Forty-nine

I’ve read more than enough about the ageing process and how women of a certain age come to feel that the passing of time has shrouded them in a cloak of invisibility. Isn’t this the stuff of self-fulfilling prophecy? If I accept this expectation, won’t it become a lens through which I interpret the results of my attempts to interact with the world?

I’m not doing very well in my efforts to get a job. My most recent application for a teaching post failed to even get me an interview. I didn’t need to open the rejection email. I found it in my inbox with the heading, ‘Julia Warren Unsucessful letter’ (‘unsuccessful’ was spelt with only one ‘c’). Had the combination of my age and gender put them off? Or was my application not up to scratch? I will never know. I asked for feedback but received no response. Schools are busy places, now as much as ever.

One interview gave me some very encouraging feedback. I was told my lesson was the best they’d seen and that I had the challenging class eating out of my hand. A younger male teacher, however, was given the job.

As far as I can remember, I always wanted to be a primary school teacher. My mum taught in infant and first schools and spending time in her classrooms brought me to the conclusion that teaching was for me. I have treasured memories of observing and listening to her read stories with many children.

My own teaching career has been unstrategic and haphazard. No surprises there; I never had a career plan. In my early career, itchy feet, a thirst for adventure and the promise of pastures new meant I never stayed in a school for more than two years. I gained a wide experience in a variety of settings, but – because I didn’t settle in one place – I missed the benefits of being able to consolidate my professional development.

Much of my employment history has been shaped around the needs of my family. I took a career break to raise our 3 children (something I will never regret). After Herefordshire’s financial support for Reading Recovery ran out, I returned to full-time teaching because I wanted to support my husband in writing up his unfunded doctoral thesis. I made unconventional choices, such as starting my own business as a Literacy Intervention teacher (whilst working as a waitress to make ends meet). I learned valuable lessons along the way, but out-of-the-box thinking does seem to come at a price.

In hindsight, a career plan may have been a good idea…

There is something special about the energy and enthusiasm of a newly qualified teacher. I understand why they might be seen by headteachers as fresh clay on the potter’s wheel, full of potential and promise.

As the older applicant, maybe I present more of a challenge. My enthusiasm is a bit more guarded now. I’m less willing to pour out my energy reserves if I’ve been that way before and found it led to a dead end. After getting my fingers burned in the past, I’ve learned to be cautious of hot, shiny, new initiatives. I’ve seen too many ‘facts and figures’ being manipulated to present a corrupt version of reality (a pair of plastic gloves = 2 items of PPE) and I’ve grown wary of ‘evidence’ in the form of impressive data.

Older teachers may also be nursing battle scars and may be walking wounded as a result of the years they’ve spent serving on the front line. I think I’ve had my fair share of bad experiences.

A Senior Leader’s insecurities can be threatened by an older teacher’s knowledge and experience. They may be tempted to dismiss her thoughts and/or suggestions and impose their own rigid rules in order to assert their authority. In the first term of a new teaching post – not in Ledbury – I shared my thoughts with a member of the all female Senior Leadership Team. I told her I was struggling to know what I could bring to the table and how to bring it. As time went on, however, it became clearer and clearer to me that I was not welcome anywhere near ‘the table’. My place was out in the kitchen washing dishes and peeling vegetables. In that organisation, I became increasingly voiceless until I was silenced altogether. Things came to a head when I asked for feedback over an ongoing safeguarding concern I had reported. I was told the issue had been dealt with. Exactly a week after my request, I received a letter informing me that my short-term contract would not be extended.

The last 6 months of unemployment (complete with Covid 19 and the lockdown) has offered me plenty of time for reflection. I wouldn’t be surprised if my tendency towards introversion has been a factor in my fruitless job hunt. I’m rubbish at ‘bigging’ myself up and pushing myself forward. The idea of ‘self-marketing’ makes me want to run a million miles in the opposite direction. I have to dig deep when I deliver a presentation; attend a busy, crowded conference; post something on social media. If it wasn’t for the passion that fires me or my longing for connection, I would rarely step out of my comfort zone.

As a pre-teen, I went to a liberal-thinking middle school in Milton Keynes. We didn’t sing hymns in assembly, but ‘modern’ songs like this old favourite:

So how can you tell me you’re lonely

And say for you that the sun don’t shine?

Let me take you by the hand and

Lead you through the streets of London

Show you something to make you change your mind.

Click here to listen to Ralph McTell singing ‘Streets of London’

Ralph’s right. Opening my eyes to the wider picture does help to put things in perspective. The present reality is I am not alone in being overlooked by potential employers and I cannot rest my lack of success on the fact that I am a 49 year old woman. There are countless others receiving knock back after knock back as they soldier on in their quest for a job. I sincerely hope they are rewarded for their perseverance.

What about me? This passion to bring my community together through Shared Reading and to provide meaningful, effective opportunities for every child to learn to read and write will not go away. Although there is much I still don’t understand, I need to accept where I am in this journey of life, to find peace in the present and move forward into our uncertain future.

I’d like to finish with a poem…

In Acceptance Lieth Peace

by Amy Carmichael

He said, ‘I will forget the dying faces;

The empty places,

They shall be filled again.

O voices moaning deep within me, cease.’

But vain the word; vain, vain:

Not in forgetting lieth peace.

.

He said, ‘I will crowd action upon action,

The strife of faction

Shall stir me and sustain;

O tears that drown the fire of manhood cease.’

But vain the word; vain, vain:

Not in endeavour lieth peace.

.

He said, ‘I will withdraw me and be quiet,

Why meddle in life’s riot?

Shut be my door to pain.

Desire, thou dost befool me, thou shalt cease.’

But vain the word; vain, vain:

Not in aloofness lieth peace.

.

He said, ‘I will submit; I am defeated.

God hath depleted

My life of its rich gain.

O futile murmurings, why will ye not cease?’

But vain the word; vain, vain:

Not in submission lieth peace.

.

He said, ‘I will accept the breaking sorrow

Which God tomorrow

Will to His son explain.’

Then did the turmoil deep within me cease.

Not vain the word, not vain;

For in Acceptance lieth peace.

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