How a seed was planted.

We laid JB to rest in the January of 2012, and it’s fair to say his death shook me to the core – One more of the good ones taken by PTSD. Without doubt, every one of the over seven-hundred people who attended his funeral had been touched by him during their lives; most during their time in the Army. At times like this it’s natural to evaluate your own life.

Since leaving the Army for a career in logistics management I had found very little purpose in what I did from day-to-day. The job wasn’t a challenge; every day was pretty much the same. I had accepted my first role as an Operations Manager at the age of 28, despite knowing my heart wasn’t in it. It was a simple case of driving to be the best I could be at anything I did – a value instilled in me by JB when I was a young soldier.

Cut to May Day Bank Holiday weekend of 2012 – My first Army Vs Navy rugby match since JB had left us, and I was out with a mix of military, veterans and civilian friends. It was long after the glorious triumph of the Army that I was moaning about wanting to do more with my life to one of these mates, DD. This is where a member of the DfE not only planted a seed in my head, but used his canny Geordie logic (damned psychology grads!) to make me realise that every excuse I gave had a very simple solution.

DD asked me if I’d ever considered entering the classroom. “Ha! I’m not a bloody academic!” was the gist of my response. There was a small matter of me really only having a handful of reasonable GCSEs, that had gained me a place at the Army Apprentice College after dropping out of the Upper Sixth at school, and the engineering trade qualifications gained as a soldier. Still, DD persuaded me that schools needed blokes like me. My experience would be a benefit to a school, and would help me get a University place, he insisted.

I still wrote off the idea. For one reason that haunted me up until I graduated with a Biology BSc from Royal Holloway University of London – A teacher had told me I wasn’t University material, and I’d never make anything of myself because I was “as thick as two short planks”.

It wasn’t until my son was taken in for an exploratory surgery that turned into the removal of a kidney that I took the plunge. My Operations Director had been chasing me while sat waiting for Oisín to come out of surgery; that was the final straw. I drove in the following week, handed in my ID, keys, and resignation. Walking out of that job was possibly the stupidest thing I have ever done – I had no job, no route into Uni, and most of all months until I could even start a degree!

It is safe to say that were it not for JB, DD and the support of friends like MD (DD’s wife) and SR (ex-Regimental Sergeant Major, and colleague) I wouldn’t have made the jump. Thank you guys – I owe it all to you.