Tomorrow is my last class with my year 12s. I don't think I have ever had such a demoralising, dispiriting year. I approached today's class with a mix of dread and relief. I have been counting down since 64 to go. I went to see a therapist in May who charged me a lot of money, told me I wouldn't make it to November and confirmed all the stereotypes I had about therapists. Silly bint.
I have been planning baking cupcakes for a class of 12s I don't teach, but hadn't really considered mine until this morning. I got the guilts about all the lovely kids in the class. And then I went to class and all the lovely kids had got together and bought me a present and it turns out the lovely kids out number the others 17 to 3. A kid who wasn't supposed to be at school today turned up for the class just for the gift giving. I wanted to cry and throw up and it all fell a bit flat and felt weird because I couldn't say thank you and I couldn't say 'I loved teaching you guys this year'.
And now I have to go to bed.