It Shouldn't Happen to a Teacher

I currently share a form with another teacher. When I say share I mean it's their form but they only work part time so I take the register when they're not in. Seeing as they register in my classroom I'm usually around anyway so have developed a good relationship with the class.

Next year I might end up with my own form. This would be great but I'll really miss the current lot. I was talking to one of the year seven leadery type people and they suggested I should capture them from their other form tutor - a sort of coup d'form - seeing as they're not in every day. Perhaps I ought to stand in front of them and declare that they have nothing to lose but their chains, though they might think I'm refering to losing their bling.

It's a nice thought but I think the political ructions it would cause in the matsh department wold tear down the classroom walls.

I'm getting anxious.

Recently I've really started to feel at home at my school. Things are going pretty well: I'm getting to know the other staff better, lesson observations are going alright, the kids are starting to behave themselves, senior management are congratulating me on things and I'm walking into school feeling relaxed and confident. I even think I'm starting to enjoy teaching again like I did as a student teacher.

This is why I'm worried. When things go wrong I can understand it - it's comfortable and I know where I am. I'm not really sure how to handle things going well. And my blog's bound to suffer. Who wants to hear about me going to school, the kids behaving themselves and no one getting sworn at, no windows getting smashed and nothing getting set on fire. I'll run out of things to write about.

Then again I'm sure it won't last.

My year sevens have been driving me mad. They won’t listen, can’t sit still and seem hell-bent on not only failing to learn anything but see every lesson as an opportunity to get worse at maths. Yesterday was a particularly trying lesson; two boys in particular caused me a nightmare.

So today I had them working in other classrooms in a planned removal. The difference was amazing. All of a sudden they little monsters turned back into sweet eleven year olds. Hands went up, no one shouted out, no one got called a ‘gayer’ or a ‘windowlicker’ (what?!), work got done, learning objectives were met and no one got put in detention – this is the way it was always supposed to be!

The year tens are doing exams this week. Seeing as I have two classes of year tens I'm having a relaxing time, though naturally I'm being used for invigilations - today was geography. This is quite a boring time though there are ways of making it more fun. Such as playing invigilation games, one suggestion I read about was to have flashcards saying 'the chaviest pupil', for example, and you have to go and stand by the pupil who best fits the description.

Unfortunately there wasn't anyone invigilating with me who looked quite unprofessional enough so my mind started to wander: has that boy actually written anything yet? That's girl's socks are far too stripey for school. I think I can see fifty kids who are chewing. Now I remember why I did history instead. God that girl is ugly. That boy needs a haircut. I wish I was Doctor Who. Miss Baggins might be ten years older than me but I so would. And so on...

Sometimes in teaching, no matter how hard you try, everything comes unravelled. You lurch from one disaster to another. Windows get smashed, things get set on fire, pupils swear at you and your colleagues start to look down on you - or even worse - pity you. Your lessons are rated as 'inadequate' and you want to cry.

On other occasions everything you touch turns to gold. Form tutors thank you for writing good PINs (Pupil Information Notes) about their pupils, your year tens get great exam results and that lovely English NQT seems keener than ever to sit with you during briefing.

As if that weren't enough your head of department observes you teaching an 'outstanding' lesson on Friday morning.

At the moment I'm on cloud nine - there's so many tough moments in teaching that you've got to enjoy the good ones. But I'm also wary that pride comes before a fall so will have to knuckle down and work hard this weekend. Or wrap myself in bubble-wrap so it won't hurt as much.

It's nice word though: outstanding.

My year tens hate me. Given the right equipment I'm sure their consciences wouldn't be blighted by strapping a load of semtex under the overhead projector so that when I turned it on it would explode in my face.

They reckon I can't teach and have been proudly opining this to anyone who would listen, including higher ranking members of staff.

Yesterday we got the results back from their module test they'd sat in March. The majority of them got As and A*s. Given that this is a set 2 I'm rather pleased and have received plenty of back-slapping.

I feel vindicated and I think I could be forgiven for going into the classroom next time I see them with my middle finger held up high. Which is odd because I'm effectively annoyed with them because they did well.

I was sat eatign my lunch in the maths office and had that nagging feeling of having forgotten something. Have I done all my photocopying for the afternoon? Have I given the form tutor of the lad who broke his leg the work she wanted for him? Am I fully dressed? Yup. Yup. Yup.

I was still in this confused state when I heard a weak tap on the door. Outside stood the boy I'd put in detention in my classroom half an hour ago. I'd only meant to keep him in for five minutes. 'Can I go for my lunch now?' he meekly asked.

'Okay. I think you've learnt your lesson.'

I felt rather bad.

Every so often I like to put 'teacher blog' into google and hit search. I'm a little bit vain - some, especially my year tens, would use the word 'tosser' - so like to see how high my blog appears. Recently I've come across links to news stories about teachers getting sacked because of their blogs. Should I be worried? Well let's see what those naughty teachers had been doing:

A psychology teacher has been sacked from a college in Greater Manchester for posting "inappropriate messages" to pupils on her internet blog.

Catherine Young-Southward, 37, was suspended from Hyde Clarendon College after it was revealed she also allowed students to stay overnight at her home.

Hmm, well I don't think I've let any pupils stay overnight recently. I'll make sure to check under my bed before I go to sleep tonight just to make sure they've not snuck in whilst I was looking the other way. I wonder what "inappropriate messages" means - does inanity count as inappropriate? If so, I'd be in big trouble.

On 10 August 2006 Ali Sayed al-Shihabi, a 50-year-old English teacher was arrested for posting articles on far-left websites, especially: http://www.rezgar.com. He is still being held by the security services without being able to see his family. Reporters Without Borders calls for his release and informs that two other cyber-dissidents are currently imprisoned in Syria.

Well I am a bit left of centre I suppose, but then I'm not in Syria so if I wanted to I could probably get away with the occasional entry encouraging the workers to overthrow the oppressive capitalist machinery (whilst using Microsoft Internet Explorer of course).

So I'm probably pretty safe from getting the sack - or at least getting the sack because of blogging.

I normally quite like my year eight classes but today they've been problematic. In a class this morning one pupil threw a desk upside down. Curiously this is near to the spot where another pupil recently set fire to their bag - I think the spot might be cursed. I'll have to check to see if there's any record of anyone being killed when standing on that particular patch of mouldy old floor lining, perhaps it's a poltergeist that is possessing otherwise mild-mannered pupils. Or perhaps I just like to push the stroppy ones to the back of the room so they don't get under my nose.

Then this afternoon one of the pupils came into my room caked in make-up. This is made worse by the fact that it was a boy. This completely ruined my lesson as the rest of the class were all hyper.

I was rather glad to get rid of them.

Our current headmaster is retiring at the end of the year. This is a shame because in his time at the school he has taken it from underachieving to good at the last OFSTED inspection. He's respected by staff and pupils alike, and as importantly as anything else he actually has a sense of humour, which means he makes dry quips during briefing making it seem vaguely worth turning up for.

This week the school is interviewing candidates for the job. They have to have about three million interviews by different panels: the governors (the big one), staff, pupils, support staff, senior staff, staffs used for kung fu fighting, foetuses that might potentially come to the school, Uncle Tom Cobly, Elvis impersonators, the contestants of the last big brother and the four horseman of the apocolypse. They also have to go through a series of tasks. I'm not sure what these are but I hope it's something similar to the Triwizard Tournament. I'd have a lot of respect for a headteacher who could fight with dragons, rather than actually be one. It makes the normal teacher interview - generally a pretty harrowing experience - seem rather tame.

However if I was in charge - and let's face it, it's a good thing I'm not - then I'd make it into a Krypton Factor style event with all the staff and pupils watching. I especially like the thought of them having to take on an assault course just to get into the school grounds - it'd show how determined they were to get the job. Plus I'd get to feel all superior as they struggle to complete the logic task whilst I'd solved it in seconds with my mathemagic powers.

It's got to be the way forward.

I feel sorry for my pupils sometimes. When you're young it's easy for the wrong words to slip out of your mouth. Heck, it's still easy when you're older, but somehow it doesn't seem so bad. So I had some sympathy for one of my year tens who left the room saying: 'Good bye, love you' to me. Now, whilst I'm sure she meant a platonic kind of love it's still not really the sort of thing you want to say to your teacher, especially in front of your classmates.

From my point of view it makes a refreshing change from pupils leavign the room saying: 'thank fuck that's over. I hate you!'

'Does this face look bothered?' Oh, I can't believe you just said that!

Why do my year tens have to watch bloomin' sketch shows featuring surly school children. I settled for removing the boy who'd quoted Catherine Tate from the lesson and putting him in detention, but on reflection if he wants to live in a land of cliches perhaps I should have given him lines - maybe 'I will try harder to look bothered' over and over again.

I'd expected my higher year tens to be a pain today - we don't get on very well, but they were okay. I think they were taking a day off and letting my normally quite nice foundation year tens have the priviledge of running riot. My year nines weren't much better either - I know you've not seen each other for two weeks but can't you catch up at break and listen for two seconds? I think schools ought to take this into account. We should have a day with no lessons and just give the kids an oportunity to gossip, then maybe they'd run out of things to say and we can get on with teaching them. I know: fat chance.

The highlight of today came first thing in my morning. In my pigeon hole was a memo reminding staff that the year tens would be off timetable next week for exams. Off time-table! As in: no lessons! Fantastic! I teach eight hours (okay two hours teaching, six hours crowd control) of year ten lessons a week. Next week will be a doss. Okay I'll probably have to invigilate but you don't have to write out plans for walking up and down aisles and handing out paper.

I'm already liking this term.

In spite of feeling like I've spent pretty much every day working I'm still not completely ready for next week. I'm sure there's a relativistic effect when planning lessons - the more time you have, the longer everything takes. I reckon I could have a hundred days of solid work and still only end up planning about ten lessons.

On the plus side I'm much refreshed - I can now open my eyes without feeling like I've got ten ton weights pulling my eyelids back down, and I'm not waking up in the middle of the night and feeling frustrated with my year tens or wondering how my year sevens can be so dumb yet still remember to breathe. Well, not as much anyway.

Hopefully the time spent planning my lessons will pay off, especially as I have an observation on Friday. Let's hope it's a 'good' Friday. On the other hand it never seems to make much difference whether I spend half an hour planning a lesson or half a day. You'd think I'd learn.

I must be stupider than my year sevens.

Being a proud teacher means refusing to acknowledge that anything is wrong, trying to hide the fact that your year sevens are running rings around you, using phrases like: 'I think I'm making progress', instead of: 'I'm not quite good enough yet', pretending to be full of energy when really you've just drunk two cans of red bull, hoping everyone spends time looking at the wonderful displays your classes have made whilst ignoring the fact that they haven't really done any actual work and saying that things are going okay when talking to other NQTs when in actual fact you want to scream.

In short: trying to hide any sign of possible weakness in front of other staff.

Many would call teachers lazy because of the long holidays. Granted, thirteen weeks is plenty sufficient time for slacking off, but those within the profession would describe it as a hard earned rest.

I find it hard to imagine anyone being a lazy teacher during term time - or at least if they are lazy they wouldn't stay as a teacher for very long. The laziness that I refer to here is the lack of enthusiasm for meetings, school events, open evenings or anything that happens outside the four grafitied walls of the classroom.

As NQTs we get to observe other teachers teaching lessons. This is so we can see how much better they are than us, but at the same time we can never quite pin down why - making it an exercise in self abuse. This is my own form of sloth - avoiding observing other teachers. It's not deliberate, it's just when given the choice between marking those year eight books during my free or observing someone teach their year elevens and marking the books in the evening I'm inclined to go for the option that will let me get to bed an hour earlier at night - though I suppose in the summer I could wear dark glasses during an observation and use the time to get a nap in.

Envy is rife in a school. Different departments regard each other with suspicion and to talk to a teacher of another subject is sometimes seen as fraternising with the enemy. It’s easy to be jealous when humanities get to be in the plush new building with interactive whiteboards, good ventilation, and carpets, whilst we maths teachers are stuck with a block with high echoey ceilings, a climate that is always too hot or too cold (goldilocks would have a field day) and solid flooring that when chairs scrape along it causes a one hundred decibel din, oh yeah, and because of the high ceilings it echoes for two minutes. Not that I’m complaining. Much.

Resources are guarded as though they belonged in Fort Knox. This extends to photcopying and the paranoia is such that the photocopying numbers for each department are changed monthly. There were concerns that people were using the codes from other departments that they'd stolen by looking over people's shoulders.

And to think that we teachers are entrusted with nurturing the youth of today into well rounded individuals. God help them.

I don't think anyone goes into teaching for the money, but new teachers are well looked after these days with training bursaries and golden hellos. This is all well and good but it doesn't do you any favours to go on about such things as it will not sit well with more experienced teachers. If you do you risk hearing about how thing didn't used to be this way and how new teachers have never had it so good, and why don't you buy us all more biscuits?

Most people like the occasional snack and teachers are no exception. There is a contrast between what male and female teachers eat though. Male teachers go for sugary based snacks: cakes, biscuits and five sugars in tea/coffee. Female teachers are usually more restrained and will eat ryvita or lettuce.

There isn't much opportunity for gluttony in a school; there isn't enough time to eat a cake without being interupted by some little dear handing in homework late or complaining about so-on-so who pushed such-and-such into a bush/wall/off the edge of a cliff. However meetings are usually well catered, especially NQT lunctime based training sessions. Here is where young maths teachers should take care to not walk back into the maths office afterwards with chocolate smeared around their mouths, else they will receive hacky looks from older teachers eating yucky fruit.

Not towards the pupils, though that would definitely be a sin. No, I mean towards other teachers. Generally female teachers will find this one easier to avoid as part of achieving qualified teacher status involves all males starting to go bald and/or fat.

However young female teachers should beware as on average they will find themselves being 'eyed up' about two hundred times a day. Some of this will come from the pupils, but also from the male teachers at the school. This is because your average teacher doesn't have time for things so mundane as socialising or having friends. So romantic opportunities for young male teachers are very limited. The only outlet is testosterone induced stupors watching music channels whilst eating dinner in the hope of seeing a Girls Aloud or Sugababes video. Whereas older male teachers will let their children watch music channels whilst eating dinner in the hope of seeing a Girls Aloud or Sugababes video.

Within the school grounds itself there will probably be a handful of young female teachers, and against the backdrop of older female teachers - no thanks - and young teenage girls - as alluded to before this is very much a no-no - they will look stunning.

An obvious one really. Kids take great pleasure from winding up their teachers because, as everyone knows, children are evil. Sometimes it's accidental such as 'I don't get it' or 'I don't have a pen' but there are definitely occasions where it's deliberate: 'this is really boring', 'you're not as good as our last teacher' or just pretending to be a farmyard animal.

Either way it's easy to get pissed off with pupils from time to time. However, shouting rarely helps. In fact many pupils enjoy seeing their teachers explode, perhaps they even hope that if they're sufficiently annoying this explosion will actually be literal.

If this was any normal week I'd currently be stalking around my classroom keeping a watchful eye over what my year nines are doing - hoping and praying that no one's doing anything I'll have to take any action about. But thankfully school terms don't last forever so I find myself sat around watching T4 and drinking cups of tea - well some things never change I suppose.

After a term best described as 'testing' I think I'm entitled to a little rest before being thrown in front of the lions, I mean my year tens, again.

In spite of serval key incident (fires, pupils inviting themselves to my funeral, senior management poking their noses in) I'm actually quite pleased with my term. I reckon I've got four out of my six classes on side, which leaves thirteen weeks to sort out the other two before I get rid of them - hopefully for good. I've dealt well, in my own slightly biased opinion, at parents' evenings. I've taught lessons that have got the pupils interested. And I've developed better relations with the other staff.

So all in all I think I'm doing okay. If only anyone at school, such as the head of department or higher ranking staff, realised...