It Shouldn't Happen to a Teacher

With just five weeks of school before their first exam one of my year elevens is refusing to come in to school. She was border-line for getting a C in maths but now she won't have a hope, assuming she actually turns up for her exam at all, which would give her an X. All of a sudden my joke about having a performance management target of getting grade Vs doesn't seem quite so funny.

All twenty of my year elevens are capable of getting Cs but there's three who have very poor attendance records. There's half a dozen boys who never do homework and would be quite happy to spend all their time drawing cars in the back of their books. Then there's several girls - and one slightly suspect boy - who treat each lesson as social time and don't understand why I get annoyed with them when they're discussing their plans for Friday night.

All of which leaves about six pupils who I think will actually pass their exams. It's such a shame because the rest are going to regret it so much. If only we could make them see.

For no particular reason my year elevens were discussing the village of Eyam the other day, they sure as hell weren't doing any work. One of them asserted that this was where the plague started. I put them right but then another chirped in with: 'no, it was started by the great fire of London'.

Oh dear.

Being a twenty-something male in a school full of hormone-packed teenage girls is sometimes an unnerving experience. Earlier in the year I even had some of my year eights going to see the school counsellor because they had a crush on me, much to the amusement of everyone else. I'm not exactly Brad Pitt either.

My current #1 fans seem to be in year nine. They saw me getting out of my car last week near Sainsbury's and shouted all the way across the car park to me. I said 'hi' back and swiftly ran away. I wasn't exactly about to stop the hang out with them, god only knows how that would look.

Today they'd done some particularly good work so I'd written on this special note paper (http://www.superstickers.com/shared/notepads/Notepads-default.asp?selectedGroup=rewards-Notepads) I have how brilliant they'd been so they could show it off to their mums. This afternoon at the photocopier their form tutor said to me that he thought I had a couple of fans after they'd shown him their notes and he pointed out that it's not every day you get to make two girls happy.

I quite shy by nature so was a bit embarrassed by this. It's not easy being a heart-throb.

Our school currently has a falling roll. In spite of the school actually becoming more popular relative to others within catchment a lack of baby making - damn sex education - a decade ago means we're getting less children in year seven each year.

The upshot of this is that in maths next year we will have enough teachers to teach fifteen more lessons than will actually be timetabled. If someone were to retire or get a job elsewhere then this would solve the problem. Or if enough teachers went part time, which some have considered. Only that's on the condition that it doesn't effect their pension, which in the light of the budget being cut seems unlikely.

The other chance is that enough teaching could be found in other subject areas. Geography for example will be understaffed as they're not replacing the person who has been on maternity leave and has now decided to not return. Pity I gave it up after year nine then.

Which means the prospect of redundancy raises its ugly fang-toothed head. This is chosen on a points system.

We get one point for each year's teaching experience (up to five points). One point for each Key Stage taught. Three points for mentoring another member of staff within the past three years.

This puts me on a miserly total of three points, the next lowest in the department would be seven points so even if in some bizarre scenario I had been mentoring someone (bizare as I'm the second youngest teacher in the school) I'd still be bottom. I feel like Derby County.

Even in the event of a tie I'd still be screwed as it would be a last-in-first-out deal.

It all seems a little unfair as I could be the best teacher in the world but through no fault of my own I could be out of a job. Admittedly I'm not the best teacher in the world but it's still not pleasant.

It's all looking a bit bleak.

School related dreams are always interesting. The common themes are doign things with a colleague that would make my pupils' eyes stand on stalks, being observed teaching a really awful lesson - the interesting exception is that whenever I'm observed by the head in my dreams she's actually quite impressed - or bumping into one of my pupils, except that my subconscious seems to file them as peers.

One such dream last night involved bumping into one of my actual friends who was walking around a town centre with one of my year nines as though they were best mates. It was most peculiar as I can't really see reason why either the friend or the pupil would be there in the first place and I can't see why I'd connect them, except that they're both blonde.

Other common dreams involve the school being attacked by daleks or my head of department making smutty comments about English teachers. The first of which I'd consider as being highly unlikely, the second is a regular occurance.

On Thursday there was a big staff night out, and inevitably some foolish individuals had way too much to drink. Ahem.

It all came back in small bursts:

I remember talking to someone about cats.

I was actually unable to pronounce one of the drinks someone asked me to get for them, though I think this was more to do with the level of noise making decipherability a real issue than drunken idiocy. It was definitely something-maria, and no not tia maria. I'm not a total idiot. Ave maria?

I remember someone telling me about some year eights having a crush on me.

There was the cardigan-incident where I was helping a colleague to fasten up their clothing which drew looks of horror and astonishment from around the table. I don't think my protestations of 'actually I'm helping her put it on, so I'm getting it the wrong way round' did much to help.

And also the smoking. Which is weird because I hate smoking and so somewhat predictably ended up choking.

Beyond that it gets very blurry, though I woke up feeling happy rather than guilty so I'm guessing it was a good night. Also I don't think I ended up with hiccups which is a rarity on such nights out.

My form's English teacher came up to me the other day to ask if I could judge the adverts they'd made for fizzy drinks. They'd told her she couldn't do it because she wouldn't be impartial having been involved in the making of them, though god knows why they think I would.

So I've just watched a DVD of what are actually rather good little adverts. I'm really quite impressed. There's a certain predictability to their ideas of course: boys doing sport, girls getting things exactly their own way from their parents and inevitably there's one that could pass as a Happy Monday's video and features the word 'bink'. But they're very entertaining. I'm so proud!

We are set performance management targets each year to make sure that we're not completely incompetent. These are discussed with someone in the chain of command, usually the head of department. My target was based on my year eleven class and was to obtain at least eight grade Cs.

Except when the official documentation came to me today it was for eight pupils to get at least grade V, which means the only way I could fail would be if thirteen of my class didn't show up to the exam and ended up with Xs. If I actually had a target like that i ought to feel confident but the way my year elevens are at the moment I'd still be nervous.

I wish kids didn't smoke. Then I wouldn't have to catch them when they do. On my breaktime duty I came across a gang of year elevens behind the sports hall, some of whom were puffing away like steam trains. Fortunately I was able to take the high ground, literally as they were in the dug out area near the fire exit so I was a few metres above. This was just as well as otherwise I'd have been dwarved by them.

I'd come across some of them on a tough bottom set cover the previous day so even knew their names to report to the pastoral staff. One girl was very quick to point out that I hadn't actually seen her smoking so it wasn't fair for her to get into trouble. Methinks the lady doth protest too much, but in all fairness I hadn't seen her smoking so she was right. It would be a bit harsh to punish someone for not being caught even if the circumstances are a little suspicious. I'm not sure she believed me when I said I had no issue with her, perhaps she was even a little disappointed to miss out on a potential argument.

Another girl I'd been helping out in the corridor with some maths work last week. She doesn't go into her lessons much because she has depression. I felt a bit bad that she would be in trouble because she clearly has some major issues and couldn't quite bring myself to think of it as 'just doing my job', a phrase that can be used to justify anything from not letting someone on a bus with a dog to playing a part in genocide. But then I'm not the one who put the cigarette in her mouth and if they actually adopted some kind of lookout or listened for foosteps then they'd have the chance to stub out their fags and come up with some probably hilarious excuse for hiding out of view, with the smell of smoke in the air.

The logic of such breaktime duties is thus. We know that some kids smoke. What they do to their own lungs is really up to them. But we can't condone it. If we see it we must take action. If we suspect them smoking but don't see it then it is enough to get them back onto the main bit of the school site. In this situation we hope that the kids have the sense to realise that it isn't a good idea to smoke in that area because it is patrolled. So the idea of outdoor patrols like mine isn't to catch the pupils smoking to make the probability that they will get caught sufficiently high to act as a deterent.

If only the kids undestood this.

I'm not exactly sure how it has happened but I seem to be acquiring a reputation as being a bit of a ladies man. It's not on purpose but I somehow always end up surrounded by gorgeous women, be it my friends in the English department, the student teacher who is attached to my form or any other miscellaneous young female teachers. I went to the pub this evening after school with a couple of colleagues who were describing them as my 'harem'.

On training days I've gotten banter from my head of department for talking to women from other schools.

It's hardly my fault that I happen to be in a profession that is currently attracting a high proportion of female teachers.

I'm not complaining though.

As a year seven form tutor it's not uncommon for people to come up to me and ask if it's okay for a student teacher to spend some time with my class, to come into registration and to generally help out with form tutorly business. Before Christmas there was a student in the maths department who came in but didn't really do anything much. This was okay as at least she fitted the bill as a token student teacher presence and made me look like I had a vague idea what I was doing by comparison.

But right now I've got a psychology student in with me and she could quite possibly teach me a thing or two about pastoral responsibilities. She seems really well clued up and extremely keen. Earlier today she was telling me about some boys in my form being silly when they were on duty as reception monitors and suggesting what I should do. I was left wondering who was the one in need of training.

I reckon I've got a choice: sulk about having someone in my classroom who could potentially show me up, try to undermine her whenever possible ('she's just a student teacher y'know') and generally be a git, or enjoy having someone around who not only could be very handy with getting the kids sorted and getting involved with activities in registration but might actually push me on to becoming a better teacher/form tutor.

It's not exactly difficult to see what attitude to take.

Did I mention she's hot as well?

For the most part I'm starting to quite like my year nines, mostly they're nice, hard working girls, with a few lads in there who are starting to get the idea that the SATs are getting awfully close. Unfortunately there's one boy who is a constant pain in the neck and whose parents are so incredibly unsupportive because they can't believe that he could be a problem. It must be someone else's fault.

At last night's year nine parents' evening I had a conversation which went as follows.

'There was a lesson last week where Bob turned up wearing his coat and hat and...'

Boy interupts: 'I don't wear a hat'

Me (looking like I could kill him): 'yes you were hearing a hat'

Boy: 'No I wasn't'

Mother interjects: 'He doesn't wear a hat to school'

Me: 'He was wearing a hat'

Mother: 'He doesn't wear a hat, you must be thinking of someone else. My son doesn't own a hat, in fact he doesn't even know what one is. Actually what was it you said? Hat? Is that something you wear on your nose?'

Of course we'd now got so completely off the point, in actual fact whether or not he was wearing a hat is of limited significance seeing as my next words before being interupted we're going to be 'shouting at the top of his voice.'

The mother then questioned why he hadn't been getting an extra homework as they had requested. Seeing as he doesn't do the general homework I set everyone I don't really see the point in filling up the bin outside my classroom with homework sheets.

I hate some parents.

'Sir, do you want to see the pictures I've got of you on my phone?'

I wasn't exactly sure that the year 10 had said what I thought so I asked them to repeat it, but sure enough I was right the first time. I figured it was some kind of silly joke and that it was a picture of Harry Potter - who I supposedly look like. But, no, bold as brass she was showing me a picture of myself. She couldn't even understand why I wasn't impressed. I got her to delete it but passed it on to someone bigger and scarier than me to sort out.

What shocked me most was how blase about it she was, she genuinely couldn't see anything wrong with it. I asked her if she could imagine the if the situation were reversed, if a teacher had taken a picture of her. Other than the lens cracking I would imagine they'd find themselves out of a job rather sharply.

Okay, it's not exactly the same as some creepy bloke having pictures of teenage girls on his phone, but it's just not right.