This week

We did the heart dissections. A revelation.

I rang home about the positive progress of a student, and the next day when he arrived in my lesson, he thanked me very seriously for calling his parents. Then he informed the class that his father was so happy about this phone-call that he bought him the new iPhone 5. Ahem. The student was a young thirteen. If even.

I experienced my first Ofsted inspection, and decided that I will never be afraid of them again. I tend to teach better lessons when I am being natural and spontaneous and just being myself with the students, and when I feel under scrutiny, I can get a little robotic and/or panicked. It totally depends on the inspector, because I had the loveliest lady inspector in teaching college, and I performed really well in those lessons. But I am not going to let anyone intimidate me, I will teach and if they want to watch me, I will pretend they are not there.

Boom.

I got about five minutes in total all week to eat lunch, because I am having to set detentions and spend my lunchtime chatting to students about how we can work out solutions to help them concentrate/talk less/do their work more. I actually quite enjoy this “detention” time because it allows me to get to know students who would otherwise only see the exasperated side of me, and I find after one of our chats they usually come around and we see an improvement in the next few lessons. I get all disappointed-mummy on them and they usually come through.

I had two little boys who could not stop giggling. GIGGLING. Dissolving into hiccups for no reason. Head collapsing into a pile of arms and helplessly bobbing chin, with no apparent cause and no apparent cure. In lessons, in detention, no cure. Giggles. Because I was starting to catch the giggle bug, and I had to leave the room from time to time to stop my own giggles, I made them write out the following sentence twenty times. And then I had to leave the room again for air.

“I will maintain a serious countenance at all times in lessons.”

Old-fashioned, hardcore, LINES.

It worked.

For about fifteen minutes.

And then as soon as I looked at one of them to tell them they could leave, they lost the plot again. I grinned and told them to getouttahere.

 

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