There were workmen outside my classroom all day today making a God awful, droning noise with some seriously heavy machinery. Coupled with twenty-eight frisky and highly strung nine year olds, the hullabaloo has infiltrated my brain cells and led to localised swelling in the frontal lobe.
There is no university subject schooling prospective teachers on the unpredictability of student behaviour dependent on variables such as; the end of term, the weather, birthdays and the teacher’s fragile emotional vulnerability at any particular time.
On windy days the teachers will shuffle into the staffroom, not making eye contact with anyone and head straight for the coffee jar. “It must be the wind,” they will wheeze, “Little Joel Blackmore just sucked on a gel pen and had red ink oozing out of his mouth. I thought it was blood and sent him up to first aid and the office ladies are p*ssed off with me.”
Rainy days are just as bad. The minute it begins to pour down the whole class has an urgent need to go to the toilet. Of course we teachers are all clued up and know that all they really want to do is walk around in the rain and get as wet as they possibly can. That way when they return to the classroom they are so saturated all their classmates laugh at them when they appear at the doorway looking like a drowned rat.
Personally I don’t let them go to the toilet until the third request and they have to be jiggling around like a Riverdance performer on speed before I even give them the benefit of the doubt.
The end of first term is a different story entirely; the teacher is damaged property. Already sapped of the will to live by the shock of having to get into the groove after Christmas break, we are effortlessly crushed by the unrelenting enthusiasm of a large group of Easter bunny aficionados.
The end of first term is a different story entirely; the teacher is damaged property. Already sapped of the will to live by the shock of having to get into the groove after Christmas break, we are effortlessly crushed by the unrelenting enthusiasm of a large group of Easter bunny aficionados.
The kids appear at the classroom door every morning with fistfuls of chocolate ecstasy; farming out their sugary eggs to all and sundry, fuelling the already hyperactive individuals with even more vitality and wickedly corrupting the usually calm students.
Kill me now.
Anyway precious readers, my head is hurting so I won’t be writing on my blog tonight!
Kill me now.
Anyway precious readers, my head is hurting so I won’t be writing on my blog tonight!
