Category: Teenagers

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

Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life…5 Things that made me smile in September.

If I’m brutally honest, I didn’t feel much like smiling in September. As if summer wasn’t bad enough with mental and physical health issues we also had months of pretty tragic weather. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t fully expect weeks of bright sunshine and searing heat, but constant rain and an average temperature of about 14 degrees isn’t exactly food for the soul! And of course, September is the month that us teachers get to start a new academic year all over again!

However, there were still just about enough reasons to be cheerful, so here they are.

  1. I got my running buddy back! When he was much younger, my son used to come out running with me on a regular basis. He showed a real talent for running and although he might have the odd grumble, he was able to cover good distances without too much trouble. And then he became a teenager! Despite having real potential as a runner, he simply stopped doing it and I was left running on my own, an kind of X-Box widower, if you like. Fast forward about 3 years and as part of his Silver Duke of Edinburgh he’s chosen to do running as a sporting option. The funny part of it is that he doesn’t want to come out on any evening runs because he might see people he knows! Sadly for him, that means he’s got to be up at 6.30am every Saturday now, but he’s done it without too much grumbling. It’s lovely to have him back though.
  2. Claude the Koala. I read a brilliant story about a koala bear in the news at the start of last month. It really made me laugh! Apparently an Australian garden centre owner was left completely without answers about who or what was eating his seedlings. It could have been goats, it could have been possums, but he didn’t actually know. And then one morning he discovered the culprit, lying somewhat ‘food drunk’ in amongst the eucalyptus plants. A koala, eating the very plants that were being grown to help out his own endangered species in the region! Even when they moved him on, he came back night after night. So now, they’re having to build koala proof fencing to keep him out. There can’t be anyone who doesn’t manage a smile at Claude looking incredibly guilty below!

3. Being back among friends at work. I’ve written elsewhere about summer being a tough time for me mentally. I’ve never felt so sad. And despite my dread of going back to work after the summer break, it’s been wonderful to be back amongst my friends. Hard work, but they make it lovely. So many people have enquired as to my health and been genuinely kind, but being back among our English Department team has been the best part of it. Plenty of laughs, loads of cynicism and just a lot of fun. Thanks ladies! 4. The World Stone Skimming Championships. How have I never heard about this before now? Apparently the World Championships are held each year on Easdale island in the Hebrides. For the uninitiated, stone skimming is exactly what it sounds like. You get a preferably flat stone and throw it in a particular way so that it skims across the surface of the water. It’s always been a cracking seaside tradition in the UK. So, reading about the fact that there’s a world championships for such a dad skill made me smile! It also made me remember that just this summer, on several beaches in Wales, I introduced my son to stone skimming, meaning that for a few days, every time we went anywhere near water the both of us would be scanning the shore for the perfect skimming stone. He got the hang of it quite quickly, but it made me smile to remember that I was still the best! Dads, eh? 5. Year 7. Another year and another group of young people make the transition to high school. Bright eyed, smartly dressed and kind of ready to learn. They’re sat up straight in your lesson, not complaining about English, being tired, the weather, the temperature of the room, the lights in the room or literally anything else that might just put them off doing any work. For a while, they’re an absolute joy to work with. Yes, some can be a bit needy, but that’s ok. This is a big old change they’re making. I have two groups of Year 7s in English this year, plus a group for History and one for PHSCE and I’m genuinely enjoying teaching them. Perhaps it’s the heightened positive approach I’m deliberately taking this year, but those year 7s are a little pool of light in an ocean of darkness at the minute!

So there you go – even when it’s been a tough month and you’re not feeling particularly enthusiastic and bright, there are always a few things that might just make us smile!

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!

Grassroots Grumbles: I’m not sure how, but we made it to the end of the season!

Every once in a while I write a blog about one of my big interests in life; coaching football. Sometimes it’s because it’s a nice thing to write about and something I’m proud of, sometimes because there’s a problem and other times it’s just in order to vent frustrations that I couldn’t possibly let go on the 13 and 14 year olds that I coach. So thanks for listening, I suppose!

This is the tale of what’s felt like a very long season, hopefully told in a reasonably short and readable amount of words.

In summer of last year, we began our pre-season training with with 10 new players to compliment the 10 that remained from the previous season. At the end of the previous season we’d lost 6 first team players, leaving us severely weakened. To add to that problem, try as we might, we couldn’t arrange any friendly matches where we could test the team out and check on who could be where on the field. So, while we’d trained well, we went into our first league game of the 22/23 season having played one match together as a team. Barring a miracle, we were going to have problems. Teams just don’t gel as quickly as was required.

We made a predictably poor start to the season, losing our first match 9-1 at home. And it got worse. We lost all of our first 5 games, conceding 47 goals and scoring only 5. By this point we were approaching the end of October. Morale was low and we seemed to be making terrible decisions in every game. It felt like we were a team that had little or no experience of football, even though this wasn’t the case. As a coach, it was becoming all consuming and dominating my thoughts. I just couldn’t seem to find an answer to what was going wrong though.

And then came November…

November saw a number of changes. Firstly, because of my health problems, the team had to operate without a coach. So, it was a case of others at the club pitching in and helping out. It also meant that an already dispirited team had to take yet another blow and also have their entire routine completely turned on its head. Kids are resilient and my lads are ridiculously enthusiastic, but even then some just stopped turning up altogether. In fact, several key players wouldn’t be seen at training or games for a another couple of months. Neither would I, but that’s a different story.

As bad as November was though, it represented a turning point in our season. I had a bit of time to think in hospital and decided to tinker with the system that the team played. Even though I didn’t take the match, I spoke to the coach who was taking the team about how I wanted them to play. We got beat again, but this time only 3-2. There was definite progress. So, we kept the system the same in the hope that we could control games a little bit better.

Results improved and defeats were narrow. But they were still defeats.

Terrible winter weather meant a host of postponed games though and this in turn meant that I wasn’t missing games. So, by the time then end of January came round I’d only missed 3 games.

We finally won a game in my second game back as coach. I couldn’t do the setting up of equipment before the game as I wasn’t well enough, but I could give the team instructions and coach in a slightly reserved fashion from the touchline. And by now I had some help too from one of the parents, so that particular burden wasn’t solely on my shoulders.

Some of our parents rallied round too and began coming out earlier on the Sunday mornings when we had home games in order to doing the setting up of goals and other matchday stuff, which was very nice of them.

That first win came against the team that were top of the league at the time and it was such an almighty relief. I can still remember talking to the players and parents at full time, telling the lads how proud I was of them and welling up with the emotion of it all. Not the emotion of the game, but of what I’d been through and the team had been through since the start of the season.

A couple of games later we gained a draw, again while playing a team a long way above us in the league. The new style of playing was paying dividends; even when we got beat we were competing. We were also finally off the bottom of the league. That said, we lost our next three games and our form as still really patchy. There were times we played well, but more times when we played like the team who first stepped onto the field in September.

By this point it was the middle of April. My health had improved and I was able to play a much fuller part as coach. The lads were still enthusiastic, with 17 or 18 regularly turning up for training and always a full squad of 16 for games. The atmosphere in the group had changed and we were all optimistic once more. It was time to change our style of play again and start to attack teams more, rather than crowding the midfield and disrupting the opposition.

Suddenly, we won two games on the bounce and everyone was smiling. We’d moved up another position in the league and the lads were going out expecting to give teams a tough game at least. Parents were enjoying coming to games and the lads were getting what their hard work had deserved. I think some other coaches in our division had looked at those early results and saw us as a push over and our upturn in form prompted some different reactions. Some were really pleased for us, telling the lads how well they’d done, while others were clearly shocked at getting beat by us and would spend the time after matches shouting at their teams.

As a coach, it felt great to have changed people’s opinions. Earlier on in the season I’d had to keep my mouth firmly shut as opposition players and sometimes even coaches openly laughed at us after their teams had beaten us. I heard some awful comments and it really wound me up for the second half of the season when I was able to be back on the touchline. Now, I got to watch on as they were forced to congratulate us on a good game when they hadn’t got the result they wanted, despite winning or better still lost all sense of composure when we’d beaten them. I’d made a mental note of some of them from earlier in the season, so it felt particularly good to take the points away from them.

In our final 6 games of the season, we only conceded 17 goals and scored 14. Compare that to the 47 conceded & 5 scored in the first 5 games. If I say so myself, it was a remarkable turnaround for a team that had been in the bottom position in the division for a lot of the season and lost their coach for a few months in the middle of the season.

All in all it’s been a hell of a season. Tough in so many different ways and it’s felt like there haven’t been many weeks when something didn’t go horribly wrong. But we’re all still here! We’ve not had success in a traditional way, but we’ve certainly been successful in my opinion. I think the lads have learnt a lot about themselves and their resilience, as well as what it takes to be part of a team.

It looks like we’ll keep almost all of the squad together too, so we’ll get to build on all of our positives next season. Hopefully my health will hold out too! Whatever happens, I can look back on the fact that we turned things around and ended up with a little bit of a memorable season to think back on over summer.

Grassroots Grumbles: For once, there’s nothing to grumble about.

It’s been a tough start to the year as a grassroots football coach. Illness meant that for the final couple of months of 2022 I wasn’t able to coach my team and while I returned to games in January, I couldn’t take a training session until March of 2023.

Despite the hardship, there was no point in grumbling. In terms of my health, anything that I was able to do was simply a bonus. Even organising a training session for someone else to take occupied my mind for a bit, meaning a change in my boring 4 month long routine of a daily walk and then little else.

Then, when I was able to return full time to actual games, it just felt amazing to be involved again. A few of the boys in the squad hadn’t trained while I was in recovery as they weren’t keen on the coaches that replaced me, so it was great to see them back when I returned. And I can honestly say that when our goalkeeper told me, “It’s good to see you”, it was one of the happiest moments of my whole recovery.

We’re a team of varied ability with a smattering of really capable young footballers joined by a group with less ability but lots of enthusiasm. We play in Division 6 of 7, which is an indicator of the ability, but at the start of January we were rock bottom of our league with no wins and no points. In my first game back on 15th January we lost 10-0 and things looked pretty bleak. However, a 4-0 defeat in our next game, against a very good side near the top of the league, was heartening. We were organised, determined and it was clear that the message was getting through. We were finally being competitive in games.

On 5th February this year we played the team who were at the top of our league. I’ll be honest, we’ve never given them a decent game in the three years that we’ve been playing against them, so I didn’t have a great deal of hope. Amazingly though, everything clicked and despite the fact that we were clinging on towards the end of the game, we won 3-2! It was a memorable day and as I was still weak from my operation, it took everything out of me. But, I was smiling and so were my team.

In our next game we reverted to type somewhat and got thumped again, but not long after we picked up another point in a home draw. We’d led three times in the game, so the signs were very good. We lost the next three games, but rarely looked anything but competitive. Confidence was growing…

And then, after a few weather induced postponements came our latest two games. The first one on 16th April followed by last night (at the time of writing), Thursday 20th April. We won both games, scoring 6 goals, conceding 3 and dominating both games for long periods of time. In the main, only silly decisions and mistakes put us under any pressure and had we taken more of the numerous chances we created then we would have given someone a real thumping.

In the first of those games we got in at half time a goal down, but somehow full of confidence that we could win. We looked good and seemed the fitter of the two teams. If we applied some pressure, the three points were there for the taking. I pointed out that only one team looked like they wanted the win and it was us. And win we did, scoring three goals without reply in that second 35 minutes.

Last night was different. An away game against a team that had beaten us a few weeks ago, a local rival and the team just above us in the league. But we went 2-0 up quite early and were by far the better team. At half time we told the lads that we could only beat ourselves; the game was there for the taking. Concentrate, no silly decisions, no need to chase the win as we were 2-0 up. We conceded a goal after about a minute of the second half!

After that though we settled really well and extended our lead midway through the half to almost break the spirits of our opposition. Almost. However, in the last 10 minutes their coaches, their players and even their parents began pressuring the referee for fouls left, right and centre. We kept going forward and really should have added a few more goals, but with about 3 minutes left one of our defenders made a silly challenge and the ref awarded a penalty, which they scored.

My boys fought like lions after that. We slowed everything down, threw ourselves into challenges and battled to keep control of the ball. It felt like about an hour before the ref blew the final whistle and it was brilliant to watch the reaction of our squad as substitutes ran on to the field to celebrate with their squad mates. You’d have thought we’d won a cup final! But what a joy to see after the last few months.

My team have suffered this year. Opponents – and sadly, some coaches – have laughed at them in defeat. Lots of things have gone wrong. My heart surgery seemed to shock them, not least my son who plays for the team and came home crying after a game in December when I couldn’t attend and they got beat in the last seconds of the game. And as a result of my surgery, they’ve had to make do, training with a younger age group for months. Rarely have their heads dropped and they’ve shown up in numbers week after week. Now, as we ride the wave of optimism that any victory brings, let alone 2 in 5 days, it feels like we’re a hell of a team and I couldn’t be more proud.

Speaking to my wife in hospital in November, I told her that I didn’t think I’d be able to carry on coaching. It made me feel very sad, but it made sense while my body, and to some extent my mind, felt so broken. Now, there might just be a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel and there’s definitely not a lot to grumble about!

Back on the grass: I’m coaching again!

Just over four months ago, I sat on a hospital bed, typing out a series of WhatsApp messages informing various people of what I wasn’t going to be able to do for a while. Impending heart surgery will do that for you. I was surprisingly practical, but at that point was trying to think of things to do to keep the panic at bay. So those texts became vital. I wouldn’t be able to work for a while, I wouldn’t be able to see friends and family, I would possibly be even more grumpy and I wouldn’t be able to coach football.

The last one felt particularly desperate. I hated the idea of missing work, but at least there were plenty of people to keep everything moving and in actual fact, I wouldn’t be missed that much. But football felt different. I have twenty 13 and 14 year old boys in my squad. They love playing football and I take my role in their lives – however big or small that might be – very seriously. I was really going to miss what I do and I felt like I was letting them down badly.

Thankfully, several people stepped up and the team kept rolling on. The Great British Winter played a wonderful and some would say inevitable part in having games called off too, meaning that I wasn’t missing anywhere near as many matches as I assumed I would.

Fast forward a few months and I was able to stand on the touchline at games again. At first, just as a dad and then when one week, when there was no one else able to take the team, I stepped back into my big coaching coat and took the team again, being very careful to keep movement to a minimum and to stay as calm as I could manage! Since then, there have been a few more games and a bit more of an active role. Grassroots football has that effect; as calm as you tell yourself to be and as still as you’d like to keep, becoming animated at the very least, is almost inevitable.

I didn’t dare to attempt an actual coaching session though. Training would involve a lot more physical activity and simply going out for my daily walk was enough to tire me out By 6pm, when we would start training, I was worn out and staying awake watching telly was a chore. So, despite feeling absolutely desperate to get back out there and work on the kind of things we needed to try out in games, I stayed well out of the way.

However, I told myself that once I got back to work and was finding that I could cope with that particular daily grind, then I would make the move to get back to training sessions. It still wasn’t straightforward though, as I had to cancel two sessions due to firstly my health and then the weather. And then, with nothing else to stand in my way, I was able to get back out onto the pitch amongst my team.

We train on a 3G pitch in winter, which means that the surface doesn’t need to be an issue. There’s no danger of ruining a pitch for weekend games. What there is though is an area that appears to have it’s own micro-climate. Training is literally a mile from my house, but it is almost always about 5 degrees (at least) colder and blowing a gale up there! My first session back was no different and we also had some driving rain too! It really didn’t feel too good to be back!

I made sure that I wrapped up warm, practically mummified in about four layers, but it was still freezing cold when we got out of the car. I felt a strange mixture of excitement and nerves; happy to be back, but terrified of the thought of getting knocked anywhere near my pacemaker. My cardiologist had assured me that while it would hurt, I’d be ok, but it was still at the forefront of my mind.

It made me smile that my team seemed surprised to see me as I arrived. Those that were there early were kicking a ball about on an adjacent pitch, seemingly unaware that I would be taking the session and of those that arrived a bit later, several of them headed over to train with our Under 13 coaches, who have been looking after them for the last few months!

And then it was time to set up. Dodging flying footballs is always a joy when you’re trying to get some cones down or mark out a drill, but tonight felt a bit different given my circumstances. The thought of a wayward football smacking into my chest made me wary to say the least and it felt a little like the start of Saving Private Ryan, but with size 4 footballs and no beach.

It turns out though, that training, like going back to a job you’ve done for a couple of decades, is a bit like riding a bike. It felt wonderfully familiar and it was great to back amongst my team, pointing things out, making little tweaks to the ways they did things and standing back and having a chat to our other coaches while the kids did the work. Unlike what I remember of riding a bike however, it was absolutely exhausting.

At one point I joined in with a drill as one of our players didn’t have a partner, but lasted about 2 minutes before asking another coach to take over. It felt like I’d just ran an 800 metres at full speed and I was completely out of breath. The legs were like jelly and I was just able to kind of stumble off to gather myself a bit. Ironically, when I checked my heart rate on my watch – force of habit these days – it seemed to be the only thing that wasn’t out of shape!

I’d decided to keep training simple for my first time back. Not too many drills, nothing complicated that would need to be explained time after time after time and not a great deal required of me. We’d do a couple of fitness drills, a passing drill and then focus on having a game where we’d have plenty of time to stop and start and point a few things out when needed.

I tried to stand back and just watch but it wasn’t long before I was on the pitch acting both as a ref and a coach and while I wasn’t really running around, it still took its toll. It seems even with the restrictions of a new pacemaker it’s difficult to fight my enthusiasm for football.

Before too long the next team to train were arriving and we were wrapping up the game and packing up kit. Other people were kind enough to carry the bags, but as we headed to the car I was suddenly aware of exactly how old and tired I felt! Even an ‘easy’ hour had practically wiped me out and so when I got home, soaked and freezing cold, I was quick to take off my layers and get into my now familiar, post pacemaker uniform of pyjamas and a hoodie. After that, the evening was just about trying to stay awake!

It’s great to be back involved with my team again. When I sent the initial WhatsApp messages, I told myself that it would only be a few weeks, but deep down I knew it was going to take me a good while longer to be able to have the strength to get back to coaching. At times, just a short walk or staying awake has been a challenge, so it tells me that I’ve made significant progress that I can set foot back on a football pitch again.

A few days later, I was still suffering. My back and legs ached and there was a real soreness around the scarring where they put my pacemaker in. My heart was still working perfectly well it seemed – albeit with a bit of help – and I was still smiling That’s what matters most at the moment.

Since then, there’s been a little bit of a bump in the road and I’ve had a rough week. I had to cancel the very next training session, due to a bug I’d caught which has not been pleasant at all. I’ve been back to being extremely lethargic and breathless too, so it’s been a timely reminder of the length of the road that I’m on, so to speak. Certainly, one training session does not mean I’m fit and strong again!

For now, there’s only a day until our next match, when once again I’ll battle my urge to get too involved in what’s going on on the pitch! I’ll undoubtedly have to take it easy and am sure that the eyes of my nearest and dearest will be watching me like hawks. Still though, I can’t wait for kick off!

Parenting: The Ghost of Halloween Past.

It’s coming up for one of the best nights of the year: Halloween. Parents everywhere will be busy trying to put together costumes for excited children wanting to turn into ghosts, witches and even walking skeletons. The supermarkets are crammed with pumpkins of all shapes (don’t try to tell me they’re all perfectly round!) and sizes as well as millions of bags of sweets, the nights are drawing in and lots of us are looking forward to the big night and a bit of harmless trick or treating.

Sadly though, for me this year things have changed. And they’ve been changing for the last couple of years, to the point where this year might be our final year of trick or treating and Halloween fun.

The simple fact is my children are getting to an age where they don’t want a family Halloween anymore. My youngest is 13 and while I’m yet to hear his plans, it wouldn’t surprise me to find out that he’s feeling far too old to be going round our area, dressed up like a zombie and knocking on doors in order to get a bucket load of sweets. My eldest, now 16 and an A-Level student don’t you know, definitely won’t be with us and has already driven us to distraction with her plans and demands for a Halloween dress to customise for a party with her friends. So there’ll be no spending time with the family then!

It took me a little while to get into the whole Halloween thing as a parent. As children, my sister and me weren’t allowed out trick or treating. I’m not entirely sure why – although I do have a sketchy memory of my dad grumbling about it being ‘begging’ – but while friends may have been out ‘terrorising’ the neighbourhood, I was sat indoors dreading the inevitable knocks on the door that may have friends or just one night only spooky visitors that my parents would send packing with not even a sniff of a sweet.

In some small defence of my parents however, I could point to the fact that this was the 70s and 80s where Halloween and trick or treating was not the commercial behemoth that it has since become. In the UK, we left that to the Americans and watched ET go out trick or treating with Elliot and his pals with a mixture of fascination and befuddlement. So perhaps Halloween was just another night in front of the telly for my parents.

Consequently, I carried a bit of this attitude into my own parenting. It was wife that started the ball rolling where Halloween was concerned, taking our two out for a brief wander around the closest parts of the neighbourhood to scare some friendly folk into giving them sweets. I stayed behind, probably making the excuse that dishes needed to be done or something else enormously mundane.

The next year, it became a bigger deal as they were both old enough to stay up a little later. Out they went with mum to find a whole new trick or treating world where some of our community had gone all out to create amazing scenes in gardens and sometimes in entire streets. Again, I stayed at home, but this time only to answer the door to any of our own scary visitors. And that was when the spirit of the whole thing grabbed me. The combination of my own kids’ excitement – and how cute they looked – and that of the visitors to my door had me almost hooked!

From then, it grew and grew. I joined in the trick or treating, cajoling the kids to go and knock on doors and glowing with pride at people’s reactions to how good they looked or their mock fear at these two terrifyingly cute monsters! Year upon year, prompted by my fantastic fun-loving wife, we decorated the house and the garden, leaving ever growing buckets of sweets outside the door for anyone who might call while we were out.

I’d estimate that we’ve spent a small fortune on costumes, sweets and decorations over the years. I’ve even managed to allow myself to be talked into dressing up on a few occasions when we’ve held our own family parties. But, if you’re reading this and you know me, no, I’ve never ever ventured out on to the streets in a Halloween costume. You already knew this without me having to tell you!

It’s fair to say that for me there’s been a complete transformation in terms of my approach to Halloween and I’ve gone from being an out of place Grinch to a somewhat awkward, but enthusiastic(ish) zombie. I’ve taken a huge amount of joy from watching my kids – and my wife – throw themselves into the whole trick or treat thing for years now. Even last year, when my daughter decided that she was too old and it was too cold for such frivolity, we went out with my son and his two friends, trudging around the streets for hours, admiring the amazing decorations and gathering more and more sweets as we went. It was pouring with rain and yet we still had a brilliant time! In fact, the rain meant that we were almost the only ones out on our estate, meaning triple helpings of sweets and chocolate! I don’t think I’ve ever seen those lads happier!

This year promises to be a much quieter affair. And having only just got into the swing of all things Halloween, that makes me feel quite sad. I no longer have the cute, carefree kids that would dress up as a character, fully made up and stride up to door after door to scream “trick or treat!” like their very lives depended on it. A bit of the sense of fun has now gone. I expect that we’ll still go out trick or treating with my son, but it won’t be the same. And by this time next year, maybe it’ll be at a complete end.

So, I’m left feeling a little mournful about the past. It’s getting to that stage of my children’s lives where they’re beginning to leave certain things behind. Halloween now and probably things like our traditional egg hunt at Easter next. I can see why people might be tempted by the thought of just having another child, even if there’s no way that I’d make such a decision!

Obviously, what’s happening in our family is inevitable for every parent and their children. You can’t stop them growing up, after all. I’m glad that I softened my stance on Halloween though, because it means that I have memories that are impossible to forget. Maybe one day I’ll take my grandchildren out trick or treating. But for now, I imagine we’ll just have to make the most of the upcoming one, while we still can!

Grassroots Football: Back on the grass once again…but it might be a very long season!

I half recognised the feeling both when I went to bed on Saturday night and then while I was having a shave on Sunday morning. With the whole house silent, other than the noise of the swooshing of my razor in the sink, I tried to pin down what it might be. I showered – always a good place for thinking – but still it didn’t come to me. Breakfast presented no breakthrough either. And then, as I closed the front door and ventured out into the brisk chill of the early Autumn morning, it hit me.

Excitement!

Of course! This was the first Sunday of the grassroots football season and despite the fact that my team had finished rock bottom of their division last season and then subsequently lost around half of its squad, I was definitely smack in the middle of a bout of excitement.

I’d packed the car, as I always do, the previous afternoon. Kit bag, footballs, nets, Respect line, corner flags, step ladders for putting the nets up and a smaller bag with my match book and a few other things in. I’d got up slightly earlier than usual, having also lost an assistant coach, whose son was one of those who departed at the end of the previous season, which meant that I’d be starting to set up on my own. And now, I was getting into the car to drive the two minutes up to the pitch. To add to my by now rather distinct sense of excitement, it wasn’t even raining! Today would be one of those rare occasions where I would be able to set foot on the grass without getting soaking wet feet within about 3 minutes!

My excitement continued, but was dulled ever so slightly when I walked across our pitch and saw the state of the grass. It was easily a good three inches long and therefore not really very convenient for football. So, not ideal then! When one of our parents arrived, we decided to change to an adjacent pitch which appeared to be slightly shorter. That buzz of excitement was still hanging around and the fact that an adult pub team might turn up later looking to use the same pitch added a sense of jeopardy too!

Time always seems to fly when you’re setting up for a match. It can seem like one minute it’s just you, your corner flags and the odd dog walker and then the before you know it, players and parents are arriving and the whole pitch is surrounded with people. It’s always at this point when you realise that all of this is your responsibility and sometimes, especially when the opposition seem to have a number of players who look like grown men, it can be quite daunting!

Still though, the excitement hung around. I spoke to some parents, to some of my players, to the opposition coach and still the flutter stayed. As we warmed up and closer still to kick off, as we conducted a team talk, I was optimistic and looking forward to the game to come.

Sending your players out onto the pitch at this level can relieve you of any control that you thought you might have had. And this is where the excitement can begin to dissipate. It certainly did on Sunday. I sent my lads out onto the pitch on Sunday we some simple instructions, I’ve decided this year to try and think of games in terms of 3 Golden Rules because this should mean I’m never over-complicating matters for my players. I may then speak to people individually, but as a team I want them to all think in terms of these golden rules and trying to do a few simple things as well as we can.

After making a decent enough start on Sunday, we then conceded 3 goals in quick succession and the game was almost already out of our grasp. Worst of all was that they were avoidable goals, meaning that my excitement quickly turned to tension, dread and a real feeling of helplessness. I ask my team to enjoy playing and stay positive, but for them and for me it can be difficult when nothing’s going your way.

At 3-0 down I could see heads dropping and I could hear one or two of my players sniping at each other and arguing a little bit. Obviously, I tried to encourage them to stay positive and to keep playing and pushing forward, but by half time, we were 6-0 down and I knew that it was going to be a difficult half-time team talk!

That earlier feeling of excitement now disappearing somewhere over a local hill, I tried to stay positive. I pointed out the mistakes that were being made, but also reminded my team that they were a far better team than both the last 35 minutes and the score were showing. I repeated the three golden rules and pointed out some positive aspects of our performance, but made sure that I didn’t give anybody any excuses to relieve themselves of any responsibility for what was happening. I made sure that we all understood that every one of us was part of a team. No one person was responsible for this scoreline.

To cut a long story short, we were better in the second half, but we still lost the game 9-1. We had 7 new players in the squad, so it was always going to be a bit of a learning curve as these are 13 and 14-year-old kids getting used to new people.

At the end of the game I ramped up the positives and made sure everybody knew that in the second half we’d been far, far better. We train again on Wednesday evening, when we’ll try to tweak a few things about how we play in order to cut out the kind of silly errors that cost us dearly this weekend.

Then, we have another home game next Sunday. Same time, same place, different opposition. Hopefully I won’t allow myself to get too relaxed and too carried away then, because as I found out at the weekend, it turns out that excitement’s not always what it’s cracked up to be!

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!

Grassroots Grumbles: Here’s to a new season!

It’s that time of year again; we’re approaching another season of grassroots football. Nothing particularly remarkable about that, but given that I’ve felt like quitting on a number of occasions recently I’m a little surprised that I’m writing this blog.

Last season was dominated by a feeling of joylessness and repeatedly asking myself the question, why am I bothering? Of 24 games played (22 league and 2 cup) we won 2. We drew a few and really didn’t deserve to lose in others, but largely, and for a number of different reasons, standing on the touchline during games of football last year was simply horrible. And so, the thought of doing it all again for another year wasn’t one that I approached with any optimism at all.

The sound of the last referee’s whistle of the season may well have still been lingering in the air when the first of several players said that they were leaving. This was followed by another and another and before I knew it, I’d lost 5 players. In fact, from the squad of 18 that we’d stated the season with, we’ve actually lost 7, while another seems to have disappeared (and he’s not even the first to do that). So we’ll call that 8 then! And whatever your knowledge of football, you’ll probably realise that 10 players doesn’t make a squad.

There has been some good news since that point. We’ve been helped out by our A-team coach – nothing to do with Hannibal, Face, Mr T etc, just the other team in the club at our age group – who’s sent 6 players our way who weren’t going to be good enough to play for his team, given the division that they play in. Further to that, our advert for players has gained us a couple of other players, including a goalkeeper, which was the position that we struggled with last year. So, in many ways, that signing alone means that we’ve struck gold. All in all as I write, we have potentially (so far nothing has been made formal) 18 players for a squad for next season. And who knows, the lad who disappeared might well pop up out of nowhere again!

We also have a little bit of hope elsewhere too. Firstly, our best player from last season – one of those who left – is considering coming back to us. I’m not building up my hopes at all, but also can’t ignore the fact that he came and played in a friendly match for us and has openly said that he just misses being part of our team. At the moment, he’s thinking about exactly what to do next, but he knows that he’d be welcomed back with open arms, so we’ll be keeping our fingers crossed as he really would make a difference.

We also had a response to our advert for players just this week that has intrigued me. It was from a girl and we’ve been trying to encourage girls to join us for years. In the developmental sense, I just think it’s good for the game that more girls join in, but also we’re just very aware that there are some excellent female footballers out there that can’t always find a clear path into a team. England’s Lionesses winning the recent European Championships has undoubtedly helped with that pathway, so I’m hopeful that we can find our first female player soon! Again though, it’s really just a case of keeping fingers crossed!

We played our first pre-season friendly match a couple of weeks ago and in contrast to how things felt at the end of the season, this was a really positive experience. We only played against our club’s Under 13 team to help them out as they adapt to playing at 11-a-side, but we had 20 players available, including our best players from last season, who as I said earlier had only just left!

It was difficult to juggle the numbers and we ended up splitting the game into quarters and just using almost separate teams, but it worked and we were able to try players in different positions and get a sense of where new lads might fit in. Since then we’ve struggled for availability because of holidays and so we haven’t had another game, but we’ve kept training chugging along, albeit it with smaller numbers.

The next step is to start registering players. So far everyone seems keen, so it’s only the notoriously difficult internet registration site to get round. It took several visits and around a week to get it all done last year, but I’m hopeful that with some players returning from last season, at least their registrations will represent minimal work!

Another big job will come with trying to get a new kit. We need a new away kit, as a lot of lads just haven’t got one as they joined the club late while others have simply grown out of theirs. We need to attract a sponsor and while in my head that could be difficult post-Covid, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that our old sponsor will simply give us the go-ahead – aka money – to get another set of kit ordered. If that happens and the registration of players is at least quite straighforward, then we can just concentrate on training and organising friendly games. It would be nice just to stat being able to work on building a team, given that we’ve lost four who were regulars in the team for the last four years. But in the ever complicated world of grassroots football, I’ll stay just a little bit cynical about those prospects!

One of the bright spots of the last couple of months worth of scrambling around trying to get new players was the offers of help. Other coaches at our club have said they’ll keep their eyes and ears open for any possible players and as I said earlier, the other Under 14s coach has sent players our way. But the one that was most positive was the offer from another coach at a different club in our division. One of the teams at our age group had folded due to lack of numbers and despite the distance between the two teams, he actually passed my details on to parents of players left without a club because in his words, he knew I’d look after those players.

As it turns out, I’ve not heard from any of those parents, but I’d like to think that’s because it’s a good 30 minute car journey to get to us and there are probably other clubs that they can go to that are a lot closer to where they live. It didn’t matter; it was nice to know that your hard work gets recognised and that there’s respect between coaches. It was something that helped make up my mind about carrying on coaching the team this year and it was nice to be reminded of the good that’s out there in grassroots football. (So thanks Rich, if you ever stumble across this blog).

So we’re just under a month from kick off in grassroots football here in our corner of Yorkshire. There’s a lot still to do, but I feel like I’m approaching it with at least the tiniest bit of optimism!