How is it that experiences of school have cast such a long shadow over my sense of self? Why is it that I perpetually reflect on my perceived failure at school, and not on two decent degrees?
As our eldest gets into the swing of their GCSE revision, I am reminded that study leave was my golden age in secondary education. I never worked as hard as I did then.
Perhaps it was the impetus of desperately wanting to get out of that school. Perhaps it was simply that this style of learning suited me better.
In the end, I achieved good grades in my worst subjects, as if I was determined to prove those teachers wrong who had insisted I was destined to flunk them.
Even so, the legacy of a decade of struggles in school looms large over my consciousness. If I think myself undeserving of career progression, it’s because I recall those experiences.
It’s strange now having a manager who believes in me, who ascribes to me qualities I fail to see in myself. “There you go, belittling yourself again,” they say when we meet.
That will be moments after they’ve positioned me as a strategic thinker helping to move the team towards better ways of working, to which I’ve responded, “I’m just simple minded.”
If only I could just change my inner narrative, to see myself as more than was drummed into me for so many years. If only I could put that set of experiences away, and begin writing a new narrative for the road ahead.
Last modified: 22 September 2024
