No but realistically, how should depression affect a career?

NO ENTRY !

There’s a classic TV sketch in which a one-legged actor turns up to audition for the role of Tarzan and is outraged that he’s not considered quite suitable. (Sorry, can’t remember the source. Probably Monty Python or Not The Nine O’Clock News.)

If you suffer depression it’s easy to think like this. You know what you’re capable of at your best, so why do you need to declare your disability in the job application?

Because it matters.

If you had a single episode of depression ten years ago, got over it, and have coped with a range of stressful situations since: yes it must be galling to have to declare it. On the other hand if, like me, you have repeating depression then you just have to accept that some roads are closed to you.

This is a tricky area. Depression affects individual people and jobs differently. Stephen Fry became an outstanding entertainer (comedian, actor, writer, presenter) despite major depressive problems. Other depressives who try to become actors find that profession makes them even less stable.

There are few solid rules. Obviously you should think very carefully before trying a career in school teaching. The hours are long in term time. Stress can be high. Abrupt switches several times a year from crippling levels of work to several weeks of nothing is arguably bad for a depressive. But it’s possible. It would seem equally daft for a depressive to go into national politics, but Winston Churchill is recognised as a great wartime Prime Minister of this country.

How about I describe what limitations illness forced on my own career? What no-entry signs were inevitable, even if it did take me years to accept them? I’ll cover them based on the reason they’re there.

I’ve been off ill a lot

Early in my career this would be the occasional half term off following a breakdown. Also depression may depress the immune system. I had more than my fair share of normal illnesses some of which also required sick leave.

In the final dozen years I was generally able to manage things better in the sense that I could usually see a breakdown coming and take a few days off to recharge. As stress built up in the last few years of teaching I was physically ill more often too.

When I was off ill someone else had to cover my lessons. With short-term absence this would be colleagues giving up non-teaching lessons. I would set work and phone it in. They would try to interpret my instructions but most teachers do not ‘teach’ cover lessons. They turn up, set the work, and get on with urgent marking. This is not ideal, but if you’ve ever tried teaching you’ll understand. With long-term absence a temporary replacement must be found from outside the school, but anyone good enough to be teaching Maths full time probably is, rather than sitting at home waiting for someone to be ill.

I was lucky. My various headmasters were sympathetic. It seems they wanted me back so chose to make the school put up with problems. Even so the last Head quite reasonably stopped me returning after my last breakdown and required a full medical report. I was five years from retirement. He offered a part-time teaching job coupled with maintaining pension payments at their full rate. This was a remarkable concession. He thought I was a good teacher, to be kept if at all possible. (Actually my consultant psychiatrist reviewed matters and rightly assessed I’d reached the stage where I wouldn’t cope with even part time teaching.)

Most teachers expect to be promoted during their career. There are a number of options. My preferred one was pastoral. I wanted to be Head of Year. More of that later. The obvious alternative was academic: become Head of Maths. Both roles must have someone who is going to be there pretty much every day. Neither person can do the job if they keep taking sick leave. This is not unfair, it’s in the nature of the job. We did find a unique alternate route for my skills plus illness, but repeated sick leave effectively banned me from reaching deputy head level whether I was otherwise up to it.

My mood changes according to how ill I am

Okay, I’ll be honest. When depressed I’m a moody git, and when stressed by teaching as well I became bad tempered and not entirely rational.

Imagine this:  they make me Head of year 9. John Smith, aged 14, has rich and influential parents who are far too busy with their own careers to spend time with their son. He is mixed up, attention seeking, and frankly lacking in moral awareness. Yesterday he was internally excluded (supervised while he worked but not allowed to go to lessons) for throwing his calculator at a teacher coupled with fairly explicit instructions where to go. It is 8.25am and I am just heading off to take year 9 assembly. Passing through reception I’m accosted by Mr Smith. He has no appointment but demands to speak with me “right now”. He is angry that he’s paying school fees for his son to not attend lessons. He is a busy man so requires instant attention – now I know where his son gets that from.

Okay, that’s the scenario. How do I deal with Mr Smith a) when I’m well, and able to respond calmly and professionally, b) when I’m struggling to stay afloat with depression, my head hurts, my back aches, and my subconscious keeps telling me to snarl at someone?

Enough said?

So what’s the good news?

More of what Nigel Day wrote for the school mag

I was in the right career for me.

I think the problems caused by illness were generally (though not for everone) outweighed by how I did my job.

Because they’ve told me: I know many that people have benefited from my work.

And being someone students knew well who was also known to suffer chronic depression was itself of value to quite a number.

One trick, which admittedly I was slow to learn, is to recognise the genuine limitations imposed by who you are and any problems your body or mind have. This is true for everyone, but more so when the disability is something as powerful as cerebral palsy or chronic depression.

Oh, and in case you missed it: the previous post was about the shame and stigma of depression. It may be just below. It is here.

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