St Josephs, the secondary school I worked in, was situated in a deprived area. On the edge of a notorious estate of high-rise blocks of flats, the majority of students came from complicated, even abusive families, living in relative poverty and overcrowding. Seventy per cent were below average in basic skills, finding it difficult to cope with even elementary reading and writing, so there was a great need for learning support.

The school had been classed as 'failing' by OFSTED, the education regulator, and special measures had been put in place--action plans pointing out the areas needed to improve and concentrate on, extra inspections and so on.

I had worked as a teaching assistant at St Joseph's for a year, keen to help in an area where help was most needed. But it could be tiring and dispiriting. Most students were hard to get to know, untrusting and distant until they had known me for a few months. But when they finally trusted me, it was a revelation and I became 'their Miss.'

That particular Friday had been long and tiring. The June weather was unusually hot and enticing. The final bell had just rung. There was still tutor period to endure however. I had to negotiate two flights of stairs down and up yet another one, bypassing students' complaints and fights. I wasn't looking forward to that.

The students straggled out of my year 9 Literacy class, chattering and complaining, eager for the end of the day.

The special needs teacher, Alex, and I stood by her desk watching them. I loved working with her. She was inspirational and tireless in helping students understand the rules of language. I admired her correctness and consistency together with her crazy sense of humour.

The latest lesson, on the subject of whether to put LE or EL after words, had been a struggle. It was a rule that came easily to us, as natural readers, but the fourteen-year-olds in the class had not understood.

Alex turned to me as we stood catching our breath.

"Well, I don’t know," she said. "It’s so frustrating. You think they’ve got the rule, then the next minute, you ask them and they’ve forgotten it again."

"I know," I replied flatly, shrugging. We were all tired, hot and losing patience, dying to be outside in the sunshine instead of in a classroom, so we had been lucky to be able to teach anything.

I turned, sensing someone waiting by my side. It was Lee. He was a low-key character who never made a fuss--one of the students who persevered. He had been abandoned by his parents and lived with his grandparents who luckily provided the consistency and stability he needed. So many students didn't receive this.

"I’ve really learned that," Lee faltered in his usual quiet voice. He was a solid, fair boy with blue eyes, just a little shorter than me, and looked well-fed, unlike so many.

Alex and I stared, not taking in what he was saying.

"I think I really understand that now, Miss," he continued.

Mark, another student, bustled out behind him.

"See ya, Miss. Miss," he called, but we were too much in shock to acknowledge him beyond a brief nod. Mark was a pleasant boy but just at that moment he was too much to take in.

“Th-that’s brilliant," said Alex in surprise while I just gazed at Lee, thinking maybe I had misunderstood.

“Yes, really good,” I found my voice at last.

Lee nodded, smiling.

“I’m glad you understand it. That really made my day. Well done, Lee,” said Alex warmly as the shock began wearing off.

“And mine,” I smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“Bye Miss. And Miss,” he said shyly, turning to leave.

“Bye Lee,” we said, watching him go out of the door.

Alex and I looked at each other with surprise and pride, not sure what to say.

“Ahh, don’t you just want to hug him,” she said.

I suddenly found myself moved to tears and could only nod.

“That’s what it’s all about. We’ve achieved something. Let’s get rid of the others and just have a class with Lee in it.”

I smiled. She was right, we had achieved something. Admittedly, it was small but it was the reason that sometimes, I loved my job, despite the harsh environment.

I have never forgotten that moment. I worked at that school for two years, which were unforgettable. The staff formed a virtual battle line. We had to stick together for survival. I don't mean we were threatened (often), but the students' lives were so difficult and they had so little, they were hardened by life and it spilled out at school. Most of them were not brought up in loving families, or even taught basic social skills. St Joseph's had little money for expensive equipment and anyway, the rough lives of the students led people to believe they would break anything they were given.

The friends I made at that school are some of the best I have, because we went through fire together. We had to pull together or go under. I am still in touch with Alex.

Working in education is difficult, don't believe otherwise. If you are a caring and sensitive person, as most in education are, it is emotionally and physically draining. You often feel you are struggling on pointlessly, not achieving anything.

But sometimes, you get a moment like the one with Lee, where you realise it’s all worth it and your heart swells with pride.