People come to interview at my school and I think they’re a bit taken aback. The corridors are silent at lesson changeovers; kids line up, eyes front, to enter the building; kids sit with their arms folded in lessons; they say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ a lot; if a kid’s collar is a bit skew-whiff one of his peers will silently sort it out for him; if a kid drops something, his peers instantly help him; at lunch kids each have a role, they serve each other, they chat enthusiastically, politely, taking turns. All that stuff, courtesy, mutual respect, it’s a bit weird at first. Well, for some anyway.
But actually, the people that come into my French classroom, rarely mention the impeccable manners, the superb behaviour, the wrapt attention. What really blows visitors away is the enthusiasm, the sea of hands, the excellent pronunciation, the extended responses habitually featuring past, reasons, opinions, future and subjunctive. And the atmosphere is playful! I laugh, the kids laugh. We have a giggle whilst at the same time these kids really know how to analyse language, how to memorise, to recycle across context, to really deconstruct and reconstruct.
It’s a joy to spend time with these kids, to listen to them correct the French on the board, ” Mais c’est evident Monsieur. Il faut ajouter un e à la fin parce que le mot ‘chambre’ est féminin.’ It’s a delight to be with these kids at break time as they crowd around you to share what they’ve learnt that morning or they ask to be challenged to spell, in French, the incredibly long words they’ve learnt in science.
Why do I love my job so much? And let’s not forget that it’s just a job. It’s just a part of my life. I hate all that ‘teacher as martyr’ stuff.
I love my job because I teach. Very simply, I teach. I laugh. The kids laugh. They call me: vieux, chauve and zinzin. I reply: dingue, cinglé and n’importe quoi! It’s fun. Not in the, games, distractions, fads and gimmicks, sense of the word. But in the, I’m going to teach you all the intricacies of this subject, I’m going to pitch high, I’m going to make the content memorable, I’m going to preempt the stumbling blocks and you’re going to leave this lesson feeling energised, accomplished and confident, sense of the word.
I work in a school where every child, every lesson, expects to be taught. To be talked at, to receive precise explanations, to be didactically, authoritatively, memorably, passionately taught by a real subject expert. So the kids go from lesson to lesson, in silence, keeping to the left, knowing that the next lesson, like the lesson before, will be 100% focused on effective learning. Lessons aren’t planned to placate the lazy, or entertain the indolent, lessons aren’t structured to fit a despotic pro forma in the hope of appeasing a fad-chasing SLT. Lessons are simply structured. What do kids find hard? Why? How can I teach this better so the content is memorable, transparent and challenging?
Anyway, if you fancy working in a school where the kids are diamonds, silence is golden and charismatic delivery, combined with subject passion, is welcomed with open arms, get in touch!