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.