My job makes me SMILE

My job teaching 16-19 year-olds amuses me more than just about anything. Every day brings a new portion of complete and utter sheer-daftness. Some of it emanates from me. This entry is of my last three working-days worth of nonsense.

Last Thursday brought an all-staff email entitled 'new silly thing boys are doing', just when I thought I'd seen just about all of the silly things that boys do. Apparently a load of boys from the lower school, so aged about 13 and 14, have been spending their lunch breaks "snorting" their drinks. This has created a spate of severe nosebleeds. I remind myself at times like this that, as Whitney once said, 'the children are our future.' God help us.

Friday afternoon brings with it a double lesson of my most tricky characters. Last week, I dashed out mid lesson to avail myself of the restroom facilities. On my return to the room, a student asked where I'd been.
"To the loo." Cue an audible intake of breath from most of class. They stared at me, slightly agape and one student said "Miss, I think you're the only teacher that has ever admitted to going to the toilet." The others agreed and I tried then to shrug nonchalantly while thinking "God, I  must have missed the 'don't admit to peeing' lecture on the PGCE!".

Today, I have had fun by turning some teen-talk back on the students. Exam stresses have turned the GCSE class extra-petulant. I suspect this new party trick of mine which both amused them and shut them up has limited mileage. I'm giving it until Wednesday. I shall sketch out my new approach below:

Student: Miss, these exam questions are sooooooo stupid!
Me: So's your face.

Student: Miss, Billy's being really annoying!
Me: So's your face.

It works on so many levels. Well, one, actually. But we all enjoyed it. I'm really hoping I carried it off with enough irony so they don't think I'm actually one of the try-hards. Like the poor young maths teacher in my school who tried to "talk their language" and called a bunch of middle-class white boys from Kent "blud"  in a blunder that is now legendary.

Add to the above the class my year 13 boys (all 18) presented themselves, entirely performed in Phone-Jacker style and you'll understand why very often on the quiet drive home I realise that my face aches from smiling all day.