I can honestly say I never thought I would make it. I’m nine years into a teaching career and the mental exhaustion at times is overwhelming. But this year has been the worst by far. I’ve been constantly under scrutiny and made to feel like nothing I ever do is good enough.

Around this time last year, my headteacher announced our classes for the year; once again, I had the class that other teachers spoke of with much disdain and damnation, as if they were almost feral. Having been at the school for two years, I knew that this wasn’t the case – the children just needed a firm set of consistent boundaries and expectations. I was up for the challenge. Looking back, I would not change my students for the world. I would change their parents, however.

In September, we took the year group on an outward-bound activity day. The weather, rather predictably, took a turn for the worst, with gale-force winds and torrential downpours. Nevertheless, the children had a great time. Back at school the next day, I was asked to call a particular parent who had reported he was unhappy with the trip. Somewhat curious, I called to hear his complaint, which was about the weather. He had already called the activity centre complaining for 45 minutes to them. When I asked what he would like me to do, he stated that I needed to guarantee there would be better conditions when we returned to the centre. I said I had no control over this, but was rather fiercely told it “was not good enough”. I placated him as much as possible then, shaking my head in disbelief, I returned to class thinking little of it. He has since complained about the weather again; this time it was too hot at lunchtime.

I would like to say that such a ludicrous complaint was a one-off but that would be lying. This was just one of the 30-plus complaints I have received from parents over the year so far. Others include annoyance that a train was delayed on the return journey of a trip, a child not understanding a joke in a play, the school rulers not being transparent, a child being too tired after school (having played in a football tournament all weekend), there being too many girls in my class (16 girls and 14 boys) and my not being aware that one girl got her period on a school day.

During the earlier part of the year I was taken ill, signed off school for the best part of a term and nearly hospitalised. I had weekly doctor’s appointments, scans and blood tests. Seriously unwell, I was sleeping for up to 18 hours a day, needing naps after completing tasks such as making lunch, having a shower or getting dressed.

After a month or so, I was advised to do little bursts of activity to build up my energy levels. A few times, such as when getting new prescriptions or groceries, parents from the school saw me (the joys of living locally). From the reaction, you would have thought they’d seen a fugitive on the run. I clearly looked unwell and was obviously in pain, but each time I was asked personal questions about the nature of my illness and when I would be back.

I felt invaded. Sensitivity and respect fell completely by the wayside. I even received Facebook messages from parents of pupils in other classes. Now that the rumours about teachers’ year groups for next year have started, I have had parents saying they do not want their child in my class if I am going to be ill again.

I’m not alone either. Other colleagues, in my school and elsewhere, have received complaints ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous, such as the teacher’s name being too hard (or foreign) for the child to say; demands that if girls have to tie their hair back then so should adults; and claims that there wasn’t enough food in a boy’s packed lunch. I have heard tales of shopping being rifled through in supermarket trolleys, screenshots of perfectly innocent years-old Facebook pictures being shared around the playground, and teachers being so harassed on nights out that they have to leave.

For the most part in my career, I have met very positive parents who are respectful and supportive – this particular cohort of parents were already notorious for grumbling about anything and everything, regardless of whether we had control over it. Nor do I think parents shouldn’t be able to complain – it’s certainly right that they should when necessary. However, throughout this year, I’ve been astonished by the nature of some complaints and I feel that my current class’s parents just see me as the enemy.

I love my job, but it is hard, and sometimes made harder by such behaviours from parents. I want the best for my pupils, as I know their parents do. We are on the same side. Please show me some courtesy and respect for my professionalism but also for my private life. I am not just a teacher, but a human being too.

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