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.
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