The final few furlongs....

During the summer term I become the Scrooge of sunshine. Attempting to teach thirty sweaty teenagers in a classroom hotter than your average sauna is not my favourite occupation. Imagine the consequences of rising temperatures: the mood swings increase in velocity and frequency; the battle of body odour and deodorant becomes more volatile; picking up a pen requires a super-human effort. My role as a variety show entertainer is replaced by that of cajoler, nag and eventually slave driver. Students who previously hung off my every word (well some words) can barely keep their concentration inside the classroom.

With less than three weeks to go until the end of term I am beginning to adjust to the concept of life beyond the institution; aided in this by the unsettled atmosphere which perpetually prevails in a secondary school at this time of year. Primary schools can busy themselves with nature trails, treasure hunts or the school play. The high school timetable is polarized between academic pressure and the constant interruptions of more serious extra-curricular activities; Duke of Edinburgh expeditions, sporting fixtures and extra-curricular activities prioritise student's energy. Admittedly these are all worthy endeavours which broaden the children's minds and reduce their risk of obesity. However they also seem to mysteriously drain any remnant of academic thirst or self motivation they might once have had. Setting work becomes impossible, 'Oh we won't be here to hand it in miss, we'll be in The Forest of Dean....' or 'We won't be able to finish this on Wednesday miss, it's sports day..'



It's the time of year when even the most affable students become awkward, evasive and even hysterical; when the lovely child becomes an ogre. Already made fractious by the heat and the lure of sunshine they become increasingly disinclined to work. The enticingly imminent prospect of the long, lazy summer holiday merely exacerbates the problem. They 'don't see the point of poetry', 'can't be bothered with the Brontes and tell me (more often than usual) that 'Shakespeare sucks'. My constant nagging is met with a barrage of increasingly elaborate excuses; 'I'm sorry miss, I couldn't do my homework because I was making cakes for the school fete...' (funny that - we don't have one!) or 'Sorry miss, I couldn't finish my course work 'cos I was working on my tan...It is really important miss, I don't want to be too white on the beach do I?.'....How do you respond to such rational arguments? The sixth form don't argue, they just absent themselves by finding countless university open days to attend; in all honesty, are they ever likely to attend the University of Newquay or The college of Cornwall? 'Maybe not miss, but they do have great beaches....'



You might think that because I'm leaving, I could match their apathy. That I could respond with 'You are right, Shakespeare is stupid....don't bother to finish that essay.. or let's forget 'Frankenstein' . I would just say 'Forget everything; let's sunbathe!' If it weren't for my love of Literature and for my conscience I might do just that. Yet I feel compelled to tie up every loose end and make things tidy for my successor; my conscience wins. We will complete our course work, we will write those essays and we will practice our precis. Yes, this will become a power struggle but the teenage tantrums will also ease my departure.... they will be a reality check - a reminder of the trials of teaching; that I've only loved nearly every minute of it all...