As is normally the case, my Tuesday at school has been reasonably stressful and unenjoyable. It is my worst day of the week (six lessons in five hours), and includes the three youngest classes. This usually means trouble.

I have, after only six weeks or so, had enough of the ridiculously respectless behaviour, which causes me unnecessary and unwanted anger. Time, then, to change tactics.

Depending on how long I can keep it up, I am going to avoid becoming riled. I intend to sit patiently until I have all the children’s attention. I have explained to them that I can bring other, more interesting, work with me to do during the periods they are unruly, instead of fighting the noise level.

This idea relies on the children’s desire to learn English. If even a few of them really do not care about learning, then they can totally destroy it for the rest. I believe, though, that nearly all the children do want this knowledge. Either way, it will take time to discover if this method will work, and any parent who finds out about it, and is unhappy that the innocent are suffering because of the trouble-makers, can pose some akward questions.

Part of the goals of the national test that they receive in the fifth year expects children to be able to carry out tasks with the co-operation of others. My only defence of my “go with the flow” plan is that it is just this that the children lack. In order to work with others demands total attention, and since one cannot choose who one co-operates with, all pupils must pull their weight to stand a chance of passing this particular goal.

It is, admittedly, a weak arguement for my decision to pull out of the war, but it ultimately benefits me.

My first proper day in school went somewhat askew today.

The first two lessons I spent in class 1. It should have been 2 x half-class English lessons, but I ended up waiting in the classroom for the arrival of pupils, who came in dribs and drabs. Eventually we had enough present to do something meaningful, but it was quite late, so I forewent the half-class scenario in favour of dishing out text- and workbooks to be monikered by the children.

All went well, and with the lesson finished I carried on my day. Not half an hour laterI was approached by class 2’s teacher, who had been wondering where I was for her English lesson. I had, I realised, spent one hour and twenty minutes with the wrong class, and had handed out the wrong books to the wrong children.

As it turns out this was not a completely idiotic mistake: both classes do have 2 x half-class English on Tuesdays; both teachers are new; I’ve never had English with either class before.

Slightly put out I went to class 4A later in the day, where I informed them of the regularity/importance of the weekly vocabulary test they are to receive. I told them that these words were not randomly picked from my (alcohol addled) brain, but were words they would meet again in the (definitely correctly assigned) texbook they had been given.

I calmly wrote the seven words on the whiteboard and sat down to wait for the class to complete the task of transfering them into their books, flicking through the textbook and looking authoritative. As I flicked, it gradually dawned on me that none of these words actually appeared in the very book I held in my hands: I had given them class 3’s words.

It was too late and too embarassing to admit my error, so I’ll just have to create some new activities that combine the material in the textbook plus the new words they had faithfully written into their brand spanking-new wordbooks.

Unlike today (six lessons in five hours), I only have three lessons tomorrow, so things surely cannot become as pear-shaped

Apparently, this is my fifth year as a English teacher. Whilst not strictly true (this year I’ve been taking paternity leave), I am both surprised and impressed with the length of time I have held down a job. On the other hand, I enjoy teaching immensely, and really feel I have found a vocation.

It being a Friday night, and having nothing better to do, I’ve just surfed to the Swedish school inspectors site, to glean some information about the potential effectiveness of my teaching, and found a report based on last year’s visit.

In Sweden there is a national test for all children nearing the end of year five, being 11 years of age. This test includes Maths, Swedish and English, which are considered to be the most important subjects. Information regarding the pupils’ results is freely available (here), and on page fifteen the results speak for themselves:

63% passed Mathematics
84% passed Swedish
89% passed English

Nearly all the pupils have Arabic as a mother-tongue, so it is not as impressive as it looks, but 89% is still more than acceptable. This is due, in part, to Sweden hosting English/American programs on TV, but this alone cannot account for such a high pass-rate.

The best thing of all is that I have no teaching qualifications at all. In fact, I have fuck all education. I am interested in languages, though, and I do seem to be able to connect with the kids, both as an equal and teacher. So, a big “go fuck yourselves” to those in Sweden who are trying to ensure the nation’s children are taught by properly educated teacher.