Measured Out in Coffee Spoons and Class Registers

Measured Out in Coffee Spoons and Class Registers

featured in The Open Letters | by Grace

The open Letters

Oct 26, 2026

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Grace

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Measured Out in Coffee Spoons and Class Registers

“Outside the leaves on the trees constricted slightly; they were the deep done green of the beginning of autumn. It was a Sunday in September. There would only be four.”

Ali Smith, The Whole Story and Other Stories

Am I really leaving teaching?

I almost can’t believe I’ve just written that. And yet the relief I feel in articulating this feels almost euphoric. September is one of my favourite months. All the ‘ber months are (this, I know, is hardly a unique perspective). For the last 14 years of my life, my entire working life, September marks the start of something new. A new school year, new classes, new students, new challenges and, of course, new stationary. I could quote so many of my favourite lines here - including Kathleen Kelly in You’ve Got Mail - about the joy the turning of the seasons brings me. But F. Scott Fitzgerald said it best in The Great Gatsby (a book I have taught at least a dozen times) when he declares

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall”

. And he’s right, this September it isn’t about the galvanizing enthusiasm of a new school year for me. This September it is about saying goodbye to teaching (Forever? For now?).

After 14 years as an English teacher - I am walking away. (Do I lower the literary tone here with a Craig David reference?)

T.S. Eliot said

“I have measured out my life with coffee spoons,”

(The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock). Well I have measured out my life with my students. I have measured out my life with their successes, their failures, their laughter and their struggles. I have measured out my life with the texts I have taught, year after year, I have measured my life with Macbeth, A Christmas Carol, The Handmaid’s Tale, A Streetcar Named Desire, The Great Gatsby. But now it is time. Allow me a clunky metaphor - as the leaves turn, so do I.

Teaching has been the biggest, most successful, most wonderful part of my life for over a decade. I always wanted to be an English teacher. Inspired by Anne of Green Gables, Miss Honey, Jo March and, of course, my wonderful English teacher mum.

I loved the idea of being part of, what my initial teacher training provider always called, ‘a vocation’. As if I had been called by a higher power to teach. And there are so many moments in so many days that really feel like this. This summer, in fact, a student I have taught since she was 14 left Year 13 with a grade C in English. A grade that no one, other than me, thought she could achieve. What an honour it was to carry the faith in her success for her when she doubted herself more than you would have thought possible. What glory there is in handing back this faith on results day as she tore open her envelope and saw her achievement in black and white. What a truly remarkable moment it was to hug her and say “See! I knew you could do it!” and to have her reply “I know you did Miss, thank you”.

Gosh, recalling these moments almost makes me question my decision. But it isn’t all Coach Carter moments of influence and impact. So much of teaching these days is bureaucratic. Itemising, recording and detailing the magic we try to weave in the classroom. So much of teaching these days is constant scrutiny. Ten minute observations of hour long lessons where snapshot judgements of teacher’s skills are made in sweeping, pejorative ways. As if you can judge the quality of a novel based on the blurb.

W.B. Yates (allegedly) said

“Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire”.

When I started teaching in 2013 this felt very real. But today, in 2026, with most schools controlled by large academy trusts (I will not get political here!) It feels as though filling the pail is all we are doing. And the pail is covered in trust insignia with school values printed on the side.

Contrary to the Daily Mail and Facebook mums’ narrative (sorry, that was a little political I admit) - no one gets into teaching for the holidays. The old adage “Those who can’t do, teach” could not be farther from the reality. Over the years, and in several different schools and counties, I have worked with the most remarkable, dedicated and inspiring people. People who work late nights, weekends, holidays just to make sure they are ready for the 100+ students who will walk through our classroom doors on a Monday. Teachers who give up their time in the holidays to deliver revision (for free!). Teachers who worry about students and their home lives. Who keep cereal bars in their desk drawers for those students who look hungry. Who swear they aren’t. But who take the cereal bars regardless. Teachers who have bought students school bags when they don’t have one. Who ‘just happened to find a spare pair of black school shoes in your exact size’ for the students who keep getting into trouble for wearing trainers but whose family cannot afford this adhoc expense. I could go on. Talk about acts of service - teaching is a daily, hourly, minute by minute act of service. And I am honoured to have worked alongside these people.

But I AM leaving teaching. Tomorrow I will hand in my notice and look for a new calling. I will watch life start all over again in the fall.

As Louisa May Alcott said in

Little Women

“I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.”

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Grace

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