Sometimes when I’m running and it gets hard, and I’m listening to heart-swelling epic classical music on my headphones, I allow myself some self-indulgence. I think back to all the students of which I’m most proud and run them through my mind as a sort of highlights reel. While, of course, re-living past glories is a bit silly and sentimental, it does help get me through the rain and up the hills.
Most of the children who come to mind succeeded in my subject; students who worked their arses off and were tearfully jubilant on results day. Of course some of these children did better than others, but naturally I’m as proud of the Ds as much as I am of the A*s if it was a genuine achievement to get it.
But the child of which I’m most proud didn’t pass anything. She didn’t sit any exams at all. …
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