Another guest post from our ‘new’ head.
Sorry, Mikey, couldn’t resist.
Week (weak) 3
Ok, I am now officially sick of being referred to as a ‘new head’ It sounds strange don’t you agree, as if I am merely defined by my role and my time doing it. For how long will I be referred to as ‘a new head?’ a year? I suppose if your house was 1 year old you would still call it ‘new’ whereas a one year old toothbrush would be positively ancient. I feel it may fall somewhere between these extremities.
Anyway, I am ‘new’ and I am a ‘head’ so for the time being, I suppose it fits.
What have I done so far? Answered the phone (see last blog), filled in paper work, had arguments with stupid people, (although these arguments were usually conducted long after the initial meeting, in my own head, whilst walking the dog. Oh what scything and cutting barbs I unleashed, how they quivered in front of my razor sharp oratory… but PC is they way to go…) and sent e mails, lots of e mails.
Granted, a lot of this sounds like stereotypical Head whinging, new or old (hey, how about calling those who have been in post for 10 years an ‘old head’?) Don’t get me wrong. I’m not whinging, far from it. Not only does it turn out that I am actually canny (Geordie word, look it up) organised when I don’t have a teaching responsibility, but that I can also work efficiently and quickly! I know it is only three weeks in…
It was the class teacher part that I thought I would miss the most, but at this point, I don’t. However clichéd or cheesy it sounds, I have a ‘class’ of 200 children and I am really enjoying getting to know them all as well as I knew my last class. In short, things are going great.
The homonym in the title references the lack of milk that seems to have been drunk in our local area, in 11 school days I have the rather unenviable record of three broken bones, 2 kids one staff! This is where that mound of paper work has come from.
So, with a cheery face I found myself back at the whiteboard in year four, gleefully cancelling meetings. ‘Tell them I’m teaching’ I boomed. It was great, it was fun, it was everything I remembered… Then I booked a supply for three weeks as I stopped living the dream (#) and realised that my 3 hour dalliance back into the classroom had knock on effects for the next two weeks. The pristine diary is a mess of crossings out and rearrangements and the phone and emails have never stopped.
I was as guilty as many,
‘What does he/she (the head) (new or old) actually do all day?’
To be honest, if asked I’m pretty sure I would struggle to tell you in any detail, but I have been doing lots, lots and lots. I suppose it is like the school itself, lots of little bits and pieces, combining to make a greater whole. That’s what I do, like a master jigsaw puzzler, arranging the pieces so they are available to all the assemblers on the front line (in a jigsaw puzzle-related war?) If the bits aint there, shit happens.
It must be late, I am spouting terrible analogies.
It seems that this post has been brought to you by the ‘(‘ and the ‘)’ keys.