Chapter 20
Last years and retirement
My last few years in teaching were marked by significant and
far-reaching changes in the education system. I still enjoyed the company of my
pupils and colleagues, but as the character and demands of the job evolved, I
felt I no longer fitted the profile and that it was time to step aside and
allow the next generation to take over.
It didn’t help when a new S1 pupil came up to me at the start of my
final year and pronounced those words no teacher should hear: “You taught my
Granny”. Worse still, I remembered the Granny well and it was like yesterday
that I taught her! I knew then that it was time to give serious consideration
to retirement.
I had jokingly referred to a countdown to retirement for years, inviting
pupils to hurry a response in class because I was due to retire in ten, then
seven, then three years etc., but in the last few months it became strangely
real, yet unreal. After so many years doing something, you become inured and
it’s difficult to conceive of a different way of life, even when you have a
specific date from which you know your life will change. It was difficult to
comprehend a series of “lasts” – the last time I attended a parents’ night, my
last set of reports and my last staff meeting etc.
I put a brief announcement on Facebook to the effect that I was going to
retire and I was stunned by the response. I received about 400 “likes” and some
100 messages which were invariably immensely kind and flattering, and I was
deeply touched and humbled by the reaction of pupils present and past, and
friends and family.
During my last days at the school I received many cards and gifts which
were completely unexpected and I was deeply moved by everyone’s thoughtfulness
and generosity. I received even more “likes” and messages on Facebook when I
posted photos of my gifts and cards.
A cardinal element of teaching (and one which is mostly taken for
granted or ignored) is the environment in which you work. My room was plastered
with colourful posters, drawings, essays, photos and grammar notes. Even the
ceiling had items hanging from it. I would like to think this contributed to a
warm and welcoming atmosphere which in turn encouraged industry and
collaboration. Of course, I had to clear the room for my departure and it is
one of my greatest regrets that I didn’t photograph it before it was stripped
as, without me realising it, that room had become an essential part of my
teaching and my professional life, and it was rather sad to see it bare and to
have that as my final image of the room.
I did, however, leave behind a single souvenir in the hope it would
remain untouched – a figure of a frog on top of a snail which I used to place
around the room and challenge classes to find. It would be nice to think it’s still
there, but I rather doubt it.
Curiously, on my final day I was remarkably calm. I had expected to blub
and make a fool of myself, but I remained composed as I said my farewells and
received even more kind and generous gifts and cards. Once again, it seemed
unreal. My final “class” was with a young lady, Zoe, who had done the Higher
course with me and was about to embark on Advanced Higher. She showed me an
email she and the rest of the Higher/National 5 class sent to Bruno Pelletier,
inviting him to send a video message wishing me well for my retirement. Each
member of the class sent the message three times in order to ensure he received
it! They got no response, but I was tremendously touched that they had thought
of doing that and had made such an effort.
I left the school at about 12.30 on the 1st of July
2016, laden with gifts and cards, and many happy memories.
The first of July is also the birthday of my younger son, Michael, and
my daughter, Lauren, (who are twins), and so we were to have a family dinner to
mark both their birthday and my retirement in a local hotel. My older son,
Scott, and Lauren’s husband, Ryan, had also made the effort to be there.
The family had given me some lovely gifts the evening before (including
a “leaver’s hoodie” which I wore to school for my last day), and there was some
excitement in the air, though I was still dazed and trying to come to terms
with the momentous events of the day.
When we arrived at the hotel I went straight to reception to confirm our
booking and I was immediately escorted in the opposite direction from the
dining room and ushered into a private function room instead. As I entered, I
caught sight of a group of Lauren and Michael’s friends. I was a little
confused, and then I turned and saw several of our friends (Alison’s and mine),
including a number of people to whom I had said an emotional good-bye just
seven hours before! It took a few seconds to dawn on me that this was, in fact,
a surprise retirement party for me. Alison and Lauren had organised everything
“on the fly”!
I made my way around the room and chatted to the guests, thanking them
for coming and sharing some anecdotes from the dim and distant past, and a few
minutes later Alison took to the floor and made a speech (her first ever). She
delivered it with a confidence and poise which I envied, and summed up the
events and emotions surrounding my retirement very articulately and touchingly.
At the end of her speech, another surprise – everyone was invited to another
room where Lauren was going to show a PowerPoint presentation she had prepared
in my honour.
Somewhat warily, I made my way through to the TV room. I had no idea
what was coming, but I was reasonably sure it would prove embarrassing.
I took pride of place on a sofa directly in front of the screen while
all the other guests gathered behind and I steeled myself for whatever was to
come.
Lauren had uncovered some old photos dating back 30 years or more, and
had trawled YouTube to find footage of me dancing and singing. The guests were
suitably amused and I was suitably embarrassed yet honoured she had made all
this effort.
Toward the end of the presentation, we read about my obsession with Les
Mis and how I had organised trips to London and Edinburgh, then up popped
photos of me speaking to John Owen-Jones with a teasing text saying he’d sent a
message (upon which I thought we were going to hear an extract from “What have
I done?”, Valjean’s soliloquy), followed by a still of Mr Owen-Jones looking
straight into a camera. Suddenly the still sprang to life and John Owen-Jones
said “Hello Stuart”. He went on to say he was between acts of Les Mis on
Broadway and wanted to wish me all the best for my retirement! I was utterly
speechless and could feel the tears welling up, so pleased was I that he had
taken the time to record a message for me, but also grateful to Lauren and
Alison for organising this whole surprise.
However, the presentation was not yet over and there appeared some text
saying Bruno Pelletier was another of my idols, but that I had never met him so
there were no photos. It crossed my mind that Lauren had come across the signed
photo sent to me by Bruno and she was going to show that. Next, there appeared
a picture of Bruno Pelletier in a baseball cap, accompanied by text which said
that if I couldn’t speak to Bruno Pelletier, he would speak to me, and once
again the still photo sprang into life!
“Hello everybody. Hello Mr Stuart Fernie”, he said, and went on to wish
me well for my retirement (four times) and to thank me for my efforts to teach
French, adding that it was an honour for him to take part in our party.
To say I was stunned, deeply moved and delighted just doesn’t cover it.
How honoured was I that these two video guests should have made their
appearances, that Alison and Lauren should have gone to all this trouble for me
(and kept it a secret!), and that my family, friends and colleagues should have
made the effort to attend my surprise party.
Needless to say, I was delighted to share these video messages on
Facebook, especially with my former Higher class who had requested such a video
message, and who, it transpired, had been informed that the video was in hand
and they said not one word to me!
Exactly one week before my retirement, a retiral dinner was organised by
the school for the six of us who were leaving at the end of the school year. As
well as the present staff, invitations were sent out to many former colleagues
who had shared at least some time with us in Invergordon Academy. It was a delight
to see so many “kent faces”, and to chat with them about the old times as we
embarked on a new and different future.
Pivotal events such as retirement invite reflection and as I prepared my
second speech of the year (my daughter had got married in January), my head was
filled with memories and contemplation. Not everything was wonderful in the
course of these 35 years. I have experienced joy, happiness and satisfaction,
but I have also known frustration, anger and exasperation. Three constants
helped me get through difficult professional times – my family, my colleagues
and my pupils, and I thanks them all from the bottom of my heart for the
contribution they have all made to my life, and I dedicate this volume of
memoirs to them all.
I leave you with the speech I made at the retirement dinner.
Many thanks for taking the time to read these pages. I hope you found
them of some value.
Ladies and Gentlemen,
It is difficult to sum up in a few words the thoughts, feelings and
experiences of some 35 years. The obvious thing is to discuss the changes I’ve
seen in the education system in that time, but don’t worry – I’ll spare you
that rant. However, I will tell you about my first observation.
Bear in mind what is involved in an observation today – a double-sided
sheet incorporating at least 20 if not 30 elements. At the end of my observed
lesson the Assistant Head Russell Preston (who was responsible for
probationers) approached and gave me his purely verbal feedback – “That was
fine, Stuart, but you might want to move the tables away from the wall”. How
things have changed ….
When starting out in teaching, it is essential to find your own style –
you have to work out what works for you and your pupils, and you have to learn
from your mistakes.
I would like to think I did learn from my mistakes, but I should point
out that I am a life-long learner.
For example, I learned that it is best to prepare in advance and not
have to leave a class to collect some photocopying you’ve forgotten, giving the
class time to set up a waste-paper bin filled with water above the classroom
door which has been left ajar. This is particularly true if the depute rector
decides to pop in to your room just ahead of you.
OR
It’s best not to assume that parents will be able (or willing) to
exercise control over their offspring. One parents’ evening, a pupil and his
father sat in front of me and the pupil held a polystyrene cup filled with tea.
While I was speaking to this pupil, he bit a chunk out of the lip of the cup
and proceeded to eat it. A little taken aback, I pointed out to the pupil
“You’re eating the cup”, whereupon he took another bite. I looked at the father
and said “He’s eating the cup”, at which he looked at me and smiled, making a
bizarre sound which indicated agreement, amusement and a complete inability to
influence events.
OR
It’s probably best not to physically remove a pen from a pupil’s mouth –
even if he has arrived late, is under the influence of magic mushrooms and
refuses to remove his pen when speaking to you. Physically removing the pen is
particularly ill-advised if you consequently discover it is ridged and causes a
distinct rattle of teeth while being removed.
OR
It’s probably best not to suddenly roar out of the blue at pupils who
are inattentive and chattering, even if it has the desired effect of correcting
their behaviour. At least not if you have a pupil with a heart condition right
in front of you who has had such a fright when you bellowed that he starts
gasping for air and goes very red.
There are many, many happy memories from the classroom, charity
concerts, school trips and the staffroom, car sharing to get to work, even
meetings – far too many to be able to share with you here tonight, but memories
which I will cherish and may well go on to write about in my memoirs.
Although there are many happy memories, I have to say it hasn’t always
been great.
There have been difficult and frustrating times both professionally and
personally, and I think in teaching it is often difficult to separate the two,
and it is during the more difficult times that I learned to appreciate and
value the wisdom and camaraderie of my colleagues. At the risk of sounding like
the theme song to “Neighbours”, it’s at those times you discover that good
colleagues become good friends. Clearly, I worked most closely with Margaret
and Arthur over the years, but I would like to thank you ALL for your
camaraderie, friendship and support.
I have frequently said that I have no luck – I rarely win anything, have
no luck in cards (ask Jim Bryce about that), and the only time I put a bet on
the Grand National, my horse actually ran away before the start of the race.
However, I have come to rethink my position concerning luck. I met
Alison (aside to Alison - that is what you wrote, isn’t it?), and I was lucky
enough to find a job at Invergordon Academy and have some of the best
colleagues and pupils I could hope for, and I am now lucky enough to have been
made redundant!
It has frequently been said there is something special about
Invergordon, and actually I don’t think it’s hard to define – it’s just not
that common.
It’s about caring. Putting pupils first and wanting what’s best for
them, but extending that attitude to colleagues. It’s about professionalism
with humanity and I know that I have benefited greatly from that environment,
and I thank you most sincerely, past and present colleagues.
I wish you all the best for the future, but whatever that holds, please
remember you are already getting it right.
Fin – so far!
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