I spent yesterday afternoon at a high school I used to work at many years ago. It's closing down after 85 years fine service to the community, which is a very sad thing. I don't know if the lovely old brick building will be knocked down or turned into flats, but either way it's a shame.
It was a good place to work — the kids were fantastic, and there was such warmth and goodwill between most of the kids and teachers. Even the ratbags had their fair share of charm and spirit. It was also fantastically multi-cultural — the teachers as well as the kids coming from a wide variety of ethnic backgrounds, which made for a wonderfully rich soup of culture and experience—and one which the school always celebrated in a variety of different ways.
I nearly didn't go — I'm always a bit apprehensive about revisiting the past, but this turned out to be lovely. I caught up with so many kids I used to teach -- it was an absolute blast seeing them and hearing about their lives now, and their reflections about their school days. I think I was still smiling when I went to sleep hours later.
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