SUTLS

Today I woke up at 6.15. I am back at work and a bit depressed. I didn't even mean to get up this early, but the alarm on my new phone is so spiteful that I think my subconscious is forcing me awake before it goes off. Alarms have never bothered me too much, but this one actually makes me panic. It's supposed to be soothing and orchestral too. It is devil music.

After going through the process of deciding whether to sleep for a bit longer or not, I remembered I am not in Nokia 3310 country anymore and dragged myself out of bed. I washed my teeth, sorted my hair out and got dressed. I then sat still in the front room for ten minutes before leaving to school.

The metro dealer on the corner has changed. I never had a proper conversation with the old one, but the smiles and greetings got more friendly as time passed and I'm sure life long friendship was imminent. The new one is a bit scruffy and looks mardy. He gave me a metro with a stern nod. I was not impressed with the way I had to go and get it from him.

Instead of tutor time, we had an assembly for our new Super Head (that is actually his official title) to introduce himself to the kids. Its not impossible that this year may see more redundancies and although I'm as safe as they come, I still need to make a good impression. So for the only time ever, I actually paid attention to my groups wayward efforts at dressing themselves and dealt with any unwanted blinging up. I made them spit out their gum and I even tried to get my nemesis to smile. Thus, along with my rank form group, I looked the model of discipline. I know my tutor group so well, and vice versa, that we just tolerate each others' inefficiencies. I don't do Thought For The Week with them like I'm supposed to, they call me gay and sad and annoying and a gorm. I don't know what a gorm is. It is a mutually beneficial but unspoken agreement. They were confused by me today.

We have been given photo id necklaces to wear. All the pupils have been asking why. I told them it's so they know what we look like. My humour is above them and was only met with more confusion.

I had a year 9 class first. They are not officially a top set, but are as good as. They worked and behaved. I was glad about this, having two years ago taught "the worst two classes in the world ever", both in year 9. Then I had my year 11 class - the same kids I taught in year 10. They're ok - A couple of slightly rough around the edge boys and some gobshite girls. I told them this year they would tow the line no matter what they tried on with me. I used to only see this class in periods 4 and 5 when I couldnt keep them behind at break and lunch. Not so this year. My efforts to not let one pupil get the better of me had her rolling around on the floor by the end of the lesson. This was out of frustration. For once, I had won. There was something satisfying about the fact that last year, it would have been me down there.

The time table gods have dealt me a rough hand on the duty roster - Friday break time, patrolling smokers hill. What's more, theyre cracking down on people actually doing their duty which meant I could not 'forget' this time. So I sloped off outside. It was lucky I did so, because both the regular and super head were out there. I was told my key job was to be vigilant looking for drugs drop offs through the fence at the top of the hill. I took this opportunity to introduce myself to the super head and butter him up. It worked and I was told I'd drawn the short straw because I was highly considered.

This reminds me of when you give naughty or stupid kids a really horrid job and tell them its important and they have been handpicked because of their unique skills for sharpening pencils or taking a piece of paper to the photocopier. The retards always seem pleased at being told theyre good at something, when theyre not.

I have made myself a sheriff's badge out of paper.

Then, I was asked if I would like to be an official mentor to PGCE students. I'd have to go to a meeting next week, but would be paid for it. Thinking of time out of school and extra money I agreed. If I am a mentor for a student teacher, I basically have a slave. When the paper work came through later on, I noticed that I'd have to go next tuesday between half four and seven. I had been tricked, and unfortunately it was too late to back out.

After lunch I had a dodgy year 8 class. I have a cough and have lost my voice. One kid shouted "Sir! Your balls have dropped!" and the class roared with laughter. I appreciate good comedy and let it slide, but it soon became tiresome when he shouted it again and again. He is a fat bastard and I was inches away from pointing this out.

I saw my year 11s again in period four as the timetable gods pulled rank on me once more. However, karma was to give me the sweetest gift of them all to balance it out - the one thing that all teachers pray for: a free period last thing on a friday. I thought back again to two years ago when lesson 5 on a friday id be seeing my bottom set year 9 and giving myself headaches and nosebleeds. I smiled as I sat idly in the staffroom looking for food to steal.

I then went home and had a cup of tea straight away. I had to boil the water in a saucepan because the kettle is broken, but the effort made it all the better. After a tiring start to a new term, I now fully expect to sleep on the setee.