Have been pondering the whole Gordon Brown Bullygate scenario; and am marvelling at how these various Downing Street employees are behaving. They wouldn’t survive ten minutes in one of my classrooms.

So far this week I have been called a ‘tosser.’ I have had Terrible Tilly’s Dad yelling at me about my deplorable standards. (I could tell him a thing or two about standards, personal hygiene standards); and watched as one of our more ‘challenging’ pupils threw a laptop at another pupil cos “‘e dissed me, innit.”

I shall be calling the National Bullying Helpline forthwith, I do hope the founder also intervenes on my behalf. I’m sure she will; it’s not like there was some sort of larger government agenda there is it?

I had a nightmare last night; a group of parents were petitioning to run one of the schools in our borough. Actually, it wasn’t a nightmare so much as a staff meeting I dosed off in. Supposedly – if the Tories get in - parents can bid to take over underperforning schools. This has really put the wind up some of my colleagues, especially the head, who is now concerned that everyone will discover the deep levels of her gross incomptence.

I am worried too. The thought of some of the parents we deal with running a school is more ludicrous that the misconception that  Katie Price is actually a savvy businesswoman….they’re boobs, and she’s common, she speaks to the majority of Britain today. It doesn’t make here savvy or businessminded, it makes her ordinary. End of.

Anyway, sorry, boobs aside, this entire plan stinks of classic politics: it’s very easy to think you can do better when you’re not in control and not answerable to anybody. I can’t even politely suggest to some of our parents that they could help with homework without getting an earful; how will they manage when someone criticises their position on the league tables. It’ll be tears before bedtime.

…and what a bizarre week it’s been.

On Monday I had to contend with Little Susie’s bohemian-but-not-chic parents coming in to tell me that they were taking her out of school for some quality time off. Three weeks of it. Apparently, and I quote, “The school is not meeting Susie’s needs, she needs time to decompress and be peaceful in her own company.” I fear she is being taken on some of alternative therapy retreat. She is six.

This was swiftly followed by one of those Tuesdays that just never ever ends; delights included a two hour long staff meeting on timetabling; an hour of special needs cover and the thrilling job of mopping up sick in the girls toilets. Someone had smuggled Haribo in again.

On to Wednesday, where the torrential sleet kept 400 children under the age of ten inside all day, having to read quietly. They did not read. And they did not not read quietly.

I staggered into Thursday ready to give up teaching altogether, only to be given a present from one of my pupils that showed me to flying to the Big Brother house in a Superwoman cape. With a dog. And a bucket. I told you it was a bizarre week.

A week that finally ended on Friday, where we had to sit through an assembley on internet safety. Someone had clearly not checked the work of the pupils giving the assembley, and so we had banners warning against Internet Softie and Bad Men. Still, I think the point was made.

Well I’m not. I’ve thought for too long now that the exams are more a test of memory, than of an understanding of analysing and writing about a text.

My pupils spend a whole year going through the text, often developing good arguments and reaching an impressive level of understanding and analysis in class, only to revise by reciting quotes and hoping for a question on the sysmbolism of Piggy’s glasses or whether Hamlet is a flawed hero. When they get these they merely list the quotes they’ve remembered and rewrite an answer they’ve already practised.

It’s getting harder to justify how English will help them in future life when it is becoming a competition in who has the best ability to remember things; rather than something that encourages them to interrogate something they’ve read, question it, form and argument and use evidence from the text to back up their argument.

But hey, i’m only an English teacher so what do I know?

Having sorted through the mountain of heavy catalogues and shiny, shiny promotional material that was dumped on given to me at BETT i’ve now been able to process the wonders I discovered there.

1) Schoolchildren pay absolutely no heed to running past you and knocking you over wherever they are; it’s not just in your school, and it’s not just you. They do it to everyone.

2) Bring your own lunch. £6.99 for a 6 inch pizza beggars belief. And empties your wallet rather too quickly.

3) Nodding and smiling is an excellent substitute for being interested, but beware, if you nod at the wrong time you’ll find yourself sitting on an hard orange bench, forced to watch a ‘fun afternoon demonstration’ for an hour with a group of equally bored confused teachers.

4) Virtual learning environments are the future; and there’s no point trying to convince yourself it’s any other way. Books will become ‘digital data’; the library will be turned into a ‘learning pod’.; and resistance is futile.

5) While it is in London, Olympia still remains one of the most obscurely difficult places to get to, with tubes only running every other Friday in a month with a full moon it’s a veritable miracle if you make it there before the end of next year’s BETT. Thank god for the Teachable bus to Hammersmith.

I just couldn’t let this one slide by without mentioning it. The lovely people at Teachable are rewarding the best digital teaching resources with free access to its site for a year – and more importantly, £1000 to spend on whatever you want. All you need to do is submit one of your best digital teaching resources to the site and wait for the winnings to flood in….

You have till 22nd Jan to submit your entry, check out all the details here.

Coming back in January is so much worse than coming back in Sept; mainly because my pupils are hyperactively showing off their news toys, even though they’re not supposed to bring them in.

And the shock of rising early in the morning seems to hurt all over again. And my desk appears to have been attacked my more woodworm. And this morning a note arrived on said holey desk asking if I would bring the work I’ve done on my ‘Improvement Plan’ to the head’s office this afternoon so we can discuss it. Well that shouldn’t be too difficult, because I havent’ done it. A nice short meeting then.

It’s Sunday night, and I am fighting the misery. School starts tomorrow, I have done none of the marking I should have done; I have a raft of reports I was supposed to read for the head, which I haven’t; and I have about 100 children who are supposed to be taking exams in a week, who will all arrive back at school in one of three states:

a) unprepared, terrified and overtired

b) unprepared and unconcerned

c) pregnant