That was the end of term...

End of term scenario 1: Year 11s have had their mock exams and see no point in being at school for the last week of term. Me neither. The wisest ones didn’t bother showing up. The rest just came in moaning in the usual “can we watch a video” way. I’d actually managed to manoeuvre it so there was an educationally relevant (albeit a tenuous link) film for them to watch. They would have been impossible otherwise. But they are out of control and over-excited: the talk is of boyfriends and expensive presents and getting drunk and new phones. A gaggle have exchanged presents and ripped them open and now they all have chocolate that they are just about to start eating even though by rights the lesson has started and the rules state that they can’t eat in classrooms. But I know they’re going to anyway. The solution: “Okay, we’re about to watch the film, and because this our last lesson before Christmas, as a special treat, you can eat chocolates if you have any, but only if you promise to put the wrappings in the bin.” The response: “Oh thanks, you’re so cool, wicked…” etc. The result: I look like the good guy even though all I’ve done is formally acknowledge their rule-breaking…

End of term scenario 2: the staff party looms. Rumours abound that it has taken on a significance well beyond the reality of a few drinks and crackers in a local wine bar and that it’s the social event of the millennium. Any sane person knows this is a lie. Any sane person knows it will be a bunch of teachers standing around swilling drinks for an hour or so and discussing shop and mundane rubbish before some of the group get drunk and start being “outrageous” and giving the teachers of a certain age something to talk about for the next few weeks. The solution: catch a terrible cold and cough pathetically at any given opportunity, therefore giving you a perfectly good excuse not to attend the social event of the millennium and get home in time for Friday night telly instead.