It was a Thursday lunchtime (week B) and once again I sat in the office, staring at my lunch and feeling more than a little bit sick. The clock ticked closer to 1:35 and I tried to steel myself for 75 minutes of what I could only describe as mental acrobatics with year 8 French. I had planned a series of challenges with an answer key. That way the lovely ladies at the back could crack on while I tried to cajole John into sitting down, Joanna into being quiet and I could try to make sure Jill stayed outside while I waited for SLT to pick her up. Jack might even write the date if he was in a good mood and I asked nicely enough. Hopefully I’d be able to keep them quiet enough to do the register. I took a deep breath, put on my ‘teacher face’ and quietly said “It’s only 75 minutes a fortnight”, before stepping out into the corridor. Four years later and the picture is slightly different. Today I sat at my desk, eating my lunch and looking at the desks which had been filled with my yea...
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