This half term I turned in to a report writing automaton. It's hard work, especially when you're trying to find something positive to say about each and every pupil so that their parents don't break down in floods of tears when they read what a pain in the neck their son is and they realise what an awful job they've done raising their him. I've even started talking in very measured tones: 'This is meal is okay, to improve it further you could arrange the vegetables to show your working. Also please try to come to the dinner table with a pen and your exercise book.'

We have to have them checked out by our heads of department to make sure we're using something approaching half decent grammar and haven't written that Bobby from year eight is a little s***. This has been done by email so my inbox now reads: 'Year 10 Reports',' Reports!', 'Reports,reports,reports!', 'Reports' and of course 'more reports'. It's a harrowing experience reading an email highlighting all the stupid mistakes you've made. You start to have a little sympathy for the kids whose books you fill with red crosses week-in week-out.