We made it to the end of the year! I returned to work after maternity leave last September, in the middle of a pandemic as a teacher knowing that this government gave absolutely zero fucks for school staff and children. As teachers, we have withered and shrunk, almost broken under the strain but rallied and pulled ourselves back together in time for the kids to see our smiling faces as they logged onto to zoom calls and eventually returned to the classroom. I've had to concede responsibilities that I wasn't prepared to give up but knew I had to to be the woman and mother that I needed to be outside of work. Our school lost our leader and I lost a much loved mentor during a time when we couldn't even hug our colleagues as we grieved, isolated in our separate classrooms. I have never thought about quitting teaching so much as I did this year. But I wasn't teaching, I was surviving. And I have survived. I not only survived this year but I also worked with @allrisecollective to set up the Southend Care Bank and organise protests and I ran my first parenting workshop- all while breastfeeding a toddler 24/7 who still doesn't like to sleep. Looking back, I think I've done ok but my goal for the next academic year is to not just survive but to THRIVE.
I have very few photos of my dad and even fewer memories. I remember learning to make daisy chains on the green outside his flat, I remember counting the freckles on his arms as he napped on the sofa and I remember watching the penguins at London Zoo. I remember him singing "I love you a bushel and a peck" to me and my sister all the time. But other than that, there's nothing. I don't remember losing him and I don't remember the aftermath. I remember using humour to deflect my loss as a child during the day but at night, wishing and wishing and wishing with every fibre of my being for it all to be a cruel joke and that one day he would walk through the door again and tell me it had all been a mistake. But it wasn't and now, 33 years later, I'm raising my son without a grandfather. A grandfather who he will ask about one day and all I can tell him is that he loved football and he loved Germany. He named me after Lauren Bacall and would walk with me for hours and hours to stop me crying after my surgeries as a newborn. The rest, well, we'll fill in the blanks together.
Today I ran my first Raising Change workshop. It's hopefully the beginning of a journey that I have wanted to embark on for a while: supporting families and adults who work with children in helping them understand how our many complex identities inform our parenting and how to implement social justice in our parenting. We talked justice, representation, inclusion, intersectionality, children's books, nursery rhymes, gender reveals, toxic masculinity and loads of other amazing stuff. Being the first, I have found loads of fault with the material I delivered already but after a great chat with Charli @do.it.like.a.mother_hq afterwards, I am already planning what comes next and I am EXCITED. Thank you for not only being there and getting this photo @montysplayhub but also being so supportive 💗 and thank you to everyone else who came- I met some really amazing people today! I am so excited for what comes next.
