Approximate reading time: 10min

It’s been a bit of a down-up week.

Last Monday I accepted work in a Catholic school, that I have never been to before.  My positive experiences in Catholic schools have been few and far between. While there have been one or two truly lovely schools, on the whole, they tend to be either super strict with a lot of shouting; resulting in stunned, petrified children that don’t dare breathe….or the opposite where the kids are just so used to the shouting that they frankly don’t GIVE A SHIT and won’t listen to a word you say unless you are willing to match the ferocity of their teacher….

After 5 years of supply teaching, I usually think twice before accepting work in a Catholic school. But this school was close to home and one thing that I love about my job is that most days are a mystery….you just NEVER know where you are going to end up.  

So, I gave it a go.

I was pleasantly surprised when I arrived to see how friendly everyone was. As a supply teacher you get used to being invisible… when you arrive in a school where people actually greet you with a smile….you notice.

I arrived early, as usual, 8.15 am as I hate being thrown into the class without having time to prepare properly.

The super friendly office manager, who incidentally was also named Gayle

(It’s a GREAT name you know!;-)

gave me a quick tour and asked me to wait, for a bit, someone would come to fetch me and take me to the class.

So, I waited patiently,

(until about 8.35 am)

until I started to feel a little antsy. I approached Gayle and asked her if there was any way I could please just go to the class and start looking at the work that the teacher would have left

(Assuming she had even left any)

I explained how I dread being thrown into a class as the children are arriving without having any proper prep time.

Emphatically, Gayle reassured me that THAT would NEVER happen here, and that the deputy head teacher was just finishing up with the morning staff meeting and then she would take me over herself.

So, I sat back down and waited till 8.45 am when the deputy head teacher, who was also lovely, took me downstairs and led me into the class just as all the reception children were all leading into the class.

(Lesson learnt: NEVER TRUST A GAYLE!;-)

Bless the class teacher, clearly one of those A types,  had left an entire table full of notes and resources that I barely had any time to look at.

I didn’t have a supply login for the computer which had all the PowerPoint lessons on it.

Nor did I have a register.

The first 15 minutes was absolute chaos

(Which then inevitably, pretty much leads to a whole day of more chaos.)

The class had a very sweet, highly neurotic, people-pleasing teaching assistant who had only been working in the class for 2 weeks.

(I honestly wanted to give her a bottle of Xanax and a big hug)

The teacher had fully prepped her for everything that was going to be happening that day and as result, she was trying to prep me while the class just got wilder and wilder.

The class had two children on the spectrum, with behavioural issues, and I was continually reminded by the teaching assistant that “They have special needs” every time I would ask them to do something.

These days, it often feels like a child having special needs is synonymous with

Not disciplining them,

Not setting boundaries

and

Not expecting them to take part in classroom activities

(If they don’t feel like it)

Look, I get it.

In case you forgot, last year I spent 6 months working in a school for autistic children and I have seen how hard it is working with these children, especially when they are young.  The reception and year one teachers in my old school, were quite frankly saints who should be canonised for their inordinate amount of patience. It’s not easy working with meltdowns and tantrums daily, even if you are a trained teacher.

When you have a class of 29 other students, no teacher has the time to deal with this type of behaviour

(without extra support)

so as much as possible the goal always seems to be to keep the peace and keep the meltdowns at a minimum.

(Even if it means they give in and just let the kids have their own way as much as possible)

It’s the easiest solution when you have an impossible situation….and I am certainly not blaming teachers.

But I still don’t think it is right.

So, on days like Monday.

I struggle.

The class was all over the place, the one autistic child, Nate, sat on a chair at the back of the class continually shouting out comments trying to make the other kids laugh.

The other one, Billy, absolutely refused to even sit on the carpet.

If he had been walking around the class not distracting the other children then that would have been fine….but he kept trying to pull other children into playing with him.

Every now and then another TA from the other class would come in and read them the riot act when I was still trying my absolute best to gain control of the class without raising my voice.

The anxious TA continually piped in with stuff like “Their teacher does it this way!”

Internally I was screaming.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD I’M NOT A CARBON COPY OF THEIR TEACHER!!!

(But I couldn’t say anything to her because she was so darn sweet and was continually telling me what a wonderful job I was doing.)

I normally don’t eat lunch at school.

By the time lunch came around, I was so angry and dysregulated I needed to escape.

Just my luck there was a Starbucks 5 minutes from the school.

One toasted ham and cheese sandwich,

One luxury fruit toast,

One Millionaires shortbread,

One Grande Chai latte

AND  one Biscotti and chocolate croissant (from Wenzel’s) later

and I was just about ready to go back to class.

Yes, I am ashamed.

I realise I binge eat when I am stressed.

Sometimes it feels like I can’t get the food down fast enough.

I hate not being in control of a class.

(I wondered how much of my love of teaching has to do with the fact that I am a bit of a control freak!)

I came back from lunch and went to fetch them from the playground. All the other classes were lined up nicely and my class looked like a herd of sheep that had just been hit by a grenade and were all over the place.

Billy had the poor little boy, who was officially the line monitor for the week, in a chokehold because he wanted to stand in the front of the line. I pulled them apart and informed him in no uncertain terms that he was not going to be standing in front of the line. He started screaming and then ran into the school. I tried to get the other children in line…

I failed.

The TA arrived and I informed her that Billie had run off.

She went to fetch him and then brought him back and let him stand in the front of the line.

I informed her and Billy that he would ABSOLUTELY not be standing in front of the line.

I stood and waited until all the other classes had gone inside and then all hell broke loose.

I shouted so loudly the scattered sheep all stopped what they were doing and stared at me.

They got into a line.

I read them the riot act.

We walked into class and they all sat on the carpet wide-eyed with terror.

I read them the riot act again.

(Sometimes I too can be scary)

No one said a word, including Nate.

Billie was actually sitting on the carpet staring at me in horror.

Who was this devil woman?

Surprise, surprise the rest of the afternoon actually went quite smoothly….I was able to teach the afternoon lesson without any incidents. They were not a bad class really…they just needed to know who was boss.

ME!!!!

The next day I was teaching at another school that was also a bit tough.

A year 3 class.

Again, I had to raise my voice.

I hate raising my voice, especially when I feel dysregulated.  

On days like these,

I always feel like I leave the school with this huge shame cloud over my head.

I have this image of the kind of teacher I would like to be, and I never quite seem to consistently maintain it.

During wet play one of the little boys ran up to me excitedly and said:

”I’m going to draw you!”

I glanced up at him periodically, while marking books, to see him feverishly sketching his masterpiece.

When he eventually turned up with his picture, I couldn’t help but laugh.

I asked him if I had horns because I was a devil teacher.

(He reassured me, definitely not, they were cat ears.)

And then threw his arms open for a hug.

He got his hug and then I said:

“But Ibrahim, you forgot to draw my husband!!”

Ibrahim ran off and continued to draw.

When he thrust the picture into my hand his face was absolutely beaming.

I noted my husband was all blue.

And he had a name.

Jack.

(Jack where ever you are, I am waiting)

We had a good laugh and Ibrahim claimed his second hug.

“Mmmmm Ibrahim…but what about my children?”

I asked.

He very determinately said:

“No, I want you to live like this!”

Lol ok GOT it!;-)

On Thursday and Friday, I was at my absolute favourite school.

For the last 3 weeks, I have been covering their reception and Year 1 classes on Thursdays and Fridays.

I can’t even begin to tell you how much I love this school….especially the reception children.

Whenever I am there,

I feel like a bloody rockstar!

When I walk into the reception classes I am just inundated with hugs and my name being chanted like I am the “Madonna” herself.

I love it!

(My ego loves it!!!)

I spend most of my time sitting in the playground drawing pictures for the children to colour in.

I have drawn more unicorns than I can count.

When I left school on Friday, I was on cloud nine.

I always feel like the absolute best version of myself whenever I leave that school.

As I walked home, I heard a little reception child scream

“GAYLE!!!!!!!”

Her mother stopped me and asked:

Oh, are you the unicorn lady!!! She loves her unicorns.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

Yep, I am the Unicorn Lady and the Devil Teacher.

All wrapped up into one.