Blankly She Stumbled

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

Actually, it was the only the worst of times this week. On Thursday, I vaguely remember sitting in my classroom during lunchtime, staring at the 'to-do' list on my desk, and thinking, 'I know I've got to do all this, but I'm not sure where and how to begin. '

This is unlike me, because I am uber-organised. I am purposeful. I have direction. I get things done.

But as I stared at my desk, and listened to the rabble in the corridors, I felt truly lost.

That evening, after school, we had a twilight training session. This was the last thing I needed. What I really needed was to go home and eat many doughnuts and watch something funny on the telly. Or read one of the books I have bought recently and which have been sitting on the kitchen table staring at me in a 'when-are-you-going-to-read-us' kind of way. But instead I had to stay at school and listen to a presentation from some Year 8's (13 year olds) and Year 11s (16 year olds) telling me what they liked about lessons and what they didn't - aka what you teachers are doing wrong.

Apparently, they like playing games. They like being able to chat to their mates. They want lessons to be more relaxed. They want teachers to smile and be in a good mood all the time because 'when we come into class and you're in a mood, it affects our learning.'

Right, I thought. What about all the times you lot come into lessons swearing and fighting and talking non-stop and being down-right silly which affects my teaching? But I didn't say that. Because I didn't want to be deemed as being 'unreceptive to the student voice.' And I was focused on going home and eating doughnuts.

And after that we had a talk on being in tune with students' emotional and spiritual well-being. How ironic, I thought, that they are asking me to be in touch with something I lost in myself about 4 weeks ago. But then I thought, no Denise, your emotional and spiritual well-being lies in that doughnut waiting for you at home. So shut up.

And then after that, I had to go and see the headteacher to discuss how I felt about suddenly having my Year 8 class (most of whom have behavioural difficulties and all of whom have learning difficulties) collapsed with another year 8 class and having to teach them both at the same time. Without any notice. Or consultation. And the fact I had been trying to do this for 4 days now and ended up in tears every day because this 'innovative' form of teaching clearly wasn't going to work and I was feeling like I was the crappest teacher in the world.

In slightly more polite terms I said I felt s**t about it. And deskilled and anxious and frustrated and bl**dy p***ed off, too. In slightly more subtextual terms the head smiled a lot and said, 'Tough, you're stuck with it.' Maybe I didn't put my case forcefully enough? Maybe I had low blood sugar. Never mind, the doughnut will cure that.

I left the school at just before 6 pm, having arrived 10 hours earlier and worked through without a break (because of the to-do- list. Although I suppose my blank staring could, theoretically, count as a break. So shut up, Denise.)

Outside it was raining, nay coming down in stair-rods. I began the walk home. Within 5 minutes I was drenched. I was thinking, 'Hey, isn't this great!' Not. Even the beckoning doughnut was beginning to fade into the distance. The rush hour traffic was zooming past and sending massive puddles flying onto the pavement 'pon which I walked. But it didn't really matter because I was wet through already.

After a 25 minutes walk, I managed to catch a bus. When I got home, Heather had already cooked tea. We had doughnuts.

Yesterday, I said to my head of department, 'I probably shan't be coming back in September.'

'I don't blame you,' she said.

(Today's blog was brought to you by 'Ifyouthinkteachingisadoddlewithshortdaysandlotsoftimeoffrelaxing by the pool, YOU'RE WRONG.com.)