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.
Saturday, 12 September 2009
Thursday, 10 September 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, 9 September 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
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.
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.
Monday, 7 September 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, 6 September 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, 3 September 2009
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)