Confessions of a teacher: Because school isn't quite what you remember it to be... by Jane Salomon Read Free Book Online Page A

all I got from that was a headache made of flashing letters: CPD (something to do with personal development), PRD (another thing to do with personal development), HGYOS (How good is your school) not forgetting E's and O's to name but a few. The kids have been briefed about being on their best behaviour at all times. I just hope they don't come to see me with the chimps. With them, it's not about their E's and O's but mine. Experiences: that everything goes with a minimum of fuss. Outcomes: that I can make it to the bell and retain some sanity.
     
     
    Like the end of the holidays, tomorrow comes only too soon. Everybody wears a grim face and has developed a curious whispering habit: "Have they come to see you yet?". "No. You?". Everybody jumps every time their classroom doors open. This happened to me three times since this morning. The first time it was a kid asking if I had a spare jotter. The second time was a senior pupil wanting to hand in an essay. By the third time, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but it was only one of the janitors needing to check something in the room. It's not that we mind having someone observing our lessons. It happens all the time. What we mind is an official from Her Majesty's Inspectorate (I wonder if the Queen actually appoints them herself) sitting at the back of the room with a clipboard and a checklist of things we should allegedly be doing, while devising pernicious questions to ask us at the end. I'd rather have Eleanor Lawson in any time. I may not know the answers to her questions but at least, I understand what she's asking.
     
     
    There may be scary inspectors about but that doesn't make any difference to Dylan from my first year class. He has copied the date and the word 'objectives' before being side-tracked by something else. I have missed a fair part of his thought process, but by all accounts it led him to Geography. I watch him as he pulls out of his bag a piece of paper that appeared to have been a map at some point but looks more like a paper hanky that has gone through a bad cold. Dylan stretches the paper in front of him and is now taking a ruler to it and drawing crossing lines. A treasure map perhaps? It certainly looks far more interesting than the rest of the words I force him to copy, having made sure that he placed the treasure map back at the bottom of his bag. With Dylan back on track, for a few minutes anyway, we start today's lesson which is all about buying clothes in French. As we work through a sample conversation, I point out to the children how very polite the French are, using expressions such as 's'il-vous-plait' and 'merci'.
    - "They may be polite", pipes out a voice on my left, "but they have rude names for their restaurants."
    I am surprised by Kyle's outburst and totally baffled as to what he means.
    - "Like what?"
    -"Well, when me and my mum and dad went to Paris last summer we ate in that restaurant called 'balls sack'".
    I'm dumbfounded. I'm from Paris and I can't for the life of me think of a restaurant with that name. I try to think of the French words to see how he could have got to that translation but nothing makes sense. I know that when all else fails try phonetics. I try phonetics and it hits me.
    -"Was that the name of the restaurant?" I ask the child as I write 'Balzac' on the board.
    -"Yes, that's it! I've you eaten in it too Miss?"
    I try not to laugh as I pronounce the name correctly for him and it doesn't sound anything like 'balls sack'.
    -"Honore de Balzac is one of the most famous writers in French literature, Kyle."
    He looks at me with a blank expression and simply says: "Ah". I am quite sure that, as far as he's concerned, Kyle has once eaten in a Parisian restaurant very rudely named 'balls sack', which is what he will tell his children and grandchildren no matter what I say.
     
     
    We're half way through the third day of this inspection and I still haven't be inspected. Most of us will be but some will escape as