Episode 2, in which we learn when a redundancy is not a redundancy.

So, the day that I’d known was coming, finally arrived. And it came as a shock: how stupid is that? My line manager just popped into the bungalow to see how I’d got on at my hospital appointment, which gave me that warm glow that somebody cared. How very ironic, hey? Shortly afterwards my least favourite assistant headteacher arrived and asked after my health; she rather spoiled the effect by telling me that it was bound to be nothing, so I had to ask about where she’d studied medicine, and all in all, the warm glow had evaporated. I told my teacher colleague that something was not quite right, but she felt I might be a bit paranoid.

Half an hour later my line manager came back. Now since September the frequency of our weekly meetings has slipped a bit (ok, we’ve had exactly 2 and it’s now late February), so this was a bit of a surprise. She took me to one side and told me that He Who Must Be Obeyed wanted to see me the next morning. She did not want to pre-empt what he was going to say, but if I wanted to bring someone with me that would be ok. Who might I want to take? Yes, I had an idea of the sort of person she might mean, but making her squirm a bit did help make me feel better. Well, you know maybe the teacher who had taken over when they made my colleagues redundant, wouldn’t I like him to be there? Well, he’s a nice enough bloke and all that, but he’s not exactly an employment lawyer, so no, not really. She swallowed hard. She was going to have to say it, but it wasn’t easy for her. Maybe I might want to contact the union? But why? She couldn’t say. Not exactly good news then? She still couldn’t say. It was a bit petty, but that’s how I felt.

The next day, a Tuesday, at 11 am, we trooped into the office of He Who Must Be Obeyed. And very quickly, so if you’d blinked you’d have missed it, he said what a good job I’d done and now we can’t afford you. He blathered on about budgets and contingencies and not being in a redundancy situation, just not renewing temporary contracts. So, if you’ve only been there 7 years like I have and like Old Bill the Attendance Officer, then you don’t have rights. That doesn’t seem quite right to me, but they say they’ve taken advice and it’s perfectly legal, so we’ll see. And then I was supposed to just go back to working with a group of disaffected kids like nothing’s happened. After all, I knew it was on the cards, and it’s not as though I haven’t had a good run for my money. Come again? Well, yes, warming to the theme now, it was originally only a 2 year contract, so I’ve been very lucky. And don’t forget, The Teacher Who’s Taken Over from my former colleagues is doing a good job so he’ll be able to carry on when I’ve left. Yes she really said that, like it was a good thing, like I don’t do a good job on half the money, like it would be a comfort to me. But I don’t see it the same way.

Thursday saw the staff meeting where everyone was told. I walked out and I swear I saw tumbleweed blow past me. Nobody spoke to me. The next day some people were lovely and outraged on my behalf (it may have been an act, but I’m grateful for any crumbs these days!), but others seem to think it might be contagious, and cross the road to avoid me. Great hey? The only thing keeping me going now is the wording of the official letter. Apparently I can bring anyone I want to a meeting with the governors to appeal against the decision to terminate my contract. Well there are 4 of us going, and I spend my time idly speculating on the Dream Team for us to take in with us. One of the joys of my job is that I am befriended by some very tough parents, who actually appreciate my help with their children’s problems. And some of the kids who’ve left, well they can be quite scary too. But then I go and spoil the tough woman image by crying again. Who will look after these kids? No, really, who’s going to be there when they need someone? I’m going to have to start preparing them for life after I’ve gone, and I don’t want to add to their stress yet.