Thursday, September 15, 2005

New Term



I have year 3 children this year. They are seven. They crack me up. I have been teaching 11 year olds for the last 3 years and all of a sudden I am right down at the bottom of the school. I feel like a playschool presenter.

I have one child who just seems to be absolutely enchanted by school and walks around with an angelic grin on his face all the time. Yesterday we called a whole year group meeting to discuss fruit for the fruit break - at 2 o'clock we have a break to eat fruit and we have a problem with apples because some children are taking half an hour to eat them. He puts his hand up.

"Yes?"

"If you go to the supermarket, you can get special bananas that are about this big," holds hands close together. "Most normal bananas are this big," holds hands further apart.

"That is great, would you like to tell the whole year that information?"

"Yes please,"

"O.k. - stand at the front then, and tell them,"

Now this child, lets call him Oscar, is grinning his head off. He is so proud of himself it is unbelievable. He has enormous eyes and a very high forehead, and a very high voice.

"If you go to the supermarket, you can get special bananas that are about this big," holds hands close together. "Most normal bananas are this big," holds hands further apart.

"Brilliant Oscar. Sit down now please."

All the adults in the room are biting their lips, doing their best not to start giggling and aaaaahing.



I made him cry in the first week of term by putting him into detention. He has the horrible child affliction of shouting things out as his hand goes into the air. He'd spent most of the morning doing so, and was on one warning.

"Daisy - would you like to pick the next person to talk about their special object?" I ask.

"It has to be a boy," screams Oscar in delighted anticipation that he will perhaps get the opportunity to discuss his Pokemon figure with the class.

"Oscar, you just shouted out for the second time, please come here."

He takes the walk of death to my desk. I write him out a post it note which says "Put my hand up" and a massive number 2 underneath. I sellotape this to his chest.

"You are now on 2 warnings Oscar, I really don't want you to go into 12:30 club but if you shout out 1 more time I shall have no alternative, do you understand?"

He smiles reassuringly at me "Yes, I understand Mister Trent. I won't do it again,"

"Good Oscar, go and sit down. Now, Daisy, would you like to choose somebody to talk about their special obje..."

"It has to be a boy," screams Oscar, in delighted, and, it is becoming plain, uncontrollable anticipation that he will perhaps get the opportunity to discuss his Pokemon figure with the class.

"Oh dear. I'm very sorry Oscar but I did warn you and try to help you."

Oscar smiles very bravely at me, starts nodding his head to show he understands his dreadful fate, then he breaks down and starts sobbing.

What a cruel life.

I ran home tonight. It is 10 miles. Over hills. I also cycled in. In the rain.

I got in and ate a bunch of grapes, an apple, a carrrot, some apricots, some cheese, some barley and goats cheese souffle some green beans and some broccoli. Now I have slight stomach cramps.

Flipping heck, also, I'm not really into marketing, but isn't Google Earth FANTASTIC?

We spent about 30 minutes yesterday "flying" from Linton, Cambridge to Cairo, Egypt as an introduction to our Ancient Egypt topic. I kept shouting out "Hold On Everyone" and all the kids grabbed hold of something and braced themselves, then I hit search and off we flew. Eventually I thought it would be responsible to do something slightly more relevant to the topic of Ancient Egypt, but what a blast.

If you don't have it yet, go and get it.

A Number