Week off.

I’m on bloody half term. Ace. I should be working really, so I can carry on the next half seamlessly. Also we’ve got the LEA in soon to look at spreadsheets. Again. I also have a niggling voice at the back of my head telling me that OFSTED are about to strike, we last had them drop in for tea and biscuits two years ago so we’re due another.

The last week of the half term was busy. Spent most of it worrying about a day’s work I’d put together for three year groups about the life and times of Lord Nelson. I won’t bore you with the details but it involved tasting authentic naval food of the 18thC (salt beef, peas, porridge and lime juice). The kids hated the food, which was the point, and one even went so far as to spew it all over the floor. Still, I’m not surprised. I reckon it was the single fucking pea the chubby little brat ate. Probably not used to eating green stuff. I also spent an evening grieving over a deceased rodent.

Kevin is, as you’d expect, going from strength to strength. He’s on a strict ‘no swearing’ regime and is now spending the remainder of his lunch breaks with me from the point of his detected swear onwards. I’m hoping he’ll learn to push back his swears further and further until, finally, he can go a whole lunch break without profanity. He got busted last week sticking his crazy little head through a gap in the fence which separates his playground and the nursery/reception kids and calling them all ’shit-babies’. I like the term, and shall use it myself. I’m surprised I haven’t had too many parental complaints yet. But they’ll come, oh yes.