What a fucking disaster. I feel like I'm going to explode. I am so tired; I'm getting headaches whenever the coffee wears off and my temper is at an all time high. I'm so fucking miserable. I just want to quit this fucking bollocks. Really, what I want is a fucking cigarette.
I had my absolute worst lesson since before Christmas, with my year 9s (once again I had them on my own because the TA fucked off to an exam) who were atrocious. The lesson itself was doomed to failure because, despite trying to change it around, it was too challenging for them so I couldn't even set them work and get on with it, I had to talk them through it, but spent ages waiting for silence and seemingly arguing with the kids fucking around. At one point I told them I was going to wait for silence for like 10 minutes (why did I even think that was a good idea?) and agreed with one kid when she said it was "fucking boring" which made all the kids gasp and I tried to turn it into a lecture on not swearing. Any attempts I'd wanted to make to be friendlier with the kids fell to pieces and I was overwhelmed with apathy and attention seeking behaviour.
"Miss, why did even you become a teacher?"
I don't know what the fuck to do. I even thought the other lesson I might be able to teach them on my own, but they're unbearable. Half the kids did no work, and the ones that did got restless waiting for the rest of the group to catch up. It was a fucking nightmare, and I was actually relieved to get year 8 in after, although only because I agreed with my colleague to show them the film of the book we're reading to save myself any more stress.
I really am so fucking fed up with this shit. I am the least exceptional fucking graduate around right now and all I want to do is go home to my mum and dad and stay there for a long, long time. Fuck the lot of them.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
Monday, 1 March 2010
Day 106: An Attractive Six-Figure Package...
...is offered to the new principal of our school, when it becomes an academy. I suppose I'm naive in that I didn't realise just how much they get paid these days, but it seems extraordinary.
I'm beginning to worry about my own mental health right now. A colleague has suggested I have stress-related depression. Though a little unlikely, I am beginning to panic about work.
I don't seem to be able to concentrate. I can't work in the evening: I just come home and switch off. I can't sleep at night, I stay up late doing stupid things then get up at 6am to get into work early.
Needless to say, I'm exhausted, stressed, and at the end of a rather short, frayed tether. I just spoke to my poor mother who coached me through what I should do, and so on her advice I am retiring to bed.
I'm beginning to worry about my own mental health right now. A colleague has suggested I have stress-related depression. Though a little unlikely, I am beginning to panic about work.
I don't seem to be able to concentrate. I can't work in the evening: I just come home and switch off. I can't sleep at night, I stay up late doing stupid things then get up at 6am to get into work early.
Needless to say, I'm exhausted, stressed, and at the end of a rather short, frayed tether. I just spoke to my poor mother who coached me through what I should do, and so on her advice I am retiring to bed.
Wednesday, 24 February 2010
Day 102: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!
My parents were boarding the ferry. I was skeptical: it was full of water. Whether or not it would sail was not my chief concern, rather I was concerned about how I would fit on there with all the water. I followed my parents but stopped when they walked into the the choppy blue liquid. I turned and ran, up to walkway above. It was only then that I realised they must have drowned. I panicked, racked with guilt, then I woke up.
I felt that sweet, lazy Saturday-morning inertia that comes from waking naturally, then rolled over and saw the time. 6 seconds later, I realised it wasn't Saturday.
My alarm clock went off at 6am. At 10.15am, I woke up.
I have never felt panic like it. I jumped out of bed, and dithered as to whether or not I should even shower. The expletives emanating from my mouth put to an end my giving up swearing for Lent. I decided to shower, realising that my year 11 lesson was occurring as I did so. When I returned to my room, dressed frantically, and threw my things together I called the lovely man at school who is in charge of cover and such like. "I'm so sorry, my alarm clock didn't go off - I'm on my way in now." He chuckled that he hadn't been told I wasn't there, and that set fresh panic in my mind as to whether or not anyone had noticed. What on earth were my students going to be doing?
I left the house and was lucky to see a bus approaching. I decided to stay on an extra stop that went past the school, to ensure I didn't have to walk through the main gates. I caught sight of my colleague's red jacket as I made my way towards the school; he was smoking outside. I started to cry as I explained what had happened, and he calmed me down and talked me through what I should do. I wasn't convinced; the evening before I had decided to leave lesson prep to the morning, and would get in early to sort it out for the heaviest day of the week. Oh, the irony.
I went up to the department and greeted the new PGCE student, who was entirely sympathetic, and then steeled myself and walked into my classroom. "Hello," I said to the class. They hardly acknowledged me. Were they offended? Thankfully, the TA had gotten them a film to watch, and they were sat engrossed in a pretty terrible CGI version of Little Red Riding Hood (their choice.) The TA was sympathetic, and told me I could prepare for my next lesson (year 9, who she also assisted) as she would be happy to dismiss the year 11s. I felt so incredibly guilty, but did as she suggested and felt a lot happier for it.
The rest of the day was a little stressful blur. Year 9 were feistier than normal ("Miss, do you have a boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"Oh that's a shame, because I was going to ask you out." *wink*
"Oh M, that's so... inappropriate.")
but I survived the lesson, and year 10, and then the more horrible than usual year 8s. I am making no progress with that group, whatsoever.
I left around five, deciding that I would do more work at home (ha!) but so far that has not been the case.
I've also set 2 alarms for the morning.
I felt that sweet, lazy Saturday-morning inertia that comes from waking naturally, then rolled over and saw the time. 6 seconds later, I realised it wasn't Saturday.
My alarm clock went off at 6am. At 10.15am, I woke up.
I have never felt panic like it. I jumped out of bed, and dithered as to whether or not I should even shower. The expletives emanating from my mouth put to an end my giving up swearing for Lent. I decided to shower, realising that my year 11 lesson was occurring as I did so. When I returned to my room, dressed frantically, and threw my things together I called the lovely man at school who is in charge of cover and such like. "I'm so sorry, my alarm clock didn't go off - I'm on my way in now." He chuckled that he hadn't been told I wasn't there, and that set fresh panic in my mind as to whether or not anyone had noticed. What on earth were my students going to be doing?
I left the house and was lucky to see a bus approaching. I decided to stay on an extra stop that went past the school, to ensure I didn't have to walk through the main gates. I caught sight of my colleague's red jacket as I made my way towards the school; he was smoking outside. I started to cry as I explained what had happened, and he calmed me down and talked me through what I should do. I wasn't convinced; the evening before I had decided to leave lesson prep to the morning, and would get in early to sort it out for the heaviest day of the week. Oh, the irony.
I went up to the department and greeted the new PGCE student, who was entirely sympathetic, and then steeled myself and walked into my classroom. "Hello," I said to the class. They hardly acknowledged me. Were they offended? Thankfully, the TA had gotten them a film to watch, and they were sat engrossed in a pretty terrible CGI version of Little Red Riding Hood (their choice.) The TA was sympathetic, and told me I could prepare for my next lesson (year 9, who she also assisted) as she would be happy to dismiss the year 11s. I felt so incredibly guilty, but did as she suggested and felt a lot happier for it.
The rest of the day was a little stressful blur. Year 9 were feistier than normal ("Miss, do you have a boyfriend?"
"Yes."
"Oh that's a shame, because I was going to ask you out." *wink*
"Oh M, that's so... inappropriate.")
but I survived the lesson, and year 10, and then the more horrible than usual year 8s. I am making no progress with that group, whatsoever.
I left around five, deciding that I would do more work at home (ha!) but so far that has not been the case.
I've also set 2 alarms for the morning.
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Day 101: Back to School
Lordy, two weeks is a long time. And 3 hours' sleep is not. I got to school feeling tired and cranky after a nice spent tossing and turning because I couldn't sleep. I'm getting used to that nervous, insomniac night before the start of a new term. Only this time there were no cigarettes (success!)
At least I knew it would be an easy day. I started off with a bit of embarrassment, mainly in the form of my colleague ribbing me for my drunken behaviour at his birthday party during half term. This was exacerbated when the rather sweet head of citizenship and community niceness called me out in the staff briefing to thank me for securing the autograph of our school's matriarch and I waved a little too eagerly, causing a ripple of giggles amongst my colleagues.
Year 7 were actually really fun, and they did a great lesson, drawing pictures that were being described by their partners. I'm trying my hardest to be as nice as pie to them, because I feel like our relationship has soured a bit. I did get on quite well for the most part, so hopefully it'll continue to get better. I even took time to congratulate the difficult boy on his sporting achievement.
I had the rest of the day free until last lesson, so spent it marking and putting together a lesson for my year 11s. They were utterly delightful, even though the lesson was a tad ham-fisted, and even K was working and joining in. I love that group. I told them I would be starting a booster session after school I'd like them to go to, although I doubt many will. I was shocked earlier that morning to hear one of them, J, has been put in our intervention project with a group of other ne'erdowell year 11s. I read through his SIMS behaviour management and was surprised by some of the things he'd done (my favourite being: "refused to come into the classroom and called me fucking dickhead") as, although he could sometimes be difficult, he was normally quite good with me. That's always the worst thing to say, I know, but I was just surprised.
So ended the first day back. Only 5 weeks to go till Easter.
At least I knew it would be an easy day. I started off with a bit of embarrassment, mainly in the form of my colleague ribbing me for my drunken behaviour at his birthday party during half term. This was exacerbated when the rather sweet head of citizenship and community niceness called me out in the staff briefing to thank me for securing the autograph of our school's matriarch and I waved a little too eagerly, causing a ripple of giggles amongst my colleagues.
Year 7 were actually really fun, and they did a great lesson, drawing pictures that were being described by their partners. I'm trying my hardest to be as nice as pie to them, because I feel like our relationship has soured a bit. I did get on quite well for the most part, so hopefully it'll continue to get better. I even took time to congratulate the difficult boy on his sporting achievement.
I had the rest of the day free until last lesson, so spent it marking and putting together a lesson for my year 11s. They were utterly delightful, even though the lesson was a tad ham-fisted, and even K was working and joining in. I love that group. I told them I would be starting a booster session after school I'd like them to go to, although I doubt many will. I was shocked earlier that morning to hear one of them, J, has been put in our intervention project with a group of other ne'erdowell year 11s. I read through his SIMS behaviour management and was surprised by some of the things he'd done (my favourite being: "refused to come into the classroom and called me fucking dickhead") as, although he could sometimes be difficult, he was normally quite good with me. That's always the worst thing to say, I know, but I was just surprised.
So ended the first day back. Only 5 weeks to go till Easter.
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Day 100: Half Way There
It's rather bittersweet that I'm writing this at the very end of half term. On the one hand, I'm exactly half way through the year; on the other hand, I've got to be in 6 hours and can't sleep.
So, yes. 100 days. I can't quite believe it myself. It's amazing to think of how far I and my fellow Teachy Firsties have come - and yet I don't like the idea of having to go through it all again. I know it's going to be easier than the first three half terms, but at the same time it's going to be exhausting.
After being away from the school for two whole weeks, I'm pretty nervous about going back tomorrow, so am writing this now because I can't sleep. I suppose I'll go back to the last day of term.
After meeting my colleagues for breakfast (they had inset so were treating themselves to a fry up) I ran to The Outstanding School a little late but excited about what I knew was coming that day. That's right - there were serenades a plenty!
In the three lessons I observed, I saw no less than 6 separate serenades, as well as hearing several more from neighboring classrooms, when the melodies floated in through the Victorian walls, to many a student's amusement. It was a lovely tradition that could never in a million years translate to our kids and our school, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
To be honest, after a week of observations and a nerve-wracking lesson, I was pretty exhausted by the Friday, and so politely sat in the corner of each classroom, diligently taking notes and listening in.
One class which astounded me the most was a year 7 group, where the students had to plan and perform oral stories based around Beowulf. Despite the three serenades interrupting ("OK, I'm going to give you ten seconds to talk about that, then ten seconds to calm down, then we're going to continue...") I saw about 8 students perform, and the first one BLEW MY MIND. The boy spoke for no less than three minutes, in VERSE. I couldn't believe it. He reeled it off like some sort of robot, and I had to keep propping my jaw up. It was incredible.
The rest of the day was nice (much like the rest of the week) and I ended it watching a year 11 drama class who were very lively but fun, and I sat watching a ramshackle rendition of Abigail's Party for a while. I was sad to leave, in a way, because the staff were so lovely, but I missed my school and my colleagues and, more than I expected, my kids. As it happened, I ran to the pub and joined my colleague in a rather long evening, but it was nice seeing them and catching up over a bit of karaoke.
I'm a little sad at how quickly half term flew by, especially as I didn't get all the marking done that I needed to but I did get to catch up with my lovely friends and saw my family too. I suppose I should go to bed now - school day starts in 5 1/2 hours. Ouch.
So, yes. 100 days. I can't quite believe it myself. It's amazing to think of how far I and my fellow Teachy Firsties have come - and yet I don't like the idea of having to go through it all again. I know it's going to be easier than the first three half terms, but at the same time it's going to be exhausting.
After being away from the school for two whole weeks, I'm pretty nervous about going back tomorrow, so am writing this now because I can't sleep. I suppose I'll go back to the last day of term.
After meeting my colleagues for breakfast (they had inset so were treating themselves to a fry up) I ran to The Outstanding School a little late but excited about what I knew was coming that day. That's right - there were serenades a plenty!
In the three lessons I observed, I saw no less than 6 separate serenades, as well as hearing several more from neighboring classrooms, when the melodies floated in through the Victorian walls, to many a student's amusement. It was a lovely tradition that could never in a million years translate to our kids and our school, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
To be honest, after a week of observations and a nerve-wracking lesson, I was pretty exhausted by the Friday, and so politely sat in the corner of each classroom, diligently taking notes and listening in.
One class which astounded me the most was a year 7 group, where the students had to plan and perform oral stories based around Beowulf. Despite the three serenades interrupting ("OK, I'm going to give you ten seconds to talk about that, then ten seconds to calm down, then we're going to continue...") I saw about 8 students perform, and the first one BLEW MY MIND. The boy spoke for no less than three minutes, in VERSE. I couldn't believe it. He reeled it off like some sort of robot, and I had to keep propping my jaw up. It was incredible.
The rest of the day was nice (much like the rest of the week) and I ended it watching a year 11 drama class who were very lively but fun, and I sat watching a ramshackle rendition of Abigail's Party for a while. I was sad to leave, in a way, because the staff were so lovely, but I missed my school and my colleagues and, more than I expected, my kids. As it happened, I ran to the pub and joined my colleague in a rather long evening, but it was nice seeing them and catching up over a bit of karaoke.
I'm a little sad at how quickly half term flew by, especially as I didn't get all the marking done that I needed to but I did get to catch up with my lovely friends and saw my family too. I suppose I should go to bed now - school day starts in 5 1/2 hours. Ouch.
Thursday, 11 February 2010
Days 98-99: Nice
Wednesday went past pretty quickly. I had lots of observations today, which were all pretty interesting, and it was nice to see some active learning in the year 8 lesson in the morning (an activity I might try myself too.)
I was mortified that I nearly fell asleep in one of the lessons, because I just feel so exhausted. I suppose coming to the end of half term and being utterly ground down has finally caught up with me, and being in such a relaxed environment meant that my body is switching off.
After school I, once again, skipped back to my school, although this time for year 11 parents' evening. As it turned out, none of my kids turned up. I did therefore have time to sort out a few things, including cover, although I was disappointed to miss K and his sister. I did actually bump into them as we left the building, but never mind. I ended the day the only way I know how: in the pub. This would turn out to be a mistake, but at the time I just wanted to catch up with my colleagues, and it was nice to hang out with some of the lovely Teachy Firsties in my school.
On Thursday, as I sat on the slowest bus known to man, crawling through the rush hour traffic on my way to The Outstanding School, I passed my school and felt a pang. Not from the ulcer which has surely developed from the stress of oversleeping and being late, or the headache from the midweek drink-induced hangover, but from seeing dozens of 'my' kids dragging themselves through the school gates. I actually missed them.
Of course, this could have been because I was going to teach a lesson today and I was dreading it, or because observing three lessons a day, no matter how relaxing, is actually quite dull. It reminded me of the feeling I had when we took the year 11s to see An Inspector Calls, and they were so well behaved and gawky I felt rather proud of them.
I shook this feeling off and returned to my bacon sandwich, willing the bus to hurry the hell up as I was already late, and eventually got in, 15 minutes later than planned. I panicked immediately when I made my way to the HOD's form room and saw they weren't there, and realised that I had less than two hours to prepare for the lesson I would be teaching and had no Internet access. It was OK though; I sat in the staff room on my laptop which I had cleverly brought with me and made a little power point and decided to go with my original idea for the lesson - relating the Lord of the Flies to The Bacchae. Eventually the HOD turned up, and after embarrassingly admitting that I wasn't ready to teach it so I'd be missing my first observation, then asking his advice when he had a lesson, I set to work on finishing it off.
The time flew by, and he came to collect me after break to take me off to his class. I started doing that infuriating thing I do when I'm nervous: over thinking. I questioned him on how I should present the questions to the group, and he politely advised me, although I felt he must have been growing tired of me by now. We came into the classroom and the kids all looked up expectantly. He set up the computer, did the register, then introduced me.
And off I went. I was so incredibly nervous, my voice was jumpy to begin with, and I set them the tasks awkwardly and gave them a time limit. Luckily they all got on with it and I went around asking them what they thought. Despite my admittedly confusing instructions they all seemed to grasp what I wanted them to do, and thankfully were doing it! I warmed up a bit, then had a rather stilted feedback session where I prodded them with extra questions, which at times were a tad embarrassing, but the kids seemed to humour me.
I launched into the second part of the lesson - The Bacchae, and it seemed to go down OK. The kids read through the scene I gave them and then I asked them some more slightly awkwardly put questions about it. Some of them seemed to get where I was coming from, and with 15 minutes to spare I set them the task of staging the death of Simon from the book. I'm not sure why... One group even agreed to perform it, although it was a little awkward, and I was thankful that they did.
The lesson was over pretty soon (1 hour 20 mins lasts a lot less than I thought it would) and I was treated to lunch by the HOD. We sat with a member of SLT who asked me how I was getting on. I said the school and the staff were really nice.
"NICE? Surely you can do better than that?"
"Er, OK... the school is amazing and the staff are wonderful."
What a strange man.
After the stress of teaching faded, I felt much better, and was able to relax for the afternoon, before watching a Latin lesson in the last period. Although it was a little lecture-y, it was actually a fantastic lesson and I really enjoyed it. It was also nice to see that there were some naughtier kids in the school (names were written on the board and everything!)
I ended up leaving pretty early, without really saying goodbye, because I was so exhausted. I'm looking forward to half term more than I can say, although really this week has been a real treat. I must remember to buy a card and chocolates for the lovely staff though.
I was mortified that I nearly fell asleep in one of the lessons, because I just feel so exhausted. I suppose coming to the end of half term and being utterly ground down has finally caught up with me, and being in such a relaxed environment meant that my body is switching off.
After school I, once again, skipped back to my school, although this time for year 11 parents' evening. As it turned out, none of my kids turned up. I did therefore have time to sort out a few things, including cover, although I was disappointed to miss K and his sister. I did actually bump into them as we left the building, but never mind. I ended the day the only way I know how: in the pub. This would turn out to be a mistake, but at the time I just wanted to catch up with my colleagues, and it was nice to hang out with some of the lovely Teachy Firsties in my school.
On Thursday, as I sat on the slowest bus known to man, crawling through the rush hour traffic on my way to The Outstanding School, I passed my school and felt a pang. Not from the ulcer which has surely developed from the stress of oversleeping and being late, or the headache from the midweek drink-induced hangover, but from seeing dozens of 'my' kids dragging themselves through the school gates. I actually missed them.
Of course, this could have been because I was going to teach a lesson today and I was dreading it, or because observing three lessons a day, no matter how relaxing, is actually quite dull. It reminded me of the feeling I had when we took the year 11s to see An Inspector Calls, and they were so well behaved and gawky I felt rather proud of them.
I shook this feeling off and returned to my bacon sandwich, willing the bus to hurry the hell up as I was already late, and eventually got in, 15 minutes later than planned. I panicked immediately when I made my way to the HOD's form room and saw they weren't there, and realised that I had less than two hours to prepare for the lesson I would be teaching and had no Internet access. It was OK though; I sat in the staff room on my laptop which I had cleverly brought with me and made a little power point and decided to go with my original idea for the lesson - relating the Lord of the Flies to The Bacchae. Eventually the HOD turned up, and after embarrassingly admitting that I wasn't ready to teach it so I'd be missing my first observation, then asking his advice when he had a lesson, I set to work on finishing it off.
The time flew by, and he came to collect me after break to take me off to his class. I started doing that infuriating thing I do when I'm nervous: over thinking. I questioned him on how I should present the questions to the group, and he politely advised me, although I felt he must have been growing tired of me by now. We came into the classroom and the kids all looked up expectantly. He set up the computer, did the register, then introduced me.
And off I went. I was so incredibly nervous, my voice was jumpy to begin with, and I set them the tasks awkwardly and gave them a time limit. Luckily they all got on with it and I went around asking them what they thought. Despite my admittedly confusing instructions they all seemed to grasp what I wanted them to do, and thankfully were doing it! I warmed up a bit, then had a rather stilted feedback session where I prodded them with extra questions, which at times were a tad embarrassing, but the kids seemed to humour me.
I launched into the second part of the lesson - The Bacchae, and it seemed to go down OK. The kids read through the scene I gave them and then I asked them some more slightly awkwardly put questions about it. Some of them seemed to get where I was coming from, and with 15 minutes to spare I set them the task of staging the death of Simon from the book. I'm not sure why... One group even agreed to perform it, although it was a little awkward, and I was thankful that they did.
The lesson was over pretty soon (1 hour 20 mins lasts a lot less than I thought it would) and I was treated to lunch by the HOD. We sat with a member of SLT who asked me how I was getting on. I said the school and the staff were really nice.
"NICE? Surely you can do better than that?"
"Er, OK... the school is amazing and the staff are wonderful."
What a strange man.
After the stress of teaching faded, I felt much better, and was able to relax for the afternoon, before watching a Latin lesson in the last period. Although it was a little lecture-y, it was actually a fantastic lesson and I really enjoyed it. It was also nice to see that there were some naughtier kids in the school (names were written on the board and everything!)
I ended up leaving pretty early, without really saying goodbye, because I was so exhausted. I'm looking forward to half term more than I can say, although really this week has been a real treat. I must remember to buy a card and chocolates for the lovely staff though.
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
Day 97: Antithesis
Is the grass always greener on the other side? I've been wondering that myself, especially considering the questions I've been asked from staff and colleagues at both schools today.
It is not without a profound sense of irony that I sum up as follows: today, I was kindly given a lift in to work from a couple of colleagues at school. I had planned on taking the normal bus and timing it so I could stop off for a chat with my smoking colleagues at 8am. Thanks to the lift, I was able to do so, and was somewhat surprised upon reaching the school to see a row of twenty or so police officers in lurid fluorescent jackets flanking a shiny knife arch at the school gates. Some welcome.
"Oh, is this your first knife arch?" my colleague asked, dryly.
How long had I been gone?
Upon eventually reaching The Outstanding School, one member of the English department there commented that she'd seen our students "being frisked" on their way in.
"They're not that bad." I protested. Although she did also mention that she saw police there "all the time." Apparently at The Outstanding School, they only turn up when the students there get mugged occasionally.
"By our kids?" I joked. Not funny, really.
I was given the privilege of attending a whole school assembly, and witnessed an aspect of The Outstanding School's 'high achievement' ethos - The Jack Petchy Award. This is given to pupils who go out of their way to help the community, make a difference, or 'overcome adversity' to succeed academically. The (clearly prejudiced) cynic in me asked what sort of adversity these students have to overcome, especially compared to my kids, although I tried to suppress that thought.
I was also delighted to witness an annual tradition at the school - Valentine's Day serenades. There, in front of my eyes, was an actual real life barbershop quartet, in full costume (I thought they were butchers to begin with, and this was some sort of meat-related school competition. Not quite.) For the measly price of one pound, students could nominate someone that deserved a serenade, and they would be visited during lessons and, well, serenaded by the barber shop quartet (or a girl band equivalent - nail bar quartet?) I was flabbergasted. A lovely idea, but I wonder how it would go down with my kids?
Anyway, the rest of the day was pretty relaxing, just observing a few lessons, including Latin, which has inspired me to set up the Latin Club I'd been toying with. Or research it, at least. I also saw the year 10s I'll be team teaching on Thursday. The lesson was pretty interesting, although when I went to speak to a few students I felt a little intimidated and just listened to their ideas without being able to think of any questions to ask them, other than what they thought. I'll need to work on that by Thursday.
Reflections on the day... Well, the most striking is just how normal and nice the staff were. I'm not sure what I was expecting, presumably some sort of educational Stepford Wives setup, which is far from the truth. The only difference at this school is that *all* the kids are very clever. Of course, there are clever kids at my school, but just not as many in the same class.
I went back to my school after the day had finished to set the cover for tomorrow, which was irritating to say the least, but I did manage to tidy up my classroom a bit. It's parents' evening for year 11 tomorrow, so of course I'll be back again to sort it out. In the meantime, I was pleased to see some of the work my students managed.
I'm looking forward to the end of the week, although to be honest, I'm more so looking forward to half term, and sorting out my mounting piles of paperwork which are building up at an alarming rate.
It is not without a profound sense of irony that I sum up as follows: today, I was kindly given a lift in to work from a couple of colleagues at school. I had planned on taking the normal bus and timing it so I could stop off for a chat with my smoking colleagues at 8am. Thanks to the lift, I was able to do so, and was somewhat surprised upon reaching the school to see a row of twenty or so police officers in lurid fluorescent jackets flanking a shiny knife arch at the school gates. Some welcome.
"Oh, is this your first knife arch?" my colleague asked, dryly.
How long had I been gone?
Upon eventually reaching The Outstanding School, one member of the English department there commented that she'd seen our students "being frisked" on their way in.
"They're not that bad." I protested. Although she did also mention that she saw police there "all the time." Apparently at The Outstanding School, they only turn up when the students there get mugged occasionally.
"By our kids?" I joked. Not funny, really.
I was given the privilege of attending a whole school assembly, and witnessed an aspect of The Outstanding School's 'high achievement' ethos - The Jack Petchy Award. This is given to pupils who go out of their way to help the community, make a difference, or 'overcome adversity' to succeed academically. The (clearly prejudiced) cynic in me asked what sort of adversity these students have to overcome, especially compared to my kids, although I tried to suppress that thought.
I was also delighted to witness an annual tradition at the school - Valentine's Day serenades. There, in front of my eyes, was an actual real life barbershop quartet, in full costume (I thought they were butchers to begin with, and this was some sort of meat-related school competition. Not quite.) For the measly price of one pound, students could nominate someone that deserved a serenade, and they would be visited during lessons and, well, serenaded by the barber shop quartet (or a girl band equivalent - nail bar quartet?) I was flabbergasted. A lovely idea, but I wonder how it would go down with my kids?
Anyway, the rest of the day was pretty relaxing, just observing a few lessons, including Latin, which has inspired me to set up the Latin Club I'd been toying with. Or research it, at least. I also saw the year 10s I'll be team teaching on Thursday. The lesson was pretty interesting, although when I went to speak to a few students I felt a little intimidated and just listened to their ideas without being able to think of any questions to ask them, other than what they thought. I'll need to work on that by Thursday.
Reflections on the day... Well, the most striking is just how normal and nice the staff were. I'm not sure what I was expecting, presumably some sort of educational Stepford Wives setup, which is far from the truth. The only difference at this school is that *all* the kids are very clever. Of course, there are clever kids at my school, but just not as many in the same class.
I went back to my school after the day had finished to set the cover for tomorrow, which was irritating to say the least, but I did manage to tidy up my classroom a bit. It's parents' evening for year 11 tomorrow, so of course I'll be back again to sort it out. In the meantime, I was pleased to see some of the work my students managed.
I'm looking forward to the end of the week, although to be honest, I'm more so looking forward to half term, and sorting out my mounting piles of paperwork which are building up at an alarming rate.
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