I have a secret. I like Monday mornings. There, I’ve said it. It’s out. I’m a Monday lover.
I have, like everyone I suppose, had times when Mondays hung heavy, casting their frosty shadows over my Sunday evening freedom. Usually around the time Antiques Roadshow began.
I had that Monday morning feeling again when I was teaching in a busy and bustling London comprehensive, where I never knew what a lesson would bring, let alone an entire day or an impossibly long and slow-passing week. All I knew was that whatever lay ahead was going to be enervating.
My full respect goes to those who spend their whole teaching careers in that challenging sector because I managed only a year. And then I was gone, jumping ship to the safety of the FE sector forever.
Once I had found my place, I realised one day that the Sunday evening dread had simply drained away. I could relax and enjoy what was left of a restful day.
Imagine yourself back in work after a holiday, on the first day of a new college term.
If your college is anything like mine, there’s something joyful about the buzz on the first morning back. People are reconnecting and discussing their holidays, asking about emails, making coffee over at the sink, sharing pictures on their phones, discussing student situations, coughing in the corner, or just quietly tapping away on laptops trying to bring themselves quickly back up to speed.
It really is one of those moments to relish, and let it all soak in.
Every Monday can be a miniature echo of this start-of-term buzz. Look around yourself the next time you find yourself in the middle of a pre-work Monday morning. Yes, there’ll be the curmudgeon present, complaining about something anodyne and ordinary. But there’ll also be friends saying hello. Professionals preparing to care. Students chattering animatedly.
Walking the corridors as lessons are about to begin is enlightening. Listen to the tone of the hubbub. It will, I suspect, have a vibrant, excited edge to its energy.
Hear the teachers greeting their charges. It is all unremarkable, and yet totally extraordinary, the personal care and relationship such comments convey.
We’ve all seen those viral videos of some enthusiastic and imaginative teacher – no doubt still at the start of their career, when creativity is still high – who greets each student as they enter the classroom with a separate, individual, and tailor-made handshake for every one of them.
I’ve never met such a teacher in my life. But I’ve met hundreds who welcome their students to class, joke with them and tease them and call them by name, creating a warm and creative atmosphere in the classrooms and corridors of their schools or colleges. That can be as valuable as any secret handshake, even if it is a lot less likely to go viral.
Monday mornings are where these joyous things live. Monday mornings are blank slates, open books, white pages ready to be written on. They are pure potential.
The week still contains every possibility hidden in the folds of its cloak. What will be plucked out and presented to us, nobody knows.
It might turn out to be a bad week. Again. But it might just have its joyous moments too. And on Monday morning, you still have the power to influence and shape what it’s going to be like.
The reason people seem to hate Monday mornings so much is because they represent a loss of opportunity, the end of freedom, the death of possibility. Maybe that is sometimes true.
But the very essence of education is that things – and people – can change. What is plastic can still be shaped. What is unknown is there to be discovered. What is a mystery is about to be revealed.
All of this is the very heart of education. It is also the deepest nature of a Monday morning.
So love your Monday mornings. Because, trust me, they won’t be going away any time soon. Having said which, please leave me alone until I’ve had my first workday cup of coffee. And then I’ll be ready to take on the world.
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