As I sit watching another lame proposal and acceptance on Friends, I try to forget about the dystopia from which I have just emerged. I should have guessed that Tuesday Week 1 would be a nightmare; it was the worst day in my first week, why should it be any better now? Four lessons, two of my hardest groups, and still trying to understand what the hell I'm supposed to do once I pass the threshold of my classroom. I don't really want to disect the day I had, but here's a rundown:
Period 1: Off.
Period 2: Year 11. SLT observed. Kids behaved, did their work, some wanted to come on the trip. Went well.
Period 3: Year 9. HELL. HELL HELL HELL. Three sent out, all misbehaved, phonecalls home. NIGHTMARE. The WORST lesson I have had since I've been here. Cried in the arms of the TA after. Very embarrassing.
Period 4: Year 10. Went well, kids responded, seemed to understand, not bad.
Period 5: YEar 8. NIGHTMARE class again. Lots of silliness. Lesson went to pot. Awful.
End of day, 4 phonecalls to parents. Awful. Left school, waited 40 mins for packed bus, came home to find kitchen leaking into indian place below. Still need to plan.
Light at the end of the tunnel: Geoff is coming to stay over. I am so happy.
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
Monday, 21 September 2009
Day 11: Novelty has left the building
I suppose the best thing about teaching is that every weeks offers you the chance of a fresh start. It's what you do with it that counts. I chose to do little with this advantage, which has more to do with lethargy than choice.
Same shit, different day. Got in, prepared my classroom, cigarette (starting to sound familiar?) and had morning briefing with the rest of the staff. Nothing new to add apart from the news that all students are having biometric data stored (sort of) to avoid cash being used in the canteens. (Hello school - this is 1984, we want our concept back.) I also received emails about three of my students who are all struggling in various ways and need extra support - differentiation, anyone?
Year 7 were my first class, and it went OK. I was very aware of the one boy about whom I'd received an email stating that his mother is concerned about his self-esteem as he has trouble with his writing. His writing is pretty terrible, but he understood the lesson and was able to answer the questions I'd asked - quite adorably, in fact. They had to write sentences starting with a preposition, and one of his was "Under the bridge is a troll." Cute. I set them some group work which most of them completed, although a couple of the questions were tricky and a few had difficulty. Another group were pretty annoying and didn't behave so I'll be watching them very closely next lesson.
The lesson finished and I had three frees until my last lesson in period 5. I tried to get some marking done, but it's incredibly time consuming, and after break headed downstairs to observe the SLT who'd offered to help me. She was teaching science (not her subject) to a group of year 8s and it was quite useful to see her with them. They were pretty silent when she was talking, which was for a lot of the time, and she didn't accept hands up for answering questions, which I need to try. It's far too easy to ask a question and then choose whoever puts their hand up for the answer.
After her lesson and some lunch, I had a meeting with my HoD who ran through marking and other such protocol with me. I talked to him about the observations I'm planning on making and he gave me some more advice. He also wants me to help out with booster sessions for year 11 coursework, which was good because I was going to try to set something up. I also saw one of the PE teachers in the corridor whom I'd never met before and who asked me about my coaching qualifications. I'd forgotten about a tipsy conversation in the Bull on Friday with the PE department that involved me asking if they had a rugby team and, if not, could I help set it up. I'd eagerly volunteered, proffering my RFU Level 1 coaching qualification (not really worth a dime) and they seemed relatively impressed. That's something to look forward to.
So period five finally rolled around, and I couldn't wait for it to finish. Year 11 were restless and chatty. K threw a strop when I asked him to remove his hoodie before he came in and was utterly disruptive when he did eventually get to his seat. The lessons I admit are getting problematically formulaic, but it was nice to hear the guys actually asking to read for a change. I'm going to move their seats around tomorrow to stop some of the chatter, because they wouldn't shut up. I know it was the end of the day, but still. I feel like I have no command over them sometimes. I let them end the lesson ten minutes early to tell them that there are 4 tickets up for grabs for An Inspector Calls on Thursday, and that anyone who was interested could wait for me at the end. I felt like a complete moron when no one stayed behind. Oh well.
The day was over at last - they practically ran out of the room - and I went for a cigarette before my Teachy Firsty weekly meeting. We were talking about using praise and reward in lessons, and I think we discussed a few things that I might try to implement. My reward system is a little, er, nonexistent, and I have to work on my warnings as well. I'm going to go for a football-style card system - two yellows than a red and they're out of the lesson. We'll see how that works.
Anyway, now I'm finally at home (stayed till 7 to plan for tomorrow) and after being fed and watered I'm relaxing in front of Battlestar Galactica. Classy.
Same shit, different day. Got in, prepared my classroom, cigarette (starting to sound familiar?) and had morning briefing with the rest of the staff. Nothing new to add apart from the news that all students are having biometric data stored (sort of) to avoid cash being used in the canteens. (Hello school - this is 1984, we want our concept back.) I also received emails about three of my students who are all struggling in various ways and need extra support - differentiation, anyone?
Year 7 were my first class, and it went OK. I was very aware of the one boy about whom I'd received an email stating that his mother is concerned about his self-esteem as he has trouble with his writing. His writing is pretty terrible, but he understood the lesson and was able to answer the questions I'd asked - quite adorably, in fact. They had to write sentences starting with a preposition, and one of his was "Under the bridge is a troll." Cute. I set them some group work which most of them completed, although a couple of the questions were tricky and a few had difficulty. Another group were pretty annoying and didn't behave so I'll be watching them very closely next lesson.
The lesson finished and I had three frees until my last lesson in period 5. I tried to get some marking done, but it's incredibly time consuming, and after break headed downstairs to observe the SLT who'd offered to help me. She was teaching science (not her subject) to a group of year 8s and it was quite useful to see her with them. They were pretty silent when she was talking, which was for a lot of the time, and she didn't accept hands up for answering questions, which I need to try. It's far too easy to ask a question and then choose whoever puts their hand up for the answer.
After her lesson and some lunch, I had a meeting with my HoD who ran through marking and other such protocol with me. I talked to him about the observations I'm planning on making and he gave me some more advice. He also wants me to help out with booster sessions for year 11 coursework, which was good because I was going to try to set something up. I also saw one of the PE teachers in the corridor whom I'd never met before and who asked me about my coaching qualifications. I'd forgotten about a tipsy conversation in the Bull on Friday with the PE department that involved me asking if they had a rugby team and, if not, could I help set it up. I'd eagerly volunteered, proffering my RFU Level 1 coaching qualification (not really worth a dime) and they seemed relatively impressed. That's something to look forward to.
So period five finally rolled around, and I couldn't wait for it to finish. Year 11 were restless and chatty. K threw a strop when I asked him to remove his hoodie before he came in and was utterly disruptive when he did eventually get to his seat. The lessons I admit are getting problematically formulaic, but it was nice to hear the guys actually asking to read for a change. I'm going to move their seats around tomorrow to stop some of the chatter, because they wouldn't shut up. I know it was the end of the day, but still. I feel like I have no command over them sometimes. I let them end the lesson ten minutes early to tell them that there are 4 tickets up for grabs for An Inspector Calls on Thursday, and that anyone who was interested could wait for me at the end. I felt like a complete moron when no one stayed behind. Oh well.
The day was over at last - they practically ran out of the room - and I went for a cigarette before my Teachy Firsty weekly meeting. We were talking about using praise and reward in lessons, and I think we discussed a few things that I might try to implement. My reward system is a little, er, nonexistent, and I have to work on my warnings as well. I'm going to go for a football-style card system - two yellows than a red and they're out of the lesson. We'll see how that works.
Anyway, now I'm finally at home (stayed till 7 to plan for tomorrow) and after being fed and watered I'm relaxing in front of Battlestar Galactica. Classy.
Sunday, 20 September 2009
Day 10: How do you solve a problem like media?
Before I knew it, it was Friday. My HoD welcomed me in the morning with an interesting statement: "Well, you've had a hell of a week!" I thought about it, a little taken aback. Yes, he'd read my blog, but I didn't really think it had been that exciting. I guess things blend together after a while.
My year 11 club was due to come in at 10, so I set about preparing my room and printing off resources. I planned to have a media workshop in the morning, then send two of the boys home and finish with a poetry lesson in the afternoon for H.
Until then, I went up to the computer rooms to see what the rest of the year 11s were doing. It was mayhem. 20 students per computer room, all trying to write coursework from scratch, all with no idea. My HoD was up there trying to control the rabble, but every two minutes a new student piped up with a question. I repeated myself more times than I can remember: "Read through the passage, read through in the modern English, then if there's anything you don't understand, look in up on wikipedia." I had no idea that they were so incapable for thinking for themselves; they couldn't even skim read.
I was relieved to escape and went back to the department to await my club. H turned up. Alone. I was a little disappointed, but not exactly surprised. After some awkward conversation about his future ambitions ("Doctor") and what he was reading ("a book about animals") we got in to it. I was going to work through a new piece with him, which centered aroung an advert. I had a page of questions which were split into paragraphs and basically told him what to write. I though that would be simple enough, but unfortunately I was wrong, and had to talk him through every question. At one point I went off for a cigarette and a cup of tea, and when I'd come back half an hour later, he hadn't moved on. It took exactly 5 hours to write the damn thing, and I was so happy when I sent him off at 3, I called him ma to tell him she should be proud of him for trying so hard. I have no idea how the coursework will do, or when I'll fit in the time to help him rewrite his poetry piece, but I suppose I'll have to work something out.
After my incredibly long day I went for a few drinks in the pub, then made my way down to South London for a relaxed evening with friends. Saturday I spent with my family, and it was then that I was hit by the gravity of my situation; that is, I realised just how stressed and tired I am. I've been working more than 12 hours a day, with less than 6 hours sleep a night. I'm in a new job I don't really understand, working with children who would rather do anything to disrupt me than actually sit still and behave. I've had very little training and I feel utterly overwhelmed by all the information I have to process. All I want to do right now is get into bed and sleep, eat, and maybe build myself a little fort. But I have to fill in my journal, and plan my lessons, and prepare my resources. I have 5 weeks till half term and right now, although it's overall going better, I feel like I'll never make it. Or maybe I'm just feeling really down today.
My year 11 club was due to come in at 10, so I set about preparing my room and printing off resources. I planned to have a media workshop in the morning, then send two of the boys home and finish with a poetry lesson in the afternoon for H.
Until then, I went up to the computer rooms to see what the rest of the year 11s were doing. It was mayhem. 20 students per computer room, all trying to write coursework from scratch, all with no idea. My HoD was up there trying to control the rabble, but every two minutes a new student piped up with a question. I repeated myself more times than I can remember: "Read through the passage, read through in the modern English, then if there's anything you don't understand, look in up on wikipedia." I had no idea that they were so incapable for thinking for themselves; they couldn't even skim read.
I was relieved to escape and went back to the department to await my club. H turned up. Alone. I was a little disappointed, but not exactly surprised. After some awkward conversation about his future ambitions ("Doctor") and what he was reading ("a book about animals") we got in to it. I was going to work through a new piece with him, which centered aroung an advert. I had a page of questions which were split into paragraphs and basically told him what to write. I though that would be simple enough, but unfortunately I was wrong, and had to talk him through every question. At one point I went off for a cigarette and a cup of tea, and when I'd come back half an hour later, he hadn't moved on. It took exactly 5 hours to write the damn thing, and I was so happy when I sent him off at 3, I called him ma to tell him she should be proud of him for trying so hard. I have no idea how the coursework will do, or when I'll fit in the time to help him rewrite his poetry piece, but I suppose I'll have to work something out.
After my incredibly long day I went for a few drinks in the pub, then made my way down to South London for a relaxed evening with friends. Saturday I spent with my family, and it was then that I was hit by the gravity of my situation; that is, I realised just how stressed and tired I am. I've been working more than 12 hours a day, with less than 6 hours sleep a night. I'm in a new job I don't really understand, working with children who would rather do anything to disrupt me than actually sit still and behave. I've had very little training and I feel utterly overwhelmed by all the information I have to process. All I want to do right now is get into bed and sleep, eat, and maybe build myself a little fort. But I have to fill in my journal, and plan my lessons, and prepare my resources. I have 5 weeks till half term and right now, although it's overall going better, I feel like I'll never make it. Or maybe I'm just feeling really down today.
Thursday, 17 September 2009
Day 9: The weekend is in sight
After my rather abrupt end to the post from yesterday, maybe I should pick up from parents' evening last night.
So, at 3.30 I returned from The Bin to the department, ready for parents' evening. It wasn't really explained to me what I should actually say should I have been asked for a meeting. It also wasn't explained how long they should last. The evening was specifically for year 11, as it was cancelled last term due to a powercut. Towards the end of the day a member of staff went around posting names on the classroom doors to indicate which teachers would be present. I was told that although it was predominately for personal tutors, subject teachers should 'hang around' in case someone wanted to discuss things. I figured that, as I'd only had my year 11s for a couple of weeks, noone would want me and I could spend the 3 hours planning. I pencilled my name onto a sign and sat down to facebook (ahem) in the English office.
I was a little shaken therefore when my GTP colleague came to tell me I had a visitor. I began to panic - what exactly could I say? Only one of my pupils had mentioned he'd be attending, as his "mum was making him go. bitch." My colleague told me what to do and say; repeat to them the pupil's target grade and "challenge" grade (two marks higher) and say that if they wanted to do better they needed to attend every lesson, participate in class and finish all the coursework. I steeled myself and strolled into the classroom, hoping that my faux air of confidence was believable. I was suprised to see a pupil whom I'd never really spoken to before, let's call him H, with his mum, a restless sister, and a white woman who eventually introduced herself to me as his tutor. We sat down and I started the spiel. H is on course for a G grade, but if he works hard he could achieve a D. This hurt. Earlier in the day I had joked nervously with colleagues about how I would actually say this to a parent if asked; it seemed rather depressing. Anyway, I said it and was grilled by his tutor about what we'd been studying and what he'd need to know for the exam. I stalled a bit; I couldn't remember what we'd be doing later in the year, so I had to run off to get the long term plan (lent to me by the lovely GTP) and I managed to bluff my way through. The tutor asked me if H ever spoke to me in class; I could honestly not remember. I said no, not really, and she launched into a diatribe about how he had no friends, spoke no English at home, and didn't practice apart from with her ("was there a drama club at school he could join?") She tutored him for maths three times a week, and was trying to help him with English at the same time. I tried to smile encouragingly at H; I couldn't imagine how uncomfortable he must have been feeling. My GTP colleague joined us at this point (not before telling me that the meetings were only supposed to be ten minutes - we'd been talking for at least 15) and reminded his mother and tutor of how far he'd come. She used to be a teaching assistant at the school for six years and had seen him when he was new to the country (Somalian?) and couldn't speak any English at all; it was remarkable to consider how much she must have seen him change, shy as he was now.
We got on to the subject of coursework, and I ran off again to get the boxfile I'd stored in my class cupboard. Showing them the marks was made more painful when I saw the look on H's face. He'd gotten 3/40 for one piece - he'd been sick, apparently. The piece itself was handwritten on one sheet of lined paper and incomplete. His mother was horrified; she said she wasn't sure whether to be angry at H or the school. I looked at his grades and felt a little sick. "You know, he could come in on Friday and I could help him redraft a couple of pieces," I offered. I tried to explain as tactfully as possible that Friday was a target setting day for the school, so there would be no lessons for anyone (year 7-10 pupils come in with parents and discuss to which grades their children should be aiming) and some select year 11s would come in for coursework help. Although the coursework help was aimed primarily at those expected to reach a C grade (D/C students are the priority - targets, innit) I could help H myself as I'd have no formal plans (other than planning.) They seemed happy with this, and I grimaced internally as H's mother made him thank me. I waved them off, feeling rather disillusioned with the whole GCSE system. I'm still not sure how I feel about it.
Whilst we'd been having our marathon chat, I spotted K from my year 11 group leaning against the wall in the hallway. I was mid conversation so didn't really acknowlege him, assuming he was waiting for someone else. He disappeared after, so I wonder if he had been waiting for me. I'm not sure what I could have said, but I would have liked to talk to him outside of the classroom. The only other pupil I saw was another in the group who spent most of the time chatting to K. He came with his brother and they both seemed bored (can't say I blame them.) After giving them the target/challenge grade spiel I offered him the chance to redraft his coursework if he wanted. He didn't. I asked if they had any questions. They didn't. I thanked them and they sloped off. At least they came, I guess.
So that was yesterday. I went home, exhausted, and managed to watch two episodes of BSG with my flatmate - what a treat! I went to bed later than expected our other flatmate returned from holiday, but managed to get my head down around midnight.
As always, morning came too soon, and I allowed myself an extra 15 minutes in bed before dragging myself in. I only had two lessons today, which was a blessing after the past three days. I prepared the classroom for my first lesson (year 10) which wasn't going to be until after break. I was getting nervous about it; the group are difficult to manage, and I don't think I'm doing a great job of explaining what I'm teaching to them. In the period before break I was joined by my professional/subject tutor with whom I had a long chat. It's interesting to think that after Monday (maybe it's the fatigue) I've been feeling fairly neutral about how things are going. She gave me some good advice, and I felt a little better over my pre-lesson cigarette. Finally, breaktime was over, and I went up to the room. I was a little perplexed to see, when my students had entered, that the girl who I'd moved down was sat on her old desk chatting.
I asked her politely to leave.
"But I'm just talking to my friends."
"You can do that after the lesson. Please go to your classroom."
I was relieved when she went without complaint.
I got going on the lesson, and was pleased that the group hushed much quicker than they had the day before. There are still some very irritating girls that I need to separate as soon as possible. I'd set them a starter that I thought would work, thinking about Juliet's language when we first meet her. I was asked what the exam question meant. Hmmmmmm. I might have to address that in the next lesson. They read through the text and I questioned for understanding. I tried to bang on about the sonnet form, but it wasn't really going in. I made the mistake of playing them the film version first, which meant that they were thinking about that when they answered the questions on the worksheet I gave them. I need to find some background research for them to do, I've realised that they don't really know much about the time. Oh well. One of the pupils was really off with me, she wouldn't put her folder on the pile as asked. I'm not sure what to think about her; she keeps testing me, I really need to stand up to her in a firmer way. I kept two of the girls behind as a warning for chatting. They left smirking. ARGH.
Lunchtime was a sweet relief. I was beginning to get nervous about my year 9 group. I'd promised them the film if they did their work, but didn't account for the fact that I'd planned a full lesson without the film. I should really prepare some tie-in activities next time I do that. In the period I had off before year 9, I was sat in my NQT colleague's classroom as mine was being used. As we chatted about something mundane, the long-term supply teacher came in holding a pupil's book. "What should I do about this?" she asked my NQT colleague and I, "this pupil wrote this in her book and now she won't leave my classroom." He had a look and suggested that they speak to the HoD, who was busy in a lesson, and so another teacher (the one who helped in my year 9 class) went to help. Shortly after they'd gone I could hear shouting from the other side of the corridor. Turned out a top set year 9 pupil had written something offensive, along the lines of "I don't want to be in your stupid lesson you bitch" and then called her the C word. The bad one.
So if I wasn't nervous about my year 9 group before, I was now. Not least because I'd have the parent-liaison observing, as well as, at it turned out, a member of the SLT. And a TA. Panic. It was amusing to see how obsessed the kids were with the idea of watching the movie, as I'd promised they could if they did the homework I'd set them before. They were actually questioning each other to make sure they'd all done it. Unfortunately they didn't all write their names on it, so I couldn't tell who hadn't done it (apart from one of my troublesome pupils.) Overall only about 3 or 4 of them hadn't, so I decided to show it. Before that, I tried a simple starter, after the success of the one the day before: more apostrophes. They kind of got it, but not hugely. It was a little dry. I decided to jump straight to the video after, which took most of the lesson. What was wonderful to see was how good they were whilst watching. Other than the odd chatter, there was not a peep out of them. They were incredibly interested in what I had thought was a rather sorry and dated BBC adaptation of the novel we're reading, Stone Cold. They seemed to love it. I will have to remember that in the future. Videos = good.
I was beginning to panic, as I still had time left in the lesson. I stopped the video and threw together a quick plenary of apostrophes to write in their books. My little homework-less pupil was kept behind because he had not only not done his homework, or at least not brought it, but had been irritating and disruptive the entire lesson. I'm going to have to put it on SIMS, as I forgot. I should have kept him behind longer, I just had a quick chat and sent him on his merry way. I had a nice long chat with the SLT after, and she gave me pointers and advice, and offered to observe a lesson with me, so we could discuss it after, which would be really great. She pointed out that the lesson wasn't a disaster, and the kids weren't that bad. I suppose they're not really. I feel a bit embarrassed about the fuss I'd kicked up about them, especially now that my colleague has rearranged his timetable so he can team teach them with me.
So anyway, the day ended and I went for a cigarette and decided to try to round up some more year 11s to do coursework tomorrow. Originally I wasn't sure whether or not to get more in, but it was only after I thought about it, I decided that I feel I'd be doing them a disservice if I don't at least give them the opportunity to come in and catch up. I called around five parents, and got through to two, who said they'd bring their sons in. I did speak to one year 11 in the class who, when I look at her coursework grades (she's handed in 2 out of 5) could get a C if she completed the rest to the same standard. She didn't want to come in, claiming she had an appointment the next day, and I said I'd speak to her in the week. I am determined to help her do better. I guess she just has to want it.
So I went home relatively early, having printed off coursework information for me to read over tomorrow (I haven't actually read the poems they'll be looking at; something we'll have in common) and was treated to a slap up dinner courtesy of my lovely flatmate.
I feel pretty relaxed now, and am actually looking forward to tomorrow. We'll have to see how many turn up (I know H certainly will) and hopefully I can make it at least a little fun. I might bring some snacks for them to enjoy whilst they work.
Bon nuit!
So, at 3.30 I returned from The Bin to the department, ready for parents' evening. It wasn't really explained to me what I should actually say should I have been asked for a meeting. It also wasn't explained how long they should last. The evening was specifically for year 11, as it was cancelled last term due to a powercut. Towards the end of the day a member of staff went around posting names on the classroom doors to indicate which teachers would be present. I was told that although it was predominately for personal tutors, subject teachers should 'hang around' in case someone wanted to discuss things. I figured that, as I'd only had my year 11s for a couple of weeks, noone would want me and I could spend the 3 hours planning. I pencilled my name onto a sign and sat down to facebook (ahem) in the English office.
I was a little shaken therefore when my GTP colleague came to tell me I had a visitor. I began to panic - what exactly could I say? Only one of my pupils had mentioned he'd be attending, as his "mum was making him go. bitch." My colleague told me what to do and say; repeat to them the pupil's target grade and "challenge" grade (two marks higher) and say that if they wanted to do better they needed to attend every lesson, participate in class and finish all the coursework. I steeled myself and strolled into the classroom, hoping that my faux air of confidence was believable. I was suprised to see a pupil whom I'd never really spoken to before, let's call him H, with his mum, a restless sister, and a white woman who eventually introduced herself to me as his tutor. We sat down and I started the spiel. H is on course for a G grade, but if he works hard he could achieve a D. This hurt. Earlier in the day I had joked nervously with colleagues about how I would actually say this to a parent if asked; it seemed rather depressing. Anyway, I said it and was grilled by his tutor about what we'd been studying and what he'd need to know for the exam. I stalled a bit; I couldn't remember what we'd be doing later in the year, so I had to run off to get the long term plan (lent to me by the lovely GTP) and I managed to bluff my way through. The tutor asked me if H ever spoke to me in class; I could honestly not remember. I said no, not really, and she launched into a diatribe about how he had no friends, spoke no English at home, and didn't practice apart from with her ("was there a drama club at school he could join?") She tutored him for maths three times a week, and was trying to help him with English at the same time. I tried to smile encouragingly at H; I couldn't imagine how uncomfortable he must have been feeling. My GTP colleague joined us at this point (not before telling me that the meetings were only supposed to be ten minutes - we'd been talking for at least 15) and reminded his mother and tutor of how far he'd come. She used to be a teaching assistant at the school for six years and had seen him when he was new to the country (Somalian?) and couldn't speak any English at all; it was remarkable to consider how much she must have seen him change, shy as he was now.
We got on to the subject of coursework, and I ran off again to get the boxfile I'd stored in my class cupboard. Showing them the marks was made more painful when I saw the look on H's face. He'd gotten 3/40 for one piece - he'd been sick, apparently. The piece itself was handwritten on one sheet of lined paper and incomplete. His mother was horrified; she said she wasn't sure whether to be angry at H or the school. I looked at his grades and felt a little sick. "You know, he could come in on Friday and I could help him redraft a couple of pieces," I offered. I tried to explain as tactfully as possible that Friday was a target setting day for the school, so there would be no lessons for anyone (year 7-10 pupils come in with parents and discuss to which grades their children should be aiming) and some select year 11s would come in for coursework help. Although the coursework help was aimed primarily at those expected to reach a C grade (D/C students are the priority - targets, innit) I could help H myself as I'd have no formal plans (other than planning.) They seemed happy with this, and I grimaced internally as H's mother made him thank me. I waved them off, feeling rather disillusioned with the whole GCSE system. I'm still not sure how I feel about it.
Whilst we'd been having our marathon chat, I spotted K from my year 11 group leaning against the wall in the hallway. I was mid conversation so didn't really acknowlege him, assuming he was waiting for someone else. He disappeared after, so I wonder if he had been waiting for me. I'm not sure what I could have said, but I would have liked to talk to him outside of the classroom. The only other pupil I saw was another in the group who spent most of the time chatting to K. He came with his brother and they both seemed bored (can't say I blame them.) After giving them the target/challenge grade spiel I offered him the chance to redraft his coursework if he wanted. He didn't. I asked if they had any questions. They didn't. I thanked them and they sloped off. At least they came, I guess.
So that was yesterday. I went home, exhausted, and managed to watch two episodes of BSG with my flatmate - what a treat! I went to bed later than expected our other flatmate returned from holiday, but managed to get my head down around midnight.
As always, morning came too soon, and I allowed myself an extra 15 minutes in bed before dragging myself in. I only had two lessons today, which was a blessing after the past three days. I prepared the classroom for my first lesson (year 10) which wasn't going to be until after break. I was getting nervous about it; the group are difficult to manage, and I don't think I'm doing a great job of explaining what I'm teaching to them. In the period before break I was joined by my professional/subject tutor with whom I had a long chat. It's interesting to think that after Monday (maybe it's the fatigue) I've been feeling fairly neutral about how things are going. She gave me some good advice, and I felt a little better over my pre-lesson cigarette. Finally, breaktime was over, and I went up to the room. I was a little perplexed to see, when my students had entered, that the girl who I'd moved down was sat on her old desk chatting.
I asked her politely to leave.
"But I'm just talking to my friends."
"You can do that after the lesson. Please go to your classroom."
I was relieved when she went without complaint.
I got going on the lesson, and was pleased that the group hushed much quicker than they had the day before. There are still some very irritating girls that I need to separate as soon as possible. I'd set them a starter that I thought would work, thinking about Juliet's language when we first meet her. I was asked what the exam question meant. Hmmmmmm. I might have to address that in the next lesson. They read through the text and I questioned for understanding. I tried to bang on about the sonnet form, but it wasn't really going in. I made the mistake of playing them the film version first, which meant that they were thinking about that when they answered the questions on the worksheet I gave them. I need to find some background research for them to do, I've realised that they don't really know much about the time. Oh well. One of the pupils was really off with me, she wouldn't put her folder on the pile as asked. I'm not sure what to think about her; she keeps testing me, I really need to stand up to her in a firmer way. I kept two of the girls behind as a warning for chatting. They left smirking. ARGH.
Lunchtime was a sweet relief. I was beginning to get nervous about my year 9 group. I'd promised them the film if they did their work, but didn't account for the fact that I'd planned a full lesson without the film. I should really prepare some tie-in activities next time I do that. In the period I had off before year 9, I was sat in my NQT colleague's classroom as mine was being used. As we chatted about something mundane, the long-term supply teacher came in holding a pupil's book. "What should I do about this?" she asked my NQT colleague and I, "this pupil wrote this in her book and now she won't leave my classroom." He had a look and suggested that they speak to the HoD, who was busy in a lesson, and so another teacher (the one who helped in my year 9 class) went to help. Shortly after they'd gone I could hear shouting from the other side of the corridor. Turned out a top set year 9 pupil had written something offensive, along the lines of "I don't want to be in your stupid lesson you bitch" and then called her the C word. The bad one.
So if I wasn't nervous about my year 9 group before, I was now. Not least because I'd have the parent-liaison observing, as well as, at it turned out, a member of the SLT. And a TA. Panic. It was amusing to see how obsessed the kids were with the idea of watching the movie, as I'd promised they could if they did the homework I'd set them before. They were actually questioning each other to make sure they'd all done it. Unfortunately they didn't all write their names on it, so I couldn't tell who hadn't done it (apart from one of my troublesome pupils.) Overall only about 3 or 4 of them hadn't, so I decided to show it. Before that, I tried a simple starter, after the success of the one the day before: more apostrophes. They kind of got it, but not hugely. It was a little dry. I decided to jump straight to the video after, which took most of the lesson. What was wonderful to see was how good they were whilst watching. Other than the odd chatter, there was not a peep out of them. They were incredibly interested in what I had thought was a rather sorry and dated BBC adaptation of the novel we're reading, Stone Cold. They seemed to love it. I will have to remember that in the future. Videos = good.
I was beginning to panic, as I still had time left in the lesson. I stopped the video and threw together a quick plenary of apostrophes to write in their books. My little homework-less pupil was kept behind because he had not only not done his homework, or at least not brought it, but had been irritating and disruptive the entire lesson. I'm going to have to put it on SIMS, as I forgot. I should have kept him behind longer, I just had a quick chat and sent him on his merry way. I had a nice long chat with the SLT after, and she gave me pointers and advice, and offered to observe a lesson with me, so we could discuss it after, which would be really great. She pointed out that the lesson wasn't a disaster, and the kids weren't that bad. I suppose they're not really. I feel a bit embarrassed about the fuss I'd kicked up about them, especially now that my colleague has rearranged his timetable so he can team teach them with me.
So anyway, the day ended and I went for a cigarette and decided to try to round up some more year 11s to do coursework tomorrow. Originally I wasn't sure whether or not to get more in, but it was only after I thought about it, I decided that I feel I'd be doing them a disservice if I don't at least give them the opportunity to come in and catch up. I called around five parents, and got through to two, who said they'd bring their sons in. I did speak to one year 11 in the class who, when I look at her coursework grades (she's handed in 2 out of 5) could get a C if she completed the rest to the same standard. She didn't want to come in, claiming she had an appointment the next day, and I said I'd speak to her in the week. I am determined to help her do better. I guess she just has to want it.
So I went home relatively early, having printed off coursework information for me to read over tomorrow (I haven't actually read the poems they'll be looking at; something we'll have in common) and was treated to a slap up dinner courtesy of my lovely flatmate.
I feel pretty relaxed now, and am actually looking forward to tomorrow. We'll have to see how many turn up (I know H certainly will) and hopefully I can make it at least a little fun. I might bring some snacks for them to enjoy whilst they work.
Bon nuit!
Wednesday, 16 September 2009
Day 8: Parent's Evening
Today I spent exactly 12 hours at the school. This is something to which I have become accustomed, but for some reason it felt harder on this particular day. Probably because I experienced my first ever parent's evening. I say in the singular, as I only saw one actual parent.
Anyway, it was the third of my 4-period days in the week, and the strain was beginning to show. There's something about being told "you look tired" that really makes you feel like shit when you drag yourself in after less than 6 hours' sleep.
So lesson one was year 7. I had a teaching assistant, which was a first for that group, and was embarrassed when she corrected an answer I gave to the group. I really need to double check what I'm teaching before I do. Although I'm not hugely confident with my year 7s, I generally like what I do with them and there are some really bright kids in that group so it makes it fun. I'm going to organise a trip to the library soon.
After the year 7s were year 9. I had help again this time, in the shape of another English teacher, who will hopefully be team teaching with me throughout the year with this group. Overall it went ok, actually. I tried a bit of active learning, the kids held up laminated letters to spell out "Rooney's foot" and had to put the apostrophe in the right place. They managed to do this, and complete the task which was pretty good to see. Then came the reading. I was completely upstaged by my colleague who read it with such aplomb, and a fantastic scottish accent, that the kids were hooked. Those that complained that we had so many pages to read through wanted him to read on, which he did. It was really great watching him as he made it so entertaining and I hope I can implement that into my own teaching soon. The behaviour was generally much better in the group, which came from the added support, and I also hope I'll improve my confidence enough to get the guys to listen.
So break time, and I was amazed to see a year 11 boy turn up to complete the homework I'd set the group. It was even more surprising to see that he was the only one who completed it, as everyone else blamed the rain for ruining the worksheets I'd given them. I've yet to decide what to do about that. K was up to his old tricks, sleeping rather "because he went to bed too early and woke up at 3 and couldn't sleep". Hmmmm. Frankly I was just pleased to finish the lesson. I had some rather unpleasant news about my year 11s, which was that they did not, in fact, complete their Sherlock Holmes piece of coursework and are therefore one under, and there is no room to fit it in during classtime. I don't even want to think about the implications of this just yet.
So yeah, lunchtime, lesson off to prepare for my last one, and finally year 10. Unfortunately this did also not go to plan. I have great difficulty in getting them to shut up, and I need to address this in the next lesson tomorrow. We ended up watching the film for the rest of the lesson, which was good to aid understanding of what happens leading up to the scenes we are studying, but I felt like a bit of a fraud anyway.
It would seem that these blogs are getting more and more tedious to write, but perhaps I'm just not in the mood tonight. I'll be more reflective tomorrow, and will tell you the story of how I'm spending the day on Friday helping one of my year 11s rewrite his coursework (one mark was 3/40)
Off to bed.
Anyway, it was the third of my 4-period days in the week, and the strain was beginning to show. There's something about being told "you look tired" that really makes you feel like shit when you drag yourself in after less than 6 hours' sleep.
So lesson one was year 7. I had a teaching assistant, which was a first for that group, and was embarrassed when she corrected an answer I gave to the group. I really need to double check what I'm teaching before I do. Although I'm not hugely confident with my year 7s, I generally like what I do with them and there are some really bright kids in that group so it makes it fun. I'm going to organise a trip to the library soon.
After the year 7s were year 9. I had help again this time, in the shape of another English teacher, who will hopefully be team teaching with me throughout the year with this group. Overall it went ok, actually. I tried a bit of active learning, the kids held up laminated letters to spell out "Rooney's foot" and had to put the apostrophe in the right place. They managed to do this, and complete the task which was pretty good to see. Then came the reading. I was completely upstaged by my colleague who read it with such aplomb, and a fantastic scottish accent, that the kids were hooked. Those that complained that we had so many pages to read through wanted him to read on, which he did. It was really great watching him as he made it so entertaining and I hope I can implement that into my own teaching soon. The behaviour was generally much better in the group, which came from the added support, and I also hope I'll improve my confidence enough to get the guys to listen.
So break time, and I was amazed to see a year 11 boy turn up to complete the homework I'd set the group. It was even more surprising to see that he was the only one who completed it, as everyone else blamed the rain for ruining the worksheets I'd given them. I've yet to decide what to do about that. K was up to his old tricks, sleeping rather "because he went to bed too early and woke up at 3 and couldn't sleep". Hmmmm. Frankly I was just pleased to finish the lesson. I had some rather unpleasant news about my year 11s, which was that they did not, in fact, complete their Sherlock Holmes piece of coursework and are therefore one under, and there is no room to fit it in during classtime. I don't even want to think about the implications of this just yet.
So yeah, lunchtime, lesson off to prepare for my last one, and finally year 10. Unfortunately this did also not go to plan. I have great difficulty in getting them to shut up, and I need to address this in the next lesson tomorrow. We ended up watching the film for the rest of the lesson, which was good to aid understanding of what happens leading up to the scenes we are studying, but I felt like a bit of a fraud anyway.
It would seem that these blogs are getting more and more tedious to write, but perhaps I'm just not in the mood tonight. I'll be more reflective tomorrow, and will tell you the story of how I'm spending the day on Friday helping one of my year 11s rewrite his coursework (one mark was 3/40)
Off to bed.
Tuesday, 15 September 2009
Day 7: I've had the time of my life...
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.
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.
Monday, 14 September 2009
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.
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.
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