On Having An Amazing Day And Feeling Vindicated

Hold your breath, ladies and gentlemen...I think a momentous historical occasion is about to take place. An event that I was recently told does not happen enough....

...Yes, I am going to make a positive post. *gasp*

This isn't even just a post about a positive occasion. No, it's better than that. It is a positive post about....drum roll please...ME!!!

The start of this semester has seen some pretty amazing transformations, not only in my students, but perhaps in myself as well. I'm not entirely sure what to chalk this change up to, whether the entire thing has been in my head, or if things are genuinely changing as a natural course of things. Regardless, I won't fight it. Change is good. Change is great.

Last week I had a breakthrough week. It started with a brief tumble, but I've rebounded quite nicely. I ended on a high note for the first time in ages. I didn't come home cursing my job, ready to crack open a can of cider and drown in it. I came home, relaxed for a day, and then quietly got down to business on Sunday. I woke up this morning well rested, and in good spirits. It carried on through the day, as each of my classes breezed by.

The only minor hiccough, and it is minor indeed, is that my top set year 11s are TOO comfortable with me. I think we're at a really good stage in our relationship, though now I feel we've slipped too far into friendly territory, and may stand to lose a bit of authority. I'm not sure if I told you about the 'love' incident that took place on the last day of class, before Christmas. You see, I had one of my top set year 11 boys, we will call him Hank, stay behind on the last day of class. He kind of dilly-dallied around until everyone else had left, and then proclaimed is love for me. I kindly put him down, and thought that would be the end of it.

As it turns out, it's continued to be an ongoing joke in lesson. At first Hank seemed to be more embarrassed than anything, but now it appears as if he's in on it. In fact, I'm not entirely sure the crush is crushed. Today saw an insane amount of inappropriate comments hurled my direction. I tried to bat them off like they were nothing, but it really started to grate on me.

"Miss, what's the youngest you'd consider dating?"
"That's not appropriate, nor does it apply to the lesson. Get back to work."
"Miss, would you ever consider Hank, if he were older? Do you fancy the look of his face?"
"I won't answer that."
"Miss, how much do you think Hank weighs?"
"What does that have to do with anything? Get back to work."
"Miss, we have a question!"
"Does it apply to the work at hand?"
"Yes, absolutely!"
"Okay, what is it..."
"What would you consider is your type of man?"
"Good god...."
"Miss. Question about Canada. Whats the legal age? Can you date someone who is 15? Cuz Hank is 15...but I'm 16!"
"Good lord...."
"Just answer the question, and we will stop."
"It's 14, now get back to work..."
"OH SWEET....Um, Miss, when are you going back to Canada next?"
"..."
"Cuz I'm going to go there when you go there....and give it a try!"
"My dear, you are far too young for me. Must be born in the 1980s for me."
"Oh...my brother was born in 1981!"

And so on and so forth. I attempted to separate boys, move boys, took a hard stance, took a soft stance, and everything I did only added fuel to their growing perverted and inappropriate fire. Eventually I gave up trying to get them on task, and ignored them completely.

A few boys attempted to stick around after everyone else had left, but I started to get nervous at this 'ambush', and let them know that their behaviour was not only making me extremely uncomfortable, it was also scaring me a little. All I could think of was their going home, telling their parents, and my getting sacked for allowing their little banter to continue. I wasn't allowing it, and was ignoring their pathetic questions as much as possible, but I doubt anyone would believe me, regardless. I'm definitely going to have to try to be more careful in future, as clearly these boys don't know their boundaries. I'd hate to have to bring in the Assistant Head, to talk to them about their behaviour, as I don't want to ruin the general atmosphere of the class, but it may become a real option if they don't snap out of their dirty streak soon.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch. And then came the night.

The much dreaded Year 8 Parents evening.

A night in which the parents of my two top set year 8 groups signed up to come talk to me about their children. I was fully booked; each parent was strictly allotted 5 minutes of my time, in which I was supposed to sing their high praises (there was little else for me to do, considering the two classes are a sheer delight, and I consider them my 'angels').

I was insanely nervous going into the evening, especially considering no one else was booked up solid like I was. The other teachers kept joking that that is what you get for getting the two top sets; high achieving parents like to hear how wonderful their kids are, after all. Regardless, I felt a little bit nervous, as if the parents were more coming to scope me out as a teacher; to size me up and throw me to the wolves if they were not satisfied.

The first few parents in, I was blushing the entire time. My face felt hot all over, and I knew I must have looked like a silly little school girl, unsure of what to say or do. I was also sweating like a she-devil, and since I was wearing a skirt my bare legs started to stick to the pathetic plastic chairs they had us seated on. It was very uncomfortable, and I kept praying for relief.

Eventually, as I started to get more confident, and as the interviews didn't go down the tube like I had predicted, I felt the blush ease. I wasn't so hot all over anymore. I started to relax a bit, and started to really speak from the heart. Perhaps I was a bit too gushy at the end. Perhaps I was a bit too pretentious and 'teacher-y'. It doesn't really matter, because at the end I was nothing but sheer confidence. My last interview lasted 15 minutes, as I chatted away the parents of a very bright but underachieving boy.

By the time the last few parents were lined up to see me, all the other teachers in the room had long since filed out. It was me and them. And I entertained the lot of them, as they waited their turn. I was on fire. Sheer wit and professionalism, all rolled into one. Plus I looked dead sexy, to boot. I likely charmed a few dads, and used my cute-sweet side to win over many moms. It was clear skies for Miss Carson.

Obviously the evening went well, not just in terms of my performance with the parents. I also received a plethora of positive reinforcement from the parents. Many told me that their kids came home gushing about English. Many were thrilled to bits that their child FINALLY enjoyed English lesson (after what was apparently a bad year in year 7). I had more than one tell me to keep doing what I was doing. I had more than one THANK me for what I was doing. They all shook my hand warmly, and seemed sincere in their appreciation. I tried to ooze that sincerity back.

It was a fabulous ego boosting, confidence reassuring night.

I am not a shit teacher, and my efforts do not go unnoticed. I can do this. I can do this well. I DO do this well.

Hot damn.