Back to school

I went back to work this week – not that I felt particularly ready to, but being paid through a supply agency means mainly that if you don’t work, you don’t earn. No sick pay for me. So I went back.
I should I have probably taken a few more days off but, in the same time, I think that I’m recovering faster now that I can’t lick my wounds at ease and have to suck it up and do what I have to do.
I decided to tell the kids the truth about my absence, simply because I needed them to understand why I ask them to move things that are within my reach for me or lean forward to cough (‘Oh, miss, you can bend over whenever you want, you know!’ – ‘Have I made it clear that I can’t laugh either, dear?’).
(But the worst bit is sneezing. If you ever suffer from a seat belt injury, whatever you do, do not sneeze. I did. It took me around 10 minutes to get over it.)
The general reactions to my return were heart warming – ‘Oh, miss, good you’re back, it was boring!’, ‘Miss, I missed you!’, ‘Miss, miss, where have you been?’. But, unfortunately, even if I do not doubt that the intentions were sincere, the reality of my come back to the classroom did not reflect all those warm feelings with the exception of my Vile Year 9 who were unusually good and cooperative. I have however no illusions that they will be back to their ‘best behaviour’ in no time. Like today.