can look back on many adventures. We have shared the joy of the birth of our children, and the pain of loss: but whenever I have needed Edward, he has been there.We've sold and bought houses, moved continents, changed jobs and through it all, whenever I needed him ... he was there.

For the past six months I have worked in London while Edward has remained at our family home in Norfolk with Daniel. So, every Sunday evening I jump on the coach and leave, returning late on Friday. Thank God for inclusive mobile minutes ... some nights we frantically try to squeeze a million things into one conversation; other nights we sit in contented near-silence and I hear the sound of the television programme in the background. With all the uncertainties of life, I know that I have been blessed to share more than half of my life with the man who is my husband, my lover, the father of my children, and my best friend.

I've saved the words of the last verse of the song for last because that it sums up what our marriage has meant to me:

You held my hand when it was cold

When I was lost you took me home

You gave me hope when I was at the end

And turned my lies back into truth again

You even called me friend

This is indeed the paradox of our marriage: you held my hand ... you needed me.