My drive to work involve several valleys, a few hills, some dales and lots and lots of fields. Many of these contain a wealth of wildlife. Unfortunately there is now a field which is minus one badger after it ignored the green cross code as I hurtled along at sixty miles an hour last night. The poor thing didn't have a chance and neither did part of my bumper as it jammed into my front right wheel making my car skid and slide across across the road as I tried to bring it to a standstill.

Great fun. When I saw some of the other teachers this morning and told them about my mishap they said they'd seen the striken creature. I'm not enjoying my commute at the moment. Just last week I had someone overtaking in the opposite direction miss me by mere feet on the same stretch of road. I'm beginning to think someone's out to get me.

At our school we have an inter-form challenge. Each form group is awarded points for a number of different reasons and the one from each year with the most is declared inter-form champions at the end of the year.

I want my form to win, no make that: my form is going to win. Second is first of the losers and i'm not interested in that. Especially now I have a bet with two other teachers with year seven form groups that mine will beat theirs.

I've, I mean we as a form, have made a great start. We've got the most points in the log book (each year seven class gets 'points' based on how well they work in each lesson) and won the noticeboard competition - awarded appropriately enough to the form with the best noticeboard.

I'm feeling smug, I wonder how long it will last.

I was looking forward to a nice relaxing end to the week. I am blessed with a free period last thing on a Friday afternoon, which it doesn’t take a genius to figure out isn’t the best time to be teaching. However it’s something of a poisoned chalice as I found out today.

I looked in my pigeon-hole in the morning and saw the familiar yellow of a cover slip. The colour drained out of my face as I read it. Year 11. Bottom Set. Friday. Period 5. I must have seriously pissed off the person in charge of sorting out the cover.

Things were about to get worse too. The instructions were to take the class down to a specific computer room but when we arrived there in the afternoon there was already a class in there. I then had to dash to the office to try and find another one - as in check to see if one was free, not look through the draws in the office for a room - or face a lesson with a class of manic teenagers with no work to give them and no hope of living until 320pm.

I was in luck and found somewhere for them. I then played my ace: if they behaved sensibly for the first half of the lesson they could use the internet towards the end. I wasn't about to kick up a fuss over gum or phones either. I had two targets: no one dieing and no one being sent to the isolation facility. When one of the assistant heads walked by they seemed to understand my plight.

One girl was a bit of a pain and made silly comments to me but was shot down by another pupil whon told her: 'stop being a prick, he's not done owt wrong.' I left aside the strange notion of the slight role reversal here with my behaviour being checked up on by the kids and got on with the lesson.

I even remembered to inform the appropriate people that the class were now in a different room so if anyone needed picking up for after school detention (two of them in fact) they would know where to find us. How good am I?

Everything ran smoothly until ten minutes from the end when some of the boys got restless. If I could just keep them busy it'd be okay. I found an easy solution: just talk to them.

The clock ticked down, the two boys were picked up for their detention, no one died, I didn't need to call out for help.

Somehow I survived.

I did a little word association with my form today, or at least I tried. You'd think it wouldn;t be too complicated, each person following the last with the next word but we had: toothpaste, toothbrush, gorilla, teeth, gums, teeth, black, football.

I don't think they got it.

Our new head is causing split opinions amongst the staff. Some other maths teachers are spitting feathers at everything she says but I'm quite enjoying the change of leadership at the school. The old head knew exactly how bad a teacher I was, whereas the new one doesn't have a clue.

She was walking round school last week poking her nose into lessons and getting a flavour for the school. I was fortunate in that when she came into my lesson the kids were well behaved and I was doing some good work on mini-whiteboards with my year nines. It's a good job she wasn't there ten minutes ealier when they were trashing the place.

Today our head of department had a meeting with her. It was more to do with his role in the school and ideas about the direction it should take but he also talked about the members of his department. The new head had been very impressed with what little she'd seen of my lesson.

Woop! Woop! It's nice that senior management have noticed me doing soemthing and aren't using the words: incompetent, inadequate or abysmal. I wonder how long that will last.

I'm really getting sick of the girls at our school...

I bumped into the school counsellor yesterday afternoon and she told me that some of my pupils had been to see her at lunch time. I wondered if my lessons were so bad that they were reducing my pupils to tears, or if I'd finally managed to make a pupil cry by telling them off. It was neither of these.

'They're in love with you.' Good grief, that's a bit much. The counsellor suggested they look for someone more their own age (good advice) and that they'll have lots of crushes over the coming years. The conclusion I draw from this is that anyone who even remotely likes me must need therapy.

Whilst this was all very sweet and amusing my year elevens were less so. We have a rule that no one is allowed to wear a t-shirt under their school polo-shirt. One boy was wearing one during my lesson so I sent him to the toilets to remove it. A girl pipes up: 'sir if you could see my bra would you tell me to take it off?' She then pulled the neck of her shirt back to show off a bra which looked a little bit too fancy for school.

Like I said: I'm really getting sick of the girls at our school.

Last year I had a nightmare with my year sevens. They wouldn't listen, were rude and made me tear my hair out every single lesson. This year I have a much calmer group. It's only two weeks in so there is a 'honeymoon period' element to things but I feel very positive about how things are going and how well I've set out my classroom expectations.

I'm helped by the fact that there are not one but two teaching assistants in there with me because of two pupils with major learning difficulties. I'm not very experienced with working with TAs so I'm trying desperately hard to get it right. I know that some teachers can be a bit snooty and rude towards them so I'm really keen to not be like that. One of them said well done to me for how I'd helped one of the weak kids and got them working which left me beaming.

Today was another smooth and successful lesson with the pupils working hard and making progress. At the end of the lesson on the way out one little girl thanked me for the lesson. Bless.

Do you ever get the feeling that people are actively trying to catch you out? When I checked my pigeon hole this afternoon after a jam full (not literally unfortunately) day I found three messages:
1. 'Please confirm with * that your form's photos match the names on the sheet as requested last week.' My bad.
2. 'Mr Too-much-time-on-his-hands has complained that today a large group of pupils were stood outside his house' Well don't live outside a school then! Would all staff on duty around this area (ergo, me) please ensure that they check for little sods having fags and being all scally-like.'
3. 'Dear form tutor. I have noticed that you haven't handed out the ever-so-very important letters (What letters?) about parent-school-governor election shizzle. Why the hell not imbecile?'

Each message in isolation I wouldn't mind but there's only so much nagging you can take without wanting to scream. I then rang up the appropriate person regarding the first but found the phone answered by somebody else who said that they had a message to pass on to me. Oh, what have I done now?! This time it wasn't my fault. Apparently a member of my form is being bullied. Poor little kid, I know the feeling.

I like my new year ten class. They're nice kids (most of them anyway - I'm not so keen on the one who put her hand up in class today to ask: 'how old do you have to be to cum?') and want to do well.

However, in today's lesson one asked: 'how old are you? Miss Bronte (Head of English) says you're only eleven so we should be nice to you'. Well I suppose you can't expect an English teacher to be able to count higher than perhaps seven so she can be forgiven for this misinformation. And afterall, it was well-intended. This question was followed up with: 'are you a timelord?', presumably something to do with having regenerated hence my youthful appearance. Though interestly I am trying to get my hair to look like David Tennant's - spooky.

Whilst it's all well and good looking so fresh-faced it does mean that amongst female members of the school community I provoke one of several unwelcome responses. Girl pupils seem to love me or hate me with very few in between and older female members of staff want to mother me. You'd imagine - and I'd have hoped - that the young female members of staff would fall somewhere in the middle and be just right, ala Goldilocks with her porridge. But it doesn't seem to work that way and I always get the sense of being seen like a little brother. Albeit one of the nice sweet ones not the annoying pain-in-the-neck ones.

Sigh

It might just be my imagination but I'm sure the girls at school have gotten more flirtatious over the summer. I keep having pupils saying things like: 'we were just talking about you' and then giggling. Which might mean that there is something inherently amusing about me, but when it's coupled with an unhealthy obsession with my car ('I know your number plate sir...'), my living arrangements and marital status then it's a sure sign that something's up.

It's even to the extent that they were threatening to come to the warhammer club I run, which admittedly would be quite funny seeing as they are the most incredibly girly-girls I've ever taught and would look like, well, some girls at a warhammer club. I'm not sure what the boys at the club would make of it seeing as they are teenage versions of myself so their capacity to make conversation with pretty girls is limited to 'buh', 'Do you like Space Marines?' and communicated non-verbally: 'walk all over me, use me to take your bag to the form room, steal my pens, pencils and assorted stationary and laugh at me wherever possible'. Which is pretty much what my pupils do to me these days.

I love my form to bits already. They're excellent at listening, they keep getting praise from other teachers and are just genuinely nice kids. They're great suck-ups too. We were doing an activity in PSHE where they had to come up with good things and 'not so good' things (we don't like using the word bad it seems) about the school and half a dozen of them put having me as a form tutor as a good thing. Well of course. I'm brilliant.

I'm not sure about their ability to form an orderly line though. We had a fire drill today and they had to stand in a straight line in alphabetical order. Both these seemed to be beyond them as they weaved from A to K to E to Q to M to Z. Well, nobody's perfect.

I've met all my classes for the year. The last of these was my top set year eight, who whilst all being very clever seem a little arrogant and there's so many of them that there's barely room to swing a cat, which might prove to be a good thing as it will deter them from doing exactly that.

Seeing as I've been at the school a year they already know who I am, which is good and bad. Good because they know that I'm here for real and I'm not going to disappear anywhere and that i'm a genuine bona-fide 'proper' teacher, but bad because they already know a lot about me. I'd put them in a seating plan and one girl said that she'd being looking forward to being taught by me because she thought I'd be nice and would let them sit where they wanted.

Nice? Who told her I was nice? I intend to be as mean as possible to my pupils this year. My year sevens have done more work this week than my previous year seven class managed all year and long may it stay that way. I'm making the kids say 'yes sir' when they answer their name in the register. No one's breathing in my classroom without my say-so this year.

Yesterday one of my year nines wanted to buy a maths set so I went to the office next door to get one. The pupils got a little noisy but fell quiet when I walked back in. That's never happened before. I was almost tempted to walk and come back in again just to enjoy the feeling. Great fun.

I have a new breaktime duty this year. Previously I has the delight of having food thrown at me in the dining hall, but I now have an outdoor duty. It involves a walk out one school gate, along the road, through a jitty (in the local tongue. Known to myself as a gennell and to others as an alleyway), on to another road and back in to school through the other entrance. This was my first time and I was at the top of the jitty when I spotted some young ragamuffins halfway down trying to sneak out for a quick fag. They spotted me and quickly turned and ran. This suited me fine because it meant I didn't have to deal with them. I continued my stroll down to their exit point and waited to make sure they didn't come back.

After a few minutes I heard footsteps, I was all ready to pounce and spring into action when round the corner came the new headteacher. It was a classic case of the hunter becoming the hunted. I'd not actually spoken to her before so it was interesting to see what she was like. The other members of the maths department don't seem to have taken a shine to her: 'I don't like that blouse she was wearing' was the commonly held view in the office at lunchtime, my head of department, one of only two other men out of nine teachers in the department was as baffled by this as I was. They also commented that her skirt looked a little crinkled, as though it hadn't been ironed. I'm not sure what they're trying to infer from this but I have a blind faith that anyone in a position of authority does everything on purpose. So if she hasn't ironed her skirt it's for a very good reason, I almost imagine her stood there with an iron weighing up the pros and cons of pressing or not pressing.

Personally I think she has some interesting things to say. For example that the kids should be working harder than the teachers once we get in to the classroom, I must admit I'd not thought about it like that and last year was quite happy if the pupils were working at all, even if my feet were barely touching the floor as I dashed round the classroom trying to make sure pens were being put to paper and not thrown across the room. Also she seems pleasant enough, though she doesn't scare me like the old head which may or may not be a good thing. The other maths teacher are a little longer in the tooth than me so are perhaps not keen on any upheavals. As a young member of staff I find any changes to the school very exciting indeed, or at least am prepared to give anyone a chance.

I have the good fortune to be put in charge of a year seven form this year. After having met them all of twice now I already feel a sense of attachment and responsibility and have managed to learn their names. They seem pleasant enough, if a little bit lacking in imagination. I asked them all to think of three things they like. 'Football, Cricket and Wrestling' came the first response, 'Football, Rugby and Wrestling' was the second, 'Football, Netball and Gymnastics' 'Netball, Gymnastics and Cricket' and so on... Well we should do well at sports day at any rate.

There's a problem though. I seem to be running out of kids. We were supposed to start with 26 in the class. One has apparently moved to the other end of the country over the summer, so we're down to 25. Another is going to be home-schooled (good luck with that), 24. One boy wants to move forms because of falling out with some others in the class at junior school. 23? At this rate I'll be down to zero pupils by the end of next week.

We kicked off the new year with an INSET day, much to the relief of everyone frantically trying to remember where their classrooms were and wondering what on earth they're supposed to be teaching in the coming weeks and months. Faces looked tense and everyone seemed to wish they were still at home or on some exotic island topping up their tan. So when everyone was stood waiting for tea/coffee my boundless enthusiasm as I bounced into the room might have been a little much. I think I was sufficiently hyper to scare one of the art teachers out of talking to me until after Christmas and my comments of: 'I'm so excited to be back!' were greeted with: 'you sound like you mean it' 'really?!?' and 'Oh, fuck off'.

I've spent the whole day with a great big grin on my face desperately keen to start the year in style. I listened intently to the new head addressing everyone at the start of the day whilst many of my colleagues were waiting for her to slip up so they could moan about her. I acted out a pantomime skit whilst using the photocopier - the despairing lows when it chews up the paper, the dizzying highs when you clear a jam - I think I missed the imbecilic machine over the holidays. I showed off my new notebook for writing things down in staff meetings. I grabbed my tutor group folder with delight and pride. I said a cheerful hello to people I barely know. I'm not sure how long it will last, but the thought of starting the best job in the world again for another year leaves me trembling with excitement.

There's just two days to go until we go back to school and I feel woefully unprepared, in fact I'm not entirely sure what subject I teach anymore. Science? IT? I know it's something a bit a geeky but I can't quite remember what. Still, we do at least have an INSET day to start with which seems void of any IN SErvice Training seeing as the schedule has a few meetings in the morning - with three tea/lunch breaks in the space of four hours - and the afternoon is spent 'in departments' which is code for tidying up rooms and panicking. This should give me a chance to make sure I'm ready for the hordes arriving on Tuesday.

I'm normally incredibly well organised - to the extent that less organised people quake in my presence - but I do have an excuse. I've been house hunting all summer and recently found a place so have been sorting out solicitors and mortgages and most importantly planning a trip to IKEA. I think it's safe to say I've taken my eye off the ball a little, or in other words don't have a clue what's going on.

Anyway I am actually looking forward to going back, quite probably because this cluelessness means I've forgotten what a pain the kids can be sometimes and when I think of teaching I picture a classroom full of little angels staring up at me desperate to learns about pie charts (Maths! I teach Maths! I knew I'd remember eventually) In my visions of my new year nine classes I actually imagine them being shorter than me. Admittedly they probably will be dopey, sleepy and grumpy but they almost definitely won't be dwarves. But even if they are the most incredibly irritating children on the planet they are at least new to me, so their misbehaviour will seem cute at first. Unlike my classes last July who were so predictable that it was just plain annoying.

I'm also looking forward to seeing the other teachers and checking out who's got a tan. Personally I've barely stretched my legs so far south as the midlands so will look a little gothic when stood next to someone who's been to Majorca.

Not long now.