It is official. Today - 8 March - marks the moment when my school shoes cease to be on furlough, and once again my infamous collection of heels, nestled chaotically under my desk, will be back in action.
Yet, while my shoe collection has felt somewhat neglected, my gym kit - often buried for months on end at the back of the drawer - has never had so much use. My classes must have thought I’d hit hard times, as they settled down to stare at me for another lesson in the same outfit I’d been wearing for the past eight weeks.
Little do they know that anything other than an elasticated waist now fills me with utter horror. Just the thought of being back in tailored trousers and tights makes me start wondering if I need to find a job in which wearing leggings is acceptable.
I wonder whether my students will recognise me. I will finally be forced to grace my hair with a brush and swap my Worzel Gummidge look for something sleeker, courtesy of my semi-retired GHDs.
Schools reopening: The end of the 8am alarm
But the hybrid Worzel-gym-kit look has saved me hours each week. When I wasn’t racing to get to school, my alarm clock slowly entered uncharted territory.
Having begun the term with an alarm call set to a time beginning with a six, I found it slowly slid to a time beginning with a seven. Then, as half-term and Netflix (thanks, Bridgerton) wreaked havoc with my body clock, the alarm slipped up to 8am.
The only way I was able to reconcile myself that this level of laziness was acceptable was by reminding myself that I would have no sleep on Sunday night.
The fear of oversleeping - alongside the excitement of not having to spend break and lunchtime cleaning up after my household - is almost unmanageable. Finally, the stationery that has remained in its packaging since it was unwrapped on Christmas Day is ready for its maiden voyage to school. It will be like September all over again, with new pens and a posh notebook.
No more dodgy wi-fi
Yet, while I am enthusiastic about looking at the four walls of my classroom instead of my kitchen, I think my neighbours must be even more excited about me returning to school. My 8.30am choir rehearsals have tested them to their limits.
They genuinely thought my cat was being murdered when they heard over-animated meows echoing through the walls. It caused them such concern that it warranted a friendly knock on the door to check everything was OK. They were slightly bemused to hear that I was trying to warm-up my online choir. It struck me that educating online leads us to try absolutely anything to engage the audience.
Speaking of murdered cats, we’re now faced with the delights of lateral flow testing. The sounds of students screaming and wailing as they make themselves gag with the swab will be something for the history books. I wonder if Gavin Williamson has tried this out on his own children?
As teachers return to school, we will be full of trepidation, always wondering if today might be the day we catch Covid. There is no doubt that we will all be on high alert, trying to dodge every cough or sneeze. But, hey, someone said that schools are safe.
And, in among all the stress and worry, at least we are safe in the knowledge that we will no longer be faced with, “Sorry, Miss, can you repeat that? My wi-fi dropped out.”
Emily Gunton is director of music, head of co-curricular and outreach, and school consultant teacher at Blackheath High School in south-east London
