The very first week of university was partly a blur. It was hard not to feel like a little fish in a giant ocean, wandering somewhat aimlessly around the campus on my first day until I accidentally bumped into a very chatty third-year student in a purple hoodie who thankfully directed me to the lecture theatre. I managed to not get lost on my first day, though it would take me a good month before I could successfully (sort of) manage to navigate my way around the building (why do all the corridors look the same?) and I’m not sure I ever remember room numbers without checking blackboard 50 times.
It was a strange feeling sat in that very first introductory lecture suddenly I was forced to think of myself as not only a student but a trainee teacher.
It was hard to not feel a little overwhelmed, when I have been at the university all of three minutes, barely sat down in my seat, to then receive the ‘You are a professional lecture.’ Though this would become much less daunting (and make a lot of sense) as the week progressed.
The first seminar consisted of icebreaker activities and I usually hate icebreakers as it usually the awkward ‘sit in a circle and tell everyone one interesting fact about yourself’ however, building marshmallow towers was a nice way to be introduced to the group I would be spending most of the year with; it also allowed me to try to figure out the dynamics of the class. I was pleased to see that their was a variety of ages and commuter students as well as those living in halls.
We also spent the first week reflecting on our own motivations to be a teacher and a teacher that inspired us; this brought me back to my year 4 teacher and how he was always smiling and full of positive praise. I also remembered the time he brought his guitar to the lessons and the time he encouraged me to be in the school choir and allowing me to sing a little solo verse in ‘Away in a Manger’ at our Christmas service much to the delight of my seven-year-old self.
It was also interesting to hear from another member of the group who hadn’t enjoyed her own experience but was inspired by a teacher she saw when volunteering, who was so motivating and engaging that it inspired her to aim to become that person for a class of children.
It is fair to say that I felt a little isolated when I first started; the commuter students seemed to have already formed their own friendship groups (plus they all lived miles away from me anyway) and those living in halls had a place to return to (or sleep?) between sessions; I have never minded particularly being alone, but as I was new I had very little workload to keep me occupied and so I spent my time exploring the library and would spend many hours there in the months to come.
Of course, as the weeks progressed everything settled, the lectures and seminars became part of my routine, it was normal; I had somewhat found my place within the class, and my workload was always enough to keep me significantly busy.
Everything was still fairly relaxed until that very first English assignment and that’s where the real pressure begins…
Becoming a Primary School Teacher 