The bully

On Friday everyone is on their last nerves. Especially in this longest, darkest, worst half-term of the entire school year. Everyone is stressed out, everyone is exhausted, everyone feels like they would rather get an important part of their body chopped off than spend one more day at school. For me this has been a particularly trying week with lots of drama in my form, a year 8 student destroying my favourite jumper using the ink from a pen he personally dismembered instead of working, and the usual lot of gobby cows and cheeky arseholes who think they don't owe respect to anything or anyone never mind the teacher.
Until yesterday however I didn't think such states of mind and emotions justified rudeness.

Yesterday morning I went to reprographics hoping to get a worksheet copied.
'Can't do it' the copy lady snapped 'I have an urgent job now'.
Fair enough, I really should have brought it in earlier. The lack of 'good morning' and 'sorry' did not put me off too much as she has made me rather used to that.
I apologized profusely and decided to try the staff room machine.
The copy lady had beaten me to it.
'Can't do it now' she snapped 'we're doing maintenance'.
After which she told me that I'm not allowed to use this machine for more than a couple of copies (I wouldn't have if she hadn't refused to do them for me on her machine) and I'll have to be better organised, all in a tone of voice that implied that I had offended her majesty by suggesting that she was there to help me do my job and not the other way around and how dare I the little nothing that I am.
I was speachless. Emotionally exhausted as I was, for a minute I actually thought that I did something terribly wrong, broke a rule I had not known existed or something? Until one of the cover teachers who witnessed it all came around and said she admired me for not saying anything because the copy lady had been plain rude.
And as I spoke to people along the day, I realised that as it is, people stay long after hours to sneakingly do their copies in the staffroom because that is the only way they know their copies will be done right (right number of pages, right number of copies, right size etc.) and they won't get told off for daring to want any.
Magalie, who is in my department, said she tries to plan without worksheets so that she won't have to go to reprographics. And if she has to, she sends a kid.
Charlotte (my head of department/mentor) said that had never happened to her but she knows that the copy lady can be like this when stressed out (as if that excused anything!) and that I shouldn't worry cause she will have forgotten all about it by Monday. SHE will have forgotten?!
I am outraged. I am paid to deal with rude children, but not rude colleagues! And she is clearly bullying a lot of teachers (if not all staff) and no one is doing anything about it! But I am not sure if anything can be done. I am however sure that going on any crusade here would cost me more than it would benefit me or others. So I suppose that the only thing for me to do is to start staying longer after hours than I already do and make my copies sneakingly in the staff room...

Cheddington

Another walk last weekend – this time without any animals ganging up on us. We did walk past a few horses who observed us attentively making us feel uneasy after the Wing cows experience, but luckily they made no attempt at intimidation.
The walk is picturesque, a big part goes along the Grand Union Canal with a double lock and we’ve spotted a few lovely thatched cottages – apparently it is very expensive to own a thatched roof as it requires a lot of maintenance.
This time we also managed to eat at the pub – The Old Swan – and it was delicious! I had a roast with the best Yorkshire pudding I have ever had. I do recommend it (in case you’re ever in Cheddington…).

"I love you. Will you do a French GCSE please?"

I think everyone finds parents evenings draining. I know I do. But then maybe no everyone gets as emotional about them as me? Who knows.
We had a year 9 parents evening on Thursday, and as my form is year 9, I spent over 3 hours talking non-stop. At 7 most teachers had left - I was still there talking. I have to say that I'm kind of grateful to have been abandoned for the day today - at least I don't have to open my mouth!
It is always interesting to meet your students' parents - helps you understand your students better. Also, you can sometimes make powerful allies. Or reward the nice kids, who never get enough of your attention because you're busy dealing with the culprits.
But it is draining - you talk, and you talk and there is often an emotional response to what you say, people getting all proud and happy, others almost crying (I know some teachers find it wrong, but I tend to tell the truth as it is, without embelishing it too much).
By the end of the night I had managed to tell one student I loved her, tell another one he was an idiot (in front of his mother of course), promise another one that I will wear my glasses if he wears his, promise to tell X's teachers she can't sit next to Y, to tell Z's teachers he should sit alone in the front cause then he's less tempted to mess about, to find out for A why her science teacher wants her to do triple science while she feels she's rubbish at it, etc. On top of that I'll have to go through endless sheets of statistical info and past results to help all 30 of my little monsters make informed decisions when it comes to choosing GCSE options. I don't think I'm going to leave school at all next week.
Any volunteers willing to mark my books for me? There's only some 200 of them to do...

7 am

The school is eerie, like a little ghost town of its own. Everything is dark, in the reception area the lights go automatically on as I walk in and I know they will switch themselves off soon after I'll have walked out. The corridors, which are usually full of chatter and noise, are empty and hollow. I feel like I'm the only person there. I know that I am, cause as I left the reception, my name was the only one with 'in' marked next to it.
But I'm wrong.
In the early morning, the school belongs to the caretakers. They walk the grounds and the corridors silently, ghostlike. They go about their business, checking things, fixing things, making sure everyone is safe and warm as the day begins. They smile and greet me as I walk past them, and I feel reassured by their presence.
As soon as I get to my own classroom however, it's just the empty building and me all over again. So I put music on loud and sing along as I get ready for the day to begin. And it's great, because I have lots of time to do all the things I have to do and all the energy I need to do them.
If you had ever told me that I would enjoy being at work at 7am, I would think you were crazy. But there we go.
The only bit I don't like about it is having to get out of bed. But I would hate that part regardless of the hour!