When people ask Matt what he does for a living, he sometimes replies that he’s a historian. Oh, they say, feigning mild interest, might I have read anything that you’ve written. At which point he has to admit it’s unlikely, unless they have a particular interest in Year 9 reports.
To be frank, Matt fell into being a history teacher. In three years at Durham, he became a master at speed-reading the introductions to books and writing semi-plagiarised essays while still mildly drunk at 4am. Despite his father’s hopes that he might cash in his unexpected First, a punishing summer internship at an American bank persuaded Matt to stay in academia a little longer. There followed a Masters, at Cambridge, which put him off academia for life, and three weeks of a law conversion course at BPP, which put him off law for life. Running out of options, he discovered from a friend that a minor private school was desperate to replace a teacher who had left over the October half-term under unfortunate circumstances. Matt, they promised, could learn – and train – on the job.
Somehow, that was 15 years ago.
There are many things Matt loves about teaching History – lessons about the Nazis; books about the Nazis; videos about the Nazis – although he’s less keen on marking GCSE essays about the Nazis or having conversations at parents’ evenings with overly enthusiastic fathers who have read books about the Nazis. Nevertheless, his face always lights up when a student shares his enjoyment of his subject, and it lights up even more when that student expresses their enjoyment by handing over a Christmas bottle of something sufficiently expensive to trouble the bursar’s anti-bribery policy. Few things make Matt happier than seeing a student reach their potential, especially if that potential involves choosing History over Geography for A level. His students think he’s great.
Every March, however, Matt vows to quit the profession. Any number of things can drive him to the brink. UCAS references. Mock marking. Emails from the English department. Emails from parents who both went to Oxford but haven’t yet realised that their daughter would be lucky to scrape into Brookes on clearing. A risk assessment for another trip to Hampton Court. Reading for the 712th time that Dunkirk was a ‘massive moral [sic] boost’ for the Allies. Can Matt really continue to feign interest for another fifteen years in whether the cartoonist in Source A would have agreed with the diarist in Source B? Can he read the word ‘biast’ [sic] one more time without jumping out of the window of S12 in the middle of an afternoon double? Can he listen to another 14-year-old armchair general explain how he’d have broken the stalemate on the Western Front by putting the troops in a gigantic, bullet-proof hamster wheel and rolling them across No Man’s Land?
But then Matt remembers the promise of fee remission for his two young children, if they can get through the entry test (and VAT hikes haven’t closed down the school). And he also remembers that, over the course of the next five months, he will spend more time on holiday than at work. Just think how many episodes of The Rest is History he can catch up with during that time! Maybe he’ll start his own podcast. Maybe he’ll write a brilliant historical novel. Maybe he’ll just sleep. Matt files away his resignation letter for another year.
Every September, Matt bounces back into school full of new schemes and enthusiasms. Perhaps this will be the term that he finally persuades the school nurse to sanction a reenactment of the Battle of Hasting by the whole of Year 7. Or takes a joint CCF trip on an amphibious landing to Normandy. Matt’s wife, meanwhile, is hoping that this will be the year he climbs a little further up the greasy pole of management. Head of Department might attract only a modest period remission and a small salary increase, but it’s the first step on the rung to greatness, isn’t it? Wasn’t Sir Anthony Seldon once a lowly Head of History at Tonbridge College? And just look at the free accommodation enjoyed by the boarding housemasters and their families at the more prestigious schools. They could rent out their little place near the school, tighten their belts and retire on Matt’s teacher’s pension at 60.
Yes, yes, yes, thinks Matt. That’s all very well. But this year, thanks to some judiciously partial refereeing with the U12cs the previous season, he’s coaching the U13bs rugby for the first time. If he plays his cards right with the new Director of Sport, he’ll be on track to coaching the 2nd XV by 2040.
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