Day 18: The Hump

They call Wednesdays "The Hump". Apparently because once you get over it you're almost at the weekend. I wasn't really looking forward to today, especially after having yesterday off from the kids, but I was prepped and ready to go as normal.

I was caught off guard when more than one colleague asked me why I was in such a good mood this morning. I'm not sure whether I should be offended by the fact that I have given off such an air of despair, or relieved that it has evaporated recently. Either way, I am feeling more positive for some reason.

I started the day with year 7. I always look forward to this class, and I wanted to play some classical music (as a treat for myself rather than them) as they walked in. Unfortunately my quick youtube search ended up with me playing Clint Mansell's Requiem For A Dream theme, which was a little dramatic to say the least. I cleverly (or so I thought) pretended that this was intentional, asking the kids how the music made them feel and why - and how we can achieve the same effect through words. Or something. The lesson went well, apart from one of the tasks that was a little tricky and I didn't really explain it, and then two of the kids cried (not my fault!)

Straight after was year 9, and I'd had the chance to chat with my colleague who'd be team teaching with me about how we'd do it. Unfortunately my pacing was rubbish so we didn't get to the bit we decided he'd do, but otherwise the lesson was ok. One of the kids, U, gave a fabulous answer for the task on semi-colons: "I don't like school; I've got maths today." This had originally said "English" which made me laugh out loud, and he changed it. He's a tricky boy who's obviously bright but his literacy is a little dodgy but I think he could do well if he wanted to. I was a little taken aback by A turning up, despite the fact that he was supposed to be on the Bridge today - luckily my colleague escorted him down without complaint (from my colleague.)

I had break, then year 11, who I was also looking forward to. I was going to try setting them some group work which I wasn't convinced would work, and it didn't really. I took advantage of the new coursework tracker on the system and showed it to them, in order to shame a few of them into doing the pieces they were missing. The girl in the group agreed to do her Shakespeare piece, and I emphasised the fact that she could easily get a C. Two of the boys volunteered to come after school to do their media, and the other I trapped into coming at lunch tomorrow. We'll see if he shows.

I had lunch, then a free, which I spent rustling up crib sheets for the Romeo and Juliet coursework for my year 11 girl, and then had to babysit a rather obnoxious year 11 as I was down on the behaviour rota.

Then year 10. My group is dropping like flies; I only have 26 left. Not that I'm complaining. I'm not sure where I am with this group - I felt good last week but there's a lot of moaning, and as we were finishing off the work they did last lesson, the lesson itself was a little flat. We had 5 minutes at the end, so I showed them the opening of West Side Story. They were not impressed.

So the day finished, and my two year 11 boys turned up. We stayed in the media room till half 5 and they worked on their coursework while I attempted to mark my year 10 work (someone was moaning in the class.) It was a lot easier than it had been with H - EAL really makes a difference - but I suspect that the boy coming at lunch tomorrow might be trickier.

I decided to go home, and plan lessons the next day. I don't start till period 3, so have plenty of time to put them together. Plus I need to observe my colleague and mark. Busy day.

Day 17: Cover-tastic

Ah, departmental training day. Just the relief I needed from my three 4-period days in a row this week. I spent an hour or so last night prepping the cover work for my lessons, having been given the sage advice from a colleague: "don't spend more than half an hour on it - they won't do it." I found a few tasks for each of my classes and left it till the morning.

I allowed myself a little lie-in today, getting in around 8, and cleared anything of value out of my classroom, making sure to lock the filing cabinets so that nothing could be pilfered. I carefully laid out the work on my desk and ran. I felt sorry for the poor bastard who'd be covering my lessons today, although not sorry enough to hang around. As the whole department was having cover (apart from the colleague who 'took it for the team' because a cover teacher didn't turn up) we were expecting riots on the corridor. The kids go a little crazy when there are supply teachers around - we all noticed the difference when the HoD was off a week ago - so no one wanted to be around the bloodbath.

Anyway, I'd been asked to go through a sample of coursework and mark it myself using the scheme. This is harder than you'd think, especially if you saw how vague the criteria was, so I had a go, with a little help from a colleague, and whipped through the selection. We were sat in the conference room, and I'd brought a selection of sweets to keep us going. I think the less said about the day the better, but basically we all went through our scores to compare, then remarked any we disagreed on. In the course of the afternoon I tidied my year 11 coursework folder and marked H's media coursework. He got 12; much better than a 3. I looked through all my year 11 kids' marks - it was quite depressing, and I need to sort out how I'm going to squeeze the last few pieces out of them. I'm not convinced that they should be entered for the literature paper, especially as they would all need do that elusive 5th piece of coursework, and an extra exam, but I feel guilty taking the chance off them. I need to think about that one.

A quick diversion - A in year 9 got in a spot of bother yesterday and is having all sorts of intervention. I'm glad to hear it's not just me - everyone seems to know his name at least. I suppose the challenge will be in working with him when he's back in my class to show I'm not giving up on him. It's a shame he's so damn abrasive. I like to think there's good in everyone, no matter how deeply buried, but he's not half trying to prove otherwise.

The day went pretty quickly, overall, and I returned to the department just before the last bell. My year 8 class were causing trouble, by the look of it, and I was a little disconcerted (is that a word?) when one of my troublesome kids (who had all given the supply a hard time - so we'll be giving them a group detention) asked me where I'd been.
"Miss! Where was you?"
"Do you mean 'where were you'"?
"That's what I said - where was you?"
"Where *were* you?"
"Ok, where were you?"
"I had training for coursework marking fun."
"I wish you'd been teaching us instead."
*Miss faints with shock*
Whether she was taking the piss or not, it did make me smile. The poor supply teacher looked a little stressed, and I felt bad that he stayed to be debriefed when he clearly wanted to run a mile.

So I stayed late, did planning for tomorrow, and attended an IT training session. It was a relief to get home, as I was feeling EXHAUSTED. This must be the hard part of teaching - having to go through all the rigmarole AND feel tired at the same time. Time for bed - four lessons tomorrow, and prep to do in the morning. *gulp*

Day 16: What week is this?

"Don't worry, it'll get easier." That's what you're all saying, isn't it? Knuckle down, stay positive and do your best, and it'll all get better in the end. Well, I think I'm beginning to see what they mean.

The kids are not behaving better. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing any more than I did. The lessons are not suddenly effective and engaging. The difference is, I don't really care.

Well, of course I care. But I'm finding myself *less* upset than before. Monday of week 2 was one of my worst days (out of 3 really bad ones) and with 4 lessons I was expecting a hard time. To be honest, I wasn't far off. I had first period off to prepare, and got all the resources lined up and ready to go.

Year 8, we meet again. I can't be bothered to go into detail but suffice to say my little group of idiots acted up again. I honestly don't know what to do about them. It is constant low level disruption which holds up the class and undermines me. It's a shame because there are enough good kids in the class that I'm getting tired of paying all my attention on the attention-seeking attitude-giving kids. I need advice on how to sort this lot out, although luckily I don't have them again until next week now.

Year 7. I actually didn't realise they were going to be in my room, as they had a reading/writing test that lesson, so was a little confused when they turned up and I'd already set the room up for my next class after lunch. I really love that group, they're so sweet and interesting. Even my little 'naughty' kid gave me a thumbs up when he entered the room, and cheekily teased me (or tried to) about seeing me smoking outside school the other day. I was relieved when the test-givers turned up eventually, and left them to their fate, while I had an early lunch.

After lunch = Year 9. Well, what can I say? Walking back from my pre-lesson cigarette, I heard "MISS - Do we have English next?" and saw A on the other side of the fence.
"Yep." I called back.
"Well I'm not going. That lesson is shit."
"Nice. See you there, A."
Little did he know that I'd already put in a complaint about him as he'd been sent out of my classroom more than three times this term and so (in accordance with department policy) was not supposed to come to English anymore until his parent comes in for a consultation. My colleague was in with me for the lesson, and so I had asked him if he would escort A over to the Brig, I mean, Bridge (where we keep the n'erdowells) A put up quite a bit of a fuss. To the point that, when he did finally make it over there, he gave the SLT on duty so much attitude that he spent an hour with the headmaster. Ouch.
The lesson itself was interesting. I felt myself being spoken over by my colleague a few times, which was useful in the sense that I wasn't being very clear and needed help, but at the same time prompted the reaction from a few of the kids that I "wasn't being allowed to teach" them. I'm not sure how to handle this.

Anyway, after they'd finally left, it was time for year 11. These guys are my second favourite group, after year 7, and I even ignored K's willful acts of insolence (putting on his damn shinpads while we were reading.) We were reading to the end of the play, although didn't get that far, and I actually had fun discussing the plot with them. Unfortunately at the end of the lesson I asked one boy, who's normally quite sparky and on the right side of cheeky, to collect the folders, and when he did he was accidentally elbowed in the face by H. I'm not sure what I was doing at the time, but I turned around to see him with his hands clasped around H's neck, the latter looking panicked and trying to explain it was an accident. I broke them up, separated them, and let the others go. The boy who did it looked pretty remorseful, especially when I asked him what happened and said "do you think it might have been an accident?" He agreed it wasn't a great way to act, and I regret that I didn't make him apologise to H, but I didn't want to exacerbate things. I let him go, and reported the incident on the system. I spoke to H briefly. He's so quiet, but I told him not to worry, and that the other boy didn't mean it, and that I would be speaking to him soon about sorting out his coursework. He lumbered off, a gentle giant, and I felt a little sorry for him. I see him on his own a lot around school.

So that was it. I skipped off for a cigarette, then down to my weekly meeting/training session which was all about the magic of lesson observations, and was quite interesting. I went back up to my room after, cleared up, and prepared the cover work for tomorrow - that's right, no lessons for moi, or the rest of the English department; we having training! The corridor is going to be mental, but I don't really care. It's nice to be having a day away from the kids.

Anyway, I came home to a delicious dinner and lovely company in the shape of my housemate and her friends. I'm supposed to be marking some sample coursework for the training tomorrow, so I best have a crack at that before bed.

Night all!

Day 15: My easiest day in teaching

I think I should treasure this day. File the memory away under "times to remember how easy it can be" in the deep recesses of my brain, and pull it out on occasion whenever I'm in need.

Why so good? Well, as we had the prospective parents' evening the night before, we had 1st period off (when I would have had year 10) and so I had only one class, year 7, my best group by far. Not only that, but I also didn't have to do any teaching because I'd organised a trip to the library for them, and the glamorous librarian would teach them instead! Marvellous. The 'lesson' went well, they were pretty well behaved, and it was nice to have them complimented as a class by the librarian.

I was relaxed and happy throughout the day, and managed to observe two lessons so I reached my quota of 3 for the week. I also had a planning session with the SLT who was coaching me, which was useful. I was not even too upset when the chocolate fingers I'd purchased disappeared in the course of a lesson.

The only problem was I didn't allow myself time to plan or mark, both of which I needed to do, so I told myself that, when 3.30 rolled around, I could leave and go to the pub on the condition that I came in super early on Monday to sort it out then. I practically ran to the pub, and drank myself silly with my colleagues, although no vomiting this time around. Have a lovely weekend - I know I will!

Day 14: 14 hours

14 hours ago I entered the school. 14 minutes ago, I left it. It has been a loooong day. Reflection is difficult when you're this tired so I'll do another speedy recap, and hope that I'll have more energy tomorrow.

Lesson 1: Year 9. I asked my HoD to sit in with me as I wanted to give them a written assignment and I was worried how it would go down. They were quite well behaved to begin with, and I was especially pleased to see that the boy who had given me a hard time in the previous lesson was impeccable, did his work, and was very responsive. Unfortunately it descended into chaos when they finished the assignment earlier than expected, and little A threw a pen at someone, and I had to physically break them apart. Urgh. Worst part was that I didn't report it on the electronic system as I was so busy, and forgot to do it the next day. Must do it first thing Monday. My HoD, who missed the end of the lesson, gave me really positive feedback, which was nice to hear. I wasn't too impressed with how it ended, but I was happy with the first half at least.

Lesson 2: Year 10. As I kept A back to tell him off, I was a little behind it letting the year 10s in, and I'd also forgotten I was going to be observed by my subject tutor. I got the books and folders out, and the starter I'd created - a mini facebook profile for Juliet, where they had to fill in her status updates depending on the scenes. I was quite proud of this, till one of the boys in the group pointed out to me that I'd put her name as "Juliet Montague". Cringe. They also spent a good few minutes filling them in and then commenting on how sad I was for making it, and that I'd used the old version of facebook. Lame. Anyway, the lesson went pretty well, actually. We read one scene, and I talked through it, to explain the language. The kids were really responsive, and had some great points. Luckily the passage was about Juliet thinking about sex, so it was pretty easy to get them interested. There was one great point when I talked about virginity and holding the bedsheets up to show there was blood etc - a few looked grossed-out but one girl piped up that it was "what [her culture] does - with the husband's family waiting outside the room with guns in case she's not a virgin". Hilarious. Unfortunately the class was disturbed when half of them were pulled out to be finger-scanned so I had to revert to watching the film - hurrah - and planned to finish it the next lesson. I spent my last (free) hour being debriefed about my lesson. My tutor was really encouraging, and it was great being told something went well.

After that, as school finished at 1 and we were leaving for the theatre then, I had time to be bought a sandwich and eat it, then have a sneaky cigarette before we got on the coach for An Inspector Calls. There were 5 staff going and only 21 students. This was due to a rather embarrassing decision made by the powers that be, which I won't go in to, but it meant that we didn't have time to sell or even give away the remaining tickets. Whatever, we went off on our merry way to the Strand, and sat at the front of the coach, listening to the entertaining banter of the year 11s at the back. They spent the entire journey making fun of random passer-bys (the most entertaining thing was a 3-legged dog) and we pulled up to the theatre to see there were at least three other school groups in front of us in the queue. I actually felt quite protective of our lot, who looked very smart in their blazers next to a preppy school group from Rochester (so their teacher told me.) My colleague had gone off to see if he could sell back our remaining tickets, and we were rather smug to hear that we had been reseated at the front of the auditorium rather than the very back. The kids all had their little bags of popcorn, which they were asked to put into plastic cups to prevent rustlin'. There was a rather embarrassing moment when a stuck-up woman in a twin set and pearls tried to get past them to what she thought was her seat, but they were so involved in sorting their sweets out they didn't move and she had to push past them, only to find one sat in 'her seat' and then had to shuffle back past to complain. As it happened, her ticket wasn't valid. How embarrassing.

So the show started, and the kids got into it. I'd never seen it before, but it was pretty good. The Inspector himself was a little bad, speaking very quickly and often stuttering his words, which ruined it a bit, but the show kept the kids engaged the whole way through. Right at the end, the model house on stage explodes, and the boys in the front row nearly fell out of their seats when the dining table flipped and shards of crockery crashed towards them; one boy actually got a piece of plate in his lap.

When the show ended, as we were leaving, one of the theatre's managers complimented my colleague on how well behaved the kids were, which was nice.

We got straight onto the coach, and zipped back to school although had to get off on the way and walk the last mile due to traffic. It was slightly depressing to go back to school for prospective parents' evening, so I picked up a pizza and my colleague and I waltzed through the front gates, unfortunately walking past the entire SLT with our pizza boxes. Oops. The evening itself wasn't too bad - I sat in my colleague's room, cutting out lizards to stick on her wall, and chatted with about 5 parents the whole time. I finally left at half 8, and got home by 9, exhausted. It had been a long, but good, day.

Day 13: Tired/Bored

Hmmmmm Wednesday. Half way through the week, and not a lot more to say. I left the school today feeling ok. I feel, in a word, ambivalent towards this whole thing.

Lesson 1 was year 9. I was, as always, dreading it. I knew I would have support in the shape of a male colleague, and I was hoping that this would take the pressure off. I spent the hour before the lesson started worrying about what to teach, how to do it, and how my colleague would assist. We decided to do the lesson on similes, and I put together a rather hasty plan, with my colleague taking half the class off. We debated about whether he should take out the good ones, as a reward, or the naughty ones, as a punishment, and decided (eventually) on the former. When it got to the lesson, I completely forgot this, and we ended up team teaching. The kids weren't too bad, but again I relied too heavily on my colleague for crowd control, and he sent out A almost immediately. The lesson felt like it fell a little flat, and we had to make a swift amendment at the end as the kids finished earlier than expected (the lesson had too little meat, apparently) but apart from that it wasn't a complete disaster. I have them again first thing tomorrow and I need to think of something good to do with them (last minute planning again - must do better!)

Year 11 were next, and they were... great, actually. I was really impressed with their behaviour, once they settled down, and their work ethic. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that my professional mentor popped in (to observe me for 10 mins) but either way I came away from the lesson feeling good.

All I had left was year 10 in last period, and I forgot to observe a lesson I'd planned, which earned me a telling off from my mentor. The lesson was supposed to be simple - little starter, watch the film, then little game at the end. However, having shown them the Baz Luhrman Romeo and Juliet, they all complained when I told them we'd be watching the older version, and some whined throughout that it was "like watching paint dry".
One such conversation went like this:
Pissy year 11 girl: "Miss, have you seen all of this film already?"
Me: "Yep."
Pissy: "That must have been painful for you."
Me: "Almost as painful as listening to you whine."
Pissy: *kisses teeth*

I was relieved when the lesson ended (I say that a lot, apparently) and ran off for some cigarettes before departmental meeting. The meeting was ok, a little dry, and I left the school in a great mood when I realised that, although I'd be doing a 13 hour day tomorrow, I only had to plan two lessons tonight and that would be it. We have "prospective parents' evening" tomorrow night, and have to stay in the school till 8.30, which is after taking the year 11s to An Inspector Calls in the afternoon, but school finishes early tomorrow, and then we have a late start on Friday, and as my year 7s will be in the library, I'm free to relax Thursday night!

Hooray! Now I best get going on my plans for tomorrow.

Day 12: Worst. Day. Ever.

As I sit watching another lame proposal and acceptance on Friends, I try to forget about the dystopia from which I have just emerged. I should have guessed that Tuesday Week 1 would be a nightmare; it was the worst day in my first week, why should it be any better now? Four lessons, two of my hardest groups, and still trying to understand what the hell I'm supposed to do once I pass the threshold of my classroom. I don't really want to disect the day I had, but here's a rundown:

Period 1: Off.
Period 2: Year 11. SLT observed. Kids behaved, did their work, some wanted to come on the trip. Went well.
Period 3: Year 9. HELL. HELL HELL HELL. Three sent out, all misbehaved, phonecalls home. NIGHTMARE. The WORST lesson I have had since I've been here. Cried in the arms of the TA after. Very embarrassing.
Period 4: Year 10. Went well, kids responded, seemed to understand, not bad.
Period 5: YEar 8. NIGHTMARE class again. Lots of silliness. Lesson went to pot. Awful.

End of day, 4 phonecalls to parents. Awful. Left school, waited 40 mins for packed bus, came home to find kitchen leaking into indian place below. Still need to plan.

Light at the end of the tunnel: Geoff is coming to stay over. I am so happy.

Day 11: Novelty has left the building

I suppose the best thing about teaching is that every weeks offers you the chance of a fresh start. It's what you do with it that counts. I chose to do little with this advantage, which has more to do with lethargy than choice.

Same shit, different day. Got in, prepared my classroom, cigarette (starting to sound familiar?) and had morning briefing with the rest of the staff. Nothing new to add apart from the news that all students are having biometric data stored (sort of) to avoid cash being used in the canteens. (Hello school - this is 1984, we want our concept back.) I also received emails about three of my students who are all struggling in various ways and need extra support - differentiation, anyone?

Year 7 were my first class, and it went OK. I was very aware of the one boy about whom I'd received an email stating that his mother is concerned about his self-esteem as he has trouble with his writing. His writing is pretty terrible, but he understood the lesson and was able to answer the questions I'd asked - quite adorably, in fact. They had to write sentences starting with a preposition, and one of his was "Under the bridge is a troll." Cute. I set them some group work which most of them completed, although a couple of the questions were tricky and a few had difficulty. Another group were pretty annoying and didn't behave so I'll be watching them very closely next lesson.

The lesson finished and I had three frees until my last lesson in period 5. I tried to get some marking done, but it's incredibly time consuming, and after break headed downstairs to observe the SLT who'd offered to help me. She was teaching science (not her subject) to a group of year 8s and it was quite useful to see her with them. They were pretty silent when she was talking, which was for a lot of the time, and she didn't accept hands up for answering questions, which I need to try. It's far too easy to ask a question and then choose whoever puts their hand up for the answer.

After her lesson and some lunch, I had a meeting with my HoD who ran through marking and other such protocol with me. I talked to him about the observations I'm planning on making and he gave me some more advice. He also wants me to help out with booster sessions for year 11 coursework, which was good because I was going to try to set something up. I also saw one of the PE teachers in the corridor whom I'd never met before and who asked me about my coaching qualifications. I'd forgotten about a tipsy conversation in the Bull on Friday with the PE department that involved me asking if they had a rugby team and, if not, could I help set it up. I'd eagerly volunteered, proffering my RFU Level 1 coaching qualification (not really worth a dime) and they seemed relatively impressed. That's something to look forward to.

So period five finally rolled around, and I couldn't wait for it to finish. Year 11 were restless and chatty. K threw a strop when I asked him to remove his hoodie before he came in and was utterly disruptive when he did eventually get to his seat. The lessons I admit are getting problematically formulaic, but it was nice to hear the guys actually asking to read for a change. I'm going to move their seats around tomorrow to stop some of the chatter, because they wouldn't shut up. I know it was the end of the day, but still. I feel like I have no command over them sometimes. I let them end the lesson ten minutes early to tell them that there are 4 tickets up for grabs for An Inspector Calls on Thursday, and that anyone who was interested could wait for me at the end. I felt like a complete moron when no one stayed behind. Oh well.

The day was over at last - they practically ran out of the room - and I went for a cigarette before my Teachy Firsty weekly meeting. We were talking about using praise and reward in lessons, and I think we discussed a few things that I might try to implement. My reward system is a little, er, nonexistent, and I have to work on my warnings as well. I'm going to go for a football-style card system - two yellows than a red and they're out of the lesson. We'll see how that works.

Anyway, now I'm finally at home (stayed till 7 to plan for tomorrow) and after being fed and watered I'm relaxing in front of Battlestar Galactica. Classy.

Day 10: How do you solve a problem like media?

Before I knew it, it was Friday. My HoD welcomed me in the morning with an interesting statement: "Well, you've had a hell of a week!" I thought about it, a little taken aback. Yes, he'd read my blog, but I didn't really think it had been that exciting. I guess things blend together after a while.

My year 11 club was due to come in at 10, so I set about preparing my room and printing off resources. I planned to have a media workshop in the morning, then send two of the boys home and finish with a poetry lesson in the afternoon for H.

Until then, I went up to the computer rooms to see what the rest of the year 11s were doing. It was mayhem. 20 students per computer room, all trying to write coursework from scratch, all with no idea. My HoD was up there trying to control the rabble, but every two minutes a new student piped up with a question. I repeated myself more times than I can remember: "Read through the passage, read through in the modern English, then if there's anything you don't understand, look in up on wikipedia." I had no idea that they were so incapable for thinking for themselves; they couldn't even skim read.

I was relieved to escape and went back to the department to await my club. H turned up. Alone. I was a little disappointed, but not exactly surprised. After some awkward conversation about his future ambitions ("Doctor") and what he was reading ("a book about animals") we got in to it. I was going to work through a new piece with him, which centered aroung an advert. I had a page of questions which were split into paragraphs and basically told him what to write. I though that would be simple enough, but unfortunately I was wrong, and had to talk him through every question. At one point I went off for a cigarette and a cup of tea, and when I'd come back half an hour later, he hadn't moved on. It took exactly 5 hours to write the damn thing, and I was so happy when I sent him off at 3, I called him ma to tell him she should be proud of him for trying so hard. I have no idea how the coursework will do, or when I'll fit in the time to help him rewrite his poetry piece, but I suppose I'll have to work something out.

After my incredibly long day I went for a few drinks in the pub, then made my way down to South London for a relaxed evening with friends. Saturday I spent with my family, and it was then that I was hit by the gravity of my situation; that is, I realised just how stressed and tired I am. I've been working more than 12 hours a day, with less than 6 hours sleep a night. I'm in a new job I don't really understand, working with children who would rather do anything to disrupt me than actually sit still and behave. I've had very little training and I feel utterly overwhelmed by all the information I have to process. All I want to do right now is get into bed and sleep, eat, and maybe build myself a little fort. But I have to fill in my journal, and plan my lessons, and prepare my resources. I have 5 weeks till half term and right now, although it's overall going better, I feel like I'll never make it. Or maybe I'm just feeling really down today.

Day 9: The weekend is in sight

After my rather abrupt end to the post from yesterday, maybe I should pick up from parents' evening last night.

So, at 3.30 I returned from The Bin to the department, ready for parents' evening. It wasn't really explained to me what I should actually say should I have been asked for a meeting. It also wasn't explained how long they should last. The evening was specifically for year 11, as it was cancelled last term due to a powercut. Towards the end of the day a member of staff went around posting names on the classroom doors to indicate which teachers would be present. I was told that although it was predominately for personal tutors, subject teachers should 'hang around' in case someone wanted to discuss things. I figured that, as I'd only had my year 11s for a couple of weeks, noone would want me and I could spend the 3 hours planning. I pencilled my name onto a sign and sat down to facebook (ahem) in the English office.

I was a little shaken therefore when my GTP colleague came to tell me I had a visitor. I began to panic - what exactly could I say? Only one of my pupils had mentioned he'd be attending, as his "mum was making him go. bitch." My colleague told me what to do and say; repeat to them the pupil's target grade and "challenge" grade (two marks higher) and say that if they wanted to do better they needed to attend every lesson, participate in class and finish all the coursework. I steeled myself and strolled into the classroom, hoping that my faux air of confidence was believable. I was suprised to see a pupil whom I'd never really spoken to before, let's call him H, with his mum, a restless sister, and a white woman who eventually introduced herself to me as his tutor. We sat down and I started the spiel. H is on course for a G grade, but if he works hard he could achieve a D. This hurt. Earlier in the day I had joked nervously with colleagues about how I would actually say this to a parent if asked; it seemed rather depressing. Anyway, I said it and was grilled by his tutor about what we'd been studying and what he'd need to know for the exam. I stalled a bit; I couldn't remember what we'd be doing later in the year, so I had to run off to get the long term plan (lent to me by the lovely GTP) and I managed to bluff my way through. The tutor asked me if H ever spoke to me in class; I could honestly not remember. I said no, not really, and she launched into a diatribe about how he had no friends, spoke no English at home, and didn't practice apart from with her ("was there a drama club at school he could join?") She tutored him for maths three times a week, and was trying to help him with English at the same time. I tried to smile encouragingly at H; I couldn't imagine how uncomfortable he must have been feeling. My GTP colleague joined us at this point (not before telling me that the meetings were only supposed to be ten minutes - we'd been talking for at least 15) and reminded his mother and tutor of how far he'd come. She used to be a teaching assistant at the school for six years and had seen him when he was new to the country (Somalian?) and couldn't speak any English at all; it was remarkable to consider how much she must have seen him change, shy as he was now.

We got on to the subject of coursework, and I ran off again to get the boxfile I'd stored in my class cupboard. Showing them the marks was made more painful when I saw the look on H's face. He'd gotten 3/40 for one piece - he'd been sick, apparently. The piece itself was handwritten on one sheet of lined paper and incomplete. His mother was horrified; she said she wasn't sure whether to be angry at H or the school. I looked at his grades and felt a little sick. "You know, he could come in on Friday and I could help him redraft a couple of pieces," I offered. I tried to explain as tactfully as possible that Friday was a target setting day for the school, so there would be no lessons for anyone (year 7-10 pupils come in with parents and discuss to which grades their children should be aiming) and some select year 11s would come in for coursework help. Although the coursework help was aimed primarily at those expected to reach a C grade (D/C students are the priority - targets, innit) I could help H myself as I'd have no formal plans (other than planning.) They seemed happy with this, and I grimaced internally as H's mother made him thank me. I waved them off, feeling rather disillusioned with the whole GCSE system. I'm still not sure how I feel about it.

Whilst we'd been having our marathon chat, I spotted K from my year 11 group leaning against the wall in the hallway. I was mid conversation so didn't really acknowlege him, assuming he was waiting for someone else. He disappeared after, so I wonder if he had been waiting for me. I'm not sure what I could have said, but I would have liked to talk to him outside of the classroom. The only other pupil I saw was another in the group who spent most of the time chatting to K. He came with his brother and they both seemed bored (can't say I blame them.) After giving them the target/challenge grade spiel I offered him the chance to redraft his coursework if he wanted. He didn't. I asked if they had any questions. They didn't. I thanked them and they sloped off. At least they came, I guess.

So that was yesterday. I went home, exhausted, and managed to watch two episodes of BSG with my flatmate - what a treat! I went to bed later than expected our other flatmate returned from holiday, but managed to get my head down around midnight.

As always, morning came too soon, and I allowed myself an extra 15 minutes in bed before dragging myself in. I only had two lessons today, which was a blessing after the past three days. I prepared the classroom for my first lesson (year 10) which wasn't going to be until after break. I was getting nervous about it; the group are difficult to manage, and I don't think I'm doing a great job of explaining what I'm teaching to them. In the period before break I was joined by my professional/subject tutor with whom I had a long chat. It's interesting to think that after Monday (maybe it's the fatigue) I've been feeling fairly neutral about how things are going. She gave me some good advice, and I felt a little better over my pre-lesson cigarette. Finally, breaktime was over, and I went up to the room. I was a little perplexed to see, when my students had entered, that the girl who I'd moved down was sat on her old desk chatting.
I asked her politely to leave.
"But I'm just talking to my friends."
"You can do that after the lesson. Please go to your classroom."
I was relieved when she went without complaint.
I got going on the lesson, and was pleased that the group hushed much quicker than they had the day before. There are still some very irritating girls that I need to separate as soon as possible. I'd set them a starter that I thought would work, thinking about Juliet's language when we first meet her. I was asked what the exam question meant. Hmmmmmm. I might have to address that in the next lesson. They read through the text and I questioned for understanding. I tried to bang on about the sonnet form, but it wasn't really going in. I made the mistake of playing them the film version first, which meant that they were thinking about that when they answered the questions on the worksheet I gave them. I need to find some background research for them to do, I've realised that they don't really know much about the time. Oh well. One of the pupils was really off with me, she wouldn't put her folder on the pile as asked. I'm not sure what to think about her; she keeps testing me, I really need to stand up to her in a firmer way. I kept two of the girls behind as a warning for chatting. They left smirking. ARGH.

Lunchtime was a sweet relief. I was beginning to get nervous about my year 9 group. I'd promised them the film if they did their work, but didn't account for the fact that I'd planned a full lesson without the film. I should really prepare some tie-in activities next time I do that. In the period I had off before year 9, I was sat in my NQT colleague's classroom as mine was being used. As we chatted about something mundane, the long-term supply teacher came in holding a pupil's book. "What should I do about this?" she asked my NQT colleague and I, "this pupil wrote this in her book and now she won't leave my classroom." He had a look and suggested that they speak to the HoD, who was busy in a lesson, and so another teacher (the one who helped in my year 9 class) went to help. Shortly after they'd gone I could hear shouting from the other side of the corridor. Turned out a top set year 9 pupil had written something offensive, along the lines of "I don't want to be in your stupid lesson you bitch" and then called her the C word. The bad one.

So if I wasn't nervous about my year 9 group before, I was now. Not least because I'd have the parent-liaison observing, as well as, at it turned out, a member of the SLT. And a TA. Panic. It was amusing to see how obsessed the kids were with the idea of watching the movie, as I'd promised they could if they did the homework I'd set them before. They were actually questioning each other to make sure they'd all done it. Unfortunately they didn't all write their names on it, so I couldn't tell who hadn't done it (apart from one of my troublesome pupils.) Overall only about 3 or 4 of them hadn't, so I decided to show it. Before that, I tried a simple starter, after the success of the one the day before: more apostrophes. They kind of got it, but not hugely. It was a little dry. I decided to jump straight to the video after, which took most of the lesson. What was wonderful to see was how good they were whilst watching. Other than the odd chatter, there was not a peep out of them. They were incredibly interested in what I had thought was a rather sorry and dated BBC adaptation of the novel we're reading, Stone Cold. They seemed to love it. I will have to remember that in the future. Videos = good.

I was beginning to panic, as I still had time left in the lesson. I stopped the video and threw together a quick plenary of apostrophes to write in their books. My little homework-less pupil was kept behind because he had not only not done his homework, or at least not brought it, but had been irritating and disruptive the entire lesson. I'm going to have to put it on SIMS, as I forgot. I should have kept him behind longer, I just had a quick chat and sent him on his merry way. I had a nice long chat with the SLT after, and she gave me pointers and advice, and offered to observe a lesson with me, so we could discuss it after, which would be really great. She pointed out that the lesson wasn't a disaster, and the kids weren't that bad. I suppose they're not really. I feel a bit embarrassed about the fuss I'd kicked up about them, especially now that my colleague has rearranged his timetable so he can team teach them with me.

So anyway, the day ended and I went for a cigarette and decided to try to round up some more year 11s to do coursework tomorrow. Originally I wasn't sure whether or not to get more in, but it was only after I thought about it, I decided that I feel I'd be doing them a disservice if I don't at least give them the opportunity to come in and catch up. I called around five parents, and got through to two, who said they'd bring their sons in. I did speak to one year 11 in the class who, when I look at her coursework grades (she's handed in 2 out of 5) could get a C if she completed the rest to the same standard. She didn't want to come in, claiming she had an appointment the next day, and I said I'd speak to her in the week. I am determined to help her do better. I guess she just has to want it.

So I went home relatively early, having printed off coursework information for me to read over tomorrow (I haven't actually read the poems they'll be looking at; something we'll have in common) and was treated to a slap up dinner courtesy of my lovely flatmate.

I feel pretty relaxed now, and am actually looking forward to tomorrow. We'll have to see how many turn up (I know H certainly will) and hopefully I can make it at least a little fun. I might bring some snacks for them to enjoy whilst they work.

Bon nuit!

Day 8: Parent's Evening

Today I spent exactly 12 hours at the school. This is something to which I have become accustomed, but for some reason it felt harder on this particular day. Probably because I experienced my first ever parent's evening. I say in the singular, as I only saw one actual parent.

Anyway, it was the third of my 4-period days in the week, and the strain was beginning to show. There's something about being told "you look tired" that really makes you feel like shit when you drag yourself in after less than 6 hours' sleep.

So lesson one was year 7. I had a teaching assistant, which was a first for that group, and was embarrassed when she corrected an answer I gave to the group. I really need to double check what I'm teaching before I do. Although I'm not hugely confident with my year 7s, I generally like what I do with them and there are some really bright kids in that group so it makes it fun. I'm going to organise a trip to the library soon.

After the year 7s were year 9. I had help again this time, in the shape of another English teacher, who will hopefully be team teaching with me throughout the year with this group. Overall it went ok, actually. I tried a bit of active learning, the kids held up laminated letters to spell out "Rooney's foot" and had to put the apostrophe in the right place. They managed to do this, and complete the task which was pretty good to see. Then came the reading. I was completely upstaged by my colleague who read it with such aplomb, and a fantastic scottish accent, that the kids were hooked. Those that complained that we had so many pages to read through wanted him to read on, which he did. It was really great watching him as he made it so entertaining and I hope I can implement that into my own teaching soon. The behaviour was generally much better in the group, which came from the added support, and I also hope I'll improve my confidence enough to get the guys to listen.

So break time, and I was amazed to see a year 11 boy turn up to complete the homework I'd set the group. It was even more surprising to see that he was the only one who completed it, as everyone else blamed the rain for ruining the worksheets I'd given them. I've yet to decide what to do about that. K was up to his old tricks, sleeping rather "because he went to bed too early and woke up at 3 and couldn't sleep". Hmmmm. Frankly I was just pleased to finish the lesson. I had some rather unpleasant news about my year 11s, which was that they did not, in fact, complete their Sherlock Holmes piece of coursework and are therefore one under, and there is no room to fit it in during classtime. I don't even want to think about the implications of this just yet.

So yeah, lunchtime, lesson off to prepare for my last one, and finally year 10. Unfortunately this did also not go to plan. I have great difficulty in getting them to shut up, and I need to address this in the next lesson tomorrow. We ended up watching the film for the rest of the lesson, which was good to aid understanding of what happens leading up to the scenes we are studying, but I felt like a bit of a fraud anyway.

It would seem that these blogs are getting more and more tedious to write, but perhaps I'm just not in the mood tonight. I'll be more reflective tomorrow, and will tell you the story of how I'm spending the day on Friday helping one of my year 11s rewrite his coursework (one mark was 3/40)

Off to bed.

Day 7: I've had the time of my life...

I guess it's a good sign when the worst thing that happened to me today was hearing that Patrick Swayze died. I am fighting an increasingly difficult battle with my alarm clock every morning; today I managed to haul myself out of bed within 30 minutes. Whoever invented the snooze button was obviously deranged (perhaps the same person who said orange was the new pink.)

I crawled in to work (it IS getting harder) around 7.20 and got to the early morning prep: printing, tidying, and sweating. Luckily my year 7s were first, and I was looking forward to that ease in to the day. I greeted my colleague who had recently added me on facebook, meaning he had access to these blogs. I hadn't really thought through whether or not I wanted anyone from the department reading them, but it felt nice to hear his sympathy. I am continously reminded of how wonderful my department is. Every single person in there, from NQT (Newly Qualified Teacher), GTP (Graduate Training Programme) to experienced second-in-department, offer advice, words of wisdom and encouragement every single time I see them. There is nothing worse than feeling alone in a horrible situation, but they make me feel so supported and welcome. I was feeling guilty about my 45 minute cry-fest with professional mentor the night before (she being a member of the senior leadership team) and was worried I'd ruffled a few feathers by asking for help. More on that later.

What I did get that morning, amongst other things, was an excellent piece of advice on the subject of my year 9s: don't hate them. It is so easy to do - I do it with people I meet all the time - if someone is not to my liking or has said or done something to upset me, I always say "I hate that guy..." and then this gets reinforced whenever they do something negative. (Did I mention I was a negative person?) I was determined to remember that: these are, after all, children - and they'll know if I don't like them. I'm sure when I was at school, one major source of validation was thinking a teacher liked me (this followed through to university) and the opposite was enough to turn me against them for life.

So anyway, the minute hand finally got to 5 past 9 and it was time for the lovely year 7s. The lesson was a little bumpy - I bluffed my way through to an extent, and made the mistake of having the kids line up for me to mark their work, but they were finishing off the letters they had written about themselves. My personal favourites were one boy's future plan to get a job at Gala Bingo ("Because they get paid at least £300 a week") and another who said he didn't want to go to Peru because "if you play basketball they chop your head off and I wouldn't like that.") It was touching to read the number of kids' letters that stated future plans to be journalists or barristers or doctors. A cynical part of me felt a pang of guilt; they were at a disadvantage already. However, they are bright and hopefully as long as they keep those ambitions and are guided and encouraged through them, that could be a reality. It would be nice to see them grow up through the school and see where they go from here.

Anyway, back to the day. Second period was free, and I spent it with second-in-department, who went through my year 9 lesson plan with me. I'd had a stroke of genius last night, thinking that a story board (drawing!) would be a good way to engage the kids, and she approved what I had done which felt good.

After break I had year 11s. The original boy (let's call him K)was on top form again. I asked him to remove his jacket when he came in the room, and he made a fuss. Then complained when I asked him to work, to stop talking, to put away his phone (which I will confiscate as per school rules if I see it again) and his (pink!) wallet. It sounds like I'm nagging him, now I look at it, but to be honest there was constantly something going on. I'll give him a break tomorrow. I had a teaching assistant in that lesson for the first time, and to be honest it was a help. It was nice having someone else to check over their answers with them. They're an ok group, pretty interesting, sometimes insightful, but I feel pretty bad for these guys because, as they're all on a G grade, unless I think they're likely to get a C, I've been basically told that I don't have to worry about getting all their coursework together. K is missing two pieces himself, and although Friday has been put aside for completion of any outstanding work, I was told in no uncertain terms that my class were not to be 'worried' about.

Then it was lunch. As with yesterday, the panic began to creep in. Year 9s were waiting for me on the other side of 1.10, and I wasn't feeling up for it. Fortunately I was to have not only my head of department with me, but a TA (miracle!) so I was going to be incredibly well supported. I decided to try a new seating plan, with certain positive results. The lesson went ok, with my HoD shouting at anyone acting up, and the kids for the most part getting on with the work I'd set. What was amazing though was that the original boy who turned up late two lessons in a row and then disappeared yesterday (let's call him A) came in with the TA and... behaved. He did his work, he chatted a bit, but not when I was talking, and generally I was so pleased with him I told him I'd phone home that night to tell his mum how good he was. It was interesting how that made such a difference to the lesson's feel, and how much better I felt as a result. They weren't perfect, not by a long shot, but they did their work (mostly) and noone was taken out. What was awkward was not during the lesson itself, but after, when I was told that a member of the department would be teaching them with me to fill the new gaps in his timetable. I could feel a bit of tension in the air about this, not least from comments made around the bin, and I felt terribly guilty that it was my fault. When I repeated this concern to my professional/subject tutor who popped in to see how I was (after yesterday's tears) she told me I shouldn't feel guilty as it was up to the department to support me. Although I agree with this, I do feel bad that I'm putting them out to do so. Hopefully they resent the powers above if anyone, but still.

And so, on the the last lesson. Year 8. One piece of advice - never promise a class you'll watch a film unless you plan to. In my sleep-deprived stupor last night I forgot about this promise as I made my lesson plans, and so when the kids asked if we'd be watching Holes I had to say no. "But you said...!" Luckily, I had a get-out clause: their behaviour. My usual clique of silly-billies were up to their old tricks, and I removed two pupils pretty swiftly. This was excellent because I was able to play the "I WAS going to play the video but you've been misbehaving so now we won't be able to watch it..." card, and there was only a slight feeling of guilt. As for the kids I removed, I felt bad for the boy, whom I'd taken out yesterday for similar reasons, because after talking to him and the GTP I share the class with, I realised that he is easily aggravated by the girls in the group who provoke him, and he doesn't know how to control it. We had a chat afterwards, and I told him I'd call his mum - which I did. I was quite proud of myself for making three calls, the responses to which ranged from "Oh, ok" to "It's another complaint?" to the boy's mother, with whom I had a good chat, and as a result I feel a lot more sympathetic towards him.

Anyway, it seems like a good place to finish. I've just realised how long this post it - it has been a long day - and so thoughts for the day:
I must be consistent and confident in my behaviour management.
I must be positive and fair - the kids can tell.
I must plan PROPERLY to avoid awkwardness which makes me look vulnerable.

And, so I shall. Good night.

Day 6: New week - new start? Not so much.

"Welcome Back to The Valley of Death" the school's sign read. Well, not really, but it might has well have done. I was feeling slightly refreshed after a weekend of nothing (including planning instead of going to a party. How depressing.) I had first lesson off so set to work preparing myself for the day ahead. I was dreading two of my four lessons - the naughty year 8s I only have three times a fortnight, and the year 9s. I was determined to put my reflections into practice and work on my behaviour management. I was also determined to present a cold front to the kids and compel them to work. I'd spent some of the weekend reading "Getting the Buggers to Behave" as recommended by several colleagues and my mother, and I was convinced I could do it. I tried to remember the first point - stay positive.

Now, I'm normally quite a negative person so this was more than a tad challenging. Over my 8am cigarette with fellow English teachers I pondered how the day was going to go. They were encouraging enough, but I still wasn't convinced. And so, after having first period off, I was ready to rumble with my year 8s. I had moved their seats around to improve behaviour but there were still hiccups. I asked one girl to leave when she first refused to sit in her seat (and stood there looking smug) and then came up to the front to ask if I'd signed her in, after chatting to the others around her. I was perhaps a little quick to remove her as her attitude stinks, and there were other girls being incredibly irritating. One boy was taken out as he was continously squabbling with the girl in front. As I walked him down to my colleague's class he hit the wall in anger. I was unfazed, miraculously, and went back to the lesson. Luckily the rest of the class were entertained enough by the task I set them (first one to find the word armpit wins... nothing!) that the rest of the lesson was not bad, and I promised them the film if they behaved tomorrow. We'll see how that goes.

After that I had break, and spent it with the girl I'd sent out in my classroom. She tried saying that the reason she wouldn't sit down was because the chair was cold and that I was being unfair but I think I made my point. I told her I would be calling home (which I didn't - bollocks) and sent her on her miserable way.

After break was year 7, my saviour class. By that I mean they are sweet, bright, and relatively well behaved. There are a few that are taking the piss but otherwise they get on with their work perfectly and I am eternally grateful to them. After that was lunch, and the panic set in. I was not looking forward to the next class: year 9. I spoke to my colleagues, one of whom agreed to take any trouble makers for me, but unfortunately the class turned into a catalogue of errors.

My first mistake: I didn't implement a seating plan. I decided that where they had sat last lesson was good enough. This was to prove incredibly erroneous.

Second, I didn't account for the two boys who were away last week (and have the worst reputations) turning up.

Third, I believed the latter when I was told he didn't speak English.

Fourth, my lesson was terribly planned. I had tried to simplify the prescripted scheme as much as I could but it was not successful.

Fifth, I didn't act on my warnings.

What did this all add up to? In the words of a fellow Teachy Firsty: A "shambolic" lesson.

I can't even begin to think about what went well because I have no idea. I had no control, and the kids that were mucking about pulled in the ones who normally behaved. They were awful.

I was staring daggers at all of them and the relief was immense when they finally sodded off. The two I sent out (including the "non-English-speaker") were set lines by my colleague, which produced the hint of a smile when they waltzed back in after class.



I was left feeling frail, and with one lesson to go. Year 11. I told them that I had a treat: if they got through the reading we could watch a video. Most were pleased with this, and for the majority, the video kept their interest, even though it was rather dated. However, the boy that was trouble in my original lesson acted up again, refusing to read along and lying with his head on the desk. I couldn't, as this point, be bothered to correct him and left him to it.

The day couldn't end soon enough. I can't believe I have two more days like this - four lessons, with year 9 every day. The only relief is that I have Friday without lessons as it's "Target Setting Day" (a concept with which I am struggling - all I know is that I don't have to teach.)

I went up for my meeting after with my professional mentor and fellow Teachy Firsties, and finally cried about the horrible year 9s. I spent 45 minutes after talking about the lesson with my professional mentor after, who remarked that I do have a lot of bottom sets (3 out of 5) and that I was obviously having trouble. It was a relief to hear that I was not the only one teaching that class - certain members of that year 9 group cropped up in other areas my friends were teaching - and they had also had trouble. I stayed behind to try to get my lessons planned for the next day, but by 7 the caretaker was closing up and I was beyond breaking point. I decided to come home to finish planning, and swore blind that I would start preparing half a week in advance to avoid this hideous feeling again. So now, after a lovely home-cooked meal from my flatmate and a glass of wine, I am about to start getting the lessons together. I am dreading tomorrow, and the next day, but I have asked for help because frankly I just don't know how I'm supposed to cope with a class with so many troublemakers.

Here's to tomorrow, and hopefully a relatively early night.

Day 5: TFIF

That Friday feeling. I don't think I've ever appreciated it before until now. Well, the end of one of the most stressful weeks of my life was in sight and there was a tangible buzz reverberating throughout the English department. I got in at 7, prepped my first lesson (year 10) and was looking forward to finishing at lunchtime.

Unfortunately, my preparation was not as good as I'd thought, and my year 10 lesson was a disaster. Attitudes were running high and, even with the threat that one of their class had been moved down for not working hard enough (and because I was one over my class size limit) the class were irritating. I had to leave to try to find the film I was going to watch with them to help their understanding of Act I Scene i, but couldn't find a copy anywhere, so showed them a clip of the reduced shakespeare company, which meant that they didn't really get the full idea of the scene. They were supposed to be in groups to perform their interpretation of the scene but only 3 students from two groups got up to do it. One boy performed it himself, Eddie Izzard-style, but otherwise it was pretty embarrassing. I told them I was sick of them talking over me and have decided I'm putting them in boy-girl seating plan as of next week. No more Miss Nice Lee.

I relaxed for the next hour and then had my lovely year 7s before lunch. I had three pupils in the group who hadn't turned up before so laid on the class rules thick and fast. I ended up jabbering on about the English language for ages which they seemed interested in, but otherwise the class was unremarkable, apart from a Polish boy who didn't know who Simon Cowell was, and a 12 year old who had to tell me how old Nelson Mandella is. I like that class, they're small and cute, and easy to mold.

After that I was finished - hurrah - and spent an hour or so chatting with the head of year 11 (and English teacher) and a couple of the other English teachers about Islam and problems students - there was no connection, that's just the way the conversation went (5 pillars of Islam to 5 pillocks of year 11.)

I observed my friendly colleague's year 7 class for the last period, but not before greeting my evil year 8s on behalf of the teacher I share them with. It was a relief after her lesson to hear that the ones I'd have trouble with were all getting a phonecall home from her that evening. The year 7 class were interesting to observe, mainly to see how my colleague dealt with the behaviour, and present the lesson. He played music whilst they were filling in their worksheet and even sang the "oooh!" part of that calvin harris song out loud.

3.30 came and I was free! for the weekend. I can't believe I've survived. I can't believe that it was so hard, and yet I've been promised that the kids were granting me a grace period, and it won't get better until half term. The thought of 6 weeks that are worse than this one is something that I can't compute, but I suppose the point is that I have to keep going, keep chipping away, until I really know what I'm doing. Whatever, I'm going to enjoy my saturday off, until I start planning again tomorrow.

Day 4: Hill of Happiness

I can't quite believe it. I feel I don't actually want to say anything lest I jinx myself but, what the hell:

I had a GOOD day.

I started off this morning feeling slightly better with a couple more hours sleep than the night before and the warm, fuzzy feeling that comes from spending the evening in the company of old friends.

My first lesson was year 9. I let the two boys in, and again, the other one turned up 40 minutes late. My mentor sat in to observe and assist (which was basically whipping the third boy off to another teacher when he finally swanned in. Arse.) I have a little conundrum in the shape of a turkish boy who "doesn't speak any english" according to another turkish boy, and so sat chatting with him, I hope about work but I was too busy to check. I've realised that my lessons really need to be differentiated down as I can tell it's already over their heads a little bit. There are some bright kids in there but it's difficult to get through to everyone. The rest of the lesson passed without any real incident apart from boy number 1 chatting, moaning and then moaning more when I called him by his surname. I will have to be harder on him. He is very distracting and won't stop talking off topic.

This was followed by year 10 and, despite a few troublesome youths, I enjoyed myself. There was a mini debate on the idea of love at first sight, which even entailed a couple of intelligent points, and then a rather more fun activity where they worked in groups to answer questions which were hidden on my monitor and they had to send an envoy to retrieve. Other than the one group that misunderstood me and wrote down the questions but not the answers, and one group that chatted (argh!) it seemed to go down well, and I bought some pens to award as a prize to the winning group which I will hand out tomorrow. I'm going to try drama in the next lesson too - not sure how that will turn out, but we'll see.

My final lesson was year 7. I was instructed to be as hard and strict as possible and I tried, although I have integrated a merit and warning area on the board to make it easier to remember warnings and so forth, and to offer some inspiration. It worked well with the kids, and there are a few of them that I will have to watch out for but otherwise the lesson was good.

So yeah - the day finished, I stayed till 7 to plan for tomorrow, and then came home, feeling happier than I have all week.

I suppose that's the point of the course and the job. The unpredictability. It can go well, it can go terribly, but you never really know. I guess with experience you learn how to cope when it does go tits up.

Right, time for bed I think.

Day 3: Meadow of Despair

This morning came too soon. Like Juliet, I tried to persuade myself that the dulcet tones I heard were the nightingale, but in fact it was the Hall and Oates alarm on my phone. I dragged myself into school, making it in with several stops along the way, by half 7. I started by burning my toast and stinking out the English corridor, and then the panic set in about my first lesson of the day - year 9, who yesterday had given me considerable grief.

Luckily I spoke to a colleague who listened to my concerns and promised to take two of the rowdier students out of my class immediately. The boy who was taken out yesterday I decided to give a chance. A mistake. Without the two caller-outers or him the lesson was successful and the students quiet. It was pretty terrible, I was trying to teach them about pronouns and I'm not sure they got it at all really. However, 30 minutes into the lesson the boy from yesterday turned up. Error 1: I did not ask him to wait outside. Error 2: I did not write his name on the board as soon as he started disrupting. Error 3: I did not throw him out when he continued to chat back to me and distract those around him.

I left the lesson irritated that he had managed to annoy me so, and decided that I would not be taking it from him tomorrow. I don't want to sound like I'm picking on him, but it's very hard to work around children, or so it seems, that are determined to be disruptive attention seekers.

My next lesson, year 11, were subdued and generally well-behaved. One boy refused to read and I moved him when he continued to chat with, and at one point, swear at the boy in front. I made the mistake of saying if he behaved he could sit next to him again the following lesson. I was also told that sitting one boy next to the original challenger I'd had in that class was a terrible idea, as he was easily led the latter a bad influence. I will have to watch them closely on Monday and will move if possible. I don't have the confidence yet to move them around, it feels embarrassing, if I'm honest, but to be perfectly honest letting them sit where they can chat is ineffective.

I was relieved by breaktime; time for a cigarette and a little relaxation. I was beginning to panic about my last lesson of the day: year 10. My lifesaver came in the shape of my colleague from yesterday who went through the lesson plan with me and even helped me prepare the resources - another kinetic activity which drew sighs of despair from the group and a comment about how many trees I was sacrificing for the lessons. Overall, I was unimpressed by some of the girls in that group who seemed determined to chatter. Like I said, I'm still not confident enough to instil a seating plan, and my threats are often empty when they chatter. I need to be more confident in telling them to move or be quiet, and follow up with throwing them out the class if they repeatedly misbehave. I've put an unhappy face on the whiteboard so I can quickly write names up when someone does something disruptive because I keep forgetting who did what and lose count of the warnings.

So the day finished, eventually, and I stayed behind to plan tomorrow's lessons. I had some friends over - real, outside friends - for dinner and although the conversation revolved around myself, it was nice to be around the wonderful people I haven't seen in a while. I've been so wrapped up in this weird, scary, stressful new life that it's been too easy to forget everyone else.

So tomorrow - three lessons, including my year 7s who I have not met yet, and one day closer to the weekend. The idea of a lie-in right now is so appealing I can almost feel it.

And on that note, I think it's time for bed. After my 12-hour day, I am exhausted.

Day 2: Valley of Death

Well, it was bound to happen at some point. Shame it was day two.

The last twenty four hours feel like a week. I had a terrible day. It started well enough, got up on time, got into school a little after 7, and prepared for my first lesson, the same class that I had yesterday. They were well behaved, worked hard, and other than realising one of the boys needed far more support than I first noticed, the lesson went well and I walked out feeling good. I took the time to praise the boy who had given me trouble yesterday and he was pretty good the whole time. I was buzzing - I had been so worried about the lesson that the relief was immense. Unfortunately, my forray onto a hill of happiness was brief.

Year 9 were a different story. There were two or so boisterous boys who shouted out and talked the way through. I didn't discipline them properly, and instead constantly told them to be quiet. That I will have to work on tomorrow: Remembering how many warnings I have given and when to kick the kid out is more important, and difficult, than I realised. It was another boy who had been turning around, talking and muttering constantly that I finally got fed up with and went to get HoD to remove when he refused to go outside. I wasn't expecting the HoD's reaction - "How many times do I have to call your mother before you behave??" was bellowed over the heads of the rest of the class. He was taken away and I tried to get on, although the lesson ended up being shorter than I expected and had to bluff by reading out the intro and first chapter to the class in the final ten minutes. I will have to remember to sit them where I want to, and kick them out if they're a constant problem. I kept raising my voice and I realise now it has no effect. It's a difficult line to tow - do I wait for silence or ignore quiet muttering? I've been told the former, and will make sure that is the way I do it tomorrow. I have the same class (year 9) first thing in the morning and I am dreading it.

I had a little cry when they all finally left the room and unfortunately wasn't properly prepared for my year 10s - I had to go out of the room three times before I let them in to get my things together. Organisation and time keeping both need to be improved, it would seem. My most exciting class, as far as I was concerned, (I'd even played them music) fell flat and my explanations for sonnets and iambic pentameter were terrible and the kids were bored. There are some right little madams in that group and I was a little flustered in telling one of them to get her tie off from her head; she was wearing it rambo style.

They left the room in disarray; another point to remember for tomorrow. Finally year 8 came in. I only have them three times a fortnight, as I share them with another teacher and they were a nightmare. I attempted to sit them where I wanted but it ended up with a group of seven at the back who spent the entire, albeit badly planned, lesson chattering, giggling and messing about. It was only when one pushed the other that I went again to get my HoD, (I really have to learn what to do with them in this situation) and sent two out to him. When I went back in the room I caught one throwing a paper ball at another in that group and sent him straight out too. They were led away to different classrooms and I tried to finish. With 10 minutes to go I set them the homework, and told the remaining four pupils in that group to stay behind. I was so sick of their constant chatter when I'd asked for quiet. I let them sit in silence whilst I took the register, then after 10 or so minutes gave them a little talk about how I don't want that kind of behaviour in my class and dismissed them one by one. One girl I kept back further as she seemed reluctant to apologise and waited for her to say "Sorry Miss" (at my prompting - oh god) before I let her go. The two boys were brought back and I accepted their apologies and sent them off. I was relieved to hear my HoD was going to call home about them, as the tears came pretty quickly again. I have to start doing this myself. Looking back over the day, I realised that with the new groups I was reluctant to use praise, something that had worked well with the year 11s, as I was so frustrated by their behaviour. I realise that I need to work on a few things for tomorrow.

After tidying my room I went to the CPD meeting, for which I was late, but managed to chat to my fellow teach firsters and an NQT in my department who were incredibly supportive. Unfortunately I'd started crying at this point again, and had a couple of other English dept. colleagues offer words of support.

I went home immediately, my feet were killing me for a start, and was lucky to be offered a lift by a PE teacher I hadn't met before. When I got home, after several cigarettes and some dairy milk, I cheered up a bit. One thing stuck in my mind - I don't have to go back. What I am putting myself through anyway? And why? These kids mean nothing to me and, sure I wanted a challenge, but in the words of Lisa Simpson, I wanted a challenge I could do. If there's one thing I hate, it's being crap at something. I hate the utter shame of failure, that bitter sinking feeling. And I hated that I have an audience. Sure, they're under the age of 16, but still.

I missed a call on my phone, and was left a message that brought back tears to my eyes. My colleague, my new friend, called to see how I was and tell me not to fret; everyone goes through this. This has lifted my spirits somewhat, and now, as I sit worrying over my lesson plans for tomorrow, I realise that maybe I don't want to give up. For goodness' sake - it's only my second day. There's nothing I want more than to stay in bed tomorrow morning, call in sick to the school, and call up my old manager and see if my job is still available. But I know I won't, because I can't. I have to see this through. Even if it's only to Christmas, or half term, or the end of the week, I have to soldier on, because that's what I do. I don't give up. I'm not going to let some shitty bunch of 15 year old idiots turn me away. For god's sake, I wouldn't deign to even give a kid the time of day on the street - why should I let them push me around at work? If nothing else, I'm going to turn up tomorrow just to spite the little buggers. That'll learn 'em.

Day 1: Blah

What's the best way to start your new job? Oversleep. Yep, after a frantic night of tossing, turning, smoking out the window and reading The World's Wife to calm me down, I awoke a full hour and a quarter later than my alarm. I'm not entirely sure how or why that happened, but by the grace of god (and a helpful driver) I got a place on the overpacked bus and made it in by 8. Phew.

After a particularly excruciating faux pas (a joke involving parents + jeremy kyle) by one of the members of senior staff at the morning briefing, I spent most of the morning running around in circles trying to organise myself for my lessons and counting down the hours.

Eventually 2.10 rolled around and I went to my door to await my year 11s. The lesson went... ok. They did what they were told, mostly. They kept quiet, mostly. And other than a particularly embarrassing confrontation with a pupil during which I seemed to forget the department's rules and asked him to move seats without real warning, I ended up taking him outside for a brief chat, it was mostly uneventful. This is the hard part, you see. I've had relatively "bugger all" training (according to my mentor) and we have so much advice flung at us that sometimes it's hard to remember what to do. I wasn't prepared to be put on the spot, which I really should have thought through, but he went back to his seat and basically behaved - enough - for the remainder of the lesson. Unfortunately, I'd forgotten how boring reading out is in a lesson, so I need to think of a more interesting way to get through the play tomorrow.

Speaking of which, I should probably get on to that. My mentor is happy for me to plan the day before, which is great because I don't think I'm organised enough right now to sort it out in advance, and more to the point it's difficult to know how to pitch a lesson without seeing the pupils before.

Tomorrow I have four classes, with only the first lesson off, so I am going to be exhausted. As I wandered around Morrisons today after work I had those black thoughts taunting me: Why not just give up? It's not fun, it's hard work and I'm rubbish at pretending to be something I'm not. A conversation with my ma made me feel a bit better; it's hard to remember sometimes that "bugger all" training really doesn't equip you with the know-how you need to teach, and noone, luckily, is expecting too much from me. Which is good, because my expectations of myself are too high right now. Time to reassess. But at least I didn't cry.

Do or do not; there is no try.

Nerves are not my friend. I know what they signify: the rush of adrenaline filtering through me, preparing my body and mind for fight or flight. Every rugby match, every exam, every new experience upon which I've ever endeavoured, they are there. I wait for the moment before the whistle blows, feeling like my heart is in my mouth, and the anticipation bites at me as I teeter over the precipice.

Am I ready? Hell, no. I want to escape back to my parents' house and hide under my duvet like a child. This is the single biggest challenge I have ever faced, and I don't know how I'm going to do it. I have never been so terrified. I will be repeating a mantra tomorrow: I am an ocean of calm. Maybe it will work?

The one saving grace is that I do only have one lesson tomorrow, on my first day as a Real Teacher. I have 5 hours in the school to ready myself and prepare the classroom, to fix the confident air about myself and paint on a smile. I only hope I don't cry.

First Day of School: Inset-apalooza

So here I am, a paid employee. In theory, that is, as I've actually not seen, let alone signed, any sort of contract thus far. I have high hopes that this is merely an oversight on the school's part and I'm not supposed to have given in anything.

Anyway, back to my first day in big school. With all the enthusiasm and verve of a deflated bouncy castle I dragged myself off to the first of two insets. It was only as I was leaving my flat and taking one last, lingering look at the smart, teacher-y outfit I'd painstakingly picked out the night before that I had a ripple of doubt wash over me: do teachers dress up for inset days? What if everyone was in jeans and I was the only one dressed in "business-casual" (as The Cult had drummed in to me since day one of the summer institute...)? Would I be like the one kid (there's always at least one, and it was me on more than one occasion) that forgets it's non-uniform day? I decided not to change - better to be overdressed than under, right? - and ran out the door anyway, but was slightly miffed, upon texting a couple of people to check, that I was in fact mistaken, and it was casual. Never mind, at least I wasn't wearing a suit. This did indicate, if nothing else, the sort of confusion and embarrassment to which I am prone, and will no doubt experience numerous times over the coming year.

The inset itself wasn't too bad. I found out that I'm in the same college (like a school house) as several English colleagues, and the tie our pupils wear is pink, which can't be a bad thing. I also found out that it is possible to smoke a cigarette every half an hour without thinking about it, as long as someone offers company at 'the bin' - the cool, smokey hangout outside the school (a bin, no less.)

I also discovered that out of 120 pupils taking the foundation paper in English, only one got a C. And it was no coincidence that she was the only pupil to get a C on her coursework. This makes me very sad. Not only for the 119 other pupils in her year (42 passed the exam - coursework let them down) but for my own foundation class. I hope I can help at least some of them do better than expected. Any fantasy I had of pushing them all to the elusive C grade was dashed with this information but I know that, even if the chances are slim and the pupils may not want to work, that I MUST believe that they can all do it. I do believe, in my heart of hearts, that any pupil can achieve a C, they just have to want it, and be prepared to put the work in. Therein lies the problem. Hopefully I can work around that.

On a slightly better note, my top set group look pretty good. I am determined to get the top pupil an A*. I will squeeze as many As out of those kids as I can. I will offer them booster classes, afterschool revision, whatever it takes, these kids deserve the best grades they can get. I don't understand why they don't do better - the teachers are good, the kids are bright, the SOW look good enough. I think, and this is just a thought, that it's true what Ofsted said, and it IS all about expectations. At my own school, it was expected that the top sets would get at least half As and some A*s, but I can't believe that a top set in this school isn't expected to do that. I understand the challenging circumstances of the kids' surroundings, and lack of 'educational capital' or whatever it was, but there is no way that I am accepting any less from these kids than the best they can churn out because that's what's important: that kids get the grades they deserve. If they're lazy, or don't care, than fine - but the clever, hard working ones DESERVE to do better and I want to help them.

Anyway, now I'm rambling, but at least the enthusiasm that I fear will be dampened by bitter experience and other factors is still alight and burning inside. My room is decorated and LOVELY and I am excited about getting down to actually teaching. I just need to plan those DAMN lessons first.