The Smell Of Fear

Ofsted looms.
The imminent inspection hangs over the school like a raincloud, and explains why the staffroom has the air of a police station waiting room I once visited.  It's odd.  In one sense I am set apart from this: no one will be scrutinising me (I'm a volunteer) so I am relatively relaxed.  But the results of the inspection could affect my future perhaps more fundamentally than anyone else in here.  If my recent application for teacher training is accepted then it will be due in no small part to the opportunities that the school has given me, and the faith they have shown in me by endorsing the application to the extent that I can train there.  But I'm all too aware that this promise of a placement depends on the result of the inspection and I have to hope it comes out the other side unscathed.  I suppose there's no point worrying until/unless my application is accepted.  I shall just have to get on with worrying about the house move instead.  Although in reality I shall return home to the girls and cuddles and smiles, and worry about nothing for a while.