Day 52: A slap in the face

Late night, early morning, and a 4 period day. It was never going to be good. I'm writing this after three or so hours of self-indulgent sitting and watching television from the comfort of my flat, with a platter of fish and chips and a flatmate to drown out the sound of my thoughts, and so I'm slightly less frustrated than I felt on the walk home.

To start, I was in a mad panic last night as I managed to waste the evening without doing any of the planning and prep I wanted, and was left to sort it out very late, and so spent the first period off this morning sorting out my lessons and resources.

First up were year 11. I was just finishing off the lesson from the day before, and they were pretty good, we had a few laughs, and they all did the work - I sat with the boy who does nothing in lessons to make sure he did, and the TA worked with another who struggles.

After year 11 was break, then year 9. What a treat. I was on my own for this lesson, and the kids didn't disappoint. Behaviour was immensely irritating, and the kids did everything they could to push me to the limit. I sent one out for using the N word - I was so not expecting this to come up, and I was a little flummoxed when he said it. I need to remember to kick up a proper stink about it tomorrow, to make sure that they know never to use it in front of me again, if at all. We got through most of the work, but it wasn't brilliant.

After lunch I had year 10, and I was pretty happy with them. The lesson was a little rubbish, as I didn't really have a plan but was working off the resources put together by a colleague. I started the lesson by reading out a note I'd found in one of the girl's folders that had been written during the lesson - something about guys they fancied - which was amusing. They mostly got through the work - although were pissed off that I still haven't marked their books - and were generally very nice.

Finally, I had year 8. I was relieved to be able to remove two of the trickiest pupils so they could be moved sets - thank god. They didn't kick up a fuss, knowing they were being moved up, but the rest of the kids were angsty and lots wouldn't sit where I'd asked them, so I need to change the seating plan. I had them working in groups, but I know not to try it again with them, as they were obnoxious and refused to do it, and I had to send out a girl when she slapped a boy. Thing was, I could see they were griping at each other and it was escalating, despite what warnings I'd thrown at them. I should have moved them far away from each other, but as I didn't they started pushing each other and C ended up slapping the boy. I sent her out and yelled at her - she left a mark - and kept them both afterwards. "He hit me first" was her defence. I couldn't really say much to that, so sent them home and reported it on Sims. I decided I should call her mother, as is the custom, and so did so. However, I should have been a little more prepared for her reaction, because it took me by surprise.

One of the things I hate about this job is when people make me feel stupid, and about a minute into that call C's mother managed to do so with aplomb. I reeled off the situation, that her daughter was taken out for slapping someone, and I'd be passing it on to her head of year. She stopped me - and asked what did the boy say to her daughter. I replied that I didn't know; all she said was that he hit her first and I didn't see it. She reiterated her point: he must have said something to upset her. I admitted I didn't know - and she said "What, you didn't ask her why?"
I went cold. Did I? I must have done. All I could think was that she said "he hit me first" and that was it, apart from that cocky smirk she carries off so well. The boy was equally quiet. I felt like a twat now: why didn't I question the argument? I had assumed it was just the pair of them arguing over something stupid - all the kids in that group insult each other from time to time and ignore me when I tell them not to - so I didn't think to ask for a reason.
C's mother, obviously dissatisfied with this response, or my squirming down the phone, told me "that she didn't think I handled that very well" if I didn't ask what the boy said, and she was looking out for her daughter - her little girl - who must have been upset by the boy to have hit him. I didn't know what to say at this point. I meekly said I would speak to C and the boy tomorrow, and talk to their tutor to sort it out. She asked what my name was - presumably to make a complaint - and I hung up the phone feeling absolutely awful. How did one stupid phone call reveal all my inexperience and insecurity as a teacher?

I stomped home feeling utterly disconsolate, and thought about jumping under a car. I really really have hated the past couple of weeks of school, and this year 8 class just compound all of that negative feeling. Whatever minor successes I feel during the day just seem thrown out the window as soon as something shit happens. I feel like I've been slapped in the face.