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.