A Day in the Life of a Secondary School Teacher

Image made by Michelle at http://cre8tive-hands.blogspot.co.uk/

Many people find it amusing that I'm a teacher as I'm not exactly the world's most likely candidate.  I was a total wild-child when I was a teenager - certainly a lot worse than many of the students in my own classes.  Also, I swear like a trooper; I find it hard to stick to the rules; I'm a rebel without a cause; and I have the emotional maturity of a sixteen year old.  Still, this somehow works for me.  I absolutely love my job and would struggle to find many things in my life that I am as passionate about as teaching.

Once folks have stopped laughing and I've managed to convince them that I am seriously a teacher, the next question they want to know is, 'So what's it like then?'.  As many teachers will tell you, that is an almost impossible question to answer in a few sentences.  

Teaching, even on a daily basis, consists of a series of extreme highs and drastic lows that are often too 'teachery' to fully explain. I mean how do you put into words the elation you feel when the boy at the back of the room who won't speak unless forced finally puts his hand up to speak to you voluntarily; or the girl that the whole staff body has warned you against tells you that you 'aren't really so bad - for a teacher'.

So instead of trying to explain it, I will let you make up your own mind.  Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you my very own rendition of 'A day in the life' ... last Friday to be exact. 

The day didn't exactly start well.  I got into my trusty silver shark only to find that I had left the light on ALL night.  Of course the battery was flatter than flat.  Turning the key merely produced a desperate flickering sound from the tired electrics as they struggled to respond without any success.  There was only one thing to do: call in yet *another* favour from my favourite local hero, Jason aka big-brother.  

Twenty minutes later and some jumper cables, I was back on the road, off to educate the heck out of some students. Nothing else was going to stand in my way today.

Lesson 1: despite the delay, I managed to only be ten minutes late for my Year 8 class.  I skidded into the nearest parking space like I was the latest audition for the 'Fast and Furious', fumbled like crazy with the 400 bags I seem to carry around with me, grabbed my quickly emptying coffee cup and ran like lightening into my lesson.  

The person covering my class was surprised (and relieved, I imagine) to see me, but not as surprised as my students whom I had rushed to get to in a flat panic. The thanks I got was a very flat, 'Oh, Miss.  You're here.  We were just about to do something fun for a change' ... followed of course by the ridiculous, 'Can we watch a film?'.

A film? In the first week of term? Fat chance, cupcake.  Sit down and write down your learning objective and I'll *think* about letting you go to breakfast on time! 

Despite their protestations and whinging, I still managed to stick to the lesson I had planned and finish it too. Win!

Break: I was so looking forward to replenishing my now completely empty coffee cup but instead had to spend my break writing a report about some silly student behaviour. Fail! It doesn't matter: I'll get a coffee after next lesson.

Lesson 2: fun lesson! I was playing poetry games with my Year 7 class when one of my students said something so cool that we had to stop the lesson so we could all talk about it in more detail. I love those moments. Just spending time connecting with the kids on their own level. Win! 

Meanwhile, my empty, dry coffee cup looks at my longingly. I know just how he feels.  Don't worry my love.  Soon.

Lesson 3: I was meant to be free but the assistant headteacher ran into staff room looking totally panicked and asked me to please take over a Year 10 class as a matter of emergency. Of course I'm not going to tell him that it's not my job and that he needs to find someone else - I mean I *was* late for work and he *is* the headteacher.

Having never met the class before, and the fact that they were all about 3 times taller than me (don't laugh - I'm only 5ft4), I'm not going to lie - they were intimidating as hell and scared the cr*p out of me. In the end though, the lesson went okay. No one got hurt and *some* students actually did their work!  Okay, it was more like some students answered question 1 of the worksheet and stayed in their seats,  but that was good enough for me. Win. 

By the end of the lesson, my mouth was so dry that I thought I could hear a perfectly audible click in my sand paper throat every time I swallowed.  I swear I was dying of dehydration. Must. Get. Coffee.

Lunch: absolute and utter rookie mistake! I went up to the other classroom to set up the lesson before my savage Year 9 class came in and became trapped by some very sweet but very bored Yr 9 students who wanted to chat to me about their lives.  That'll teach me to try to be organised. Fail ... getting hungry fail. 

And of course: I *still* need my coffee! This is like torture.  Surely I can go to the union about this? 

Lesson 5: we were told we were having an inspection during the day.  I didn't expect anyone to walk into my room because almost every visitor in the whole world seems to be brought into my class room.  I was certain that, statistically speaking, it wouldn't be me today.  

I lined my students up outside and as they filtered into the room who did I see amongst them? Oh! None other than the inspector himself.  Now my Year 9 class are well renowned for being terrors but on this occasion they were perfectly behaved and sat in dead silence doing what they were told.  In fact, so impressive was their behaviour, that the inspector felt the need to stop my lesson to compliment me on my data collection and my class' behaviour. 

Is it coffee time yet? I stare at my coffee cup and whisper, 'Don't worry, Gerald.  You and I will be reunited shortly and I'm never going to let you go ever again!'.  The kids are looking at me strangely. 

Lesson 6: as always, I almost forget that I'm team teaching this lesson because it wasn't on my original timetable.  I sprint down two flights of stairs, throw my data collection folder and lonely Gerald  on the table of the staff room and tear down the corridor.  I get there just in time - sweaty and severally dehydrated.  Never mind: it's almost the end of the day! I didn't think I would make it.  

I taught my first ever Year 11 lesson to the biggest and scariest boys I have ever seen. We're teaching them Macbeth, and you can imagine how much kids *adore* Shakespeare, can't you? Especially last lesson on a Friday.  

For some reason, the students listened and completed all of their work. I instinctively corrected a few behavioural issues, despite the class teacher and I agreeing that she would do the stern stuff to begin with.  Surprisingly, the students didn't even argue with me. Win. 

And finally, the moment I have been waiting for all day: coffee time! 

I sit in the staff room to avoid the mad school run whilst the the learners and their parents leave the area.  I decide to quickly plan a lesson for Monday morning while I wait ... or so I thought.  After a 20 minute chat with someone who just wants 'a quick word' I decide to swiftly make my exit and wait until I get home to make that cup of coffee.

I'm home.  Time to put my feet up and reunite with my one true love, Gerald.  I flick the switch on my sleek, black kettle and pop a spoon of coffee in my mug.  It smells *so* good and I think this may be the best moment of my life.  I walk over to the fridge; my time has finally arrived. The door swings open; I am surrounded by its welcoming yellow light. 

To my utter disappointment there is no cream.  

I have been betrayed.  I get under a big blanket and endeavour to sulk all weekend until Monday arrives and I get to do it all again.