On Friday, Kurt Trundlebury was in trouble again. He'd come to school without a pencil (or a pen, a ruler or his planner) and thought he would just take what he needed from another pupil's pencil case. The pupil from whom he "borrowed" said items was understandably put out, and he made a fuss - disproportionate obviously, but let's deal with one thing at a time! Kurt was sent out of the room and I followed him to see if I could fight fire with water (a recent Training Provider had offered this advice, and it seems to be the one thing that our staff has taken on board - at least as a notion if not an element of everyday practice).
Outside the room, I asked him if he actually had a fully equipped pencil case at home.
Kurt: Can't afford one Miss.
TwP: Ok.
Kurt: I got trips to pay for, rugby and that.
TwP: I understand that, Kurt, but I think having a pencil and a pen rather takes priority over paying for a rugby trip.
Kurt: But we haven't got much money, Miss.
And then he looked at me, and grinned widely, and slyly.
What was going on here? Have we come so far down the line that pupils are aware that we have to be sensitive to the disparity between our various families' financial situations so they actively use that to justify not having the correct equipment/uniform/whatever?
TwP: Kurt, I think you should consider getting a pen and a pencil at least. You don't have to buy them. I'm sure someone can find you a pencil and a pen of your own, because you can't just take stuff from other people's pencil cases.
Kurt: But he's my cousin, Miss.
TwP: Even so, you shouldn't take things without asking...
Kurt: But he's my cousin. He don't mind.
TwP: Well, clearly he did. So what do you think? Can you get a pencil and pen by Monday?
Kurt nodded. I didn't think for a moment that he would even remember, let alone bother.
However, when I walked into the classroom on Tuesday, I clocked Kurt starightaway.
And the pencil case he'd brought in with him.
Not exactly a towering inferno, but I managed to douse those few flickering flames. Our Training Provider would be proud...
Wednesday, 19 October 2011
Monday, 17 October 2011
Day 31 - Day Release
I'm really not that turned on by vampire lust, but when I was offered the chance to accompany a Year 10 Media class to a Schools' Film Week screening instead of loitering without intent at school on the offchance that someone might be ill and need me to cover their lesson, I accepted the offer.
I'd seen the Swedish version of the film we were going to see, so I was ready for the American interpretation of a story full of blood, death and a sensitive handling of the bullying issue, tempered slightly by what would be referred to as "a tender love story".
What I was not prepared for were the reactions of our pupils who have all the emotional maturity of a shoal of turbot.
Why do teenagers feel compelled to cover up their true feelings by laughing inappropriately? As the solitary and much put upon protagonist, Owen, asks his vampiric heroine if she wants to "go steady", there were gales of laughter. As Abby reaches up to stroke the aging face of her one-time companion to acknowledge all he has done for her, there were hoots and sniggers. As Owen is dragged through the swimming pool changing rooms in his trunks, our moronic audience giggled with glee.
Is it me?
Am I now so old that I have forgotten that I, too, must have snickered along with my peers as they laughed out loud when Leo discovered Marian and Ted making hay while the sun shone in that sweltering summer of 1900...
...or maybe we didn't laugh during that pivotal scene in The Go-Between. Maybe we had a bit of emotional sensitivity back then.
I like to believe we had some sense and knew that laughing out loud to cover up for feelings we didn't understand was inappropriate back in the good ole days of Fifth Form English...
Or it could just be me turning into a cantankerous 40 year old who just doesn't understand the youth she teaches.
I'd seen the Swedish version of the film we were going to see, so I was ready for the American interpretation of a story full of blood, death and a sensitive handling of the bullying issue, tempered slightly by what would be referred to as "a tender love story".
What I was not prepared for were the reactions of our pupils who have all the emotional maturity of a shoal of turbot.
Why do teenagers feel compelled to cover up their true feelings by laughing inappropriately? As the solitary and much put upon protagonist, Owen, asks his vampiric heroine if she wants to "go steady", there were gales of laughter. As Abby reaches up to stroke the aging face of her one-time companion to acknowledge all he has done for her, there were hoots and sniggers. As Owen is dragged through the swimming pool changing rooms in his trunks, our moronic audience giggled with glee.
Is it me?
Am I now so old that I have forgotten that I, too, must have snickered along with my peers as they laughed out loud when Leo discovered Marian and Ted making hay while the sun shone in that sweltering summer of 1900...
...or maybe we didn't laugh during that pivotal scene in The Go-Between. Maybe we had a bit of emotional sensitivity back then.
I like to believe we had some sense and knew that laughing out loud to cover up for feelings we didn't understand was inappropriate back in the good ole days of Fifth Form English...
Or it could just be me turning into a cantankerous 40 year old who just doesn't understand the youth she teaches.
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
Day 28 - Kurt Trundlebury's Plan
Kurt Trundlebury* has a plan. His plan is to behave so badly that he will be transferred to another school, where he believes the teachers aren't as strict and he'll be able to do as he pleases. His plan, however, is flawed. However much the Mail wants people to believe that schools are throwing children out of schools willy nilly, it's actually very difficult to be excluded permanently. In fact, it almost never happens. The most that happens is that you get yourself involved in a "Managed Move" where a school donates one of its naughty children to another school in exchange for one of their naughty children in an attempt to give said naughty children a "Fresh Start".
Kurt's already on Stage 4 of the Pastoral Care system. When he gets to Stage 5, he'll be up before the Governors. They'll get him to admit that he's not a really naughty boy, that he doesn't really want to get thrown out and that he'll try really hard if they give him a chance and that he's sorry he was such a little git.
Then he'll go back to his classes, and be back on report Stage 1 within a few days and so the process will begin again. He'll probably go before the Governors about 6 times after having gone through the Pastoral Care system time and time again before everyone finally admits that maybe a "Managed Move" would be a good idea.
I'd like to manage his move. I'd send him to a magical school, at the top of the tallest tree in the forest, where you have to climb a ladder through the clouds to get there. The School only lands at the top of this magical tree every once in a while and once you're there, you can't run away from it and you can't get away with not doing the impossible work set by its Governor-Teacher. When I was little, I was terrified of ending up at Dame Slap's School for Naughty Children.
I'm willing to bet, though, that Kurt has never had a book read to him in his life, let alone read a whole book himself, so I doubt he has even heard of the Faraway Tree, or Jo, Bessie and Fanny. And even if he had, he probably wouldn't get past page one on which the legendary name "Fanny" is used with gay abandon. Although, actually, I think these days, it's been changed to something fatuous, like Kelsey.
No. Kurt is stuck here for the time being, and although I would love to see Dame Slap get her hands on him, sadly, I'm just going to have to watch him go through the motions of trying to get thrown out.
*not his real name
Kurt's already on Stage 4 of the Pastoral Care system. When he gets to Stage 5, he'll be up before the Governors. They'll get him to admit that he's not a really naughty boy, that he doesn't really want to get thrown out and that he'll try really hard if they give him a chance and that he's sorry he was such a little git.
Then he'll go back to his classes, and be back on report Stage 1 within a few days and so the process will begin again. He'll probably go before the Governors about 6 times after having gone through the Pastoral Care system time and time again before everyone finally admits that maybe a "Managed Move" would be a good idea.
I'd like to manage his move. I'd send him to a magical school, at the top of the tallest tree in the forest, where you have to climb a ladder through the clouds to get there. The School only lands at the top of this magical tree every once in a while and once you're there, you can't run away from it and you can't get away with not doing the impossible work set by its Governor-Teacher. When I was little, I was terrified of ending up at Dame Slap's School for Naughty Children.
I'm willing to bet, though, that Kurt has never had a book read to him in his life, let alone read a whole book himself, so I doubt he has even heard of the Faraway Tree, or Jo, Bessie and Fanny. And even if he had, he probably wouldn't get past page one on which the legendary name "Fanny" is used with gay abandon. Although, actually, I think these days, it's been changed to something fatuous, like Kelsey.
No. Kurt is stuck here for the time being, and although I would love to see Dame Slap get her hands on him, sadly, I'm just going to have to watch him go through the motions of trying to get thrown out.
*not his real name
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
Day 27 - Off the Wall and Under the Table
There was a commotion outside the room in which I was working. I heard the voice of a colleague in need so I went outside to see if I could help. A pupil, with whom I have had "dealings" shall we say, was causing my colleague grief, and she had asked him to stand outside her door. The pupil in question was not able to follow this request, and had repeatedly pushed her door open, poked his nose in through the gap and disrupted as much as he could from that position.
I took him into my little room, the Teachers' Resouce and Preparation Area, and called a member of SMT to take him away.
TwP: Liam*, sit down please.
Liam: No. it's boring.
TwP: Liam, please sit down. There's no-one in here, you can just wait for the end of the lesson.
Liam: No. I don't want to.
He sat down. I continued my work. I heard the door ping. I looked round. Liam was gone. I went to the door, and looked in the corridor. No sign of Liam. Then, I heard a stifled giggle, so I looked under the table. There he was, attempting to hide.
TwP: Liam, come out from under there and sit down.
Liam: No. It's boring. I'd rather stand in the corridor.
He came out from under the table, and started looking round the room.
Liam: What's this room called? Is it your room?
TwP: This is the Teachers' Resource and Preparation Area.
Liam: TRPA? Turpa?
TwP: We could call it the Teachers' Resource Area for Preparation if you prefer to make a real word out of the letters.
Liam: TR...AP. TRAP. But it's not a trap. I can get out of this room any time I like. I know how to do it. You just press this button here. And I know the code to get in. It's easy to work out. How does this work? (pointing to the exit button which releases the door)
TwP: I'm sure you can work that out as well. Please sit down.
Liam: I could break that easy. What's that doing up there? (pointing at a poster in the skylight well) What's the point of putting it up there? No-one will look up there.
TwP: You just did. Please sit down, Liam.
Thankfully, a member of SMT came to pick him up. It took three attempts to get him out of the room, but once he was gone, I became saddened by the notion that children like Liam are becoming commonplace; the norm, rather than the exception. Maybe once that does happen, that there are more disaffected children in schools than hard-working, well-behaved children, or just children who manage to accept what school is all about, then the so-called Mainstream children will finally be "Special" enough to have their educational needs addressed.
*not his real name
I took him into my little room, the Teachers' Resouce and Preparation Area, and called a member of SMT to take him away.
TwP: Liam*, sit down please.
Liam: No. it's boring.
TwP: Liam, please sit down. There's no-one in here, you can just wait for the end of the lesson.
Liam: No. I don't want to.
He sat down. I continued my work. I heard the door ping. I looked round. Liam was gone. I went to the door, and looked in the corridor. No sign of Liam. Then, I heard a stifled giggle, so I looked under the table. There he was, attempting to hide.
TwP: Liam, come out from under there and sit down.
Liam: No. It's boring. I'd rather stand in the corridor.
He came out from under the table, and started looking round the room.
Liam: What's this room called? Is it your room?
TwP: This is the Teachers' Resource and Preparation Area.
Liam: TRPA? Turpa?
TwP: We could call it the Teachers' Resource Area for Preparation if you prefer to make a real word out of the letters.
Liam: TR...AP. TRAP. But it's not a trap. I can get out of this room any time I like. I know how to do it. You just press this button here. And I know the code to get in. It's easy to work out. How does this work? (pointing to the exit button which releases the door)
TwP: I'm sure you can work that out as well. Please sit down.
Liam: I could break that easy. What's that doing up there? (pointing at a poster in the skylight well) What's the point of putting it up there? No-one will look up there.
TwP: You just did. Please sit down, Liam.
Thankfully, a member of SMT came to pick him up. It took three attempts to get him out of the room, but once he was gone, I became saddened by the notion that children like Liam are becoming commonplace; the norm, rather than the exception. Maybe once that does happen, that there are more disaffected children in schools than hard-working, well-behaved children, or just children who manage to accept what school is all about, then the so-called Mainstream children will finally be "Special" enough to have their educational needs addressed.
*not his real name
Friday, 7 October 2011
Days 24 & 25 - 3 down, 4 to go
On Day 24, I covered lessons for a member of my own department. On Day 25, I covered lessons for another member of my own department and as I recall, earlier on in this whole bizarre term, I covered lessons for the teacher who was given the job for which I applied... So, I have been 3 teachers from my own department so far. I now make it my personal quest to be the other 4 at one time or another for at leason one lesson by Christmas, including the teacher who has been employed to teach the classes I would have been teaching this term had I not applied to complete a sabbatical term or indeed, applied for a job in a Crown Dependency...
If you can work that one out, well done.
My head's spinning. I'm feeling slightly personality-disordered. Just pass me a shot and call me Sybil.
If you can work that one out, well done.
My head's spinning. I'm feeling slightly personality-disordered. Just pass me a shot and call me Sybil.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
Day 23 - Contradictory Idiocy
I was supervising the Community Action Project group again today. I supervise two groups of Year 9 students who have all been removed from French lessons because of, and let's make no bones about this, their poor behaviour which means that they are "disadvantaging other students" to use the pc terminology. What I really mean is "disruptive little blighters" (and that's being polite). They talked over each other constantly, talked over the tutor, refused to take part in the Team Building exercises and generally acted like the feral creatures everybody believes them to be.
So when the tutor eventually called them on their behaviour, the exchange went something like this:
Tutor: You said earlier that all the teachers just shout at you and it doesn't make any difference.
Pupil 1: Yeah. We're used to it so it don't have any affect on us.
Pupil 2: Yeah, it just goes in through one ear and out the other.
Pupil 3: I don't even listen no more. It's not worth it. I don't care.
Pupil 1: They just shouts all the time.
Tutor: So I'm not going to shout at you, because I know it won't have the slightest effect. But you lot are behaving appallingly today. You're not listening to each other and you're being so rude.
(During this statement, Pupil 3 attempted to interrupt the Tutor after almost every word she said. It was almost as if he couldn't stop himself)
Pupil 1: They treats us like...like...we're a child. They don't respect us.
Tutor: But you don't have any respect for them either. Or for each other.
Pupil 1: They expect us to behave like adults, but we're not, we're children!
Tutor: They don't expect you to behave like adults, but they certainly don't expect you to be so childish still. You know how to behave.
Pupil 3: Yeah, but we gets angry sometimes.
Tutor: So what could you do about that? To manage your anger?
Pupil 3: Go to Anger Management.
Tutor: Yes. Good.
Pupil 3: But I don't go to Anger Management.
Tutor: But you could manage your anger. If you know you're going to be angry, you can do something about it. You don't have to give in to it.
Pupil 3: Yeah, but I don't go to Anger Management.
Tutor: Listen, I am seething with boiling rage at the moment, but I'm managing to control it.
Pupil 3: But we gets angry.
And so on. The session ended soon after that with the Assistant Head's arrival and a threat that next week's session would be cancelled.
I'm not entirely certain that any of the group would be that bothered.
So when the tutor eventually called them on their behaviour, the exchange went something like this:
Tutor: You said earlier that all the teachers just shout at you and it doesn't make any difference.
Pupil 1: Yeah. We're used to it so it don't have any affect on us.
Pupil 2: Yeah, it just goes in through one ear and out the other.
Pupil 3: I don't even listen no more. It's not worth it. I don't care.
Pupil 1: They just shouts all the time.
Tutor: So I'm not going to shout at you, because I know it won't have the slightest effect. But you lot are behaving appallingly today. You're not listening to each other and you're being so rude.
(During this statement, Pupil 3 attempted to interrupt the Tutor after almost every word she said. It was almost as if he couldn't stop himself)
Pupil 1: They treats us like...like...we're a child. They don't respect us.
Tutor: But you don't have any respect for them either. Or for each other.
Pupil 1: They expect us to behave like adults, but we're not, we're children!
Tutor: They don't expect you to behave like adults, but they certainly don't expect you to be so childish still. You know how to behave.
Pupil 3: Yeah, but we gets angry sometimes.
Tutor: So what could you do about that? To manage your anger?
Pupil 3: Go to Anger Management.
Tutor: Yes. Good.
Pupil 3: But I don't go to Anger Management.
Tutor: But you could manage your anger. If you know you're going to be angry, you can do something about it. You don't have to give in to it.
Pupil 3: Yeah, but I don't go to Anger Management.
Tutor: Listen, I am seething with boiling rage at the moment, but I'm managing to control it.
Pupil 3: But we gets angry.
And so on. The session ended soon after that with the Assistant Head's arrival and a threat that next week's session would be cancelled.
I'm not entirely certain that any of the group would be that bothered.
Tuesday, 4 October 2011
Day 21 - Free Lessons
What is it about our schoolchildren that, as soon as they set eyes on a supply teacher, they immediately assume they are going to get a "free lesson" and that they will not have to do any work?
Luckily, I was covering for a colleague who sets work for her classes if she knows she is going to be away, so I had a full collection of lessons to teach - a dream scenario! This is not always the case. Even when teachers know they are going to be on courses, they sometimes neglect to leave work for their classes to complete, mainly because they know it doesn't always get done - and what's the point of spending time planning for and setting work that does not ultimately get done?
So, when I was greeted with the usual chant "Have we got a free lesson?" I was able to say quite categorically that there was work set and they would be completing it.
Which they did and I was able to realise the dream!
Luckily, I was covering for a colleague who sets work for her classes if she knows she is going to be away, so I had a full collection of lessons to teach - a dream scenario! This is not always the case. Even when teachers know they are going to be on courses, they sometimes neglect to leave work for their classes to complete, mainly because they know it doesn't always get done - and what's the point of spending time planning for and setting work that does not ultimately get done?
So, when I was greeted with the usual chant "Have we got a free lesson?" I was able to say quite categorically that there was work set and they would be completing it.
Which they did and I was able to realise the dream!
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