So, that was the weekend. It went by far too quickly for my liking, but at least it was calm, relaxing and completely stress-free. If only things could be like that all the time, it would be lovely.
Of course, I haven’t “achieved” very much this weekend (unless you count my promotion to Lieutenant Commander in Star Trek Online) but sometimes it’s nice to not think about whether or not you should be doing something more important. There is plenty of time for stress in the week, because believe me, it always finds you.
I have one more week until the week-long half-term vacation from school. After that, it really is counting down the weeks and days until my escape. Once I get to that point, I will be past caring. If the school inspectors turn up to judge me inadequate during those last few weeks, they will get a piece of my mind.
They probably won’t, of course, because I’m far too much of a pussy to stand up to people in most cases, but it’s the thought that counts.
Or maybe I should say something. As I’ve said in a number of previous entries, teachers suffer in silence all the time. They nod and smile when another item is put on their personal “To-Do” lists without their permission, they grin and bear it when new “initiatives” are launched (and inevitably prove to be completely useless), they fill out their stupid pointless paperwork and then they go and moan in the staffroom. It’s the way of things. But I find myself wondering exactly what would happen if someone were to break that barrier and answer back to an OfSTED inspector.
Maybe it might go something like this:
INSPECTOR: Would you like some feedback from that lesson?
TEACHER: No. No I wouldn’t. Goodbye.
INSPECTOR: I really think you should have some feedback from that lesson.
TEACHER: I, on the other hand, do not. Don’t let the door hit you in the arse on the way out.
INSPECTOR: Your starter was satisfactory and had the children enga-
TEACHER: Are you deaf as well as stupid? I said no.
INSPECTOR: …the children were engaged. However, during your input-
TEACHER: Oh, we’re going to do this, are we? All right then. Input? It’s called “teaching”. Or even “talking”. Have you forgotten?
INSPECTOR: During your input, I would have liked to see more being taught.
TEACHER: Oh. Sorry. There I was thinking I was singing a song. Not… what’s that word for that thing I do when I’m standing at the front… Oh right, teaching.
INSPECTOR: However, there was a lot of you talking. It would have been nice to-
TEACHER: So I didn’t teach enough, but I talked too much. Right. Do carry on. This is fascinating.
INSPECTOR: It would have been nice to see the children say a little more on the subject.
TEACHER: They don’t know anything about the subject. That’s why I said it was a “new topic”. They seemed to understand that. Didn’t you?
INSPECTOR: As a result, the children didn’t make enough progress in that lesson.
TEACHER: Not enough progress? All right. How are you measuring that? Where is your magic “progress-o-meter” that measures how far the children progressed in the twenty minutes out of the hour you came and observed? I bet you have one. I bet it produces charts and graphs and syncs with Microsoft Excel, doesn’t it? Mmmm, Excel. You love Excel, don’t you? With its charts and its numbers and its ABJECT FUCKING TEDIUM. Just like you really.
INSPECTOR: So therefore, I am going to have to rate that lesson as inadequate.
TEACHER: Will it still be inadequate if I punch you in the neck?
INSPECTOR: What? Yes!
TEACHER: Well, it doesn’t matter, then. (punches Inspector in the neck) This is my most inadequate punch, bitch! You wouldn’t want to see my Outstanding one, or even my Good one!
Oh, what a wonderful experience that would be.
The sad thing about that fantasy exchange is that the things I quoted the Inspector as saying are the exact things they do say. Utter nonsense, non?