You need another two years...

I made a mad decision last Monday, and submitted an application which resulted in two nights awful sleep, many ciders (you'll find that cider is a common theme in this blog), two interviews, and all to apply for an internal promotion to Head of Maths.

I know, it's rather ridiculous, right? At the end of this academic year I'll have been in teaching for four years (technically - teacher training counts) and at St James for three years. That alone is a scary thought, and if you couple it with the fact that I'm only 24 years old it all gets a bit much (in fact, I'm only just closer to 25 than I am to 23. Now it's getting stupid).

Anyway. After much support and encouragement from my colleagues, I sent a cover letter to the Headmaster and was invited to interview two days later. Thus the bad sleep and the late night practice of A-level/Further Maths Calculus and Trigonometry (a trademark of my current Head of Department's interview technique... start by smashing the morale with a really hard maths question and then ask 'Why do you think you're suitable for this job?' 'I JUST DON'T KNOW ANY MORE')

It was very odd interviewing for an internal post. I mean, I couldn't embellish the truth even just a little bit. 'Oh yes, why I believe it's important to teach Sixth Form Mathematics outside the classroom regularly' (translation: I accompanied them to a day of Maths lectures that one time. Where I got a signed book from Simon Singh about the maths that appears in the Simpsons and in Futurama)

Ahahahahaaa.... Dog in a box. Hehehe.... that's excellent.

This joke was in tonight's episode actually. The book is really worth a read!

Anyway. It was a very emotional and soul-searching experience, to write the cover letter for this job. There were moments of realisation that actually, I'd achieved quite a lot in my time at St James. I'd registered my interest in the school quite early by pushing to be the Head of a House, and also by offering to teach one class of Year 9 Physics three times a week last year (some of the experiments I made up were quite hilarious). I have a Year 7 Form this year, and have been rather heavily involved in the Music side of things. But there were, however, times of great self-doubt and wishing I'd pushed to do more to make myself a more credible candidate for a Head of Department job.

 My mindset for most of the build-up to decision time was that I didn't really have a shot at this position, Until I heard that the other two candidates didn't have any Head of Maths experience either, and following my disaster-free interviews I started to think that, maybe, I was in with a chance.

It wasn't to be unfortunately. I think this is right, it is quite early to be considering Head of Department (although I vehemently argued in my interview when asked the question 'I think you need another two years of teaching, don't you?' with 'Two years of teaching would make me a better teacher... but if I'm right for Head of Maths in two years, surely I'm ready now? I'm not going to gain management experience if I go the next two years without it, surely?') Which might just illustrate my naivety.

It was such a worthwhile thing to do, nevertheless. I look forward to receiving feedback on my probably slightly stupid interview answers - 'How would you deal with this particular member of staff, for example, if he were to disagree with your decisions about the Scheme of Work?' 'TELL THEM WHERE TO STICK IT.'

It's all a matter of timing

One of the main things I struggled with as a new teacher was managing my time.

There are a lot of contentious news articles which have been floating around the inter-webs for a long time now, with regards to teacher working hours. Most teaching contracts specify a given time-frame in which you are expected to be in the building (office?) but also usually include something like the following:

"such reasonable hours as may be necessary to enable the effective discharge of a teacher's professional duties"

When I first came across this in my job contract I remember thinking it might be a bit dodge. Basically "you'll just have to work until the work is done" which I now know rarely ever is. At the start I would spend hours and hours trying to perfect one lesson plan, which carried on into my NQT year (see previous blog post: I never knew lesson planning was so hard)

The thing that makes the issue of teacher working hours so difficult to argue is that you can essentially choose the amount of time you spend working on this job, outside of 'office hours'. Obviously there is a minimum which ensures you are doing the job sufficiently, but if you're working up to a promotion (or if you're young and child-free like myself) it's very easy to be in school from 7am-6pm every day, and then take extra stuff home to do for an hour or two each evening. And of course everybody is different; the amount of time you spend on your work doesn't necessarily mean you do it better. Although I think it's safe to say there's a weak positive correlation (scatter graph lesson ideas, anyone? You're welcome)

If you're extremely foolish (as my colleague likes to remind me every day) you could find yourself in the orchestra of the school musical, adding an extra 16 hours onto your working week. That was an interesting 80-hour week.

That's my beautiful arm there. Bottom right, in case you didn't know what my arm looked like.

The main thing I've needed to develop in this career is flexibility. No not that kind, you naughty thing. But the ability to prioritise, and know when perhaps a certain task (like Y10 reports this morning...) might need to wait because there's an issue in your Year 7 Form group, pertaining to certain individuals repeating the rubbish they've heard the Y10's spouting. I'm certainly not looking forward to explaining what a 'blowjob' is to boys who haven't even gone through puberty yet.

Some days are quiet, and you can get through everything you planned to. Other days you're stuck with double cover, 6 e-mails from concerned parents, a further emergency cover because another teacher has an emergency meeting with a concerned parent, late homework trickling in from last week to mark (dammit Y11) and a broken coffee machine (never forget - September 2014)

And I think the desire to gain some sort of relaxed time at home each evening means I complete these tasks with ever-increasing speed and efficiency. She said, while spilling and then sipping cider from her laptop keyboard.

Crikey O'Reilly Inspector!

'Crikey O'Reilly' because, my sources inform me that it has been almost 3 years since I last made a record of an inner rambling, or voiced any thoughts, with regards to my teaching career. These same sources also inform me that many people believe that O'Reilly must have been 'an Irishman with extravagantly large trousers'. Hmm.

Anyway. Let us peek into where I last left off my blogging diary; a fresh-faced, 22-year old completes her PGCE successfully, and starts a new job as an NQT (that's a Nooly Qualified Teacher for all you teaching noobs out there) at St James Senior Boys School in September 2013. Here it is again for your viewing pleasure...

It's quite nice isn't it.

And I am in fact, still there. More recent shenanigans will have to wait until later; I think the best place to start might be the actual NQT year itself.

So talk about baptism of fire! 6 weeks into the new term at the new job at the new school, with a new Headmaster, and we were faced with an Inspection. I mean, I'd only just learned the kid's names by that point, and where the toilets were. I'd known Y11 Ralph's* (name change again) name since Day 1... that kid who seemed to have lost his pencilcase to the Ashford-based criminally-inclined raccoon who was in the area yesterday. The same kid who lent his sister his calculator for her Maths exam... every day for four weeks straight. " Exactly how many Maths exams does your sister have Ralph?"

So, Inspection looms. A distinct memory I have of that period of time is getting into trouble with the quality of my marking. When you go from 12 lessons a week in your PGCE, to 24 lessons a week in your NQT year, certain areas of 'perfect' teaching seem to suffer (and I think it's different with everyone). Anyway, mine turned out to be my written assessment, and my poor Head of Department had to catch me after the Inspection announcement to, basically, bollock me about the quality of it. That was a lesson well learned - never scrimp on the marking, because you'll have to stay up all night before a 4-day inspection doing it properly.

Inspection week arrives, books are bitchin', lessons are planned (that's a whole other blog post I think) and everyone's on eggshells. Exhausted, while running on adrenaline, highly anxious, and close to tears much of the time, I didn't think I'd manage to make it through. But then this wonderful anecdote passes around the staffroom which made me forget my troubles for about 3 seconds.

A colleagues observation, and a certain rather cocky, sometimes disrespectful pupil is late to the lesson. While walking down the corridor to his classroom he sees at a distance one of the inspectors, seemingly bound for his lesson. By way of warning to his teacher, he dances his way into the classroom singing 'doo doo doo doo doo.... Inspector Gadget...' before realising that another inspector is already in the room, and the lesson has already begun. This set my mind at ease about my own lesson observation, obviously. Surely this could only be topped by a pupil coming in singing 'Ding, Dong the Witch is Dead'.

But survive, I did. Complete successful observation of Y11 on Thursday P6+7 (the graveyard slot), I did. And learn an awful lot, I bloody did. Because what I came to learn about teaching through most of that NQT year, was that unfortunately to be an excellent teacher takes experience. And obviously if you're a new teacher, you don't have that experience. The key is how quickly you're able to learn from an awful lesson you've delivered, how insightful you are into what actually went wrong, and what can be done to improve the next lesson you deliver on fractions where last time you forgot to recap how to multiply two single-digit numbers together because you thought that EVERY CHILD IN THE LAND knew their times tables.

I think meta-cognition and self-awareness should be taught in all schools, don't you? And times tables.

The Haunting

Last time, on A Student Teacher's Inner Thoughts and Ramblings; I was a day and a half away from finishing my 2nd placement at Haberdasher Aske's, and embarking on a final month of university-based learning. Once again, my incredible skills at regular blogging have meant that both these events have now been and gone... both were rather uneventful I suppose.

We at the Maths Department at HAHC carted ourselves off to Cafe Rouge on my last day (which I actually missed, on account of my uveitis flaring up... AGAIN. I wasn't teaching anyway, praise the Lord for KS3 exams), and I received presents! An awesome Maths book (if that's possible), chocolate (always good) ... and a stack of exam papers to mark, that my top-set Year 7 Boys had taken that day >.< wrapped in pretty paper and everything. Cunningly disguised.

So that was the end of May. A few days later I left Crewdson Road, and moved myself to my grandmothers attic in Peckham Rye. An intermittent before I find a new place nearer Ashford, ready for my start date at St. James on the 30th August. And yeah I'm still there, 2 months on. Turns out finding a flat is harder than you'd think...

Peckham Rye. You know, that place that's dangerously close to New Cross? Within the catchment area for HAHC? 

This has resulted in some really awkward chance-meetings with ex-pupils. 

The first: cycling through Peckham Rye Park. I heard a folorn voice which spake thus; "Hullo Miss Mitchell", from an old Year 7 pupil. I was going too fast to stop so I just carried on. 

The second: me exiting Peckham McDonalds, McFlurry in hand, on one of those beautiful July days we've had this year. I encountered one of my Problem Children from my Year 9 class, fortunately with his mum. He didn't say anything. Just glared. Who wouldn't, when I have a McFlurry and they don't?

The third: me exiting one of those suspicious clothes shops, the ones where it looks like everything fell off the back of a lorry? (Ironically it was called 'Loot') Another folorn voice. "Hiiii Miss Mitchell" - another Year 7. Shouldn't they be hanging around somewhere other than Peckham?

Putting that unpleasant business behind us. I've been for my induction day at St. James! I've also been given my classes and timetable and everything:

Year 7, Set 2 of 4

Year 8, Set 2 of 4

Year 9, Set 1 of 4 

Year 10, Set 4 of 4

Year 11, Set 4 of 5

Year 12, A-level Core 1 and 2.

I was also lucky enough to be given my own classroom... 

So, 4 weeks exactly and counting. Time to plan some lessons I think... haha. Any ideas for a good 'first lesson of the year'? I've not had the chance to do something like this yet!

Celebration in T-1.5 days...

Once again I have demonstrated my extreme lack of ability to keep a regular blog of my teaching experience, but not to worry. Here is a shiny new post for your reading pleasure.

So my time at HAHC (that's Haberdasher Aske's Hatcham College for those of you who don't know) is fast approaching its conclusion. Today is my penultimate day; and I'm over the moon with joy. I'd be more overjoyed if I didn't have problems with my eyes again, but that's another story. Which involves my IoE tutor informing me 20 minutes before my final formal observation last week that she'd got on the wrong train, and was hurtling at 50mph towards Clapham Junction instead of New Cross Gate. And then spending about 10 unneccessary minutes telling me off for saying 'length of circumference' instead of 'circumference'. Apparently circumference is already a measure so I don't need to decribe the length of it. Little does she know that if I'd said just 'find the circumference' the pupils would have no clue what the circumference was depsite talking about it for 10 minutes previously.


So; most of the paperwork is complete (including a rather pleasing end-of-placement report) and weekly mentor meeting logs are being fabricated as we speak. The IoE are eagerly awaiting my return on Thursday, and I've taken the liberty of writing a list of "Things that Teachers at Hatcham College don't say" -

• There is a great school Behaviour Policy.
• I find the school's Behaviour Policy very comprehensive and easy to implement.
• I just love waiting 20 minutes for the mini-bus that runs between the upper and lower school. And the drivers are so respectful towards life.
• It's highly amusing and heart-warming when Year 7's call each other racist, rapist and paedo.
• That dinner-lady is so meek and quiet you'd hardly know she was outside the office window at all times every day.
• I love the smell of fried chicken and brill cream on the bus to/from school.
• Aren't the children lovely.

Also doubles up as a list of things I'm not going to miss once I've left.

It's quite odd to think that as of tomorrow, I will supposedly have done enough teaching practice to qualify as a Maths Teacher. Not an ST (student teacher) or a BT (beginner teacher). An NQT (newly-qualified teacher), yes, but still a qualified teacher. I've finally got over feeling like I'm too young; that I don't have enough life experience or authority to lead a class, because I've proven myself wrong time and time again over this placement. And I've even stood up to the bullies.

Not bully teachers. Bully pupils. I've had a few flashbacks to my own school life, especially when that girl blocked my way in the door and said;

"Errr, YOU can't come through here!"

Here's the look I gave.

Exactly. Move aside small being. Another example of a thing I'm not going to miss when I leave.

But I think I am going to miss it, generally and in all honesty. Despite its quaint ways and ever so welcoming atmosphere. I'm particularly going to miss my top-set Year 7 Boys class - it was so good to do stuff which was well above their curriculum level with them, which some of them understood (such as Algebra - equations with unknowns on both sides. I have seen many, many examples of Year 11's who could not do this) and it was so nice to hear all of them cry out with dismay when I told them I was leaving. As opposed to my Year 9 Boys class;



"So tomorrow's my last lesson with you"

"...Yay."

- was the honest-to-God solitary response. Ungrateful beings.

Onto bigger and better things, methinks.

New placement. New rules...

Oh dear. I'm not very good at this blogging malarkey am I? 17th January was the last one... Using my marvelous Mathematical skills I can tell you that was over a month ago.

So since then, much has happened. After finishing at Norbury Manor I was delighted, nay, thrilled, at the prospect of having sessions at IoE again. We welcomed each other back like comrades after war, we swapped harrowing tales of misdemeanour and rudeness, fights and confrontations, and bitchy rumours about other student teachers. But we had survived Placement 1 without failure or 'Cause for Concern', every student teacher's nightmare. We also had celebratory hummus after sessions.

Two weeks flew past and before we knew it we were back in school once again, for School Placement 2. I'm sure I mentioned it previously but my new school is Haberdasher Aske's Hatcham College in New Cross... formerly a Girls Grammar, then a mixed yet still selective state school, now a fully fledged mixed comprehensive academy in the heart of New Cross. Did I mention it's in New Cross. Wedged between Peckham and Lewisham? That's the one.

I'm actually 5 weeks into the placement now. During my time here I've discovered lots of new things about teaching and teachers and pupils and things. Mostly about what it's like to work in a school where hardly any of the other teachers want to be there. The pupils aren't actually that bad at all - obviously there are some pains in the backside and some with filthy attitudes to learning and teachers in general...

"Miss she never teaches us! All she does is go through an example on the board and then get us to do questions! Sometimes we do other stuff too, like games and activities and that, but she doesn't know how to teach us properly!"

Some kids these days. Don't know they're born.

I think what's mainly so difficult at this placement is the attitudes of the other teachers and members of staff here. Early on in my placement, one lunchtime, I found myself sitting among a throng of teaching assistants while we were all eating some lunch. The conversation quickly turned to the morning's lessons;

"Oh my god, today I was in this student teacher's lesson. She was so shit, she couldn't keep them under control."
"Yeah I know. These student teachers are rubbish, and they always look down on us. They don't know anything about teaching."

No shit Sherlock. Obviously they didn't know I was a student teacher, but I just couldn't help getting annoyed. Doesn't the phrase 'student teacher' tell you something? We're not even qualified - of course we know fuck all!

In addition to this, there is something that feels so... lax, about the attitudes of the other teachers. At Norbury, all the Maths teachers cared about their lessons; even if they had 7 lessons in one day, they would still make the effort to make some of their lessons different, and interesting. Caroline and I were always remarking about how much pressure we felt there was to match up to their standards, and as a result our lesson plans are now top-notch. But here, most lessons aren't even thought about until they arrive. It's a case of 'open the textbook, here's a topic we haven't done yet, do example, sit back while pupils get on with it'.

And the nightmare of the student teacher: I'd planned a double lesson (that's 1h40) for a Year 8 on Probability. Only to discover they had already done it earlier in the year, and the class teacher couldn't be bothered to remember, or check my lesson plan and tell me that they had already covered it. Did he help me out at that point? Did he fuck. I then exemplified the typical Hatcham Maths teacher, chose another topic out of the textbook, did an example altogether, and let them get on with it. But what did they expect me to do? Pull out another lesson from the bag that I'd done last year? I've been doing this for under 20 weeks.

Oh well. I'm learning a lot about Behaviour Management. Like the fact that no-one knows how to help me deal with it. I don't think this is anyone's fault, really. So I'm partly still trying to find my own way, but I'm just so glad I'm only here for another 5 weeks after Easter.

Hopefully I won't need it. For my NQT year at St James' Senior School for Boys!

Quite simply can't wait.

And so Placement 1 comes to an end...

Oh dear Lord. One more week and one more day, and my time at Norbury Manor will be at an end.

I know, it's so sad.

Despite all my ramblings about how this placement has been the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my entire life, I really don't want to leave! I'm only just getting used to the way things are done; I know all my pupil's names (mostly), I know the sanctions/reward system, I know the school day almost instinctively and I wake up 1/2 minutes before my alarm goes off every day. That's some serious school-day instinct.

And as I suspected, things are getting easier. No longer is it taking me 2/3 hours to plan one lesson - I can knock out an emergency wholly textbook-based lesson in under 20 minutes, which is always useful. I'm even managing to fit in some time in the evenings to chill at home (!) I know, shock horror!

However things are still challenging. It's strange - my mood seems to go in a cycle week to week, really good and upbeat for one week, the next week I seriously consider leaving the course and everything feels like a farce. But this is better than feeling like the latter all the time (like I did before), there are moments when I really, really enjoy this job.

This feels like a good time to reflect on a particularly horrid bottom-set Year 10 lesson from Tuesday.  Things started of badly from last week, when I handed back their Christmas Test Papers for them to discover they all achieved between 32% and 48%, with the exception of two very hard-working girls who got 64% and 70%. The mood in the class was sour; no-one could accept that Felicia* (name change again) had got 70% without cheating or having extra help from someone.

In actual fact she did get help from someone - her school teachers. Despite being orphaned at a terribly young age, in care and from a different country altogether, she really makes a mammoth effort to succeed. She stays behind at lunchtimes and after school, to make use of extra Maths sessions that we hold for all pupils, and was so worried about the test that she was in tears on the day of the test. And as a result she scored highest in the exam and is moving up sets. And guess who's the most furious about the whole situation?

The return of Shania

I've just come to realise what a nasty piece of work Shania is. She is not in the slightest bit pleased about Felicia scoring top of the class, and herself only scoring 42% (almost bottom). As a result she has been an absolute nightmare in lessons, and last Tuesday was the worst. She made no effort to understand the work, and was up and out of her seat almost constantly, doing her African dancing and singing. I could hear her making sly, underhand comments about those around her, and kept claiming "My bones hurt, I fell down the stairs". Which I knew was a lie, but if you say that doesn't it just causes a further confrontation...?

The others were hardly any better, making comments like "Miss I REALLY don't want to be here! No-one's listening to you, I don't understand the work and I can't be bothered! Why do we have to learn this?"

... you know when you have those moments, where you can feel yourself emulating a figure of the past? It was this moment when I personified my old teachers and said;

"This will be on your GCSE exam. I'm not doing this for my benefit, I've already got my Maths GCSE."

... which I think has made them hate me slightly. But it's OK, I've only got to teach them last lesson this Friday... >.< we'll see how that goes.

In other news, I have an interview for a Maths NQT position at Wembley High Technology College! The sheer fright of it all. I'd better prepare an answer to the question "Why did you want to become a teacher?" because honestly I've got no idea...