No-Idea-What-Day #: Re-evaluation

I'm not entirely sure how long it's been since I last wrote a post. I suppose I could just check but, frankly, I can't be bothered.

So why so long? Well, if I'm totally honest, I just haven't wanted to. This half term has been beastly. From desperately stressful lows to utterly sublime highs, I feel like I've been through a mangle and am just starting to emerge through the other side.

That's right: I have 3.5 days left of this term. Boy, has it sucked.

I'm a little disappointed that I haven't blogged it, because it has in some ways been the most exciting. However, I have been so exhausted, physically and mentally, that I just have not felt like writing about it. Perhaps I will be able to fill in the gaps at another time. I doubt it.

Anyway, here are some key words to sum up the last three or so weeks you've missed:
bomb scare; sexual assault; academy madness; Boris Johnson; Latin Club; appalling behaviour; tears (student's); tears (mine); year 9 parents' evening; marking-induced stress; one good observation; the odd fight; carnival; Roald Dahl and the first year 9 lesson I have actually enjoyed.

I'm going to try to return to daily blogging, because I feel that I have lost perspective somehow on what I'm doing, and am just going through the miserable motions, and bitching a LOT. So yeah, I suppose it's time for me to go to bed, so that I might be refreshed enough tomorrow to actually prepare my lessons in time.

Day 113: Wednesday

You might have noticed that the post titles are a tad lackluster. Well, that's because I'm knackered. I plan on going to bed in ooh, about 4 minutes' time, so before then I'll quickly spill on another unremarkable day.

Year 9 (irritating, although one of them produced the most hilarious piece of "homework" based on my task for them to find out why Virgin is called Virgin.), Year 11 (K was again excellent, other kids not so much.), Year 10 (hilarious discussion about phallic worms.)

At lunch time we created an effigy of out HoD using a pineapple and various props from around the room, which we wheeled into the classroom for the departmental meeting after school. I was a tad embarrassed when the HoD pointed out it was the first time we had SLT present in the meeting. Oops.

Day 112: Tuesday

Not much else to say. I hate Tuesdays, although admittedly week 2 is far worse, and so I never have high hopes for them.

Today I started with year 11, and I've got to say they're getting lovelier and lovelier. I was trying to race through more poetry which makes it all a little rubbish but they were pretty good.

Year 9 were pretty irritating, and behaviour wasn't great, and we didn't finish what I wanted to so the lesson was a bit of a mess. I don't really know what to do with them tomorrow so that's a bit annoying.

Year 10 were frustrating in as much as the exercise took ages and lots had not brought in their coursework. Infuriating. I made a few risque jokes which didn't go down too well. Oops.

Year 8 were, well, vile. Not completely hideous, but frankly not good by any stretch of the imagination.

I stayed behind to sort out my things and did prep one of the lessons for tomorrow, which was nice.

I'm still far too disorganised and have lots of marking to catch up with. D'oh.

Day 111: This is pain. This is what pain feels like. Just accept it.

When I have a hard time doing something I try to be philosophical about it. That is to say, I spend a good, long time whining about it, then I try to be philosophical. This was mostly the case when I was rejected by Teachy Firsty the first time I applied. Although I was utterly disconsolate for weeks, after a while I realised that I should see it as a "learning experience" and take something from it to do better next time. Cliche, but true. It was the wise words of my rather burly tattoo artist that inspired my title to this post, and my new philosophy.

This is hell. And I hate it. But there's nothing I can do about it, so I better just get used to living in it.

So it was with this new philosophy firmly emblazoned in my mind that I skipped into work this morning. As my routine doesn't change much, there's not a lot to say, but it was a pretty OK day.

I had a chat at break time with one of the TAs, who's actually an ex pupil himself. It was weird to hear that he's the same age as me, and has obviously experienced a very different side to the school. He also agreed that the kids have been exceedingly unsettled over the last couple of weeks; there's definitely something in the water. Well, I think it's actually a combination of things, but mainly the fact that so much is going on with the school, some of which I can't even write about. There is definitely a feeling of unspent energy building up; it's as if something is going to happen, and the kids know it, like dogs before a storm.

Anyway, I only had two classes today, and they were both unremarkable. Having said that, my year 11s were a little boisterous but otherwise OK, and K was brilliant. He finished his starter first, and even offered to write the answers on the board. I gave him his Oreos (from winning Hide and Seek last lesson) and a postcard to take home.

I had another brilliant Lilac-lite session after school, which I really enjoyed, and was encouraged by the woman running it to start my Latin class. I'm going to put together a little presentation to be sent out to VT groups, to see if any of the kids might want to do it.

I stayed late at work, but still didn't get everything done, so now I've got to get on it for tomorrow. Yawn.

Day 107: Yes, it is fucking boring

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.

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.

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.