- You are never quite sure if your income is going to last the whole month
- It's next to impossible to "have a bad day" - you have to be upbeat all day, every day
- If you are actually sick, you still have to plan your lessons for the day and email them in
- You are not allowed to slap people whose automatic response on hearing what you do is to say "Oh, you have lots of time off then!"
- You are discouraged from expressing your personal views on politics or religion
- You never feel as if you have done enough for your students
- You have to wear business dress in an environment of dropped litter in the corridors and spat-out chewing gum on the carpet
- You have to be able to admit that some of your students are way smarter than you!
- You have to stay politically correct around colleagues who take the piss by being away more than they are there
- You have to keep copious amounts of CYA paperwork, using up time that you'd rather spend planning lessons or marking students' work
Wednesday 29 July 2009
The downsides of teaching
Tuesday 28 July 2009
Reasons to love being a teacher
- You get to sleep late every day for 5-6 weeks in the summer
- You get to work from home (what the non-teaching world regard as holidays) for several weeks a year - great if you have your own children
- You never have to explain why you look exhausted
- You know for a fact that most teenagers are lovely - the minority give them all a bad name
- You know that your work is worthwhile
- You get to accompany school trips to learn really cool stuff
- You discover your own capacity for being positive
- You know that you are capable of working harder than most humans
- You learn about new trends among the youth first-hand - this prevents you seeming like an out-of-touch old fuddy-duddy
- You can get away with wearing fashions that are older than your students - no-one expects teachers to be stylish!
Monday 27 July 2009
Spot the type!
Every school (to be fair, probably every organisation) has the stereotypical characters on staff. Think of your own staffroom - can you identify:
The martyr - the teacher who works later than anyone else, teaches more classes, has more naughty students, does more marking, gets less credit, but never, ever bitches about the job - just walks around looking ragged yet saintly.
The lad - prone to back-slapping with a wry grin, gives up his free time to run a sports club for the students, goes out for drinks with other teachers at least once a week, and seems to be on first-name terms with everyone on the SLT.
The slut - sorry, but teachers who wear very low-cut tops or very short skirts MUST be looking for attention for more than their lesson plans! This member of staff will have a bit of a history and a bit of a reputation, but will generally be a really pleasant and sympathetic person to talk to.
The life and soul - there may be a few of these - you will recognise them as the people who always have something to say at staff meetings, and it will usually involve an amusing, self-deprecating personal anecdote. They are utterly immune to the usual signals of eye-rolling and watch-checking, as they definitely have a strong fan base with whom they go drinking on a regular basis.
The ladder climber - the person who applies for every internal job advertised, determined to get up the career ladder as fast as possible. Their favourite acronym is CPD.
The wimp - why did this character opt for teaching? They are invariably home with sniffles, exhaustion or an anxiety attack after little Johnny gives them the finger in the playground. They spend a lot of time reminiscing about the wonderful school they taught in last year (then why did you leave?)
The coaster - masterful at data manipulation, this teacher can cruise for years with barely adequate teaching disguised by impressive and baffling spreadsheets. Only evinces signs of panic when Ofsted are around.
The psycho - clearly chose teaching so that he/she can intimidate children in the name of "discipline". Appears to genuinely dislike most young people, but can always justify their abusive behaviour by referring to "the rules".
The rebel - this person will be the most vociferous member of any of the unions, and will not bend one inch to do anything that is not stipulated in the contract. He or she would rather send emails and attend meetings about not filling in a form, than fill in a form, if said filling in of form is not approved by the union.
The victim - equipped with an invisible antenna to detect the slightest hint of injustice in allocation of classes/rooms/timetables/duties/emails/information/ etc etc. Usual refrain is "It's ridiculous!" or "How can they expect us to ...?"
Fortunately the vast majority of teachers are hard-working, dedicated, caring, tough and fair - believe it or not!
Next time: probably not what I say it will be, so find out for yourself!
The martyr - the teacher who works later than anyone else, teaches more classes, has more naughty students, does more marking, gets less credit, but never, ever bitches about the job - just walks around looking ragged yet saintly.
The lad - prone to back-slapping with a wry grin, gives up his free time to run a sports club for the students, goes out for drinks with other teachers at least once a week, and seems to be on first-name terms with everyone on the SLT.
The slut - sorry, but teachers who wear very low-cut tops or very short skirts MUST be looking for attention for more than their lesson plans! This member of staff will have a bit of a history and a bit of a reputation, but will generally be a really pleasant and sympathetic person to talk to.
The life and soul - there may be a few of these - you will recognise them as the people who always have something to say at staff meetings, and it will usually involve an amusing, self-deprecating personal anecdote. They are utterly immune to the usual signals of eye-rolling and watch-checking, as they definitely have a strong fan base with whom they go drinking on a regular basis.
The ladder climber - the person who applies for every internal job advertised, determined to get up the career ladder as fast as possible. Their favourite acronym is CPD.
The wimp - why did this character opt for teaching? They are invariably home with sniffles, exhaustion or an anxiety attack after little Johnny gives them the finger in the playground. They spend a lot of time reminiscing about the wonderful school they taught in last year (then why did you leave?)
The coaster - masterful at data manipulation, this teacher can cruise for years with barely adequate teaching disguised by impressive and baffling spreadsheets. Only evinces signs of panic when Ofsted are around.
The psycho - clearly chose teaching so that he/she can intimidate children in the name of "discipline". Appears to genuinely dislike most young people, but can always justify their abusive behaviour by referring to "the rules".
The rebel - this person will be the most vociferous member of any of the unions, and will not bend one inch to do anything that is not stipulated in the contract. He or she would rather send emails and attend meetings about not filling in a form, than fill in a form, if said filling in of form is not approved by the union.
The victim - equipped with an invisible antenna to detect the slightest hint of injustice in allocation of classes/rooms/timetables/duties/emails/information/ etc etc. Usual refrain is "It's ridiculous!" or "How can they expect us to ...?"
Fortunately the vast majority of teachers are hard-working, dedicated, caring, tough and fair - believe it or not!
Next time: probably not what I say it will be, so find out for yourself!
Sunday 26 July 2009
Thank God it's holidays!
Like most teachers I was on my knees with exhaustion by the time the final bell rang on Friday - it had been the longest week ever, requiring an ability to justify the educational link between "High School Musical" (or similar) and whatever part of the curriculum we were meant to be slogging through with kids who have been mentally on leave since about May! The refrain "Can we have a fun lesson?" is anathema to teachers who sincerely believe that deconnotating Shakespeare is the height of fun!
The bell finally rang - shortly followed by ominous rolls of thunder. Was it possible? Could we really be in for another freak storm which would have us stranded at school until 6pm, when all we wanted was to get home and open the wine? The flooding a couple of summers ago couldn't have been timed worse. Some noble members of the profession spent that dismal afternoon doing prep for the following academic year, while the rest of us debated the H&S risks of donning scuba gear to brave the torrential roads and JUST GET OUT OF THERE!
Friday was excrutiating for an entirely different reason - the endless "We'll really miss you" speeches to the rats deserting the school ship - some of whom I didn't even recognise - and the Oscar-style tearful "acceptance speeches". Then the stampede for the food table - stand back while the obese members of staff attack first, piling their plates high and stashing a bread roll under each armpit! Comforting to know our youngsters are in the care of such shining role models ...
It was good to have a chat with the colleagues who have become good friends this year - we mostly live in our classrooms all term, eating lunch at our desks in grim solitude, so having a conversation that wasn't about Johnny's coursework or Frank's tendency to fart in class, was refreshing.
I must have yawned a hundred times during my drive home on Friday, as eight weeks of unremitting hard mental and emotional labour was finally allowed to be acknowledged. We are a tough lot, us teachers - we keep going, keep cheerful and motivational no matter how knackered we are - but come the holidays and we are, for the first few days at least, like inflatable toys (no, not THAT kind!) with the plug pulled out; all spring and bounce gone! But at least the summer holidays, unlike the mid-year ones, allow us to have a proper rest. No marking, and unless you're a first year teacher, just a few days going over schemes of work that you have already taught, tweaking them for the classes you are going to have in September.
The bell finally rang - shortly followed by ominous rolls of thunder. Was it possible? Could we really be in for another freak storm which would have us stranded at school until 6pm, when all we wanted was to get home and open the wine? The flooding a couple of summers ago couldn't have been timed worse. Some noble members of the profession spent that dismal afternoon doing prep for the following academic year, while the rest of us debated the H&S risks of donning scuba gear to brave the torrential roads and JUST GET OUT OF THERE!
Friday was excrutiating for an entirely different reason - the endless "We'll really miss you" speeches to the rats deserting the school ship - some of whom I didn't even recognise - and the Oscar-style tearful "acceptance speeches". Then the stampede for the food table - stand back while the obese members of staff attack first, piling their plates high and stashing a bread roll under each armpit! Comforting to know our youngsters are in the care of such shining role models ...
It was good to have a chat with the colleagues who have become good friends this year - we mostly live in our classrooms all term, eating lunch at our desks in grim solitude, so having a conversation that wasn't about Johnny's coursework or Frank's tendency to fart in class, was refreshing.
I must have yawned a hundred times during my drive home on Friday, as eight weeks of unremitting hard mental and emotional labour was finally allowed to be acknowledged. We are a tough lot, us teachers - we keep going, keep cheerful and motivational no matter how knackered we are - but come the holidays and we are, for the first few days at least, like inflatable toys (no, not THAT kind!) with the plug pulled out; all spring and bounce gone! But at least the summer holidays, unlike the mid-year ones, allow us to have a proper rest. No marking, and unless you're a first year teacher, just a few days going over schemes of work that you have already taught, tweaking them for the classes you are going to have in September.
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