Adam Squires is back with more tales from the classroom…
So that’s Christmas over with, gone in a flash of brandy lit over Christmas pudding! It seemed to take ages coming as I counted down the weeks before the holidays began. The pupils started getting excited, but not nearly as excited as I, or the other members of staff, were. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy teaching; but I enjoy the holidays a lot more.
I’m now halfway through my training, and according to my end of placement report I’m “progressing satisfactorily”. Read; “Bloody hell you got this far and you haven’t set a kid on fire/taught them that sometimes science is just plain magic, and you still want to come back?!”
It’s been a seven-week marathon, with sections of a fun-run thrown in. I’ve taught from little year sevens to scary year twelves about 6 months younger than me. I’ve had the cheeky, smart, know-it all, slow and challenging, and sometimes all in one class. There have been some memorable moments and some I’d rather forget. I’ve learned a lot about myself, mainly weaknesses but some strengths!
It started with a baptism of fire, way back in November. I arrived at school on the Monday morning, keen, nervous and a bit excited. I arrived with no lessons to teach and left with a full timetable. The A-Level class I was only meant to be observing turned into full teaching as the class teacher had to nip down to London for a few days. They were a nice class; only problem was, I had an hour to fill with A-Level chemistry. I questioned them on the topic whilst slyly trying to sneak a look at the answers in the back of the textbook. I think they noticed.
One of my weaknesses is that I’m not a particularly good speller. Being a scientist, I embraced the notion that you can’t read my handwriting and therefore can’t tell exactly how I have spelled words. This was highlighted when form time was unexpectedly dumped on me. It was a year eleven group who had scant regard for the importance of form time and to be honest I was dreading trying to get them to engage in some form of activity. My only clue as to what to do was the timetable that merely stated that this session was to be a ‘brain gym’. What did this mean? Get them to run around whilst reciting their times tables? Or star jumps whilst spelling words? In the end I opted for the old favourite, hangman. A wonderful time filler I always have up my sleeve, when I look to the clock hoping to realise that my lesson is complete, but there are still twenty minutes to go. I gave them categories to choose from and stipulated that it had to be educational, a key word or phrase from one of their lessons. Naturally the category of science was dominated withwords for sexual reproduction, with some words that I’m not sure are on the curriculum. The real problem occurred when I was beckoned over to the board and asked to spell words. Needless to say I knew none of them, but at least they didn’t.
There are many pitfalls in teaching, and the issue of sex is one of them. For pupils from year nine to eleven, everything is an innuendo, and any chance to move on to the topic of sex is relished. In one year nine class I innocently asked what environmental factors they thought would affect how many eggs a chicken would lay. The response was, “Depends if they’re in the mood or not, sir”. I did not enquire as to what “in the mood” meant. Some pupils are less bashful and come out with, “How do chickens have sex?”
One occasion I would like to forget was the lesson I chose to invite my tutor to observe, a particularly difficult bottom year nine group. The lesson started well, I got them in and settled, and everyone was working well. However by the end they were making paper airplanes out of their work and running out of the fire exit. I’m not sure exactly what happened, the whole experience passed in a haze of nightmarish reality. The next lesson I had them in, I gave them such a lecture that the rest of the term went well, in fact they were my best group.
Year seven is always a good lesson. Still in primary school mode, they accept your greater wisdom and don’t question your authority, a refreshing change from the rest of the school. As a Christmas treat I planned a lesson firing rockets outside. It was a simple lesson, after decorating plastic bottles to look like Apollo 11 we filled them with bicarbonate of soda. After the addition of vinegar at the ‘launch pad’ the rockets would shoot into the air. Pupils, one at a time, came up to me to lauch their rocket. Unfortunately, a little overexcited by the event myself, I slammed the beaker of vinegar on the ground causing it to shatter. I couldn’t help but swear, and looking up carefully I realised the little year seven had heard. “No bad language, sir.” Thank God it was the last day…
