Being a Supporter – just by being there

I was in my early twenties but I knew nothing really. Absolutely nothing. I'd taken a flat share with a school friend.but then she went travelling. And Alice moved in.

She was starting her new job in September, and it was one of those hot summers… we spent every evening on the flat roof, drinking. She was great.

I noticed nothing until early October. She'd been so excited about the new school she was teaching in, really wanting to make a difference. And I didn't notice that after the first ten days, she stopped talking about work completely.

One Friday I came back and she was on the sofa, curled up, empty bottle, looking like somebody'd hit her. I learned later they may have done… So I did the "are you Ok" and she did the "Fine". Then I went and sat at the other end of the sofa and said "No, are you OK". And she said “No". And then she cried, huge sobs.

Teaching's a great job, I think, if the ones you're teaching want to be taught. But in the school she worked at – desperate to help where she was needed – nobody wanted to be taught. They'd had crap lives already and they weren't having anybody telling them what to do.

Now I knew what was happening, I knew to ask about it, and we talked most nights. I remember her once saying that with some classes, it was like going into a lion's cage. It was clear to me she needed to leave. And I said so.

That was when it got tricky. "I can't" she said "I'd never forgive myself.”

Of course I argued. And she argued back, giving me all reasons she had to stay. She wanted to help. She had to help. Leaving would be letting everyone down. She would be so ashamed. Almost every night we had that argument.

Then one morning I was making breakfast and realised she was still in bed – went into her room to wake her and she said she wasn't going into school.

But then next minute she was drying her eyes, rushing round getting ready, dashing out the door. Probably just made it in for first lesson. And that went on most days until Christmas, then began again on the first day of term in the January. Day after day she'd swear she wasn't going in. Then she'd go in.

By that point I'd stopped arguing with her – it never helped. But we did talk. I got to understand more, I think she did too. Her late Mum had been a teacher and there was something about that which meant she couldn't give up. So she hung on in dread. Like a lover you've learned to hate but are scared to leave.

Maybe she needed professional help. I wasn't losing energy, but I wanted her to get what she needed and I was starting to doubt my own ability to deliver that. But when I mentioned counselling, she said a firm no. OK…

She did talk to another teacher at the school and she did seem to be getting on better with the kids. But she only ever smiled at weekends. And she only ever laughed during schools holidays.

I'd like to say I waved a magic wand. But that didn’t happen. What did happen was that my cousin came over for the weekend and he'd taught for a few years then moved to working for a charity. He and Alice talked for hours about his having gone from teaching to a job that let him help another way and without guilt.

When he left, I noticed she wasn't as unhappy as she usually was on Sunday night and I said 'You all right?" and she said… "I could do something else, couldn't I?".

I nearly wept… it was as if she'd been given the keys to the exit door. Perhaps she could leave the job – and take her self-esteem with her.

We spent the evening looking at job ads. Most were rubbish, and the ones that weren’t she didn’t have the experience for. But if felt different, more hopeful.

The timing was good. Spring is when a lot of teachers move and positions open up. So she started applying for jobs – any job, any job. We had this catch phrase 'It's only temporary' meaning that she wasn't looking for the perfect next step, just one step that was a way forward.

She got her way forward. She tutored adults then retrained for EFL teaching. She's happily in Seville now teaching Spanish lawyers, and I’m going to visit again in April

I still feel I should have helped her more effectively, more quickly. But I was totally thrown by her panics, by her helplessness. And I knew nothing.

Alice says the opposite. She says that she needed to do the struggling herself – but that she wouldn't have got through it without me.

So I guess I helped just by being there.