Bless their hearts. The Year 7s are all kinds of cute, heart warming and adorable. The lost look on their faces makes me want to pick them up and pop them in my pocket, at least that way they would be safe. However, their cuteness can soon wear off.
Thursday was their first day in “big” school – and my first day of “proper” teaching and at 8:25am, I was reminded of just how young (and fragile) the Year 7s are. They marched into the hall, in blazers that were fit to ‘grow in to’ (huge!), with little lost puppy looks on their faces, and sat silently down ready to say (in true Junior school style) “Good morning Mr ‘__.'” “Good morning everyone.” It was seriously cute, my insides melted.
But that was only the start of it. As a proud tutor of a mixed Year 7/8 group, I marched my newbies up to the classroom and put them into their seating plan. I’m not sure they knew what had hit them, they looked terrified when they realised they were being separated from their best buds. I wasn’t that sorry – they’ve got to learn.
One little boy in particular, who seemed extremely quiet and didn’t seem to be listening to anything I said (not a ‘bad egg’, just a little ditsy) kept wiping at his eyes. I went up to him to see what his little half-cry was all about.
Half-crying kid: *wipes eyes*
Me: Are you okay?
Half-crying kid: *shakes head*
Me: Are you just a bit scared?
Half-crying kid: *wipes eyes and smiles, nodding*
Me: What are you most scared of?
Half-crying kid: We don’t go around *sob* in our tutors. How will I know anybody?!
AW. SO cute, and I suppose, an obvious concern, secondary school is a big change!
Anyway, I sorted him out and the rest of tutor seemed to go pretty well – even when my nutcase Year 8s turned up. As I sent my newbies off for the day, I felt positive – they were totally going to rock their first day.
How I was wrong.
At second tutor (after lunch), they all piled back into my classroom – looking knackered – to say the least. A couple of them came up the wrong stairs (a decision they would soon come to regret!), a few nervously ambled in about 7 minutes late, and the rest of them just stared at me with their big, worried eyes as I sent them off to ICT to get their logins sorted.
What happened next though, was the strangest.
By the end of tutor, none of them had returned – obviously the computer business was taking ages. Anyway, by the time my Year 10s were forcing their way into the room, I still had most of their bags in the class. And only about 90% of my kids came to pick them up. Obviously – I was teaching – so there was nothing I could do.
So it was no surprise then, at the start of 6th lesson (the last of the day – thank fuck!) that a couple of my Year 7s came hurtling towards me to pick up their bags.
“I had PE Miss, so I left my normal bag here.”
Shit. These kids are BABIES. I calmly explained that secondary school does not work like that and let them leave. But don’t worry reader, the fun was not over.
Lesson 6 was Year 7s. I have a set 4 (out of 5) so you can imagine the type of kids. I stood at my door waiting for them to turn up, and was greeted by the SCRUFFIEST kids I have ever seen. Shirts half done up and ties were just a total mess. In total, I waited around 10 minutes for them all to turn up. They had just come from PE. And the poor little buggers couldn’t get themselves dressed!
One poor little boy (he was tiny and SUPER cute) tried tying his tie THREE times!
Kid: “I just keep doing this Miss” *grabs tie and simply pulls at it – resulting in peanutting himself repeatedly*
[Note – peanutting is simply making your tie into a very small, tight knot.]
Me: I tell you what, as we seem to be getting nowhere, just take your tie off and I will sort it at the end of the lesson.
Kid: *big bleary eyes* um, yeah okay Miss. *scuttles off*
Phew. I’d sorted that one out and now surely, this lesson would be a breeze.
Me: Do you have any other questions?
Kid 1: Do you want me to write in pen or pencil?
Kid 2: Shall I underline the date in pencil?
Me: No, no, pen is fine!
Kid 2: Also, Miss, shall I write the long date or the short date?
Me, subconsciously: Jesus, I forgot there were even two types of the date.
Me: Just write what I put on the board.
*sigh of relief from the class*
Kid 3: Shall I use ball point pen or a fountain pen?
Kid 2: YEAH! I WANTED TO KNOW THAT!
Me: Put your hand up instead of shouting out.
Kid 2: SORRY MISS.
Me, subconsciously: OH MY GOD. ANY FUCKING PEN IS FINE.
Me: I don’t mind, your choice.
Kid 4: Miss, do we have to write in blue or black?
Me: Either! *smiles sweetly*
Kid 5: Miss, do we take our books home?
Me: Nope, you can keep them here. Any final questions?
Kid 2 (again): Oh, no, I forgot what I was going to ask!
Kid 6: Miss, are these our home seats?
Kid 2 (AGAIN): OH MY GOD THAT’S WHAT I WAS GOING TO ASK!!!!
Me, subconsciously: WHAT THE FUCK IS A HOME SEAT?!
Me: What’s a home seat?
EVERYONE: THE ONE WE SIT IN ALL THE TIME!
Me: *wipes brow* Yes, these are your home seats. *takes a deep breath* I think we’ve covered everything.
Honestly, reader – I’m sure you have all been there – THEY ARE EXHAUSTING. Cute, but exhausting. I had to cut them off, else I think we would have been there all day.
Anyway, after establishing that any pen is fine and these were definitely their “home seats” – I think they were satisfied and I was knackered – and thankfully it was time to go home. I know it’s not easy being a Year 7, but I don’t remember it being THAT difficult.
[Please note: on Friday, I had the Year 7s again – and I was asked 3 or 4 more ridiculous questions about the date, pens, and seats. They are also obsessed with asking whether they are allowed a drink, and if it’s okay to take off their blazer. This year is going to be a RIGHT giggle.]