The dog ate it.
Why don't the Germans all speak English Miss?
Today. my boys learnt about war and peace and rock 'n' roll. They learnt about buring babies, Alexander Fleming and men on the moon....
Today I gave my kids a whirl-wind tour of the 20th century and by the end of the lesson only one kid still thought that the 1966 world cup was the most significant event...
I'm knackered.
Memo to self.
When you get over excited about a worksheet you have created about the Roman Empire do not jump up and down clapping your hands and shouting *this is sooo cool* in a high pitched voice because you can guarantee that if you do there will be a large class of year eight boys standing directly behind you looking at you as if you are the saddest, most mental teacher in the whole world.
Whispering at the back of the classroom...
...during a year 11 lesson on the Wild West.
Miss Flower: So, if you were starving to death in the middle of winter on top of a mountain while trying to find California would you kill and eat me first or our Native American guide?
Mr Ringo: I think I'd just go for whoever was fatter.
Miss Flower: So that would probably be me then?
Mr Ringo: Probably, yes. What about you?
Miss Flower: Ohhh, it's a tough one. I mean I like you and everything and you do make me laugh, but I think the guide might be more useful to me alive in the long run....
Mr Ringo: Yes but if he was that good, why would be lost in the first place?
Miss Flower: True... true... maybe I would eat him then, and keep you a bit longer to cheer me up.
Mr Ringo: It's irrelevant really though, isn't it, because at the end of the day you wouldn't get a chance because you are the weakest, and probably the tenderest so we'd well have eaten you first anyway.
Miss Flower: MMMmmmm... Hang on. SETTLE DOWN NOW YEAR 11, NO TALKING PLEASE, YOU SHOULD BE WORKING IN SILENCE FOR THIS PERIOD. THANK YOU. I just can't believe you'd eat me Sir. I mean where's the loyalty you big fat cannibal? BOYS, PLEASE - I SAID NO TALKING!
Mr Ringo: So, where do you stand on the emancipation of women?
Excuse me Miss...
Miss, Have you got a boyfriend?
Miss, I like your nails.
Miss, I'm going to ask to change to history because you're teaching it...
Miss, If I'm naughty will you punish me?
Miss, I'll have a detention if you are taking it....
Miss...
Halcyon days... I know. Wait until they have me for double modern history with a side order of discipline...
Oh Captain, my Captain.
Today I was the responsibility of a small year seven boy, and despite his best attempts to lose me in the playground/ poison me in science/ stick things to me in art/ ask me for help with long multiplication in maths (the fool) I managed to stalk him through all of his classes until the end of the day. Poor child, god only knows what long term damage the experience of having 'Miss' as your best pal has done him.
Anyway, my year seven pupil, his class and I were treated today to the best lesson I think I have ever seen.
There are English teachers who have twinkly eyes which look into your soul, who refuse interactive white boards in their classrooms because they prefer chalk and when they start to talk you feel a thrill up and down your spine. They make you want to write poetry and read great words of literature, and when they talk to a classroom of boys then all of the children lean forwards hanging onto every word they say.
It's true, they still exist, not just in Robin Williams' Hollywood, but in real life and I should know because today I got to see one in action.
In the words of my small guardian 'I like English best because the teachers really good.'
Indeed he is.
Longer than a piece of string.
...and just like that, my first proper day as 'Miss Flower' the history teacher is over...
...and I really enjoyed it to be honest. Even though Ringo was being a right grinch when we were on the train home, secretly I think that he enjoyed it too.
We were just observing today. Sitting at the back of the class pretending to be Very Important while trying to answer questions like 'how big is a lions den'?
I offer a sweetie to the best attempt at a reply to that... because I'm sure you can all be far more create than Ringo and I.
First degree burns...
It's my first day at school tomorrow ever as a teacher-type person and so I am about to embark on a frenzy of shoe cleaning and pencil sharpening (just as soon as I manage to get rid of last nights slight headache).
I'm meeting my friend Ringo on the train at 8am and we are heading in together with bright eyes, bushy tails, smart clothes and (hopefully) an air of authority.
I must confess my lovely 20sixers that I am a little scared that despite my love of history as a subject, I will hate teaching and realise that I gave everything in London up for nothing... thus making this the biggest mistake of my life to date!
Let's just hope no-one steals my dinner money.