The maths department is a little isolated from the rest of the school so I miss out on all the juicy gossip. But today I got filled in on the seedy truth about the staff. Everyone seems to be either going out with another teacher or sleeping with another teacher. In some cases both with different members of staff. Very naughty. In other words: they're at it like bunnies. Suddenly those notes I confiscate off my year tens seem rather tame. I feel all pure and virtuous by comparison though am well aware that if you paint yourself as whiter than whie you very easily get splattered.

There I was thinking everyone was spending all there time planning lessons.

Our school runs an activity day for pupils from years seven, eight and nine during the summer term. This magnificent event occured today with my posting being to a swimming pool. Though that term sells the place short. It was a gargantuan complex of rapids, flumes, wave machines and general wetness.

I'd been a little unsure about having to go there. Anything that involves the pupils seeing my happy trail cannot be good. I couldn't help but notice that the 'in' teachers got to go to Alton Towers. I'm not saying that there was any favouritism going on, but let's face it: there was.

Fortunately one of my NQT buddies was sent there too so it turned out to be a really good day. And because of some rain anyone going to Alton Towers would have got wet too and would have spent horus miserable and soaked to the bone. I guess we had the last laugh because we had a great time.

And none of the kids were sick on the coach. Bonus.

Last night the school invited parents of next year's year sevens for an evening to see their little darling's form tutor and find out a little more about the school. This is a fantastic idea and one I'm sure the parents really appreciated. Unfortunately it produced high levels of anxiety amongst the relevant tutors. I can cope with talking to the kids with no stress at all but I find parents difficult. Especially en masse.

Each tutor had half an hour talking to the parents of their form all at once and it was hell. I suddenly felt very small and as though my throat was about to set a record for being the thinnest thing ever. It was like all my worst observations had come at once. I somehow survived with a little help from a Key Stage Three progress team member.

The highlight of the night was bumping into a parent of one of my year nines who congratulated me on my class's year nine SATs result. What a nice lady, I thought. Though seeing as her daughters a real star I suppose it wasn't much of a surprise. I hope my form will be as nice.