I often think back to my school years when pondering over the subject I’ve chosen for each of these posts. Useful examples tend to come to mind; I imagine because these are years our development occurs at a relatively rapid pace when compared to adulthood. This could be why they’re often referred to as our “Formative” years. A good friend recently put the idea across that this early time period in our lives forms the “Blueprint” which establishes the core of who we are and shapes much of how we think and act going forward.
Most children across the world start their schooling at age 6. Here in the UK, nearly all start at 4 and they will typically continue at the same school until age 11. That’s around 6 hours of formal schooling each day (Minus weekends and holidays of course) for the next 7 years, and for someone of this age, that represents almost 2/3 of their life; the other 1/3 of which they may not remember well with being so young. What I’m eluding to is the idea that “Primary School” as it’s known here, makes up a considerable amount of what is known to a child between those ages. They’ve built up friendships and they’ve become highly accustomed to the same walls, corridors and classrooms that make up the school. By the time they reach their final year, they’re very familiar with the schools procedures and it’s surroundings; so much so that they’re known to “Rule the School” as the common expression goes. In our case, we could sit on chairs at the back of the assembly instead of being on the floor cross legged, and we had assigned prefects which were given some responsibility to direct pupils from earlier years. Life can be pretty good for a year 6 pupil. But then…
From age 11 to 16, students move onto High School. Here, you’re hurled to the bottom of the pack. You no long have the special privileges that come with being the eldest kids; quite the opposite in fact, as you’re now the youngest, and most students from the higher years are much taller than you. Suddenly you have a new unfamiliar building to navigate with mostly a new set of faces. For me, old friends had moved to other secondary schools in the area, so I was faced with the daunting task of making new ones. It’s quite the change, and not the type I was personally comfortable with, yet, it was sprung upon me; I had no choice in the matter.
That first year of secondary school wasn’t easy for me; there were many times where I’d long to go back to how it was previously, when things were easier and when my peers seemed nicer. I remember on one particular occasion, we had a Music lesson held in the morning and the entire class sat on school chairs in a big open circle. I can’t recall the lesson that day, but I do remember using all the willpower I had to hold back tears. Nothing in particular had upset me, I just hated my new environment, and longed to go back to how it used to be. Fortunately, I got through the lesson without giving too much away about my emotional state. I had the idea that I’d be mocked if my other classmates found out, as they looked to be embracing this new venture with ease; they’d confidently participate and have a smile on their face at least.
Going forward in time aged 22, I would unexpectedly face a very similar feeling. At this stage, you might expect a certain level of emotional maturity to handle these feelings, and that I had in terms of my ability to reason on those emotions and understand why they were gripping my soul. But despite this, and despite myself not displaying these feelings to any meaningful degree, I would for sure feel them. I find negative emotion has a certain intensity which mostly can’t be matched in positive emotion, and that felt true in this case. I concluded that I was grieving over losing some good camaraderie between old work colleagues. I mention the word colleagues because the relationships I had were exclusively maintained in work. But nevertheless, I learned a lot from them.
From my boss to the caretaker’s, everyone had such a unique perspective to offer on their lives, and it’s had a much bigger impact on me than I think they would expect. I particularly found this from my manager at that time. He was responsible for around 8 members of staff as far as I remember, including me. We certainly had some characters in our team; I won’t go into too much detail, but if you thought the American sitcom “The Office” was entertaining, I’d imagine a dramatisation of our workplace would be winning Bafta’s… Nevertheless, looking back, what stood out to me is the patience my manager showed towards our colleagues, one or two of which who would struggle to fulfil the responsibilities of the role for long periods of time. It’s useful to note that this particular organisation was publicly funded, so I don’t think managers are pushed to keep up to strict performance targets, but in any case, the quality of the team would be seen as a reflection of his own work, which is useful to be conscious of. Despite this, I could see that he extended a great deal of compassion and empathy, and continuously looked for ways to encourage my colleagues. He understood that losing their job might have a considerable negative impact on their life, and he would do everything he could to ensure this didn’t happen. What makes this more profound is that this side of his persona isn’t made immediately obvious to the casual observer; he rather comes across as someone extremely laid back and isn’t too concerned about being conscientious. I recall many occasions where highly strung and mildly hot tempered colleagues would express strong views on a non-work related topic (including my own on a rare occasion, as I would often stay quiet), for my manager to respond with mildness and reason. Looking back, it taught me a lot about what it means to be a good mediator.
So, why do I raise these memories? Through school I faced changes which I didn’t have a choice in. In adulthood, I have the option to either effect change, or do nothing at all. I realise it sounds rather dramatic, but I was truly grief stricken for a period of time after making the decision to change jobs. I felt I had lost something close to me; the same emotions I felt when changing schools, and just like that change, this was something that wasn’t in my power to get back. It was a tough pill to swallow, but I kept my focus on the reasons why I moved on to begin with. My previous employment offered no progression opportunities, so this was an opportunity to advance my career in some form. Was it a good decision? We can never be truly sure of these things, but I would think that it was. I’ve learned a lot of professional knowledge over the last 3 years that could have been difficult to attain if I’d stayed put; I’ve gained the perspectives of a new set of colleagues who have expanded my view on the world further, and my current position allows flexibility in working from home and choosing my working hours to some degree.
The idea to use my skills and resources to support a loving family is something I deeply aspire to in the future. I don’t think that’s an easy task for anyone, so maybe it’s useful to face difficult decisions with confidence if we are to build the life we truly want. Although change can be tough, if applied in a meaningful way, I think it’s reasonable to suggest that we’ll appreciate those burdens when we see the opportunities granted from them.
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