Every now and then something gives me a jolt to remind me of the massive differences between my old life working in the print and my new life as a teacher.
I might not exactly have been a captain of industry, but as a manager I did have some degree of autonomy. Nothing spectacular, but when a piece of machinery broke I'd arrange to get it fixed - or even occasionally buy a new one. Or sometimes if we'd have a particularly long and shitty week I'd get in a crate of beer and a few beers.
But now I am a 'professional' entrusted with the development of youth, I find my wings have been severely clipped: Like today, when I tried to sign for approximately £5 worth of pink gel pens (yes you did read that correctly - their use is stipulated by a new marking policy). I was told that I didn't have the authority and I'd have to get my head of department's permission first. So much then for the boxes of student's books awaiting marking - god forbid I should just do them in intimidating old-fashioned red ink.
Fortunately I am not proud and I can see the funny side - but Jeeesus ...