Full time work? That'll never catch on..

I have been fortunate enough to have been offered some full time work, yes that's right, I'm back at the coal face of employment.  The secondary school have offered me a temporary contract which means I have sixteen classes of 20 or more children from year eight upwards.  So this seems an opportune moment to consider some of the differences between the school we know out here compared to the ones back home.

As is often the case there are more similarities than things at odds and again, as usual, more questions than answers. I've had quite a bit of experience of children, teaching them tennis and bringing them up, so they are not an unknown quantity to me, understanding  what makes them tick however is still a mystery.

For example, I used to admire younger kids when you would say to a group 'go and get a racquet' and they'd all run off like puppies.  Say the same thing to adults and they would walk sedately, say it to teenagers and they'd whinge 'oh do we have to? It's so unfair that I have to go and get one', then move slower than a sloth on a glacier in the hope the lesson will be over by the time they get there.  However put some teenagers in a school corridor and watch them go, they run like Usain Bolt being chased by a train, so you find yourself shouting out one of the teaching profession's mantras 'no running in the corridors' about ten times per minute.

Then there is the perennial volunteer.  Ask twenty four students a question and although they know the answer they won't put their hand up for the fear of being branded a geek, or even worse, being wrong, which is of course impossible for a teenager (my favorite one liner is 'Entire set of Encyclopedia Britanica for sale, no longer required, we have a teenager in the house', of course everyone under the age of thirty is now asking 'Encyclopedia Britanica???').  So volunteering falls to the two or three eager souls who for some reason missed the 'cool' gene somewhere in their manufacturing process, thank goodness, as every class needs a Mr or Miss Elicitation.  But you do find yourself saying 'OK, does anyone other than Michael know the answer?', another mantra.

The same keen pupils are normally in the 'early finisher' brigade too.  You set a task and before you can monitor the whole class the three keen ones have finished and have their hand up saying 'finished Sir' sooner than the slackers can get their pencil out of their bag and realise it's as blunt as a teacher's response to their parents on school visit day, when they ask 'what's the chance of my little one becoming a Doctor?', 'Slim and none Madam, and Slim's just left town...'.

This is my first experience of a secondary school staff room and that in itself is a curiosity.  You know as a child  you wondered what went on behind the doors with the sign 'teaching staff only, NO STUDENTS'.  Was it like Narnia, a mystical land where teachers had lunch time adventures fighting evil and surmounting seemingly impossible difficulties to achieve fame and fortune?  The answer to the curious student would is of course be 'no, it's where we go to talk about you, Smith minor, and collectively moan about your constant chatting and poor results.  Take out that gum boy'.  Maybe that's what they teach people at University when they are taking a teaching degree, staff room etiquette:  take your own mug, don't sit with anyone who isn't in your department especially Stinky Pete from ICT, and whatever you do if someone comes in and says 'can anyone cover my duty/class' just look down and pretend to read whatever it is you're holding, do not make eye contact..

Up until now my only knowledge about staff rooms came from watching Waterloo Road, so imagine my disappointment when during the first week there were no murders, fires or marital break ups.  Having said that we did have a fire alarm and whilst assembled in thirty six degree sunshine on the field you could spot the more experienced teachers from the newbies, they former all had sunglasses on.  Lesson 1, take your lunettes de soleil in to class with you, just one of the secrets that the old hands don't pass on, after all where would the fun be in that?!