Duke, Stop Fucking Around and Pay Attention!

I've never been diagnosed as having ADHD but working with a number of pupils who have I find myself coming to the conclusion that I show many of the symptoms.

It affects me in a variety of ways. I get bored quickly and often find myself being distracted by anything other than what I should actually be doing.

I have great plans for my blog. I think of running jokes or thematic posts that I feel would be hilarious. Look at the manifesto post. Sure, it's a bit overlong and somewhat wordy but I thought it was quite funny. I then thought I'd run a series of posts based on a fictional parliamentary candidate getting into all kinds of amusing scrapes. Once again, plenty of room for cringe-worthy humour. Then I got bored writing about it. After ONE post.

I've done it before. I wrote a political profile on Lord Mandelson which I thought would turn into a series of satirical pokes at major British politicians. Didn't do it. How about the teaching advice posts that you promised us, Duke? Meh, other stuff happened.

How about my grand scheme to report the news in the style of a 1920s old time imperialist ("Today in the colonies there was some shooting. No white people were hurt.")? Or my plan to use literary critical theories to deconstruct the lyrics of modern pop songs (a Marxist reading of 'Single Ladies [Put A Ring On It]' anyone?) None of it happened. None of it will happen. As such my blog drifts aimlessly between personal mewlings and social commentary without any form of overall structure.

And it's not just on my blog. I can pretty much get any class I teach to be absolutely silent and working away like happy little things. That's great. Some teachers can't. The trouble is that I get bored so quickly that I start to wind the kids up. Stealing their pencil cases and hiding them. Pulling faces. Singing a nice song (currently my number one choice is 'Free Nelson Mandela' - I know not why). The other day I made a shadow puppet of a dog on the projector screen and pretended that it was throwing up the words on the PowerPoint I was using (yes, with sound effects). The kids generally ignore it or tell me to go away. One pupil once told me to 'grow up man-child'. Fair play.

This mucking around can occasionally turn a peaceful classroom into something approaching Brixton circa 1981. I then have to battle to get them quiet again.

Why do I do this? What possible use could it serve?

And when I have to complete work on my own I procrastinate like a mother fucker. If I have an 'absolute-must-finish' job I will spend twenty minutes working for every forty-five minutes of fucking about. This could be checking my blog, walking to the other side of the school to tell someone something (rather than send an email), try to improve my juggling, researching technical rugby moves that I will never pull off or even just staring at the light reflecting off the white board onto my ceiling. Sure, it looks pretty but I don't need it in my life.

It means that I'm 'okay' at a number of things (playing guitar, cooking, writing) but don't have the attention span to learn properly. Most of the computer games I buy are half finished. I listen to a CD non-stop for a week then put it away for the next twelve months.

There are however, some advantages. For instance, I have a knowledge about a lot of things. You could ask me a question on Roman civilisation, Russian literature or science and I'm usually pretty good at giving a half-decent response. I know, for example, that light can function as both a particle and a wave, that it is based on probability and can be in two places at once. That sounds impressive but that is the limit for me. I can't draw the equation that shows this for two reasons - I suck at maths and if I sat down, determined to get better, I would get distracted by a bee or something.

Anyway, I'm getting bored writing this. I'm off to play in my last match of the season. Have I told you about rugby?

Oh man rugby's great! So are 'Tool'! Dude, you've gotta listen to 'Tool'. They rock! Oh, have you ever eaten scallops? What about proper homemade jam? Do you watch 'Lost'? Yeah, I got bored too. How about 'The Wire'? It's great!

Ooh, look. A bee.

Oh Fuck STED

On Monday we had the call. The call that strikes fear and untold panic into the hearts of every teacher in the land. The one that loosens bowels and compresses bladders.

OFSTED were coming in.

OFSTED is a portmanteau of Office for Standards in Education. They are the government's inspectors. They give you notice two days before they are due to arrive and then descend - in flash cars I might add - like a biblical plague.

They operate like the SS at the start of Tarantino's Inglorious Basterds. They come in all smiles 'yes we're here to help you improve' before whipping out the MP42s and shooting at the floorboards.

No stone is left unturned. They will scour your school for any hint of something not quite right. This could be on any one of the 15 billion initiatives that have come into force over the last ten years. "What do you mean you haven't included a policy on creative development in lower school with a focus on community cohesion and its application across the Every Child Matters agenda? That is a 'Focus 12' priority and as such should have picto-implementation by now you twat" to someone who spluttering between sobs mummers "I just want to teach kids how to play hockey".

But that's an issue for the people with much larger pay-cheques than I. What I care about is when they just saunter casually into your classroom and stony faced ask for your 'Lesson plan, data sheets and motorcycle'.

I had this happen to me first period on Wednesday...

I was midway through my lesson. The kids were working well and I was circling the room checking the pupils' work. There was a thud on the steps leading to my classroom. I knew what was outside of the door. The handle slowly turned. The glass on the window was misted by the breath of the unspeakable horror that lay beyond it. The door opened with a sickening and somewhat cliched creak.

"Is this Year 9" the thing said, reptilian sibilance rasping in its voice.

"Er...yes. Yes it is." I stuttered with terror forcing my speech to quiver.

"Good...I will require a lesson plan and a data sheet". Its words inflicted primordial terror, my flight or fight response was coming into the fore. "Don't look into the eyes" I reminded myself aloud. She looked at me quizzically. "At the back" I squeaked, pointing to the chair I'd put everything on.

She sat. I had to do everything I could to be normal. I realised after three minutes that I had marched around my room thirteen times. I needed to calm down. A deep breath and a sip of water. Better.

The troll moved towards me.

"Lovely atmosphere in here"

"Well, I think that's unfair I jus...what!?"

"I said it's a lovely atmosphere in here - are you alright?"

"Yes - I've never had a compliment mid-lesson from an HMI before."

"Well, we're not monsters you know."

"*Ahem*...quite..."

And then it dawned on me. This wasn't a hideous creature sent from the bowels of hell to torture my yet still living soul. This was a middle aged lady in a skirt suit. Now there is one thing that I know I do better than anything else on this Earth...

Charming middle-aged ladies.

So I cracked a few jokes. Talked about what I was doing with the kids and why I was doing it. How the kids were being loyal and working so well because they knew I was being assessed. She smiled and made notes.

At the end of the lesson I dismissed my pupils and stood awaiting my fate.

"That was fantastic" she said "I'm grading you as '1s' across the board. As an English specialist myself I'm very impressed by the quality of the learning that took place in a class that is quite low ability. Well done."

She left me shaking with relief.

I've worked 18 hours a day for the majority of this week. I've lost sleep. I've panicked like nothing else. The Duchess has had to put up with a gibbering wreck of a man slumped over a laptop - something she did with aplomb and great kindness.

But to be officially graded as an 'Outstanding' teacher made it all worth it - there is no higher accolade in the profession.

Next week we'll be watching videos. Outstanding be damned - I'm exhausted.