mettle

Friday morning at the end of a long exhausting week. Jackie, the proprietor’s daughter, tall, leggy, country to the core, pauses from setting up the tea and coffee urns, asks where my participants are. It’s after nine. I’m so engrossed in hyperlinking a couple of slides I’ve not noticed the time. I whisper that I won’t mind if none turn up.

The receptionist drops by to say the three SSSOs are not returning. A bit rude. I sit with a young teacher, tell her that if less than four people return, we’ll call it quits. In the end three turn up. We whizz through the important things, eat morning tea together, and they go. I pack up, load the car, wonder what happened.

Is it me? Is it the workshop content? Is it them?

Ever the diffident dude I look first at my own shortcomings. Then I try to be kinder to myself: hell, I’ve been presenting for twelve years and I know in my heart it’s not me. That leaves the content and the participants. Or a combination thereof. It’s professional learning for teachers and three of eight are teachers, the three who return for day two. Why did the others come at all?

Any way I cut it, it leaves a bad taste. I hear myself on the blower to the national manager on Monday explaining myself, sounding unconvincing. I hear the doubts in her mind about that “strange bloke we appointed in Victoria”, wondering if my employment is a big mistake. And I wonder too.

I drive home, listen to the radio, hear nothing. It’s sunny but cool outside. I retrace my route of two days ago, but the glorious scenery travelling north loses its splendour travelling south. I diverge from the highway along Killingworth Road from Molesworth to Yea to distract myself.

It’s a week to test the mettle, the spirit, the strength of character, and I’m wanting a bit. I remember trying to buck up Comrade S in a Sydney taxi bound for the airport when she tells me she’s feeling a bit daunted and disillusioned. I want to ring her, have her reciprocate, buck me up. She’s called in sick.

I try to practice good self-talk, all the sound advice I give teachers about their mental health and well-being. Five minutes of this isn’t going to cut it: I’m going to have to work hard at the positive self-talk all weekend.

Rock on.