Monthly Archives: March 2013

It’s a little bit funny

This week my class were described as ‘wild teenagers’ ‘maniacs’ and ‘runts of the litter’, (I made the last comment). I staunchly defended 14 of them. I remember my teaching trainer telling me how possessive you can get over your own class. It’s true, but for 16 of my class I can only smile weakly and shrug when I hear reports of their misbehaviour.

I imagine it was one of the ‘good’ 14 who wrote ‘Help me!’ on a whiteboard. There are now boxes placed strategically around the school for children to place notes for anything that concerns them.

The box closest to my classroom is always full. Most of the complaints seem to be of the ‘my God is better than your God’ variety. “No God is better than any other!” I informed my class, half expecting at that moment to be struck by lightning.

My sudden immolation would not have been the most distressing event of the week. While trying to Google ‘long vowel phonemes’ I missed a digit, with the search engine suggesting ‘long bowel movements’. A supply teacher covered my class in which they designed road safety posters. She looked for some ideas but forgot to add the ‘for kids’ bit. The images the class witnessed must have loosened their vowels.

At least this got their attention. The only other way would be to have gender reassignment surgery and I don’t have the balls for this. It was discouraging during some mock SATs to hear one child whisper to another “Don’t copy me, I’m wrong”. He was right.

We finished the week with our class assembly. I did feel a pang of pride as they sang and danced their hearts out (they needed to; there was a constant backdrop of drilling). The theme of the assembly was ‘Holi’ and three of the girls performed a dance. I had the foresight to listen to the tune beforehand and a minute and 49 seconds in the lyrics include “Sexy Rada on the dancefloor”. They’re 7 years old and parents were in the audience.

I made a note on the script to “fade out at 1 min 49 seconds or face the sack”. Unfortunately even having stopped the tune the older children in the audience carried the song on. I stood there expecting another lightning bolt, this time from Krishna.

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Highlighters and hygiene

The advent of the new term had left me ambivalent. I worked out that I was only looking forward to seeing about 14 of my class. I also rued that some of them were too young to truant. Not too young to steal though.

Two of my class were caught red handed x 6 after a messy art lesson. One of the girls repeatedly stole to extent that she’s now chaperoned around the school and has her bag checked at the beginning and end of each day.

Luckily distractions were aplenty. Although I doth’d protest too much we had a week of Shakespeare workshops (or Will.i.am Shakespeare as I called him to keep down wit’ the kids). Comic Relief also swung by and with it the necessity to wear pyjamas. I went for a red jumper, smart shirt and jimmy jamms – it said “I’m a professional and a great ladies man” at the same time.

It was nicely timed, there’s nothing like images of starving Africans, to shut even the most boisterous of classes up. I heard myself say “your best piece of work will get sent to Africa” and commandeered the autistic child’s stress ball; I’m going to hell…

News that my year group is being moderated has added an extra frisson of pressure. That in turn has probably left me insecure about my possible shortcomings. I’ll be sat before a committee of moderators who will fire off questions about my leveling and teaching practices. They will also interview the children. I only hope it’s not the child who told me he “eats bin burgers” (I later found out this is part of a game) or the child who wrote he wanted to ‘find different ways to dickrubber a shape’. I’m able to teach both safe sex and shape.

Speaking of cross curricular, my observation was eventful with a Science lesson that veered into B-Movie Horror with maggots discovered in the fruit I’d just purchased. The Head Teacher described me as “good with outstanding features” (she was probably referring to my cheekbones). The coronary I nearly suffered calming the hysterical children made it only just worth it.

Once we’d established Alan Sugar didn’t invent sugar and I’d realised I needed to invent a ‘Irritant of the week’ award we were suddenly at the end of another week. I’d been teaching ‘Time’ that week with varying levels of success but they could all tell me when we’d reached 3:15.