Having been carefully selected to go on both year seven and year nine camps - presumabley on the basis of being young, energetic and keen to get involved in anything that I'm offered, but most importantly being unattached so can bugger of for a few nights without it bothering anyone - I am in for a tiring few weeks.

So this Saturday I'm feeling tired and have made the lyrics to I am the Walrus come true by getting a tan from standing in the English rain after coming back from the first of these: the year seven camp. But at the same time I have a tremendous sense of inner-peace. It's always good fun to get out of the classroom, even if the ceiling does act as a useful barrier to the elements. The kids are more relaxed, you're more relaxed so there's plenty of room for having a laugh and joke and just enjoying yourself such as by asking them what cows drink, telling them they look ridiculous when they get muddy or teasing them about helmet hair. You have to be prepared to take it too, especially if you look like a drowned rat yourself.

We arrived on Wednesday afternoon and were thrown straight into activities. My group we going caving and this involved a bit a of walk from the campsite, including through a field of bulls. Seeing as the campsite lent out red rain coats I ended up looking like I was helping at a jumble sale as the girls threw theirs off in panic. They were wearing bright pink tops anyway so I'm not entirely sure it was a wise move on their parts. The cave itself was a source of great mystery and fear. Darkness, enclosed spaces and a few (not very big to be honest) spiders and you have the recipe for an eleven year old's version of mortal terror. It was here that a few of my boys started to shine as they helped the girls out on the slippery floor. It was really quite sweet.

The guide got everyone to turn out their lights for a bit so we could see what true darkness was like. My form asked her for a spooky story. Seeing as she must do this sort of thing on a regular basis she disappointed slightly and just regurgatated a story another teacher had told in the morning. This teacher's father was into pot-holing and one time one of his friends had been left behind after the ladder out of the cave had been removed. Everyone else had gone to the pub afterwards and not noticed he was missing until his mum panicked the next morning when he hadn't turned up at home and given everyone an earful for being such inconsiderate bastards, at which point they decided it prudent to rescue the poor guy. Later on in the tour of the cave we did another lights out and the guide told another story. About some men working in a mine. One guy got left behind. The ladder got taken up. They went to the pub. Nobody noticed the other guy was missing... I couldn't help but feel I'd heard something similar before.

On day two of the camp we got to go on a zip-line. Everyone was very excited about this until they realised to get to the line they had to climb a very tall tree up to an equivalently small platform and just sort of jump off. One girl even started crying about it. To their credit they all had a go and I think they were glad they did. I had to help them get down at the end by lowering them down from the line on a rope. 'Aren't you getting bored sir?' asked one boy. To be honest yes, but it was worth it to see these beaming little faces as they whooshed past over my head. The intructor praised me for how I got them untwisted in several cases, which made my day. I even got to have a go myself, which was awesome. Most of the kids had screamed as they went down but being fairly undemonstrative I only shouted out 'woo-hoo!' as an afterthought, much to the amusement of the kids below.

At about eleven o' clock it started to rain. We went on a bike ride in the afternoon and got extremely wet and muddy. I'm beginning to think that me, cycling and school together will always equal rain. Last year on camp I got rained on whilst cycling. Last summer I went for a ride with another teacher and it poured down. If there's bike riding on year nine camp I should steer well clear. It was difficult to manage the ride seeing as the boys wanted to go charging ahead and the girls wanted to just not fall off. With another teacher we were able to split them so it worked okay. One boy tried to race me calling out 'seeya sir' as he pedaled furiously. 'Where are you going?' I asked as he failed to get away as I gentley tickled the pedals.

In the evening we managed a campfire in spite of the persistent rain. The teachers were running around with sticks heating up marshmallows to give to the kids. I don't think I've ever been so popular with hoards of kids shouting out to get one. I love heating marshmallows on sticks and eating them but handing them out to year sevens is even better. Some girls were squeamish about eating something that's been on the end of a stick so the lead teacher tried to convince them they'd been bought fresh from Tescos and sterilised. The kids didn't really believe her but I loved the element of doubt: 'she didn't really get them from Tescos did she?' A particular highlight was when one marshmallow dropped on the floor. The Head was visiting camp at that time and when the pupils rejected the fallen marshmallow she swooped down and ate it. It's reassuring that even Senior Leadership have a five second rule.

Because of the rain we sent the pupils to bed early that night with lots of blankets. They seemed to quite enjoy the sense of adventure of being outside getting wet and it only added to the camp experience.

The end of the camp came so quickly. We had one last activity in the morning before debriefing at lunch and then home. Our last activity was called 'sky ropes', which is best described an an obtacle course six metres in the air. It wasn't high enough to induce vertigo but it was high enough to make you very aware of the ground. We were strapped to a harness so it was perfectly safe of course but it was too much for some of the children. I had a go myself and it was definitely worth doing. Besides I have to appear fearless in front of the pupils. My favourite bit on this activity was one boy who took several attempts to get going but eventually did it with help from another pupil. This is definitely what it's all about.

I was sad to have to come home but very relieved to have a decent shower and get clean and dry. I was very impressed by some of the pupils in my form in the way they looked out for each other and how they gave everything a go. There were of course a few who could be a bit lazy and annoying when jobs had to be done but on balance they all had something to be proud of. From my own point of view doing the activities was a lot of fun. There's not many jobs where part of your work takes you into the countryside to play about on zip-lines and sky-ropes, except if you're a zip-line/sky-rope instructor. It was also good to get to know some of the other teachers that I haven't had much contact with before.

I slept very well last night though was slightly haunted by the sound of forty children going 'sir, sir, sir' over and over again.

Checking reports as a form tutor is a stressful experience. You have to draw a line between sending back what is actually wrong - hes that should be shes and assertive headwear: 'I am confident hat Bob will do well next year' - and sending back sentences that are just not phrased as you would phrase them yourself.

Sometimes it's just typos but some mistakes are unforgivable: 'Bob has done well this year, in order to improve next year Fred will have to...' Methinks the drama teacher has been copying and pasting his reports. Where it gets harder is when the mistakes are small and could be gotten away with. Afterall the people who have written the reports are friends really so I don't want to offend them by cramming their pigeon holes with reports to correct. For example, I'm not sending back the ones where sentences have too many commas. I hate grammar/punctuality whores but the comma must be the most overused piece of punctuality in existence. It makes everything sound like it's being, read, after, running, around, the, block. I remember reading somewhere that half of all commas should be missed out and the other half should be full stops followed by the start of a new sentence. Some teachers have braved a semi-colon though only the English teacher (thank God) has got its use right. I'm relieved that everyone knows how to use an apostrophe though. I actually recall the QTS literacy skills test being 90% based on your ability to put fifteen apostrophes into a sentence.

Some reports are just plain dull. If I have to read about someone in my form making a moisture tester again I think I'll scream. It's the most superfluous piece of information I've ever come across. Seriously, half the content of each technology report is '**** is in the process of producing a moisture tester for plants and her work is of an excellent standard'. It wouldn't be so bad if there was some variety in outcome, such as 'and her work is absolutely crap', but the way the reports are written it makes an excellent moisture tester almost like a certificate given for participation.

I was quite satisfied though to find some mistakes in my head of department's reports. He a great boss but he checks our reports and picks out lots of fussy mistakes so now it's payback.

Of course the worst thing is that I'm completely capable of making all the above mistakes, though would never copy and paste as that's just lazy. Either way I'm going to have nightmares tonight about being chased by comma-wielding moisture testers wearing bolshy hats.

As is my usual style I was bouncing around in front on the blackboard this morning whilst teaching my year nines. I would never blatantly lie to my pupils and say that frequency tables are the most exciting things in the world, when they're plainly not, but I do at least try and make out that I think they come pretty close.

One girl who has the rare capacity for a teenager to have a bit of a joke but not take it too far wondered out loud if I was high, she even said that my pupils looked rather small, which seeing as I haven't done any PSHE lessons on drugs recently I'm only guessing must have some narcotic implication. I responded by saying that I would never smoke anything before school (though could name some teachers who might). I wouldn't smoke anything after either though am concerned that my response may have implied I would.

I'm also concerned by some boys in my form. I overheard one calling another 'motherfucker'. He hadn't really meant it to come out of his mouth and was quite embarrassed when I spoke to him about it. He explained that he'd been watching the Godfather. I suggested that it was an eighteen for a reason and that he ought to remember that he's a year seven, not Al Pacino.

One of the science teachers came into my year ten lesson yesterday to give me something for my form. I smiled at her as she came in because it'd a be a bit rude to give her a look as if to say 'what the fuck are you doing here?'

After she'd gone one of the girls in class accused me of fancying her. I think pupils find it hard to see two young teachers talking without assuming that there's something going on. They must think we're at it like rabbits, which speaking from my own experience is unfortunately untrue. Apparently I must fancy her because my pupils could see it in my eyes. Firstly she's married so it wouldn't be the smartest move and secondly I'm twenty four so it's about nine years since I 'fancied' someone.

She is fit though.

As a year seven form tutor I get the pleasure of going camping with them later this month. Having done the same last year with another form I'm really looking forward to it. It's so nice to see the pupils in a different, more relaxed, environment. And it's nice to break out of the classroom and get some fresh air, even if it does rain on you whilst you're going for a bike ride so you get as muddy as you've ever been your whole life. I won't forget that for a bit.

So this morning when I was asked if I'd mind stepping to go on the year nine camp after someone else had pulled out I was a little unsure I could go. Could I really abandon my classes for another week? I know I'm not indispensible but I feel I ought to be doing some teaching this term. Year nines are harder work than sevens too, they're not scared of their own shadows anymore. In fact most of them are the things hiding in the shadows that actually do the scaring. And just think of all that cover work that'd need setting.

I guess it was inevitable then that I agreed to go. I find it very hard to say no. I'm sure it'll be a good trip too. We're off to Scotland which makes it my first trip north of the border. I'm trying to not imagine being greeted by a scene from braveheart.

The lady in charge of the trip is quite amusing so should make the trip quite funny. And one of the teachers who was an NQT with me last year is going too so I'm sure we'll have a laugh. Though I'm sure we'll jinx the weather as wherever we go we get wet. On last year's activity day we were posted to a swimming adventure centre so obviously got a thorough soaking, and we went on a bike ride last summer when it was pouring with rain. And we're going to Scotland which I'm guessing has more rain than, say, Majorca.

Anyway I'm feeling very positive about being asked to go. I get to look like a hero afterall: bravely stepping into the breach at the eleventh hour (well, ninth or tenth) to help out and head into the wild countryside. I'm sure it'll be fun.

During my free this morning I got a phone call from the lady at the school in charge of exams and cover. I was wary that i was about to get a last minute cover lesson so rather cautiously said 'hello'. Fortunately it was nothing of the sort. Apparently some coursework had been sent to our school when it should have gone to a completely different which happens to be the school I live near and in fact used to attend as a pupil. My job was to take the coursework to them. I of course agreed to do so as it would be nice to take a look around again.

On my way there I swear I drove past a girl I'd taught on a teaching practice at another unrelated school. I was tempted to parp my horn at her but seeing as the practice was a couple of years ago so she might not recognise me, or might have been a different girl entirely, I thought better of it. Otherwise I'd have just been some creep beeping his horn at Catholic school girls.

You'd have thoguht the coincidences for the day were over but I then saw my parents at a roundabout, who were probably confused why I was driving along that particular road at that particular time as it isn't the conventional route from my school to my house.

I successfully dropped off the coursework, though disappointingly didn't bump into any of my old teachers.

It was a thoroughly surreal afternoon.

Thursday was year eight parents' evening. On these events you meet a wide range of parents. Those who are really shy and never say anything more than 'yeah' or even nothing at all, those who are really serious and take notes about what you are saying and those who you can have a bit of a laugh and a joke with, perhaps even taking it as a far as a bit of light-hearted flirting.

On Friday morning I overheard two pupils having a discussion:

'My mum fancies Mr xxxx, should I tell him?'

'Probably best not'

Correct.

I think our school is a nice little community for the most part. There are many staff that I'd call friends and those I don't know very well seem pleasant enough and easy to get on with. So it's very disappointing when people start back-biting and bickering. We all bitch from time to time. It's one of the less-appealing aspects of human nature but sometimes it's a bit ridiculous.

Recently there was an epipen training session. I went because a boy in my form is anaphylactic. He's going on camp and seeing as his allergy is nuts - as in he's allergic to nuts, not he's just making it up because he's a bit nutty - it was a good idea to get some training in. If I do have to stab him with a needle I'll just imagine he's one of my year nines because it'll make it so much easier to do. Though I will have to remind myself to take the needle out again.

The school nurse ran the session but apparently one of the cover supervisor/TA people is supposed to be in charge of organising such things. Anyway the school nurse ended up swearing at this TA person for reasons that aren't particularly clear. In an act of utter cowardice this TA then somehow turned the blame onto me by saying I'd been asking her about the training. This was a complete fabrication as I already knew about the session and quite how this then made the school nurse mad at me I'm not entirely sure. In my view someone ought to just bang their heads together. Seeing as their both medically trained at least they'd be able to treat each other afterwards.

Anyway the TA came to see me to tell me what she'd done and to warn me if the nurse starts randomly swearing at me then that's the reason. I think it's a bit pathetic that someone working at a school would behave in the same way as one of the (less mature) children we have responsibility for. I told her not to worry about it as I'd rather just stay out of such idiocy and aggression. It's tempting to moan about this to other staff because I'm not impressed but it'd be rather two-faced of me to do so. If I was going to get angry about it I should do it to her face not act like a ego-maniac on a reality TV show and just bicker behind someone's back.

In further acts of aggression everyone is very tense about the timetabling for next year. There's lots of suspicion about certain people getting a greater control over which classes they teach than others. Maybe some people do get above their station at this time of year but we're here to do a job and teach the classes we're given. I've already been given a sneak preview of my sets for next year and am looking forward to the challenge they'll pose. I'll have different types of groups to the past two years. I'll have a top set year ten who will need some serious stretching and I'll have a bottom set year nine who I'm sure will be hard work. Given that just a few months ago there was lots of talk of redundancy I'm just grateful that I'll have any classes at all.

For every great moment in teaching there seems to be another moment that brings your world crashing to the ground. Put another way, for every awful soul-destroying moment in teaching there's another moment that lifts you up and makes you appreciate how fortunate you are to be doing such a job.

Yesterday I caught two of my year eights passing a note saying I was 'crap'. It was the day following parents' evening and I sense a little bitterness over what I'd told their parents. It was a really nasty little diatribe that totally mocked me. I got my head of department to help sort them out because some things you can't respond to without getting emotional. He's contacting their parents and they seemed very guilty about it.

On a more positive note the SENCO collared me in the corridor and said that she'd been meaning to say something for a while about how I was doing with one of my year sevens. He has mental difficulties and isn't quite there. The fact that he makes it to school at all is a major achievement. She'd been hearing how good my approach to him was from the TAs who work with him and congratulated me on this. It's alwasy nice to be appreciated.

'I didn't understand that work at the start of the lesson but I get it now' said one of my year tens at the end of our lesson this morning with a big smile on his face.

Things like that make it all worthwhile.

I have a love/hate relationship with my year nines. I love the girls and hate the boys. It's very cut and dry, each lesson the girls come in all polite and want to get on with their work. The boys come in bouncing off the walls in the corridor and shouting at the top of their voices. It's report writing season and I'm noticing a massive contrast in my words, though of course I'm having to watch what I say:

zzzzzzzz has not impressed in maths this year. Unfortunately I have found him to cause many problems. He is very disruptive and frequently distracts other pupils from their work. He is sat on his own in lessons but will still call out across the room to start a conversation. It takes much effort on my part to get him to face the correct way in lessons; he always wants to have a debate about it. He has had a very negative impact on the classroom environment and has harmed the education of other pupils.

Translates as: zzzzzzzz is a little shit. He's driven me up the wall. He can't sit still for more than a minute and, get this, he stops other pupils from working. I'd like to try sensory depravation on him but I still think he'd disrupt the lessons. I've even thought about glueing him to his seat just to get him facing the front. He'd argue black was white. If our SATs results aren't as high as I'd like I'm blaming him.

Some pupils just come to the lesson and get on with their work. It's hard to think of what to say.

xxxxxxxx has worked very hard in maths this year. She has made good progress and always given her maximum effort to the work. She takes care to make sure that her work is neat and that it is set out with the correct method. This is important as it helps with revising for exams. Homework is always done on time and this good attitude will serve her well in the future and help her to be successful at the subject.

Translates as: xxxxxxxx has not given me any grief this year. She has made good progress and in spite of not being the sharpest tool in the box does try hard, bless her. She's got neat handwriting, which makes her book easy to mark. Er... Something about exams. Something about homework. Meaningless waffle about her being a good well-rounded kid. A load of nonsense about the future and success. Right. Next.

Then there are the reports that are quite fun to write. About the kids you get on really well with.

yyyyyyyy has been absolutely brilliant in maths this year. Having taught her last year I’ve been delighted to see her taking such a mature approach to her work and getting so much done. She follows instructions well and her work is always done in the correct manner. When tasks have been set she has been determined to complete them and takes great relish in completing an exercise book and asking for a new one. This shows the pride she takes in her work and how keen she is to do well. yyyyyyyy puts her hand up to answer questions in class, is polite and all in all has been fantastic to teach.

Translates as: yyyyyyyy has been absolutely brilliant in maths this year, which is weird because when I taught her last year she was a pain. She actually listens to me when I explain something or give instructions. Amazing. She gets lots of work done and has got big handwriting. Seriously though I do like this kid. yyyyyyyy likes having all the attention but you must have raised her to have good manners because she doesn't shout out, unlike zzzzzzzz. Does she have an older sister in her twenties? I'd like to meet her.

In PSHE today we were doing about seatbelts, why you need to wear them and so on. I showed the pupils a video of an advert that was on television a few years back. It starts with a woman driving a car with her kids in the back and the narrative goes something like 'Like most victim Julie knew her killer...' After a bit of justified paranoia about a white van behind being driven like all white vans are driven - three inches from the car in front - she crashes and her head gets smashed by her son who is thrown forward because he's the dopey sort and hasn't got his seatbelt on.

I got the pupils to write a newspaper article about seatbelts. I suggested they used the advert as though it were an actual story and base their work around it. So they wrote about Julie, but they struggled to think of a surname. It's hard to think of random names, there's always going to be some reason for picking a name. Some played it safe and stuck with 'Smith' but others were more adventurous and so we ended up with three articles about the tragic death of actress Julie Walters. I couldn't help but laugh and had to apologise to them and explain.

They thought the name sounded familiar.

I love this job sometimes.

There are many times in life when someone says something and you think of the perfect comeback. Two hours later.

In teaching it's the opposite problem. You can have the perfect put down but can't use it because it wouldn't be 'professional'. I was teaching my year eights about factorising expressions (a.k.a putting expressions into brackets) and a generally quite irritating boy complains about it having a fancy name: 'why don't we just call it "putting it into brackets?" It's just confusing' I came so close to saying 'why don't we ignore your name and just call you "that annoying boy who can't shut up for ten seconds?"'

I don't mind my pupils asking questions, they do come up with some good ones, but this boy does so with such monotonous repitition that I having the sneaking suspsicion that he's only asking to be a pain.

As a teacher I want to be seen as knowledgeable, authoritative and mature. But I can't seem to shake of the whole sweet/nice young man image. It drives me mad. One of my year tens was telling me that his parents had been talking about how pleasant I'd seemed at parents evening. The fact that his dad was huge and his mum was rather attractive might have something to do with this. Generally I find it to be not too smart to be curt and rude to people who could crush me with one finger and I'll be honest, I'm more likely to be all smiles towards an attractice woman than towards an ugly old man with warts. It's the basis of evolution. Sort of.

I then had one of his classmates saying how they'd been talking to their auntie whose son is in my form about how sweet I am. Just before half term two year elevens told me about their English teacher saying how nice I am. Which I guess is... nice, and I am glad to be appreciated, but I wish other teachers would go on about how clever I am or that I'm a blackbelt in karate so it's not a good idea to mess with me. Admittedly that last one isn't true but it'd be nice if they did.

I just want to be taken seriously.

In my house I've recently been overrun with mice. When I say overrun I mean I have found evidence of at least one mouse being present oweing to the fact that something has taken a taste for my shoes. In my view even that's one mouse too many so I set out a humane mousetrap.

This morning I heard a scuffling noise inside it and found that I'd caught the little guy. I'd heard that mice will find their way back to your house if you release them within two miles (rat nav?) so I took him with me in my car on my way to school. It must have been a strange sight for anyone driving past: me leaning out of my car and releasing this little rodent. Possibly they thought I was a pigeon fancier who was too tight to buy actual pigeons so was making do with mice.

I'm setting the trap again tonight but am hoping that there won't be anymore visitors. I've even put a cliched lump of cheese in it.