Category: Education

Teaching: Back once again for the renegade (school) master…

So here we are again. Summer now feels like a distant memory as I’ve been back at work and into a new academic year for the last couple of weeks.

It’s my 26th year of teaching and I’ve reached the grand age of 53, so as I’m sure you’ll understand, regardless of holidays I’m permanently knackered. For me there’s no longer that fresh feel to every September. Not only will I still be tired, but I’ll have seen and heard more or less everything that’s going to be thrown at me between now and late July many times before. It’ll just have been given a new trendy name. And be delivered by someone with way more enthusiasm than me…

I wanted to write about a couple of new things though, as well as something that feels like it’s as old and predictable as time.

Neither of the new things are entirely new. One is in the setting that I now work in and the other is an old idea that has now resurfaced with a new name. Both are challenging me in different ways.

As part of our role as teachers, we all get a couple of duties to do per week; supervising on the yard at break, that kind of thing. This year I had to rub my eyes when I saw what my new duties would entail. Even when I looked again, they were still there and a couple of months later when a new rota was sent out, they remained. Let me tell you, I’m not impressed. This year I have toilet duty…twice a week.

Now, I have to say that I’m lucky as our student toilets are in fact very modern. Glass fronted, lots of cubicles, one big hand wash station in the middle and some fancy hand driers off to the side. These boys have never had it so good! But, they’re still toilets. So two of my breaks are now spent managing the queue outside of the toilets, while trying to keep the flow of ‘customers’ going inside and watching out for any suspicious vape activity too.

On my first duty last week I had been there all of 6 seconds when one of the smaller boys was sick near the front of the queue, which really does just typify my luck! While he stood there unable to work out what to do next, the other boys were either pointing it out to me or screaming and squirming about it. Meanwhile, I had to find someone with a radio who could get in touch with a caretaker, while simultaneously getting the boys to not walk straight through the sick as I kept the flow of the queue going! Talk about juggling plates!

It wasn’t long before a caretaker arrived on scene, coned the area off and cleaned everything up, but not before some of the queue had managed to ignore my warnings and walk straight through it all! You could say it was a baptism of puke…

Since then things have been a bit less eventful. Queues are pretty orderly and nothing dramatic has happened. The smell however, well that’s another matter…

Many years ago Year 11 students who we didn’t think had the ability to follow the GCSE English course would do a course called Entry Level Certificate, which concentrated on the basics of written communication and meant that those students would at least leave school with some kind of English qualification. These were kids with complex special educational needs, learning delays and sometimes even those that could barely read or write. It worked really well, doing much for the self esteem of kids who’d never before felt too comfortable with the study of English.

In their wisdom, the education gods took Entry Level away though and so every year we were left with a cohort of students who would really struggle to access the content that they were being given, however it was pitched.

As is the way with education though, it was eventually brought back, revamped and given a new name and now I have a group of Year 10 students who are doing that course, bringing back many happy memories of teaching it before. It’s taking a bit of getting used to and because there’s no existing work for it at our school I’m having to do lots of planning, but I have to say that it’s actually really enjoyable.

One thing that certainly isn’t new is how fussy Year 7 students can be. I’m blessed – sort of – with two Year 7 classes this year, although one is only for one library lesson per week. Regardless, I think I’m already developing a nervous tick.

At time of writing I’m two weeks into the new academic year and so have taught these groups only a handful of times. Still, they are proving to be quite painful! Maybe it’s the grumpy middle aged man in me, but they just seem to be a constant stream of often irrelevant questions, fuss, a lack of listening and a way too much stationary!

Today we did a reading test in a computer room. The instructions were clear as day and repeated by not just me, but our librarian who was running the tests, at least 4 times. And yet still, I found myself drowning under a deluge of the same type of questions – “Sir, what do I do now?”, “Sir, how do I log on?”, “Sir, what do I click on?”. In situations like this I find any kind of professionalism that I may possess being tested to its very limits!

However, the best was saved for later in the lesson, when bored of having to answer questions on the test, one of them asked our librarian “Miss, how many questions are there?” Rather than tell the individual student, she stopped the group and addressed them all, telling them that the programme was measuring their reading age and thus there were no set number of questions; it would end when the program had got a reading age.

Two minutes later came the same question. And again seconds after. And again a few minutes after that.

As we were packing up it was all I could do not to ask the question myself. However, looking at my colleague I decided that I valued my life more than a valued a cheap laugh!

Anyway, only 36 weeks more to go!

A little bit of creative writing.

As an English teacher I often find inspiration via my job. In the past I’ve written poems about Year 11 classes who are leaving as well as events such as World Book Days and even the old ‘live’ lessons that we used to have in lockdown.

I’ve also sometimes found myself inspired by the subject matter of the lessons I teach. We often provide examples of the type of work that we’re expecting and sometimes this has come in the form of creative writing. This was the case with the following piece that I thought I’d share. It was written as an example piece of creative writing for my Year 10 group. The brief revolved around an image of a tree clinging to a hillside with the instruction; ‘You are the tree: explain what life is like.’ So, while the class were working on planning their response, I sat at my laptop and knocked out the following 200 or so words in response about the tree you see below. At the moment, it remains a first draft but I hope to find the time to develop it into something more, like a short story.

I wanted to share it because after much thought, I still didn’t really know what to do with it. So, here it is.

Letting the days go by...

You might think life is easy being a tree. Maybe you’re a mighty oak, sprouted from a tiny acorn, fully grown now; the mightiest tree in the forest. You might be a palm tree, letting the days go by, basking in the endless heat of a tropical island. A thing of beauty, revered by humans for our giver of life qualities and covered in blossom once a year, if you’re really lucky. Easy, huh?

Well actually, no. Some of us are barely clinging on here. Some of us have just about enough soil to keep a set of roots in. And that’s before we get to the fact that I’m literally hanging on for dear life on the side of an actual mountain.

Sure, I’ve got leaves to give me some semblance of warmth and to make me look just a little more attractive than your average weed. But I don’t even grow straight. No one’s going to mistake me for a mighty redwood, stretching majestically for the sky. In fact, no one would have the first idea what kind of tree I actually am. I’m sure everyone just feels sympathy for me, stuck out here with no shade from the sun and no natural shelter from getting a pummelling from every approaching, savage storm. Because let me tell you, when it blows, it blows full blast up here.

There are a couple of influences on what I wrote. The repetition of ‘You might’ and the phrase ‘letting the days go by’ in the first paragraph came from the song ‘Once in a Lifetime’ by Talking Heads, that was going round my head at the time. It influenced the name of the piece of writing as well, as you can see. The other is right at the end with the phrase ‘it blows full blast’ which I just took directly from the Seamus Heaney poem, ‘Storm on The Island’ as, if I remember rightly, the task asked students to try and include references from the poem.

Anyway, I hope you like the writing. If I get back to developing it, I might even post it again.

Teaching: I’ve been on a course…

This week, as a work thing, I did something that I haven’t done for years. So long in fact, that I really can’t remember how many years it’s been, but it wouldn’t surprise me at all if it’s been well over a decade. I went out on a course.

I’ve long had an aversion to courses. I’m not good around new people and really can’t be bothered trailing to anywhere different with all the navigation issues that it can create. And that’s before you get to the chaos that going out on a course can create. You leave behind a classroom full of resources and a day’s worth of classes doing – or simply not even attempting – all of the work you’ve spent time creating and then setting for them. So basically, your room is at the mercy of whoever’s covering your lessons and a load of students frothing at the mouth at the prospect of you not being there. A course you say? I’ll just stay at work, if it’s all the same.

There was no avoiding this though. Firstly, I’m at a new school and so keen to make a good impression. But secondly, this was a course for mentors and I needed to be there in order to learn how to use the software that I’ll be working with as mentor to a new teacher or an ECT as I’m required to call them nowadays.

I started the day by making the kind of mistake I’ve previously laughed heartily at in others. Yes, I didn’t check the dress code, meaning I was the only person to turn up in a shirt and tie! Oh, the horror as I walked in! I almost wore a suit though, so I was relieved that I could just quietly rid myself of my tie and not look too stiff in amongst the sea of hoodies and jeans.

There were plusses though. I got to leave the house later, meaning more time to lounge about over breakfast, the course didn’t start until later than work, we got a free lunch and then we were treated to an early finish, so it turned out to be not so bad.

However, the whole experience left me with a number of questions as well as wanting to share a few observations too…

The first thing that occurred to me was the name of the thing. They’re no longer courses, apparently. No, now we go on conferences. So when did that change? And why? It’s clearly the way things are these days, with academy chains running things like businesses and referring to people on courses as ‘delegates’. Ridiculous, really. I mean there were around 30 of us sat in a classroom watching and taking notes as two presenters talked us through some slides. It didn’t feel like what I imagined a conference to be. I thought conferences were about ‘networking’ (perish the thought and pass me the sick bag) and maybe standing around drinking wine and being waited upon with nibbles. I got to sit at a desk and settled for jacket potato with cheese and beans for dinner! Not even a warm plastic cup of chardonnay in sight!

The school we were at was one that I used to drive past daily for a decade. I actually imagined that one day I’d work there. It was a short commute for me and had a name that conjured up far more positive and idyllic images than the reality. Now though, following some dark days for them, they’ve knocked it down and rebuilt the place and I have to say, it was an impressive building. It’s nice to see that money is being spent in education…if only we could recruit more teachers.

Even a brand spanking new building has its drawbacks though. For about the first hour of being there, every few minutes the sound of gushing water would interrupt us. No one had any idea where it was from, but boy did it sound close. Very off-putting, I can tell you! I was sure that we were going to get soaked at any time! And then there was the school bell. I say bell, but it sounded like the kind of alarm you expect would signal an approaching apocalypse. And it just seemed to go off so often! A ‘conference’ with the threat of drowning or zombie panic. It’s no wonder it’s taken me so long to get back out there!

While watching our presenters go about…well, presenting, it struck me that this was the kind of job I’d have liked. I love the showing off aspect of my work and have always loved giving assemblies or running training for staff, so I’d like a bit of that there presenting I reckon. But then, it occurred to me that I’d be very worried about the amount of questions I’d have to fumble an answer for and that I’d probably really just want to be telling stories and doing dad jokes – not what your average ‘delegate’ wants in these corporate heavy days of education. Maybe I’ll stick to the classroom after all!

The two presenters we had were very good and yet still my abiding memories of them talking to us revolved around their language choices. No sweary Marys, don’t worry, but just using phrases I’d either never heard before or just hadn’t heard in years. Firstly, one of them kept saying ‘Hell’s Bells’, which I thought had died out years ago and then the other referred to students as being like ‘giddy little kippers’, which really threw me as the only kippers I’ve ever encountered were dead and being offered up as part of guest house breakfasts. So, not giddy at all. But all was forgotten and forgiven when one of them kept using the word ‘twiggle’, which I’d never heard. Going on the context of use, I worked out it must be a verb meaning to change something slightly, like to ‘tweak’. But twiggle seems like a great word and I’d encourage all 14 people who read this to start using it immediately!

In the afternoon though, an old ghost returned to haunt me. Every so often in teaching someone latches on to a person who’s had an idea and set themselves up as some kind of guru. It’s particularly irksome, because almost every idea is recycled from years before and these people aren’t reinventing any wheels. Anyway, just after dinner, there he was smugly standing there jabbering on about something I wasn’t listening to on a video. I won’t mention his name (it’s not even a proper name), but suffice to say it soured those few minutes until he disappeared again!

Overall though, despite my reservations, I had a pretty good day and actually learnt some stuff. Best of all? It was the compliments. I genuinely think that I’m a hopeless mentor and yet still the presenters told us on several occasions, “you are all amazing” as well as referring to us regularly as “special”. I must remember to tell my wife!

Teaching: The Reading Test.

I wasn’t planning to write anything at all on this topic. Far brighter people than me have written far more incisive commentary about the importance of reading and the struggles that young people have with it. And anyway, this was just a baseline test; a straightforward reading test done in class with (hopefully) minimal stress. But, in teaching sometimes it feels like nothing is ever straightforward.

September and baseline testing for Year 7s go hand in hand. Not always merrily skipping down a corridor, but hand in hand all the same. So, it should be straightforward, right? Read the texts, read the questions, answer the questions using the information from said texts. And as a bonus, take your time doing it as we can use a little chunk of next lesson too. Easy? Well not for all, naturally. But straightforward, surely?

Of course, if you’re a teacher or have ever worked in education, you know the answer to the question above. And of course, the answer is a big fat NO! As I mentioned earlier, nothing ever seems straightforward in education and some days everything can feel like a battle.

Which brings me to my topic. Reading tests. Or rather, the reading test that I’ve just done with my seemingly delightful Year 7 group.

Now previous readers might already know that I’ve recently taken up a new post at an all boys school. Suffice to say, as you might well expect it’s pretty tough at the moment. On top of a shedload of entirely new and sometimes alien systems and routines, all my learners are boys and therefore full of the ‘challenges’ that boys can bring! That said, it’s a very supportive environment and I feel like I’m getting on top of things and coping with anything that gets thrown at me…metaphorically!

In amongst my cohort of somewhat rowdy boys, my Year 7s stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. I’m new, they’re new and we’re in this together. They’re keen to get on and eager to please and of course, full of questions, as we probably all were at that age. They all say a cheery ‘morning, sir’ at the door and many of them tell me to have a ‘good evening’ or even a ‘good weekend’ when they leave, depending on the day.

So, today’s attempt at a baseline reading test was a timely reminder that there are always hitches, irritations and curveballs in teaching. Okay, this one wasn’t the biggest deal, but it reminded me of the need for patience and also the need to always make sure that everyone in the room is sure of what they’re doing.

The problems started as I gave out the texts. One reading booklet with texts to read from and an answer booklet…where you put your answers. First off, I asked my class to fill in the front of the answer booklet with the necessary information. In this case that was first name, middle name, surname, date of birth and school name. I explained what was needed and also that, if they didn’t have a middle name, then they didn’t have to write one. And this was when the questions started.

“Sir, where do you put your name?”

“Sir, what if I haven’t got a middle name?”

“Sir, what if I don’t want to put my middle name?”

“Why do I have to put my middle name?”

“Why do they need my date of birth?”

Eventually, we got there, even adding my own name to the front of their answer booklet just in case it was misplaced. At least someone would know where to find me.

Next came instructions about time. I’d been told that it didn’t matter if the test didn’t get completed in the hour – we could use next lesson too. So, I made it really clear that the boys should take their time, look for accuracy rather than speed and that we’d have this lesson and the next if needed. It wasn’t a race. You can guess what came next…

“How long have we got, sir?”

The first time they asked, I just repeated myself. Same with the next. And, with a slightly more irritated tone, the next too. By the time the same question had been asked about 8 times in 10 minutes or so however, I felt like steam might be coming out of my ears!

Then, it was time to give a bit of guidance. The answers they needed were in the texts that they were going to read, they should read the texts first before attempting the questions, the paper would tell them which text questions were referring to and so on. But before I’d even got halfway through what I was saying, the hands were going up. I asked them to wait; I might answer your question before you get the chance to ask if you wait until I finish. Still, the hands stayed up like this was some kind of endurance test. And then, when I’d finished…

“Where will the answers be, sir?”

“How do I know what text the question is about?”

“How long have we got, sir?” Just kidding with that one; they’d got the point by now!

Once those worries were seen too, again, I gave a final warning. Treat the test like an exam. There should be no talking and while they should ask if they had a question, I couldn’t just give answers and they’d be better off just reading the text again. And with that, I told the class that they could begin writing.

Seconds later, a hand shot up to ask a question, while the boy sat in front of me started reading the first question out loud.

I give up!

Teaching: New year, new job…first week done!

Having written about my nerves and concerns at starting my new job last time out, I’m happy to say that my first week is now officially done. So, I thought I’d let you know how things went.

It’s safe to say that the first week has felt about a month long and that I’m ready for another holiday. That’s a joke for the humourless and also those people who really don’t like teachers and our allegedly ‘easy jobs’! I am tired though! Anyway, here are the highs and lows of that first week.

The Highs.

We got the band back together. I’m now working with (counts on fingers) 9 people that I’ve worked with before, several of whom are cherished friends and people that I’ve worked with on and off for quite some time now. It’s been lovely, but also surreal at times and I’ve done countless double takes at them walking into my room or just seeing them in corridors and genuinely having the feeling of ‘Hang on, what are you doing here?’ I don’t know when that’ll stop, but it doesn’t lessen the feeling that I’m very lucky to be back in the band. As the frontman, of course before you ask. Me, Ruth, Gemma, Debbie and Emily Smellybumpoo (not her real name, but not far off), it’s great to be back together!

Everyone is so nice. Now, people have been nice before by the way, but having moved from somewhere where I knew everything and everyone really well, it’s been comforting to come somewhere new and meet so many people who have been nothing but friendly and happy to see me. I’ve lost count of the number of visitors to my classroom coming in just to ask me how my day was or how I’m settling in. I mean, sometimes I can walk in my own house and 100% of the people here aren’t particularly moved by my presence, so seeing so many smiling faces pointing in my direction has been a real boost.

No surprises with the students. Kids are just kids, aren’t they? Never an opinion nor a reaction in common and despite my nerves about being at a boy’s school, it turns out that they’re much of a muchness with all the other children I’ve taught before. Probably the best moment of the week in terms of students actually came outside the classroom while I was on duty on the field on Friday. Two students approached me, asking ‘Are you new, sir?’ When I confirmed that I was, one of them told me that he was in my interview lesson months ago and that he was pleased I’d got the job, before wishing me the best of luck and leaving telling me, ‘Yeah, you’re sound, sir’. Praise indeed!

It takes me 7 minutes to get to work. My commute is just 7 minutes. That’s the high, right there.

Fridays are amazing. On Fridays I have a free period and my afternoon consists of a class of lovely Year 7s followed by the final lesson of the week in the library with my Year 8s. For the final part of each library lesson I get to read our class reader to my class, while they just sit and follow. I absolutely love reading aloud in class, always have done, and now I get to end every week of the year doing just that!

The Lows.

Training Days. With the dawn of corporate style academy trusts came many things to complain about. One of the worst is the first day back conference. It doesn’t seem to matter where you go; you can’t escape. And it doesn’t matter what training you choose to do, or who’s speaking because it all adds up to a 7 or 8 hour day of being talked at. This is not my strong point and I’d say that usually at around 7 or 8 minutes in, I’ve stopped listening. My eyes are open, I’m breathing, but frankly, I’m on auto pilot. The lights are definitely on, but it’s not really me that’s at home; I’m more a combination of Elmer Fudd, some sparkly lighting and a bowl of custard, which is useful. This year, there was a motivational speaker. He spoke for over 90 minutes which served to destroy my back and leave me with numb buttocks that may never regain full sensitivity. I’ll also never forget his name or achievements because he mentioned them in almost every other sentence. By the end of it all I felt like I’d done 3 rounds with a UFC fighter! That said, it was still more fun than my old place where I was once asked to contribute to a round of applause the lead school’s GCSE results! Reader, I sat on my hands and grimaced.

There’s always that one class. Let’s just say that they were testing out the new bloke. It was no great surprise, but for a whole lesson one of my classes just would not behave, would not be quiet and would not listen. They were relentless. I felt like a student teacher again, helpless and useless. I was flustered, frustrated and boy, was I sweaty! This cloud had a lovely silver lining though. Senior staff were angered, concerned for me and apologetic, even though there was no need. Boys will be boys, will be boys. The reaction helped show me the strength of the team I’ve joined though. My head of department asked jokingly, would I be back tomorrow. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, as some bloke with a pointy beard and a dodgy earring once wrote.

The lack of sleep. I haven’t made it to my alarm all week. Every morning, I’ve been out of bed before it’s gone off, having been awake for a while beforehand. I’m happy to have made the change, but definitely unsettled by it all. I know I’ll be ok in a few weeks when there’s a lot less newness, but for now, I’m shattered!

Hall, Oates and…Bedingfield? Starting something new can clearly do something strange to your mind. True to form, for some reason I’ve had ‘You Make My Dreams Come True’ by Hall and Oates and ‘Unwritten’ by Natasha Bedingfield relentlessly running round my head all week. Now, I love Hall and Oates and always have done, but Bedingfield is just a mystery. And a massive pain in the arse.

No goats. Believe it or not my new school not only has a forest school, but also a kind of allotment style arrangement for our more vulnerable learners known as the barnyard. Among the animals there we have goats and I bloody love goats! Sadly though, despite keeping an eagle eye out whenever I’ve been in the vicinity I’ve not seen even a hair of a goat. I’m gutted, but hopeful that my first goat encounter isn’t far off! Maybe next week…

I never thought I’d leave my old place. I loved the place, the people and the students. But then life got in the way, as it has a habit of doing and just when I was about as low as I could get, another opportunity presented itself and I was lucky enough to be able to take it.

I’m at the very start of that opportunity. It’s been a ridiculously busy week and stressful too. But then, I expected that it would be. I have to say though, I’m really enjoying my work. I miss lots of things and people at my old place and it’s been strange being in a new classroom, not knowing my way around the school – I’ve got lost at least 5 times – and not seeing some of my favourite people. But you know what? I think I’m going to love working at my new place. One week down of a new school year…only 190 more days to go

Teaching: New school year, new job…help!

This September I start a new job. This shouldn’t be a big problem for me, yet I’m more than a little anxious about the change.

As I said, it shouldn’t be something that’s too alarming. I mean for a start, this was my choice. Furthermore, I’m entering my 25th year of teaching – what’s that, you wouldn’t know it to look at me and I should get out of town, you say? It’s true though and in my head that should mean that I’ve seen it all before and that a change like this shouldn’t really have an effect. But it is and there’s quite a lot that’s bothering me. But rather than write about it in a “pick me” as my kids say, kind of way, I thought I’d try to make people smile a bit. Let’s play this for laughs, not for sympathy.

Let’s start with how it all came about. I’d been at my last place for 9 years, most of them blissfully happy ones too. I was appointed as a Lead Practitioner and although at first it felt like the school might not know what to do with me, it was thoroughly enjoyable and I felt like I was contributing a lot. Over the years I felt like I was really helping out at the school and affecting change in my own small way. I’d occasionally run whole school or departmental training. I’d do morning briefings about various things, taking the lead on reading and oracy in particular with the emphasis on getting my ideas across while also giving people a bit of fun at the start of their day. I’d also do fairly regular assemblies. In short, I felt like I was good at my job. Apart from mentoring; I was shit at that.

Three years ago though, I was told that my role was no longer viable for whatever reason and that was that. Unless I wanted to apply to be in charge of KS4 English, I’d be back as a teacher of English only. The KS4 role just wasn’t for me and so I went about my business as a teacher. Sure, I sulked a bit but overall I was professional and did my job to the very best of my ability. The cut in wages and lack of challenge never left me though and I decided that I’d be leaving, as much as it would hurt.

Then, two years ago, I got ill. My heart decided not to bother working properly anymore and it resulted in me having 4 months off work. When I returned, nothing felt the same and I spent large parts of last year feeling really unhappy. Now, I’ll be honest, I probably look unhappy most of the time anyway, but this was different. Inwardly and outwardly, I just wasn’t smiling.

Luckily for me another chance presented itself and with a touch more luck, I got the job. So, just what is it that’s worrying me then?

I’m someone who likes to have fun at work. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a professional first and foremost, but I’ve loved being class clown for a long time too. For me, teaching is largely just showing off.

One of the ways that I like to have fun is via email. Childish, I know, but I love a daft email. Now though, I find myself worrying about how that first email will go down. At my last place, my first really silly one involved asking everyone in the department what music they’d have as their walk on music, if we could bring in such a thing. It’s the kind of thing that I daydream about in meetings. If you must know, I’d have a burst ‘No Limits’ by 2Unlimited, followed by a bit of ‘The Power’ by Snap before finishing with the drama of ‘One Voice’ by Barry Manilow. Genius, I know. I’d look fabulous as well, by the way.

Anyway, after 9 years at my old place everyone was more than used to this type of thing and most seemed to enjoy it. But how will it all go down in a new setting? I’m heartened by the fact that I know some of the people in my department, but still, I don’t want people to think of me as a complete knobhead. Not until they get to know me, anyway.

On a much more serious note, I’m anxious about creating relationships with my classes. It’s always hard and having been at the same school for 9 years, it’s not something I’m used to any more. Sure, I had new classes every year, but this year barely a pupil at the school knows me. I know that after a few weeks they’ll be used to me and I’ll be used to them, but the fact that it can be such a gruelling process is still a little daunting. I’ve never been one of the ‘don’t smile ’til Christmas’ brigade and want students to enjoy being in my lessons so for me relationships are key.

It’s a similar story where relationships with colleagues are concerned. As I said earlier, I already know some of my department having worked with them before, but as for the others, I don’t even think I’ve met them all. I’m really quite a shy person. In my recent leaving speech I joked that probably only 40% of the people present actually knew who I was, but I might not have been too far wide of the mark! Hopefully though, I’m able to come across as far less of a tool than I actually am. I might even try to chip in with some useful comments in meetings, just to smooth the way! Best to get some brownie points in the bag before that first email, I guess!

Learning names is also something to fret about. I’ve never been the best in this area of my job. With students I’m usually quite good, just because I see the same names on a register time and time again, although there’ll always be one or two that slip the net. However, it’s staff names that I really struggle with. There are already a couple of people that I’ve met where I’m unsure of their name. It’s a particular blind spot with me and although there’s always ‘Miss’ and ‘Sir’ to rely on, I always feel guilty about this particular flaw. A whole fresh start with an entirely new staff suddenly feels like an accident waiting to happen. I’m never far off an ‘alright Dave’ situation when I’m talking to a Mike or a Paul and it’s inevitable that I’m only weeks ago from a misnaming faux pas!

Almost a quarter of a century of teaching has seen me acquire quite a lot of ‘stuff’. And finding it a home makes me anxious too. I’m yet to see my classroom and so don’t know if there’s space for all I’ll bring. Further to that is the fact that it’s going to take loads of trips back and forth from my car to get it all in too. I deliberately left quite a lot behind and have even culled some of the stuff I brought home. I mean, I took around half a box of spare worksheets and paper resources that I had knocking around in my old room before looking at them in my front room and realising that, having not probably used any of it for the best part of a decade I’d probably have no need for it anyway! It’s odd the things that you cling on to. Luckily, there are probably only around 7 boxes worth to transport. And then some bags too! Someone help me!

My new job is at a boys school. The first same sex school I’ll have taught in and although I know exactly what to expect (lads, lads, lads, I suppose), it unnerves me a bit. I know it’ll take a bit of getting used to. I know that I’ll spend the first few weeks looking at my class thinking stuff like, ‘There’s something not quite right here’ and doing comedy double takes at the fact that ‘THEY’RE ALL BOYS’!

And then, and by no means finally but I have to end somewhere, there are the little things. The ones that will probably turn out to be nothing, but will almost certainly keep me awake the night before it all begins.

Firstly, I haven’t got my pass yet. And what are we without a lanyard, eh? I mean, a chair of governors once wrongly accused me and a couple of others of turning ours around deliberately at an open evening in order to avoid parental questions, so I’m envisaging a horde of riot police charging at me when I turn up without one. But also, how do I get in to the building? What if no one comes to get me? And then, when I finally get it what do I do if the picture is one of those where my smile is on the wane, so to speak? You know, like it’s sliding off your face? What do I do then?

There’s also the bit where you have to introduce yourself to the whole staff. Sure, it’s just a stand up and wave thing, but if anyone’s going to trip over his own feet on the way up or miss his chair on the way back down, it’s me. My brain has a terrible habit of either making me say stupid stuff or do something even stupider. So, I’m really looking forward to winking at a hall full of people while pointing my fingers or doing a peace sign like some cheeseball gameshow host and all the while not having a clue how any of it happened.

Furthermore, I’ve never parked in the actual car park. I’ve always been in a handy visitor’s space. So what if I park in the wrong place? It’d be just like me to park in Big Tony’s space (the bloke who everyone fears and no one knows what he actually teaches – every school’s got one). I’m not a young man anymore; I could do without all of this!

All this is running round my mind and I haven’t even got to the usual expected raft of IT problems that have haunted me for years. The board that only works on days with an ‘e’ in their name, the forgetting of my own password, wrestling with a more advanced version of ClassCharts than I’m used to and then of course, my nemesis…the bloody visualiser! We still used a telly on a trolley when I first started, so it doesn’t take much in terms of IT to put me in a flap!

Changing jobs has made me feel ludicrously inexperienced again, before I’ve even started. I’m finding myself worrying about things that bothered me as a newly qualified teacher back in the late 1800s. Anyone that knows me will also know that none of this is an exaggeration either! Luckily, I know that really it’s just a case of getting the first month out of the way before I’m into some kind of routine and things are pretty much falling into place. Give it a year or two and they’ll have stopped talking about the amount of times I locked myself out of a building, the ridiculous resources I brought or even my inevitably ill fitting high viz for duties too.

Wish me luck! I think I’m going to need it!

It was a bittersweet July.

It’s been a little while since I’ve actually written anything. In fact, this is the first time I’ve got my hands on a keyboard in the month of August. Suffice to say that July was a bit of an emotional one and as a result, it took its toll on me.

The most bittersweet part of it all was leaving work. I’d worked at Thornhill Community Academy in Dewsbury for 9 years, having trained there – it was my second teaching practice school – 25 years ago. All in all that’s a long time to be associated with a place of work and a community. I always felt like I’d go back there and when I did, I didn’t think I’d leave before retirement.

Nothing lasts forever though and having suffered with my health over the last couple of years I was finding less and less enjoyment in my work. Having all but collapsed there in 2022, my classroom made me feel uncomfortable and at times really quite sad. Add that to a raft of other problems and I knew I’d have to leave. So, when an opportunity to work with some of my friends came up, I eventually applied and was lucky enough to get the job.

Leaving a job I’d been in for almost a decade was a real wrench though. I’ve made lots of friends, had the professional pleasure of working with some brilliant people, loved the school and hopefully had a positive effect on some of my students. I was almost moved to tears during my leaving speech, but just about managed to keep it together – if you were in the room, I can confirm that there were no tears, just a really ugly crying face!

I’ll miss so many people and September is going to feel very strange indeed, but I hope that my new start will serve to inspire me a bit and whet my appetite for teaching once again, as well as helping me to get over what really has to be the final hurdle in my recovery from illness! I mean, how long can it take?!

Despite the upheaval, I actually feel positive. I’m probably far too old to be making a fresh start, but I feel like I have the energy and the people around me to make it a success. More to the point, I feel like I want to make it a success. I feel enthusiastic, while also feeling like there’s no way I want to let people down. So in September, I’ll be enjoying a far shorter commute and throwing myself into it all at an entirely new school while working with more than enough familiar faces to allow me to feel fairly comfortable from the off.

Of course, the end of an academic year signals the start of summer for those of us in education. And so, as sad as I felt to leave my job I had the benefit of 6 weeks holiday to cushion the blow and mix some sweetness into the bitterness.

First up in the break was heading to Wales for a family holiday and that never fails to raise a smile and make me feel relaxed. The weather wasn’t perfect, but we still managed a few days on the beach, as well as trips out to Barmouth and Pwllheli. All in all, to finish work on the Friday and then be on a beach the next day made for a lovely couple of days. Then, to add in lots of fun in the week that followed added up to a genuinely brilliant break.

A personal highlight for me was being able to fit in two runs. I run on every holiday and have done for a while now when we go to Wales. However, usually I head up some nearby hills before running down to a nearby coastal village and then looping back around again towards our cottage. This time, feeling tired, I decided to take a flatter route which would enable me to do something I’ve never done before; run along the beach.

The beach at the end of the road is a couple of miles long and then, if you’re lucky and the tide’s out sufficiently, you can clamber over some rocks onto a beautiful, peaceful little cove. I was able to do just that on both of the occasions that I ran. Both times I went out early in the morning and both times there was barely another soul to be seen. It was amazingly peaceful, while also being really hard work as sand just saps the strength from your legs.

On the morning of our last full day, not only did I run along the beach, but when I got round to the quiet cove there were two herons feeding in the shallows and I was able to sit and watch them for ages while having the whole place to myself. More than enough to make you smile!

So, having left behind a place of work that gave me a fantastic 9 years and felt all the sadness that you’d expect, I was able to spend a wonderful week with my family and experience the kind of calm coupled with genuine elation that I’m guessing doesn’t come along too often. Like I said, it was a bittersweet July!

No planner, a chimp, naps and IT problems: It’s Back to School ’23/24

September is not my favourite month, it’s safe to say. It’s the end of one generally lovely part of my life and the beginning of something very different. Time for a lot of us to turn what has become a rather pleasant routine on its head. Time again for early starts and rainy commutes. Time for what seems like constant noise where there had been solitude for much of the days that had spread out in front of us. Yep, these last couple of weeks have meant that it’s been time to go back to school.

For once, I didn’t get the full treatment in terms of ‘The Fear’. Of course, I didn’t want to go back and thoughts of chaos in the classroom seemed to permeate almost everything I was trying to concentrate on. My mood worsened and I was ranting and grumbling even more than usual. As usual, I tried to turn the return to work into a positive by doing stuff like taking the occasional trip to the shops to search out some new shirts, as even if I may not actually look good, I think it’s important to at least try and kid myself that I do. However, for once, I didn’t suffer with back to school nightmares where I’m standing in front of a class who simply aren’t listening and are talking over me, whatever I say or threaten them with. So that was a blessed relief and a nice change.

However, when I realised on the afternoon of the last day of the summer holidays that I still hadn’t ordered a planner, it became clear that I just wasn’t really that organised or even slightly ready for what was to come. Still though, despite their attempts to take over the world, Amazon proved its worth and with a few clicks I had exactly the same planner as last year on order. It wouldn’t arrive until the Tuesday, but I’d muddle on through…

If you’re a teacher reading this I’m sure you’ll share my absolute hatred and horror at the first INSET day. If you’re SLT reading this, then that last sentence was for comedic effect; we’re all delighted to be there and hanging on your every word. But maybe, on that particular high note, you should stop reading now.

Few things in teaching can feel as futile as the first INSET day. A friend tells me that he’s rarely listening that day and that he often finds himself hating three quarters of the people in every room that he enters. Apart from his own department, who are all wonderful. I’ll keep him anonymous, because that’s quite a bold statement, but just so that we’re clear, he’s definitely not me, but a friend.

Our set up dictates that we all head over to the lead school in our academies trust for the morning and so, on the first Monday back, I was in a car share chatting to a pal, while listening to The Smiths and wondering why the people in the back had definitely just mentioned that someone they knew might just be a swinger. It’s the kind of 20 minute journey that feels like it takes 4 hours and almost every road is about 6ft wide and undulating. And this year someone was talking about swingers.

On arrival at our INSET day, it’s a bit like being a pilot as numerous ‘important’ people in high viz jackets attempt to steer you into exactly the right parking space, as if parking where you want would represent a level 9 security breach, whatever that is.

Then, it’s breakfast with staff from every other school in the trust – I estimate that we have 804 schools by the state of the canteen as we walk in – and my compliments to the chef have to go to the individual who served up my orange juice and pain au chocolate as it made me feel like I’d just arrived at a luxury spa in rural France…sort of.

I’ll spare you anymore great detail of the morning, but suffice to say it was a delight to share reading strategies that I introduced to the staff of my own school around 4 years ago as well as those from partner schools and see them greeted with the kind of enthusiasm that indicated that no one had been listening four years ago. I’ll look forward to see someone else introducing them as their own some time soon and resolve to try very, very hard not to scream or shout obscenities.

There was also mention of Steve Peters, the psychiatrist made famous for his work with many of the UK’s top athletes. It reminded me that it’s entirely possible that I only have the chimp part of my brain that functions. And if you haven’t read the book, that won’t mean anything to you. Basically , Dr Steve says that it’s the chimp part of your brain that makes you do stupid stuff. Don’t worry though; it’s not a real chimp.

Looking round at lunch I noticed that one of our new starters didn’t get the casual dress memo; a lone young man in shirt and tie while everyone else in in jeans, t-shirts and the like, which is always brilliant and I also spotted the worst deputy head I’ve ever had the displeasure of working with, as he now seems to be employed by our trust. A number of years back I had to be restrained by a friend to prevent me having ‘a chat’ with said deputy after he simply forgot to turn up for an observation I’d spent untold hours preparing for. So, it was lovely to see him again.

At the end of that first day, I left work late feeling exactly the same way as I do every year – unprepared for the rest of the week and wishing that someone would grasp the importance of giving teachers time on these kinds of days rather than just workshops and speeches.

The rest of the week actually wasn’t that bad though, although I’m teaching three different subjects this year and would relish the chance to warmly thank our government for their assistance with this development. Without your ineptitude and inability to fund the creation of attractive working environments that might attract and keep new staff year in year out, I wouldn’t get to challenge myself with bottom set Year 9 PHSCE, so thanks for that. It wouldn’t be the same just being an experienced English teacher tasked with just teaching English.

One irritation about the rest of the week was that it was conducted through a heatwave, which if you’re a teacher you’ll know is exactly the same thing that happens every year, without fail. Five and a half weeks of rain followed by weather that would be more at home in the outback. My classroom is air-conditioned, so it’s quite nice, but it’s never fun when every class that comes in gives you a weather report, then points out that my room is lovely and cool before giving it ten minutes and informing me that they’re too cold.

It felt like a long week and I must admit it was a struggle in terms of tiredness – I nearly wrote fatigue there, but it was 5 days, for goodness sakes – and as I adapted to my routine for the 24th year, there were a few late finishes.

Happily, I managed to fit in two impromptu naps – don’t worry they were at home, not at work – so perhaps it’s right what they say about every cloud as it was a joy to re-discover my ability to fall asleep while reading. It may not be a skill to add to a CV any time soon, but it’s definitely something that I excel at and am really quite passionate about.

More joy came with the number of students who pointed out that I now had a beard. It was great to be reminded of this fact, especially as I’ve had said beard for around 9 months now and would have paraded it in front of almost all of them for several of those months last year. So, if anyone wonders of it’s a problem for teachers to get students to retain information on any number of complex subjects from Shakespeare to trigonometry, that might just help with the answer.

There have been the usual snags over the last couple of weeks. Every teacher surely knows that every photocopier in the building will break within 24 hours. And we’ll all still try to fix them or use them, despite the sign telling us they’re knackered.

In further technology news, my board is still making the same noise (it literally goes ‘doodly doo’ loudly and repeatedly) at random points of every lesson as it did in July. A temporary fix was put in place then; so temporary that it just never worked and the noise just continued. I was promised it’d be fixed. I was also promised that the wire that runs from my computer to my board would be replaced as it meant I had to hurdle it to get around that part of my classroom. Reader, I’m still hurdling.

There have been the delights of shared classes too. This year it feels like I share 94 groups, although it’s only three. But this still means the need to locate your books when needed as well as the sheer nightmare of working out where each class has got to while they’re with the other teacher. Often, this is just solved with an email, but it never fails to make things awkward! It also means that for the umpteenth year running, I’m an entire class’s least favourite English teacher and I get to hear that ‘Miss doesn’t do this’ or ‘Miss is nice’ at least 14 times a lesson.

Finally came a personal snag highlight in that where I park there are a few trees and it’s at this time of year that they seems to shed some kind of white sap. So, for the last two weeks, I’ve been possibly quite unique in being the only bloke driving a black and white polka dotted Mazda through West Yorkshire for the last two weeks.

As we edge towards the end of the second week I at least have reason for some optimism. My desk is roughly two metres wide and 1 metre deep. As I type, I think you can still see actual desk over approximately half of that area. Knowing that the piles of paper and books will inevitably grow, that 50% of desk is very much a reason to be cheerful!

Poetry Blog: Fledglings

This is a poem that I wrote about the transition to high school. It’s something that is very much at the forefront of my mind at the moment as for only the second time in a decade, I have a Year 7 form again. Not only this, but I start again on the merry-go-round of teaching English to a new Year 7 class too. So, this year I will see a Year 7 class at least once a day every day.

As one of the people most responsible for these new students, you tend to find that they’re on your mind quite a bit. So, a few days ago I found myself discussing a particular student in my new form with a colleague and it got me to thinking about this stage of their school careers. I began to think about my role, but also what I’d compare the Year 7s with and the image of fledgling birds in a nest came to mind. It’s not the most original thing, but I ended up writing the following poem from the idea.

Fledglings

(A poem best read in your best David Attenborough voice...)

Safely incubated over the course of a carefree six week summer,
now is the time for parents to let go of
one more downy feather,
as their latest fledgling ventures out into another brave new world.

Shielded up to this point by everything familiar
and much the same routine for the last 6 years,
now almost everything will change.
Another journey is about to be made,
new lessons learned and, with a tear of trepidation,
they are pushed from the nest.

Pushing through a door, a portal to a new life of possibility and potential,
some upright, confident, ready, while others seem still to lack
the confidence that will see them take flight.
Gathering in groups or shuffling into corners where adult eyes
are immediately alerted to the potential for danger
or a plan being hatched.

Already, lines are being drawn...

From here, a steep learning curve will be climbed
by choosing haphazardly from a list including
bravado, belligerence and bewilderment.
There will be casualties along the way,
tears and tantrums, but eventually all will thrive in one way or another
as confidence grows, feathers are earned and flight, however cautiously,
is taken, and however long it may take,
is embarked upon in order to begin yet another grueling journey.

With this poem – as with lots of the others that I write – it started with a few lines just arriving in my head after a little bit of thought. Usually, from there I’ll scribble them down and try to write more, before I decide what goes together…and sometimes even what it’s about!

The difference with Fledglings was that when forming those few lines in my head I could ‘hear’ the voice of David Attenborough reading them! As I wrote more, this just seemed to keep happening until, in the end, I just decided to try and write the whole thing as if it part of the narration of a show like Planet Earth. I really liked the idea of having a bit of fun with the poem. After all, it’s a very simple metaphor, so there had to be something else that anyone reading might find interesting! I hope that it’s a ‘twist’ that other people like. And I really hope that it’s not just me that sees or hears the poem this way. Maybe, if you find yourself a quiet space, you could try to read it in your best David Attenborough voice…

As ever, feel free to leave a comment as I always enjoy people’s thoughts about what I write, especially the poems!

Teaching: At times it’s just like riding a bike…

Last week I posted a blog about that difficult first week back as a teacher. The anxiety, the new classes, the lottery that can be a timetable, building relationships and even just having to get out of bed a couple of hours earlier. Having spent 6 weeks living life at a slower pace, it can all be a bit much.

However, every year I tell myself the same thing. I tell colleagues too. And I tell my long suffering family, who have had to live with this ‘even grumpier in September’ bloke for far too long: get the first two weeks out of the way and it’ll be alright.

That first two weeks essentially allows me to find my feet and reminds me that I can in fact do my job effectively, having spent the previous two weeks – without fail, every year – feeling like I’m going to stand at the front of the classroom, trying to teach, but just not remembering how to do it anymore. My students will talk over me until it all gets out of control and I end up in a tearful heap on the floor! It never happens that way though.

My first two weeks have been incredibly busy, hectic at times, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Really, it’s been OK. I feel like I’ve found my feet quite quickly and that the confidence that is needed at the front of that classroom has returned and allowed me to jus do my job without too much stress at all. I’m back in the old routine, using the same skills, adapting to different texts and techniques, learning some of the new names that I have to learn (this always takes me a while) and even managing to get through meetings without too many thoughts of simply throwing myself out of the nearest window. I knw that will come though!

There have been some minor challenges as well. Sadly, I’ve noticed that my eyesight has got a bit worse, meaning that I can’t read the register without my glasses and that certain texts have been a little more difficult to read through than they were a year ago. In vanity news, I have had to come to work for 9 days with hair that has looked like a hedge left to its own devices for a number of years until it has just become untamed. This, courtesy of my hairdresser who had the audacity to go off on holiday without warning…for a month. Until last night I hadn’t had a haircut for over 10 weeks, which was beginning to cause me some trouble!

In one of my classes I have a student with a hearing impairment, which requires me to were a kind of digital microphone that hangs round my neck like a lanyard. Much to the student’s delight, I forget about it, without fail, every lesson and she has to remind me. But even this is good in a way as it allows me to overact, like some kind of pantomime dame, and really ham it up about how useless I am and what a great helper she is. Sometimes, even the simplest of things can make a student smile!

So, while it’s been as difficult a couple of weeks as I’d imagined, it’s not been too bad and it’s funny how old habits die hard. As the headline suggests, it really is like riding a bike…provided you could ride one in the first place!