The classroom becomes tiny. The troublemakers even though you move them away from their neighbours seem to be able to span the gaps with ever growing ease. Your hard earned behaviour management tactics and tricks all prove fruitless.
You are f*cked.
I had one of these last period today. Year eight monsters. It left me feeling like I was right back at the start of my training again. Like the past year had been a dream and I was starting all over. I felt totally depressed afterwards and once again questioned why I chose to do this for a job. It gives you a real crisis of confidence.
Still I came home and a black man was elected as the President of the United States of America and that cheered me up a bit.
Then I had some of my wife's homemade soup. Things were looking up for sure.
I sit here now some five hours after the event and can turn to the reason why I started this blog. These days happen. These lessons happen but some things that the kids do make things better.
I remembered a year seven class I had last week. On that day they were tiny little bundles of joy and hilarity.
They were doing some sketching in their workbooks and as I walked round the room I saw one of the boys ask to look at his neighbours book. He then jumped off his seat and loudly exclaimed "oh man that is sick bruv. That is well gangster!"
Intrigued, I approached to examine further the source of his rousing approval.
I'm not sure gangster would have exactly been the first adjective to cross my lips.
I guess that's the funny thing about these kids. When I am off school for half term or summer holidays in my mind the troublesome ones begin to seem massive. Towering hulks.
Then you come back and they are so small.
Things come out of their mouths and they sound like adults but they are still just little kids. Tough kids but kids nonetheless.
So just like Obama said tonight I'll pick myself up, dust myself off and head back in tomorrow to start over again.
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