In a period of uncertainty for so many people it’s only right I join the queue. I discovered the ‘job’ I have may in fact be only temporary. The previous class teacher turned up, with recently born babe in arms, to wander around and stake a claim to my/her classroom.
The odd thing was that the conversation was filtered through her baby, in a display that even the most liberal of people might describe as ‘passive aggressive’. “This is going to be mummy’s classroom again soon” she cooed repeatedly.
It’s always after the fact that you think of the funnies. I should have adopted the same tone and said to the baby “mummy’s a silly mummy; this is my classroom nowie wowie”. Maybe all future negotiations will have to be done through her bairn?
I wanted to speak to the Deputy Head teacher but rather burned my bridges with her unintentionally. She’d wafted into the staff room and said to me “Alright babes?” “A little over familiar” I thought, but what the heck. “Yeah good thanks” I replied. She shot me a filthy look and I realised she was on the phone. In retrospect it could have been worse; at least I stopped short of calling her “schnookie lumps”.
At least my kids fought my corner for me. During assembly the Head Teacher asked children to come forward and tell the school what their targets were for this term. “Targets?” I thought “what targets?” It was too late; the space cadet of my class had already shot up his arm. “I’m fucked” was my first thought. This could go either one of two ways and I leant more heavily on the side of him answering with something like “Thursday?”
Despite the fact I’m yet to teach my class the art of ‘blagging it’, he turned in a master class performance and even quoted me as being the “best teacher in the world”. I could have hugged him, but he has developed a deep mistrust of me since I explained to him what an ulcer was. Well, you try explaining how ulcers are formed to an 8-year-old without sending them into an abyss of fear.
We’re attempting to rehearse two assemblies simultaneously (a year group and class assembly). Our class assembly needs to get past the censors. It’s based on the relationship between water and faith and despite the aquatic theme it’s a perilously dry subject. I livened up the story of Noah’s Ark with Noah turning away one of the three little pigs, only for it to get the red pen treatment.
The class have gone wayward of late which I put down to post-holiday blues. The amount of change to the timetable leaves the days uncomfortably close to resembling the last week of the Christmas term. Their behaviour mirrors this.
So what better way to assert my authority, I hear you say, than to nearly blind a child? On this occasion it was unintentional (that’s a joke Mumsnet). Before lunch the kids receive a squirt from a pump actioned antiseptic hand soap tediously delivered by yours truly. On this occasion it somehow misfired and hit a poor child in the eye.
Thankfully he was ok, but it was the same child who I’d earlier told would be using a sand timer for his work. It was to encourage him to start his work within a minute, before the sand disappeared. As soon as the timer had been turned over though he’d suddenly gone into an apoplectic flurry of frantic activity. He was furiously scrawling lines across the page as if his life depended on it.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Can’t talk! only got a minute!” he blurted out. He’d mistakenly thought I’d given him a minute to do everything. I could have blinded and given him a hernia in the space of a day. Explain that to the parents.