October 19, 2008
Chipz is getting harder to write. I’m just not finding it easy to find the time at the end of the day anymore. Partly because I’ve joined a gym…healthy body, healthy mind and all that. I was getting fat and out of shape. Actually no, I am fat and out of shape. Working in a classroom isn’t the most athletic thing you can do with your day, and now that I’ve got a new interactive board I’m spending more and more lesson time sitting on my ever expanding arse. It’s low down y’see, the board, not my arse. This is so that the kids can come and write on it. So instead of old fashioned, stand-up chalk n’ talk it’s now sit-down touch-screen. Also, and Napoleon will smirk at this (or bluster in outrage) I’m actually working a bit harder this year…just don’t fancy writing this at the end of a long day. I’ll keep going, for all my loyal reader. Not that you give a fuck. You bastard.
The rat’s still alive by the way. Just.
Parents evening(s) went well. I’ve got a good bunch of parents this year. Not like the knuckle-trailing, baby-popping, fighting, screeching lot I had last year. As a result the evenings were very easy. Tell them where their kids are academically (with the help of numerous spreadsheets) and where I hope they’ll end up by July. The sort of target setting bollocks the likes of Ed Balls gets a stiffy for. Easy.
Kevin’s settled in. I know this because he’s now swearing at children quite a lot. I’ve never heard him though. I don’t think he’d ever do it in front of me…he regards me with a sort of feral wariness, or clings to me, depending on his mood. He pulled a blinder last week though. He spent one lunchtime smearing food on another boy, slapping him and (by all accounts) calling him a “fucker”. I only found out because his dreadful mother came storming in the next morning to have a go at the Head. Like it was her fault. To the mother’s surprise I not only bollocked Kev but had a go at her son for not telling an adult but saving it up for Mother that evening (some kids do this…always the ones with the kick-off mums, they learn to enjoy the firework display) and then gave her some because she told me he ‘knows he has to tell a teacher’ and I’d found out this was a constant problem last year. She told me it wouldn’t happen again. Good, although I don’t believe her. Can’t stand children who use their shit-stirring mothers to carry out some shit-stirring of their own.
Kevin’s main contributions to lessons is to yell out “toilet!”, “drink!” or “is it lunchtime?” (regardless of time of day or whether or not he’s already eaten lunch). I had a teacher in to model a cutting edge maths lesson for the children this week. It was brilliant and she had the children (of all abilities) doing some great thinking and the pace was excellent. Right at the point where all the kids where on the verge of making a huge leap in their learning the cry of “toilet!” went up (I hadn’t had time to warn her). Fantastic! She only stalled for a microsecond, professional that she is, as I told him to be quiet (he’d just been, he just wanted to escape), and then she asked a question about pets as she was making a pictogram of the pets that the children in the class have. The children were putting their hands up, she’d point at them and they’d respond with something like “I’ve got a dog and a budgie”, and the data was going onto the board at a great pace. Good old Kev then buggered the whole thing up. He had his hand up, was waving it about, was making those desperate noises and faces that children of that age do when they desperately want to speak to the teacher. She couldn’t ignore him anymore and pointed at him. He couldn’t contain his information any longer and yelled at the top of his voice, “I’ve got stripy socks on!” The whole thing crashed to a halt as he stood up and pulled up his trousers to show the class. I laughed like a fucking drain.