Woke up today with snotty nose and a head that was trying to thump in time to the birdsong outside. Was late getting to school, so much so that I had to ring for a taxi…more expenses and I still haven’t paid the electricity bill. I’ll have to do that tommorrow. I just want to curl up and go to sleep.
I wonder what the discipline consequences of having a slight asthmatic episode in front of a class are? I’m sure I shall find out with 8R next week. Some bint was spraying perfume, next thing I know I had two lads sent out to get Mrs. Holbrook in and I’m running for outside with my inhaler.
‘Are you all right Miss?’ said in tones of false concern by every single bloody pupil that I pass.
No I’m bloody not, I ‘m working in a place I hate doing things with children that I hate because I can’t get them to concentrate for more than ten minutes at a time. I’m shit at what I’m doing because I have no idea how to interest these children, nothing seems to work, bright colours, bribes, writing on the board, not writing on the board. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong but thats largely because I don’t seem to be doing anything right. My discipline is shot to pieces. They don’t turn up to the detentions I give them, they cheek me when I do give them detentions and when I write slips to their head of year they couldn’t care less. They don’t care if I give them house points, sweets or smiley stickers. They don’t want to be in an art lesson; the ones that chose to do art for GCSE didn’t understand that they had to be silent in their exam; the ones that chose to do art for A Level have no experience of drawing because in the lower years no one paid any attention to the teacher; ok I’m exagerating here and putting my own failings onto others.
I’m shit at this job. And my head hurts. The Jellicle gets home today and I’m in need of lots and lots of cuddling.
I’m sure the other teachers think I just couldn’t cope anymore and I faked the asthma attack.
I think I’m becoming paranoid.
It’s probably not just you if the other staff are a bunch of wasters.
Take a look at your school’s Ofsted report and see what it says about where you are, particularly its attitude to Art.
I had a look at my old school’s report a few days ago (the head’s recently resigned because he was singled out for blame when it was put into special measures). I never realised how bad the school was when I was there (I had no frame of reference), but I agreed with every single point in the report.
Take a look. It could be the school that sucks, not you.
Very true, Mr Archangel.
I took art in Year 9 because I loved it; well and truely, and I got stuck with 8 other kids that took it because they knew the teacher was shit and they could get away with anything. She was crap. And d’ya know whats worse? She didn’t care half as much as you do about your kids. This bitch wasn’t at all intrested in developing pupils ideas, she just wanted them to do what she thought was right or what she wanted to do. Or what she had done for *her* degree! Pathetic!
For GCSE, I did what I wanted. I didn’t give a shit about her. And I got a C, and I was gutted because I knew I should have got an A. Then for AS I listened to every word she said, grudgingly because I thought I might get a better grade and I got a U. That broke my heart.
You care about your pupils. I know it’s going to be hard but pick out the "special" pupils, who do work and who do listen to what you say and work with them. They will be the ones who appriciate you helping them.
No shit now, but I wish I had someone who cares as much as you do as my teacher when I was doing GCSE and A-level. Being a teacher changes peoples lives; you have the power to do that, and I bloody respect you for it coz I could never do it.
I love you,Miss Liddle 🙂