I have always been an anxious person. I’d stress about school exams. I worried about taking driving lessons and only passed well into my twenties. I hated university as I worried about being around others. My choice to teach, and then continuing to do so for 13 years (and counting), admittedly seems like a strange career path for me. I’ve endured countless sleepless nights and mass anxiety during the past 13 years. 

For the first five to eight years, I was a nervous wreck as a teacher. I didn’t let it show at school though; my observations were always good, as was my performance management. I kept myself to myself, got the job done, journeyed up the pay scale and joined SLT.

It was the time away from work when I was driving, or waking in the morning and in the middle night, that anxiety would rear its head. I would be anxious about minor things like sorting out the aims for the day’s lessons, prepping in the morning or organising groups for the day’s work. I would wake up almost every hour (not needing to check the clock to know what time it was), with a sickening panic in the depths of my stomach. I would wake up and not be able to go back to sleep without rewriting a maths activity I had planned or worrying that I didn’t know how to teach a certain objective.

When I was asked to switch key stages, the night panics got worse. This was at the time when the government made grammar a huge focus area. I knew I wasn’t good at grammar. I’d go on courses and not sleep that night having heard about the great things other teachers were doing in their schools, thinking I wasn’t doing enough to help progress. Why couldn’t I get certain children to achieve? I must be doing something wrong.

If these simple tasks made me feel like this and kept me up, the more “important” tasks such as ensuring my planning was completed, finishing reports and meeting parents magnified that feeling ten fold. I knew I was doing a good job but just couldn’t shake the negative, nerve-wracking notions that filled my head. I often looked at other seemingly more relaxed teachers and questioned why they didn’t seem to feel like me. I hated going to school. I hated waking up. I hated going to sleep.

It was the realisation that this feeling was affecting my time with my own children that made me go to the doctor, who prescribed me some medication. In no way am I advocating getting medicated to solve any problem, but I can say that in the last three to four years I have never enjoyed teaching more - even with the stresses of Year 6. 

I sleep through, don’t wake feeling sick to the stomach and enjoy the job. Maybe simply talking to someone could have helped, but I am enjoying teaching. I still sometimes have sleepless nights but they mainly occur now on a return to work on Sunday night after a holiday. I’m pretty sure many of us have those.

Now my causes for worry that are school-related are more to do with pupil issues: seeing them taken into care, or hearing the awful stories some of them have to deal with at home. They come to me, and I help them in the best way I can. 

I now sleep soundly at night, confident in knowing that, actually, I probably am doing a decent job.

The writer is a teacher in Merseyside