Teaching must be one of the most difficult jobs on earth. Especially in this country, with such high levels of poverty and domestic abuse. But when you’re a teenager, you believe that teachers live in school and have nothing more important in their lives than getting on your back about your coat and shoes.
Most of us will have a list as long as our arm, of the names of the teachers that hated us. And we’ll remember their words as long as we live. But then there’s that one incredible teacher, who took the time to really talk to you, and make you feel like you’re more then just one of the crowd.
I’ll always remember Mr Heron, a geography teacher who was probably the first person to ever tell me I was good at something. At a time when my home life was chaos and my behaviour in school reflected it. By year eight I was very rapidly falling from set one to set four in maths.
