Dani will really miss her form kids....

I have to say, some kids at my school I will actually miss.
I write a lot of negative stories about my students and I rarely write positive things. I rarely say positive things about them either, that aren't laced with sarcasm, or prefaced by saying "Well, they are better than they used to be, but....", so I think it is time to talk about some kids that I will really, truly miss when I return home in the summer.

I think I have explained forms before, but I will just reiterate for a second: a form is a mixed-aged group of students who come together every day for 30 minutes. The point of form is for the form tutor (myself) to pass on messages to the form tutees, check to make sure they have all of their equipment (school supplies), they are writing down their homework, etc. On top of this, I am meant to make sure they are bonding in some sort of meaningful way with other year groups, and deliver what is called the "form program"- a mix of literacy and enterprise skills, usually. My form generally don't participate in the form program, and just sit around shooting the breeze. I used to attempt to force it down their throats, but after much tribulation, I joined the "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em" practice, and have just turned it into a big bonding session. I really believe that form is a big waste of time, half-an-hour babysitting session, but nevertheless, I have grown quite attached to my little buggers.

I'll try not to ramble on about them (though I could - and I started to, but deleted it), but I'll just tell you about today's form time experience. Today my form put on their assembly. Each week we head out to assembly and watch a bunch of nervous kids stand up, sputter out a few lines, and then return to their seats, red-faced, sweaty palmed, chests constricting, gasping for air and looking white as ghosts. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a tinge, but you get the picture. The kids do NOT want to be up there doing an assembly, at all. Today was my form's turn. I gave them all their little lines days in advance so they would practice and know what they were talking about. Expecting them all to lose their little slips of paper, I printed out 8 gazillion copies. I reminded them 65 times to show up to assembly on time, and I was just in a general panic about the state of things. As we were setting up the technical aspect of it at lunch, my form boys all arrived, perfectly dressed in proper uniform (a feat worthy of applause) and looking confident. They offered the Head Teacher of my Small School to help put out the benches and were just generally being charming and awesome. The girls arrived slightly afterwards, looking similarly put together, none of them wearing bright nail polish, big earrings or scarves (various things they are not allowed to wear, but do, all the time). Good start. They sat up on stage in order, and each delivered their lines with confidence and ease. Maybe I am just being bias, but I thought they looked like the most professional group of students I had seen in ages up there. Each one stood, took to the microphone, delivered their lines (some messed up wording, and just carried on through, without hesitation or embarassment). It was AMAZING!
I was just so pleased with my little super stars today. They are sooo good. At everything. Except listening, sometimes.
Like a proud Mama today... which leads me to my next thought....

Is teaching like being a mother in Canada? I don't think so - not from my practicums at least. Teaching in England is often like being a mother.It is making me old. I have to teach them how to dress ("Sort out your tie", "tuck in your shirt"), break up little tiffs ("now, you apologize to your friend. Say it like you mean it!"), comfort them when they cry ("so sorry she broke up with you.", "so sorry your dog died."), apppease them when they fake ill ("I know you have a bit of a headache, but you have to keep doing your test!") and just generally boost their little spirits when they are down.
Today I found myself standing in front of my Year 9 class, using my long, sharp fingernails to pull a splinter out of a child's thumb, and thought, I am actually these kids' mother. No one is even blinking that I am doing this at all. They think this is reasonable for me to be doing, as a part of my day-to-day job.

I need to get home, where I am paid to teach and not to mother, this is exhausting!!