Tidying up the loose ends

I feel this week needs tidying up and packing away. Preferably in a drawer with a hefty lock upon 't, and a warning on the outside saying 'ON NO ACCOUNT OPEN THIS DRAWER, THEREIN LIES A BLOOMIN' AWFUL WEEK, TIDIED AWAY FOR POSTERITY (AND A WARNING TO OTHERS ABOUT THE DANGERS OF TEACHING.)

So, I had ANOTHER lesson observation by the Witch Finder General; this time though, she got short shrift from me when she interrupted my lunch break (ha! there's a laugh in itself - class full of Year 10 girls wanting assistance with their Of Mice and Men coursework - 'So, Lennie's a bit of a div, is he?' 'No, I think the better term would be that he has learning difficulties.)

'So,' said the Witch Finder General, 'do you think those two little girls sitting near the back in your lesson would have made better progress if you'd put them to work with other partners?'
'No,' I said.
'Oh,' said she. 'Why?'
'Because they would have sulked,' I said. 'I find it better to let them work who they want to work with rather than who I want them to work with.'
'Oh, but it's all training isn't it?' said WFG.
'I don't have time to do training,' I said. 'I am under pressure to squeeze ANOTHER assessment out of them by the middle of next week. I don't need them wasting time by sulking.'
'Do you think you could try moving them?' persisted WFG (because she just wasn't getting the subtle undertones of my looking daggers scowl).
'No,' I said.
'Do you think they would do better in their assessment if they worked with different partners?' she said.
'No,' I said.

And with that, the WFG gave me a bit of a look, stood up and shot out of my classroom like a cat with its tail on fire. I don't think she liked my rejection of her stupid ideas. I don't care. The first time she did a lesson observation on me, her 'feedback' reduced me to tears. This time, I stood up and did a little in-yer-face victory dance.

The Year 10 girls were very impressed. With my dance. The whole experience was very grown up.

And today I had a fab afternoon playing murder role plays with my Year Sevens. I see my Year Sevens every day. We are getting to know each other very well and they give me no aggravation. Well, relatively little. Fraser still tends to poke me in the arm when he wants my attention. Fraser has ADHD if you believe in such things. He is 12, but you'd think he was 8.

'Please don't poke me, Fraser,' I said, when once again I found myself on the end of a persistent prod or three.
'Am I getting in your personal body space, ma'am,' said Fraser.
'Yes,' I said. Fraser and I have had more than one conversation vis a vis watching personal body space, especially mine.
'Sorry, ma'am,' said Fraser (and bear in mind this conversation was held with him whizzing around like a loon.)

He isn't sorry though. I suspect he'll keep on prodding people until the day when someone prods him back with the sharp end of their fist in his face. But that won't be me.

And since about 11 this morning, when I remembered that we are going on a bee-keeping course tomorrow, I have been feeling very excited about bees. I met a bee on my walk home, in fact, when I was dawdling and admiring the new buds on the hedges and trees. An enormous bumble bee (which would be a pregnant female at this time of year), flew across my path and disappeared into a pile of old leaves, presumably looking for a place to lay her eggs.

So, let's shut the drawer, shall we?

Mind your fingers!