Yesterday, I paid a visit to my old school for an alumni event. Firstly, I was struck by the sheer amount of people that turned up, either to play netball or rugby (the actual purpose of the event), or to just watch (personally I can’t stand netball, and would rather poke pins in my eyes than have to don one of those hideous bibs ever again). There were ex-pupils from so many different year-groups, some now with beards or children, and yet who can still find at least one member of staff who taught them in their school days. Personally, I think that’s amazing, and hope that I can go back again in, say, 20 years, and still find a teacher I know.
Alumni events are always weird, I think, in the sense that there is so much to catch up on with so many people, but not really enough time nor enough familiarity anymore to go into detail about it all. I had standard conversations about where I am, what I’m doing, and where I’m going. Now, I know that most people would probably think that was a perfectly adequate conversation to have with your ex-teachers, but in my case, these were some of the people that truly touched and influenced my adolescence, who saw me through almost seven years of education, and who, whilst I am just another of the potentially hundreds of students they once taught, were some of the major role-models in my life and who I will never forget. Whether they be the Chemistry teacher who frequently took abuse (always light-hearted, of course) from a class of sixth-formers but was still always willing to give advice, or the GCSE physics teacher whose wife remembers me purely because my face is still on the homepage of the website, or the French teacher who pushed, coached, worried, advised, provided tea in moments of necessity, invited his class for dinner, and still frequently messages me on Facebook, or the maths teacher, who somehow managed to get me through a year of maths and come out with a decent result, and who I discovered occasionally reads these little rambling of mine (hi, Mrs L), or the music teacher/conductor/personal tutor who gave me some of the best memories I have, helped me through some of the worse ones, instilled in me the love of music I am now known for, and taught me some of the most valuable lessons I will ever learn. These people had a profound effect on my upbringing, and on my development as a person (if anyone asks, it’s their fault I’m who I am :-P), and yet now, the extent of our conversations stretches to how life is progressing, and maybe the weather. It’s sad, I think, but I also don’t know what else I should really expect. Time always moves on, and just as I am now in a different place, with new friends, and new influences, they have seen another 200-odd pupils leave, and have welcomed a similar number.
I think that we all want to be that person when we leave school; that person that will be remembered, the one that people will continue to talk about, but it rarely happens, and unfortunately I’m not about to become a famous rugby player or discover the cure for cancer. But hopefully, I’ll be able to go back again in the future, and still find one of those people, those people who, perhaps unknowingly, influenced and changed my teenage years very much for the better. And maybe one day, I’ll be one of the few that they still talk about amongst themselves. For now, though, I guess I’ll stick with being just one of the many alumni that passes through the doors every now and then, and casually reminds everyone of that slightly over-enthusiastic, occasionally a little gobby, teenager to whom they once imparted their wisdom.
Love this GemGem :)
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