It is a windy day and the children are restless. "I can't do a thing with them today," says one of the teachers. She makes them sound like unruly hair. But she's right. I can't do a thing with them, either.
"Each little flower what opens, Each little bird what sings," chants Year 1. "Not 'what', children 'that'...." I say, enunciating so clearly that my nostrils flare, and trying to keep a kindly, yet firm note in my voice.
They try again. "Each little flower what opens......" And again. Things get worse. "Each little flahr what....." They sound like the street traders in a badly rehearsed performance of "My Fair Lady." I give up and we do "In and out the dusty bluebells" or, rather, "In and aht the dusty bluebells." depending on whose pronunciation is winning.
At least they try to do what I tell them. Other teachers urge me to rattle a musical instrument for silence but I find the idea of being able to assert my authority only through the conduit of a small yellow tambourine rather unsettling. In addition, it would make me feel like a Christian revivalist. The tambourine will be for emergency use only. I place it close to the fire alarm.
At break, there is a slightly awkward atmosphere. Last week, I inadvertently called one of the teachers by her first name and picked the worse possible moment to do this, in front of all 120 children during hymn practice.She took it fairly well, reminding me of the need to use titles only three or four times during the morning. Unfortunately, in a moment of madness when she came into my year 2 recorder lesson just as 22 children were playing an out of tune 'A' at top volume, I did it again.
Now she treats me with the caution you reserve for a mongrel, which may or may not meet the criteria for classification under the Dangerous Dogs Act, and will no longer help me with hymn practice as she says she has been called away for emergency remedial teaching. I can see I have some bridge building to do.
I mention class control - perhaps there's some sort of bra that would help? - and one teacher talks with a certain note of nostalgia about a retired music teacher acquaintance of hers, who would be playing the piano before the start of each new class. Children were expected to latch on to the tune outside the classroom door and to be singing lustily as they came in. Any who weren't would get a whack on the back of the legs with a ruler.
Ah, the good old days.
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11 comments:
This emergency remedial teaching that she's called away for. Does she do it, or receive it?
Omega Mum, I could so use your help tonight (as an experienced teacher). I'm helping out at my 6 year old's Science Day tomorrow. I have tried out the recipe for making silly putty that I'm in charge of SIX times and I still can't get it to work. I picked that one, because it looked pretty easy (equal parts liquid starch and white school glue - mix, leave 3-4 mins, mix again). How can I not do this? Luckily, his teacher is very very nice, and thinks it's funny (I've already confessed), and says she will help me out. Do you think I need a tambourine? You have mentioned them in 2 recent posts about teaching. They must be important.
Lol, by the sound of those accents you teach at N3S's school!
I agree about the tambourine ( and loved the image of your class resembling a Christian revivalist meeting).
A loud toot or two from a tuba might do it though. Come to think of it, every music classroom ought to have one, a tuba standing solemn in a corner. It would add a touch of gravitas, if nothing else...
Love the reference to My Fair Lady - took me right back to school plays and the panic of the dress rehearsal when the principals still hadn't learned their lines and the orchestra spent the entire session being yelled at by the music teacher for not having practiced. As you say, ah, the good old days...
Iota: I will consult with the silly putty experts at school (life's so beaurocratic these days that there's probably a co-ordinator). I have to confess, though, that I only teach music, nothing else, which is a privileged position to be in, so my hands on experience of silly putty is nil. Use humour and keep bribing your child's teacher with chocolate biscuits - they're international educational currency.
DJ: Apparently all children now speak like this. I can't decide whether it's good or bad news.
IB: Tuba! What a fantastic idea. You don't have one knocking around (though they're much too dignified to knock, I'd have thought)? If so, I'll trade you for a pair of maracas and a couple of claves.
Potty Mummy: The one thing about being a teacher is that you realise that childhood doesn't represent the best days of your life. If it did, I think you'd leave school and kill yourself.
Ooh, outside the office for you my girl.
You might be interested in reading my blog today but I warn you, it isn't pleasant.
Crystal xx
CJ: Coming over now.
Me again! Thanks for your comment on my blog. I have indeed followed your advice and popped over to see the blog you recommend. It is excellent and I intend to follow it.
Many thanks for that,
Crystal xx
Oh, good, CJ. 'To Miss with Love' is really first class and you don't get better 'chalkface' insights than she provides. Why don't you ask her for some advice?
Oh, good, CJ. 'To Miss with Love' is really first class and you don't get better 'chalkface' insights than she provides. Why don't you ask her for some advice?
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