Made it! After a term of bitterly cold mornings, chilblains from my classroom radiator,
the nonsense that a school production brings, over-excitable kids, infectious colds and
other sneezy diseases, report writing, utter despair at inefficient school policies, and
frantic searching for a new job (unsuccessful so far, but I hold out hope for the New Year...)
IT'S FINALLY THE HOLIDAYS! Well, they actually started at around just gone 4 on Friday,
but I'm not counting that as I fell asleep approximately four hours later, with not even
a celebratory mince pie or small sherry having passed my lips.
In fact, it was only last night, Sunday evening, that I began to be filled with the holiday spirit. I could stay up late! I could drink booze if I wanted to! I didn't have to iron any clothes or think about making my lunch or contemplate another dark morning scraping the ice off my car! I even tried to push thoughts of unmarked books out of my mind, but that didn't quite work. So when I sat at my desk after a lie-in this morning, I did fully intend to start marking those books, but instead thought I'd make better use of my time. However, all I've done so far is to update this site, but there's nothing like having a rant to make the world seem a brighter place afterwards. So I've had my rant now, which you can read about at Production Values, and also the unseasonal Sporting Chances and now I might even go and raid the drinks cabinet for something stronger than tea, just because I can!
Don't forget that you can share your Christmas spirit, or lack of it, by contacting me. And enjoy your Christmas break, one and all!
I thought I hadn't actually got much to write in my News section this time. I've got a dangerous
looking pile of books to mark before the children start to claim that I've not been doing my
job properly, and that they've been working on paper for a good few lessons now, whilst their
books wait in their tottering pile in the corner of my dining room.
I did find time to navelgaze though, in the form of googling my own website. For those not au fait with hip computer-lingo, that means that I went to the Google search engine and did a search using "ranting teacher". I was quite amused, and pleased, to see the results that turned up, especially as a couple of months ago this poor little site didn't even register. It's amazing, as well, the amount of unrelated sites that contain those two words in close proximity!
I've also been watching DVDs of Channel 4's programme Teachers, mainly because it makes me feel better. I don't care if the characters are gross exaggerations. For every person that scoffs at the characters and situations, there is somebody else who claims that their school is just like the one featured in Teachers. Well, while many may feel some comfort in the premise that this comedy drama is distorted reality, I just sit there and make lists in my head (what? you don't do that?) of the ways that this fictional school has it easy. So far, I'm up to:
Well, that's my work in progress. TV watching and book marking. I have found the time
amongst this hectic and frenzied social whirl to add a couple more sections to this
website, though. You can take a look at them by going to Zen
and the art of teaching
and A Novel Approach. And if any of that moves you to
put finger to keyboard, then I'd love to hear from you, I'm sure. You can
contact me here.
Is an eight week half term too long? Now that the longest half term of this academic year is over, and I've slept my way through prime time Saturday night TV for a number of weekends, I'm ready to put forward my proposal for the five week half term, each with a week's break in between. I'm not sure how that would work out with regards to losing weeks in the summer, but I just know that five weeks seems a reasonable cut-off point.
It's about time we were
brought into line with Europe anyway. The Italians and Spanish, for example, break up for the
summer in June, because it's too hot to attend school after that, and besides, they want
to come to Britain and hang around outside burger bars, blocking the
pavements, as part of the "learning English" experience. It seems to me that our best
weather is also in the month before the summer holidays officially begin, so why don't we
follow the European example? Or for those who look Stateside, guess what - they also have
months of holiday time in the summer. I wouldn't even begrudge giving up a week of my
extended summer holiday to go into a child-free school and spend it creating resources or
painting my classroom. As long as it wasn't too hot, of course.
Perhaps more frequent breaks away from the constant nagging and badgering would stop
me from being wound up to the point of experiencing the P.P.W. Syndrome, as I've
decided to name it. I know it's a strange thing to wonder, and I don't know if other teachers ever feel caught between two characters
from the sit-com Porridge, but you can read about its symptoms
here.
If you want to share your models for a more efficient academic year, tell me about any other TV characters with whom you feel empathy, or you want to comment about anything in these pages, don't forget to contact me.
After the horrors of last Friday's full moon madness (which you can read about at
Whatever the weather) I was steeling myself for
today's nightmare timetable of classes that each contained a high percentage of disruptive
pupils.
On the drive in I practised my glare, newly modified in light of that wonderfully scary Italian football referee Pierluigi Collina and his amazing staring eyes. Somebody told me that he used to be a headmaster, and if that's true, I bet his school was the tightest run in the vicinity.
But then kids go and shock you. Like a shoal of fish, they seem to switch direction
seamlessly and simultaneously, as a unity with a collective consciousness. Last Friday:
complete lunacy. Today: a strange calmness. Okay, it wasn't completely without its
sending-outs, but I was shocked when one usually rude and mouthy evictee returned to the
lesson and apologised for his behaviour. Another pupil, who hardly ever gets round to writing
even the date in his book during a lesson, astounded me by concentrating hard and managing to
complete a whole four scrawly sentences, his hand shaking under the strain and effort. He
did then go on about being good at every opportunity, somewhere between boasting and seeking
approval and classroom-wide accolation, but believe me, I'd rather have it that way.
So there it is: expect the unexpected. Anticipate everything. Plan for every eventuality. And still be surprised.
Last time I wrote my enthusiasm had ebbed away. I did find it again (promise!) and so it was this Monday morning that I left for school early, with freshly printed worksheets nestling next to the chocolate that I keep as my very own carrot-on-stick. Bribery's not just for the kids you know! I have to fool myself that the only way I can have that chocolate is at breaktime, which means I have to get through half the morning first of all. Actually, this is not as wacky as it sounds, because the minute I get out of my car and through the school door, there's so much to do that I usually forget all about my snack, so it comes as a pleasant surprise at break. Okay, okay, reading that back it does sound wacky, but just trust me - it works!
So, chocolate aside, up the stairs I bounded, got to the photocopier before the queue, and cleared my desk of the mess that I left there when I ran out on at the first hint of the bell on Friday. I managed to stick up a small wall display, file some old worksheets, flick some dead flies off the desk before the girls came in and screamed, and even greeted several members of the senior management team with cheery "hello"s.
And then, of course, the kids start to turn up. Kicking cans down the corridor outside
my room. Flicking light switches on and off. Running past and banging on my door. It's no
wonder that the rest of the staff head straight for the safety of the staffroom every morning,
or huddle around the photocopier in small packs. You also get to overhear conversations that
make you wish you could shut your ears. Their nature is probably similar to the notes I
intercept on occasion in lessons - and which I've written about in
Eavesdropping. Another new page is just a small grumble about
covering lessons - In Absentia. You see,
enthusiasm, it ebbs and flows. It's a shame that the day always seems to end with me
jostling the kids on the stairs in a desperate break for freedom.
That's it then, it took a grand total of ten teaching days before my enthusiasm ebbed away and I found myself dreading going into school.
I don't know exactly what sparked off the familiar stress headache first thing in the morning, but it only worsened as I drove to school and got stuck in slow-moving traffic. Then everything becomes an irritation. On my car radio I flicked from the babble of Radio 1 to Radio 2, thinking that the twinkle in Terry Wogan's voice might cheer me up, but the selfish bugger had gone on holiday. Even hearing the newsreader's chuckle-worthy name, Fenella Fudge, only raised half a smile. What was wrong with me?
Maybe it was the nightmare lesson of the previous afternoon, where a new Learning Support Assistant was there to observe the chaos of shouting out from every corner of the room, lost pencils, forgotten books and homework, and a general refusal to co-operate.
Perhaps it was the all-singing-and-dancing Year 7 lesson that I'd spent ages preparing
so that the little darlings would be engaged and motivated, entertained and educated, only
for me to overhear a whisper of "boring" from one ungrateful tyke to another.
Or maybe I was pissed off because one LSA seems to haunt me at every turn, being worse than the children for chatting away through instructions. I've tried to interest her and help her by giving her lesson plans and handouts in advance, along with a quick summary of what we'll be doing, but all too frequently she has left them on a desk without much regard. She is then of no use whatsoever to the child or children she is meant to be supporting, as well as encouraging the children to chat and gossip when I'm trying to get their attention.
Maybe my dis-satisfaction was because I didn't want to be forced into "volunteering" for
fashion shows, charity events, school productions and fund-raisers. I wasn't in a boy-scout
frame of mind, especially when there's so much else to do - like deliver a bloody curriculum.
Whatever it was though, it had triggered off a familiar feeling of dread and the need to peruse the "Vacancies" section of the local rag as soon as I got home. So it's extremely comforting to know I'm not alone. Judging by the clichés that many other teachers use, and which have been added to the Clichés page, I'm not the only one who feels like a broken record at times. (Actually, who am I kidding - at times?! - every day!)
I've also added a new page, Let there be light, purely because writing it down gets it off my chest and stops me curling up in a corner and rocking slowly back and forth. If you need a similar outlet, then please don't hesitate - release your primal scream and contact me!
It's a funny old time of year. Teachers and kids alike drag themselves reluctantly out of bed at chilly o'clock and prepare to face each other across a hostile classroom... but then it doesn't turn out like that, not a dangerous battlefield at all.
Despite the nightmares, the sick-to-the-stomach feelings, and any other unpleasantness that could be called "that back to school feeling", the first week back is not that bad at all. The lack of marking, homework, stand-up rows, after-school meetings, detention duty and so forth all serve to create a false sense of security amongst pupils and teachers. We're actually quite pleasant to each other. In truth, I couldn't give a fig about the maths teacher's daughter's wedding, but I stand there and smile politely, wishing I'd never asked him how his summer went.
In a week's time I might be extremely irritated when a new Year 7 pupil is late again because they got lost or couldn't manage to do up their own tie after PE or didn't understand their timetable, but for now I smile benevolently at the little lambs, plotting how I shall mould them into an army of pro-me pupils.
Okay, the smile with which I greet some classes is definitely through gritted teeth, but
then I just tell myself that there are only 190 teaching days until the end of the academic
year, and then hopefully I won't be given that class from hell for another consecutive
year - surely?
In between the planning, colouring in my timetable, and designing differentiated worksheets now that I've met my classes and know what they're capable of, I've updated a couple of pages of the website. Thanks to those who have found the time to e-mail me. You can see some of the contributions at Over to You. I've also had some new phrases to add to Teacher Clichés. Keep them coming!
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