This week, I almost gave up on Plan A, get a job in a primary school, all together. I’ve had my moody-face on. Somehow, I had managed to convince myself that every day spent out of work was a waste of life. I’d been searching for a job in teaching for just a month and a half and already, I had become convinced that all hope was lost.
It took my dad pointing out that a month and a half is no time at all, for me to come to my senses. I also think I eventually talked it through enough times to realise that whatever path I take in the future, I need to do this first. Getting into a classroom, getting some experience and finding out whether teaching is for me is exactly what I need to do. Until I know just how much I’m going to love it, I can’t possibly decide what on earth to do next. I can’t give up just yet.
How I found the time to grumble I will never know.
This week, Dave and I booked a spontaneous trip to the cinema. I face-swapped with a minion. I caught up with two lovely ladies who adult better than I ever will. An amazing friend who obviously knows the way to my heart, cooked me a Mexican dinner: She made her guacamole from scratch. Doesn’t get much better than that. I finally gave in and grabbed myself some gym clothes that I actually feel confident in. (They were in the sale, so my conscience is clear.) AND I road-tripped to Reading with the lads to visit our friend who flew the nest and refuses to come back. We forgive him for that on the basis that trips over to his for the weekend are such good fun. Who doesn’t love an excuse to jump in their car on a Friday night, with some of their best friends and head to a free house for the weekend?
Conclusively, I am a complete wally for nearly giving up so quickly, for thinking I should have everything figured out already and for forgetting who I am.
After all, I’m the girl who has always truly believed you cannot waste time having fun.