When September No Longer Calls My Name

I thought I’d always feel the call of the classroom in September, but this year, I’m answering a different call — my own.

At the end of the summer holiday, there has always been a moment where I felt the inevitable pull ‘back to school,’ a rhythm I’ve carried with me since I was a little girl. It shaped so much of my life — the knot in my stomach as September approached, the rituals of new stationery, timetables, and early mornings. Even as a teacher, standing on the other side of the classroom, that pull remained: equal parts excitement and dread, routine and inevitability. I never imagined a time when I wouldn’t be governed by the school calendar, but this year marks the first September where I don’t need to answer that call.

For me, the signal has never been the adverts or “back to school” posters — it’s always been the weather. About two weeks before term begins, I’d notice the shift: cooler evenings, autumn creeping in, cardigans pulled from the wardrobe. That change always stirred the familiar “what ifs,” as my mind turned to the cycle ahead, knowing it would all repeat again the following year.

September is a strange time for teachers. It flashes by, leaving you breathless — new children, new families, perhaps even a new TA to train into your way of working. It’s a heavy load for the nervous system. And even though I’m no longer in the classroom, my body still braced itself for that return. It took a few days to settle into the realisation that, this time, I don’t have to go back.