I love teaching. I especially love teaching in London. It’s where I have spent the majority of my career, and it is to the teenagers of London that this piece is devoted.

The news depicts a city under siege; people outside London may have images of young people either brandishing or running from weapons. Parents of London teenagers would be forgiven for wanting to keep their children behind locked doors at the moment. I think the city’s young people deserve a bit of championing just now. As does our profession. So here we go.

People love to call me “brave” when I tell them where I teach. More than once, people who know nothing of me or my school have asked me whether I have my own bullet-proof vest, invariably followed by hearty laughter, as if they’d made the most original and hilarious joke ever. I am proud of the composure I showed when I left them talking to my back. My policy of no physical risk means I can proudly boast to have never had broken a bone. 

I wouldn’t be doing a 60-mile round trip every day if I didn’t love it.

Here are 10 reasons why:

1. Unexpected acts of kindness and generosity

From the earliest days of parenthood, I became aware of the capacity of London teenagers for thoughtfulness. Whilst negotiating a three-week-old on to a Wood Green bus (no mean feat), a boy with a hood came dashing towards us to ensure that he was the first to offer me a hand. When I was pregnant and working in Hendon, I wasn’t allowed to take more than three steps without a child taking anything I was carrying away from me. “Thank you for the lesson, Miss!” is something I hear quite regularly, and, after a joke about students leaving my birthday presents by the desk, a quiet young girl in Year 7 appeared with a carefully wrapped Avon perfume for me. If teenagers know you are feeling under-the-weather, they will almost all respond with care.

2. Every day is a fresh start

Teenagers have remarkably short memories. Going back a decade or so, in the days of regular fights between students - sometimes with quite hairy interventions required - the same young people would invariably greet you with a “Morning, Miss!” the next day. Have you just had a disastrous lesson in which your best-laid plans went hideously wrong? Is the sequence of lessons you’ve planned not going where it should be? Ditch it. Don’t sweat it - tomorrow is a fresh start and the students won’t hold it against you.

3. Nothing stands still - it’s never boring

This is a truism, but it is one of the reasons why, as a naturally quite restless person, I love the job. Do beware of going into work with a neat list of what you plan to achieve in your non-contact periods, mind. This is one of the biggest mistakes I continue to make.

Once the school day begins, regardless of your role, you are likely to be running around dealing with situations you might least have anticipated. The boys allowed to do their PE lessons in their school uniform being carefully ushered to the office with huge rips in their seams; the rat in the Barnet classroom (oh, yes…), the intricate details of a dramatic fall-out between a set of girls in Year 7. And, more often, the crying child outside a classroom; the child having a panic about their latest exam. Would we walk past them to get on with our exam marking? Like hell we would.

4. Humanity and humility

Preciousness and complacency are not characteristics that fit well with teaching. You have to earn teenagers’ respect - if you don’t believe in them or don’t love your subject, they will stiff this a mile off. My students keep me humble every day with the baggage they carry and the values they fiercely hold. Fairness and loyalty are really, really important. I can’t assume they have a computer at home. I can’t assume they have a desk to work at or books to read. I can’t assume they aren’t caring for someone at home. And I can’t assume that just because I’ve “taught it”, they’ve all retained it…

5. Always learning

The best schools identify themselves as learning communities - as a teacher, you’ve never “cracked it” completely. Every class has its unique group identity and students often change dramatically from the exuberance of Year 7 to the tantrums of Year 9 to the emergence into young adults in Years 10 and 11. The new curriculum means there’s little choice, but getting down to a new set of assessment criteria certainly keeps us on our toes. Thanks to my students over the years, I can now speak a few words of Somali, Portuguese, Romanian and Russian. These same students arrive in the country with almost no English and are frequently interacting fluently within a term. They are truly remarkable.

6. Losing track of time

I rarely so completely lose myself as I do when teaching a lesson that is going really well. Getting caught up in the discussion, in the explanation, and then witnessing the light-bulb moments when it clicks with a student represent job satisfaction in its purest and finest form. “But Miss! We use metaphors and similes all the time - we just don’t realise it!” was a favourite from a Year 7 lesson.

7. Fun, laughter and staying young

There is so much fun to be had in a school day. From acting out the complex love stories of Shakespeare’s comedies to discussions of strict French eating habits to finding usually rude ways of remembering key French words - nobody ever forgets piscine and there is a crucial difference between répéter (to repeat) and repéter (to fart again). “Miss, you are SUCH a child,” scolded one of my Year 11s recently…

8. The long game

I wrote recently of remembering that we’re “part of something much bigger”. It’s brilliant when kids do really well in exams. It’s even more amazing to see them overcome their personal challenges. The child who sat, a few years ago, and gave a speech to the whole class about the importance of quality mental health provision in the wake of her brother’s suicide, having six months before refused point-blank to read a word in front of the class. The girl who came in two weeks before her baby was due in order to sit her GCSEs. The autistic child who directed a hall full of parents and said, “Until today, I was terrified of crowded rooms and talking to people I don’t know.”

9. Broadening horizons: travel and debate

Until my own children were born, I took a group of children abroad every single year. Berlin, France, Barcelona. I challenge anyone in any other profession to match the unparalleled joy of watching a child who has never left London squealing in Spanish waves. The solemnity of children visiting a concentration camp, and young people’s openness to new foods, new culture and new language are true highlights of my career. Many of the students have gone on to master languages way beyond my own ability and to travel widely.

Likewise, I have written recently about the importance of keeping the dialogue open around violent crime. I firmly believe in the principle of discussing the most difficult issues with young people. Working through the Beslan school siege, and the 9/11 and 7/7 attacks, brought this principle to a new level of challenge. But creating a forum in which children can express their fears and have their misconceptions cleared is vital. “Will my family be thrown out?” asked a young child from Iraq when we discussed Brexit. Teacher tip: if it’s a challenge getting students to express opinions, a picture of Donald Trump can prove most fruitful…

10. True diversity in action

Each London school I’ve been lucky enough to work at has been quite literally blind to differences between people. It is common to see friendship groups of students representing a variety of physical and educational needs, home languages, religions. The result of this is that the children of London are remarkably wise and broad-minded - traits that stand them in excellent stead when they go out into the world. The true privilege of being old enough to remember overhead projectors is that I have been able to keep track of many of these young people as they have grown into adulthood; I have been able to help celebrate their triumphs and sometimes to mentor them through the challenges of adulthood.

Emma Kell is a secondary teacher in north-east London and author of How to Survive in Teaching

Want to keep up with the latest education news and opinion? Follow Tes on Twitter and like Tes on Facebook