Day 165: The Beginning of The End

I actually don't know where to start. I suppose I'll just come out with it. I'm in trouble. Real trouble. I genuinely don't know what is going to happen now, or what I can do about it. I'm going to try to sort through this for my own sanity rather than anything else.

So yesterday was the last day of half-term. It was also the last day that I could hand in my notice if I wanted to leave in September and receive a good reference. I had let this fact go quietly, because I suppose I had made up my mind that I would stick at it. I wasn't teaching because I'd booked a hospital appointment for the morning (it had been rearranged to that day - by the time I realised it wasn't during half term it was too late to change.) After a nice morning being prodded followed by drinking coffee with my friends in the hospital canteen, I swanned in around 12, thinking I could spend the last couple of hours planning for Latin Club. I came in just in time for the last ten minutes of my year 7's lesson, so relieved the cover teacher and watched 5 minutes of Enchanted with them (and ignoring the mothers' meeting that was occurring in the back corner) before wishing them well on their way.

I went to the English Office and excitedly booked tickets to Yorkshire with two of my colleagues; we're going to stay with my northern colleague's family and see the moors, or whatever it is you do up there (I lived there as a young child but have no recollection whatsoever, other than our treehouse.) When the bell rang for period 5 I skipped off to my classroom to plan my lesson for Latin Club. I was pretty nervous about it - I'd sent out an email the night before but as it was the end of term and I'd cancelled last week I wasn't sure who would come. I ended up extending the activity I'd done a few weeks ago which had been really successful, adding bits of information about Rome. As it turned out, four students turned up, and my two colleagues came to support. They ended up joining in, along with the librarian, and I found that two of my students were able to explain it better than I could. Although there weren't many there, it was nice to see the enthusiasm of the four boys who showed up. I thought to myself that I'd have to seriously plan out the next one to reward their enthusiasm.

Finishing early, my colleagues and I arranged with the librarian to go for a drink, and we went off to sort ourselves out. I decided to leave everything at work and come in on Tuesday to sort it out - I didn't want to think about marking just yet. I sat in reception waiting for my colleagues when a group of students were brought in by the school's PC. Something about "trouble at the bus stop". The librarian and I exchanged knowing looks and a woman who'd led our after school training came in, and I chatted to her briefly until my phone rang. An unknown number. I answered it, and it was my LDO. I remember she's called us all in the beginning on the last day of the first week or something, so I was expecting a similar "how did it go" chat when she asked me if I had a few minutes to spare.
"Yeah, now's fine." I said. I was still waiting for a couple of people to turn up.
"OK, well I'm just going to come out and say it... a 2010 participant found your blog and read it, and called our graduate recruitment department saying that they were concerned and frightened by it."
"Oh... dear." I stammered. Shame, fear, and something else, probably a cold sweat, washed over me.
"Now, I'm not saying you're in trouble, and I'm not going to tell you to take it down, but now it's been brought to our attention, we have read it, and I have read it, and your tutor and I are worried. Are you ok? I know how hard it is but we're really concerned about you."
I felt tears prick my eyes, and became suddenly very aware of my colleagues waiting behind me and the students waiting to see the PC. I can't remember what I said, but it was apologetic. It got worse. She suggested I meet with her and my tutor in half term for a chat. Then she said:
"Also, have you heard of [person I had heard of]? He's the external relations director for the programme, and he's read it too and he'd like to meet you. He'd like a little chat about being 'media-savvy'."
I agreed to said meeting, and said "chat" for the following week. I said goodbye and walked out the door. My colleagues (there were about four of them now) looked confused and I blurted out what had been said. I was mortified. I have never felt so stupid, so embarrassed and so terrified. What were they going to do to me? A colleague joked that they might try to have me sectioned. I don't really know what to think right now. Fortunately there was wireless in the pub, so although the blog has not been taken down, I was able to make it private so that only I can read it. I'm simply cataloguing this for my memory. It reminds me of a column I read in the guardian magazine, where the author, who often wrote about his neighbour, was confronted by said neighbour about it and denied that he was writing about him.

I feel like I'd been writing a note insulting my teacher and she found it and read it. I know that this blog turned from a reflective tool into a bit of a bitch fest by the end of it, and maybe if I'd written throughout the whole of the last term I would have been a bit more balanced. I am mortified that the last post was read by all these people. I have gone out of my way to never mention the school or the students or colleagues by name, but I suppose that doesn't matter. I guess all my complaining that I'm not coping has finally been heard by someone. I just have to see what will happen.

Now, as if that bombshell wasn't enough, I made the mistake of getting rather trollied at the pub, and my colleague, now my senior, tried to have a heart to heart with me. After 7 hours (literally) of drinking, this was not the best idea.
"You and I need to have a chat" he said, as we sat in the beer garden surrounded by North London's finest.
"What about?"
This went on for a little while, then he said:
"You need to curb your behaviour."
"What?"
What the fuck did that mean? What behaviour? I remembered all the crying in the office recently, the swearing, the complaining. I suppose he was right about that but it wasn't like I was doing it to get attention. I had just been really really unhappy and I didn't think to hide it from anyone. Maybe that was a mistake.
"Kicking down doors." he finally offered, "I wasn't even there, but..."
Now I was upset.
"That is bullshit." I spat.
I have never, ever, kicked in a door. Yes, I've closed one with my foot when my hands were full, and maybe slammed it by accident, but I have never, EVER, 'kicked in' a door. I was furious. This meant that they (who?) were talking about me, and twisting what I was doing into some sort of mental behaviour. I stormed out of the pub, which I suppose did little to dissuade anyone that I am prone to overreaction. I cried the whole way home, and I am still mulling over what he said now.

I actually feel like not going back after half term now. I suppose I am really quite angry about this whole thing, and maybe after an incredibly stressful 6 weeks and an evening in the pub I shouldn't overreact, but I am now not sure if they even want me back. Have I become some sort of unpredictable nightmare? Am I that bad? If I am that shit at my job, why didn't someone say something sooner? I suppose I am going to have to wait for the meeting on Tuesday and speak to them then about what I can do. Maybe they don't want me to go back. At this point in time, I really, really don't know what to do. Part of me, assuming they're not going to suggest I leave, wants to stick it out just to spite them. But then a bigger part of me isn't sure how I can go back to work after that. I guess I'll just have to wait till Tuesday.

Day 162: I had a dream my life would be so different from this hell I'm living

SO where am I now?

Well, there are exactly three days left until half term. After that, I have six weeks until I am finished for the summer. 6 1/2, technically, but I'm refusing to count those last couple. So all in all, that adds up to about 35 1/2 days left of school. If I was a little less stressed, I think I would probably add up exactly how many hours that is. But I won't.

I'm a little disappointed that I wasn't able to keep up the blog the whole way but it just became impossible. You see, I had managed to go all those weeks before the paperwork caught up with me and, now that it has, I just want to die.

I actually joined the gym last week because I decided that perhaps exercise would make me feel better. So far, it hasn't.

I'll be honest, I'm feeling insanely miserable right now. I actually walked home from the gym in tears. I don't know why I was expecting some wave of euphoria to wash over me when I finally did a little exercise, but when it didn't come and I was left with that same gnawing feeling of inadequacy which has been eroding my self confidence for the past lord-knows-how many weeks.

I suppose this is what being stressed feels like. I had year 8 today (today being Tuesday) and I was so frustrated with their behaviour I was actually imagining pushing one of them in my head. That terrifies me. Whenever stories crop up in the red tops, detailing frazzled ancient teachers coming to the end of their tether and finally bitch-slapping a kid, you never assume they're in their first year of teaching.

I think I've been working around the same idea for a few months now. Do I really want to come back in September? If I don't, I have until Friday, being half term, to hand in my notice if I want a good reference. So what's stopping me?

I guess I should just weigh up the pros and cons:

Why I should leave:
I am miserable, and have been for a long, long time.
I don't feel like I am any good at it.
I don't really feel supported by several people in school.
I don't feel I'm able to say anything about that.
I genuinely hate some of the children. I also hate the people who tell me I shouldn't.
I feel that no matter how many hours I plough into preparing things, my lessons are no better than they were in September.
My behaviour management is worse.
I'm tired, all the time.
I miss my friends. I miss doing things mid-week. I miss having the whole weekend to myself.
I miss coming home at 5 and switching off.
This isn't what I want to do in the long run.
When the kids tell me I'm shit at teaching, I believe them.
I hate being bad at anything. I feel that constantly here.
I really don't think they are learning anything.
I have a headache all the fucking time.
I have never felt so unhappy. Really, never.
For all the hours I do, I seem to be constantly out of money. The pay is terrible.
I feel undermined by everyone.
I feel like everyone fucking hates me. Staff and children.
I'm beginning to hate everyone else too.
Sometimes when I'm feeling really low I'm scared I'm going to do something stupid.
If this was any other job I would have walked out the door 9 months ago.
I get so stressed out that the only thing I was looking forward to, Latin Club, is being pushed to the background and has been cancelled three times now.
I honestly can't imagine putting myself through this all again next year.

Oh god. That hurt.

Why I should stay:
I don't want to fail.
I actually don't know what else I'd do.
If I quit now, I would never be able to apply for something else high-pressured. The army would definitely say no.
I've invested this much in it, it's only another year. And it will get easier.
I don't want to let anyone down.
I work with some wonderful people; I've made some wonderful friends.
Some parts of it I do like. I can't think of any right now.
I genuinely love some of the children.
I really want to see some of the kids do well.
I have developed my teacher voice to the point that I can clear a corridor pretty quick.
I've done some of the most stupid things ever since starting this, and I managed to get through them unscathed.
Since joining the gym I have something else to think about, although I hate that too.
There are times when I feel I'm doing a good job. Sometimes. Ok, rarely.
I've achieved some good things.
Despite all the bullshit I've only had two sick days all year, and I was genuinely sick on both.
I quit smoking and kept that up.
I really love Latin club, and the enthusiasm of some of the kids.
I want to see the end of this. I don't want to leave it now.
I like the idea of being an English teacher.

I don't know where that leaves me. I need to stop moaning. I need to stop saying I want to leave; my colleagues are already growing tired of me, I can tell. I feel at the moment I'm just trying to get through the week before half term, so I can reassess and sort myself out then. I just feel like I need to get through a mountain of paperwork and I'll never do it. I hate the idea that somethings will just never get done. That upsets me.

I suppose I should go to bed now, and deal with the rest of the bullshit in the morning. Only three more get-ups to go now. I cannot wait till Friday.

Week 27: Thanks, Iceland

Oh, hello there! Yes, it's been a while, hasn't it? I suppose there's not much excuse, apart from the fact that I just couldn't be bothered. I've decided that I can't keep up with the daily updates (as evidenced by the lack of posts) so I'm going to switch to weekly ones instead. Here we go...

So, I'll be honest, last week was tough. The first week back from a holiday is always tough, and when the school is missing twelve members of staff due a particularly inconsiderate volcano, things get a little tougher.

Monday morning started with panicked texts sent between a fellow Teachy Firster and myself on the journey in, hoping desperately that enough teachers would be absent that we could close the school. I knew of at least 5, but alas, there were not enough. The motley crew left behind who were not honeymooning in Jamaica or stuck rather less luxuriously in Madrid shared the same shell-shocked appearance.
Personally, I had been looking forward to a day off teaching, as we had planned to moderate our coursework all day. As four members of the department were abroad, this was cancelled and I had to come up with a quick lesson for year 7 (test - ha!) and year 11.

The lessons themselves weren't too bad, although I was somewhat disheartened to see that K was back to his irritating couldn't-care-less in year 11. What was difficult was the rest of the children. Our corridor can be rather frantic at times, and four well-meaning substitute teachers do not help. The kids actually cheer when they see they have a cover lesson, because they know it means they aren't expected to actually do any work.

The day was rounded off with training, which I was disappointed to learn would be the last in a line of really great Lilac-esque training. I had thoroughly enjoyed the course, and it had actually made the Monday afternoons interesting.

So the week was set up well, but I was not prepared for what was going to come next: Tuesday. Having had a week to process, reflect on and over-analyse that day to the nth degree, I can honestly say that I've forgotten what was so terrible. As with every Tuesday, it ended with year 8. I did my classic holding them all back for a class detention, as, per usual, they were infuriating. W walked out after arguing with me, and I let him go. Booster class after was attended by the faithful three, but my professional tutor popped in to speak to me. We talked about various bits of paperwork, from my journal, to portfolio, to general marking, that I am woefully behind, and I began to get upset. An hour later, I went home feeling utterly miserable. I cried non-stop for two hours, literally crying myself to sleep, and decided I wouldn't be coming in the next day.

I woke up at 6 the next morning and thought it through. I can't go into that thought process now, mainly because I'm tired, but I decided that if I didn't go in on Wednesday, I knew I wouldn't ever go back. I also thought about my damn year 11s, and how I didn't want them to waste the last lessons they have. It also comes down to the fact that I knew that I couldn't make the decision to drop out on one bad day.

So, I went in. And the next day, and the day after that. It did, luckily, get better. I spent Thursday preparing my first Latin lesson which, as it turned out, was attended by no fewer than twenty students. By Friday I was laughing. Thank god for the weekend!

So yes, what a shitter. I can't believe I didn't even go to the pub! I actually had a very pleasant weekend with my housemates (and my father on Saturday) which made a real difference to my own frame of mind. Unfortunately, I wasn't at all productive on the Sunday, which meant that the usual Sunday-night blues hit me, with a vengeance. Just another week down, and 5 more to go till half term. I have to make the decision then as to whether or not I'll leave in the summer. Although it's not a publicised option, I know it exists, and I'm holding on to it as my mental safety net. I don't have to do it. And right now, that's getting me through.

Day 127: Yours ever, Boris

Dear ***,

It was lovely to meet you on my visit to *** School.

Well done for signing up for T*** F***. It's a fantastic programme.

However, the purpose of this letter is to say how pleased I was to learn that you are running a Latin class for students. As you know I am passionate about the classics and want all young people to have the opportunity to study the subjects which interest and inspire them.

For further information on how we are taking classics further in London, please contact B*** in my Culture team at b***.

Keep up the good work!

Yours ever,

Boris

Boris Johnson
Mayor of London

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.