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.