Objectives: This week, I have been mostly learning French.

Every lesson must have an objective. This is phrased in a variety of jargons:

WALTs (We Are Learning To), LOBs (Learning Objectives), Objectifs (in French).

They break down into outcomes, usually following the form: All, Most, Some. Thus, for example, All students will be able to identify 8 holiday activities, Most students will be able to say which holiday activity they like and Some students will be able to give a reason why they like them.

It gives a lesson focus and purpose, but can be taken too far. According to the latest OFSTED criteria, all students should be aware of what their objectives are that lesson and should be able to rattle off its aims and outcomes when asked by an inspector (at any given point in the said lesson). As a fellow teacher pointed out to me today, the mechanical and contrived way in which we are now encouraged to train the students to parrot their objective is not dissimilar to the famous Fast Show sketch, Jesse's Diets:

Slaves to the machines

MAYDAY!

The computers were broken this week. Several types of panic ensued. 

Firstly, those teachers that actually need the computers for their classes (ICT and Graphics teachers for example) weren't able to teach.

Secondly, those teachers that are lazy and just let their classes play games on the computers all had to actually come to terms with restless kids unaccustomed to doing any work.

Thirdly, and this is where I'd classify myself, teachers were unable to access their resources for lessons. The move towards schools saturated with hi-tec gadgetry is a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, an Interactive Whiteboard is a wonderful resource tool for engaging students in whatever you're teaching them. It has the added benefit of saving the teacher the worry of turning his or her back on the class in order to write something up on the board since all can be projected at the flick of a switch. On the other hand, like this week, lessons end up relying on it, so when a technological glitch of any severity occurs, teachers have to innovate without a key resource!

No more showing clips of cool French things - like this (to teach 'il chante') or this (to teach 'il monte') - no more games of Splat the Board, Hangman or Bingo; no more legible fonts on colourful Powerpoint slides. 

Instead it was a week of textbooks, exercise books and match up cards....

....and it was No Bad Thing! I was happy over-all for how the classes behaved, albeit it worried that the computers breaking down would mean a loss of all my hard work and resources completed to date.

I needn't have worried. The computers are up and running and I can go back to showing my students YouTube clips all lesson.

Hyperchouette!

Literacy.

JK is a fluent French speaker, whose father is French-African. He is, in many ways, typical of the French speakers we have at my school: African origins, certain regional/Belgian idiosyncrasies (especially for those students of Congolese descent), a vocabulary limited sometimes to simple domestic French, perfect comprehension of the teacher but a scarce understanding of grammar. Actually that last point applies to nearly all the students in the school.

Today JK decided that he would listen to music in my lesson. He also came in 10 minutes late, without a pen, in incorrect uniform and did no work. I must confess that in previous lessons I had let him get away with listening to music on those rare occasions that he chose to do some work, but today my lesson had actually got off to a good start and I did not want to compromise again.

The upshot of the inevitable confrontation was that he had to leave the classroom. He came to see me at the end of the day to apologise. I'm pretty sure that his form tutor prompted him to. Perhaps, however, he still dimly remembers last week when I phoned his father to complain about his behaviour and he had been told that he wasn't going to football training until his behaviour improved. For a hyperactive student like him it was torture, yet he forced himself to survive the whole two hours of double French so as not to run the risk!

When he came to apologise I sat him down and taught him the lesson that he'd missed due to his lateness and bad behaviour. Suddenly, his illiteracy in French became starkly, brutally clear. The boy cannot connect the letters on the page with the sounds they make and this makes him feel so inadequate that he spends most of my lessons trying to start fights with his otherwise diligent and sensible classmates. I remember being told by a friend who teaches in Manchester that she found out how low literacy nearly always equates to bad behaviour. Can't do turns into won't do which leads to trouble: frustration on behalf of both teacher and pupil is the frequent result!

It's a difficult situation, but it can be dealt with. It's a matter of differentiating for his ability. Giving him single words to read to start with, before expecting him to cope with a whole text. Encouraging him one-on-one, then giving him the chance to play to his strengths: to lead speaking and listening activities and to show off his oral skills. It's not simple, but he might have to become a 'pet project'....Oh la la! C'est dur la vie!

Video lessons...yay!

I showed my Form La haine yesterday and today. I teach them on Mondays and Tuesdays. They used to be my most dreaded lessons, but now the Nutters on Thursdays and Fridays have taken on that mantle. I was so tired from the trip to Paris and the sponsored walk that dominated my weekend, that I decided it would be admissible to spend a day showing videos. For anyone who hasn't seen it, La haine is a wonderful film, made in 1995 by Mathieu Kassovitz in response to the heavy rioting that took place in the suburbs of large French cities between unemployed youths of immigrant decent and the French police force. It was a hard-hitting, controversial film that portrayed the police as occasional torturers guilty of malicious brutality, the bourgeoisie as insensitive and out of touch, and the youths of the banlieue as disenfranchised, geographically and emotionally 'on edge', and stuck in a vicious cycle of violence and a constant struggle for respect. My students who have seen this film (not only the Form, but Year 10 as well) seem to relate to the three characters at the centre of the drama and I think they enjoy finding out that France is not necessarily defined and limited to their textbooks: they discover another side to the country whose language they have been studying that they did not know existed.

In general, teachers are obviously advised not to do "video lessons." They are a cop out - a lazy way of teaching. This advice is, of course, true. But a well-used video can have an impact that few media can rival. In my own education, for instance, I remember very well the Religious Studies lessons when we were discussing medical ethics while watching Gattaca, and the added impact that a storyline, emotional involvement with characters and moving images bring to a point of discussion.

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I think that I have finally found something that F, from the Form, is actually good at: every morning I have a weekly volunteer check the other form members for correct uniform and equipment. F, a pupil whose (single) mother works two jobs, is often unsupervised in his spare time. This, coupled with a presumably absent father and an older brother whose main hobby is pursuing girls, means that F lacks self discipline of any sort. He is prone to being late, messing about in nearly all lessons, fighting and rudeness, but this week he is my volunteer and he has put his heart and soul into enforcing the dress code, into verifying whether the class have the correct equipment for the school day and, what is more, is far more effective than me in doing so! He puts on his "teacher voice" and mimics me in the process, but it seems to work so I'm happy!

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Three boys from Year 7 were suspended from school for 5 days for bringing a knife into school yesterday. I teach them all and know that they were just being silly, but the very fact that they thought it would be funny to do that is worrying. It suggests that aged eleven they are already steeped in what they perceive to be "street life", this stupid urban culture that thinks it's cool/tough/necessary to carry a weapon. I hope that they will learn their lesson, but since one of them lives with his teenage sister and 14 year-old brother while his parents are living in Angola, I wonder where the 'damn good thrashing' is going to come from.

Trips

This has been a very busy weekend. I'm too tired to write anything long and will have to reflect on all my experiences later this week.

On Saturday our difficult-to-organise, 'against-all-odds' Mission Impossible to Paris passed off without too much of a hitch. 19 year 10s and year 11s were taken from North London to Paris, then around Paris, then shopping in Paris and then back to St Pancras International. For some it was an eye-opener, for others a chance to taste freedom from strict parental homes, for others yet it was an occasion to practise some French and savour the experience. For one girl it was a chance to be interrogated by French Passport Control.

Today, I participated in the Bridges to Africa sponsored walk across 10 bridges in the middle of London. Together with a few other teachers we took 40 Year 10, 8 and 7 students and had a lovely day in the sunshine by the river. A few highlights included:

T: Sir, when do we actually reach London? (as we walk through the City)

and

Me: Indicating the Houses of Parliament. Do you know what that is?
D: Big Ben.
Me: Yes, but what about the rest of the building - Big Ben is the clock and the bell.
D:...the BBC?...
S: No! That's where the Queen keeps her jewels!
Me: Not quite, that's the Tower of London. You'll see it later.
S: It's probably some museum.
Me: It's the Houses of Parliament. Do you know what happens there?
D: It's where there are people like Labour and stuff.
S: But I thought the Queen lives in London.
Me: She does, but she lives in another palace.
D: It's good that England has all these old buildings otherwise we wouldn't have any tourists, innit Sir?
Me: I suppose so.
D: I know it is. Sir, do you know why England is famous? It's because of all the old buildings and our hills.
I didn't know what he meant or how to reply.

B: Grabbing my arm. Oh Sir, set me some crisps!
Me: If you ask me politely.
B: Sir, please set me some crisps!

I think that trips are very important for an education. I'm sure it's obvious why so I'm going to go to sleep now. Good night.

Parents' Evening

Enter pupil X + Parent(s).
"Hi, Hi I'm Not A Textbook, I'm X's French teacher. Nice to meet you."
Shake hands. Sit. Parent(s) smiling and nodding.
"Hello X, how are you?"
"Hello."
"Why don't you kick us off, X? What do you think about French? What do you enjoy, what do you find difficult."
"..."
"How's your speaking? Your reading? Your writing? What do you like doing in lessons?"
"I like the games."
"That's right, the games are fun, but you have to remember that sometimes you have to be quiet and not chat to your friends, isn't that right?"
"Yes."
"Good, so basically I'm happy with X's progress, (s)he's on course to achieve his/her targeted grades. We just have to focus on eliminating your tendency to chat with your friends, isn't that right? Do you have any other questions?"
Parent keeps smiling and nodding.
"So do you have any other questions?"
Pupil translates to parent in Pashtu/Cantonese/Gujarati/Somali.
"X! Why didn't you tell me your parent(s) doesn't understand. Have you translated everything?"
"Yes."
No you haven't. "Okay thank you for coming. I must move you on now I'm afraid because I have so many others to talk to. See you tomorrow!"
Shake hands. Stand. Parent(s) still smiling and nodding.

Repeat x 40 for 3 hours.
I wonder what difference it will make to my lessons...

Reality bites.

The other day my Year 8s, the same Nutters as from the last post, were writing letters to their French pen pals. It's amazing how well they engage as soon as they feel that the work they're doing is real. Some of them were even asking questions about the work!

I'm on the Teach First scheme. In the summer of 2008 we had six weeks training which involved practical exercises, theory, lectures and seminars, socialising, observing and the odd party. At one lecture, a talk was given by an experienced teacher who had taught in tough urban schools for many years. He spoke at some length about students from disadvantaged backgrounds: about their lack of motivation, about their low expectations for themselves and about their background often meaning that a good education was low on their respective priority lists. It was up to the teacher, he said, to reach out and grab the students' attention. To make their subject relevant, real, and convince the pupils that what they were studying was going to help them in "real life". It was the key message of his talk: Make It Real. At the time, with my teaching experience limited to 2 lessons at my placement schools where I had mainly been doing observations, I thought I'd understood what he meant and thought nothing more of it. Instead I focused my energies on copying the gentleman's loud and exuberant speaking style and his Caribbean twang, much to the amusement of One Vowel and The Greek.

After a term and a half, his message finally clicked for me in this lesson. The Nutters were using their French to write to a 'real life' person, living in a 'real' country, actually speaking, reading and writing in the language that they had been cooped up in school for a year and a half trying to learn! The questions were flying in from all parts of the room:
"Monsieur, how do I start a letter in French?"
"Sir, will they actually understand all this French?"
"Sir, how do I say 'if you are a fit bird, send me your MSN'?"
There's nothing quite like the euphoria experienced by a struggling teacher when suddenly, often unpredictably, it all comes together: you've somehow tricked the bloody kids into doing the bloody work. And enjoying it?! Well let's not get ahead of ourselves, I still had a scuffle or two to sort out, and a few of the pupils logged onto their computers and decided to play computer games, but they all did what they had to do!

Kids say the darndest things: I told B that in French his name was "Guillaume". He looked at me quizzicly, asked me to write it down on paper, scratched his head then shouted out to R:
"Hey R, check this out...I've got some next name in French - Goo-ill-aw-me!"

Most embarrassing moment (so far).

"Oh, oh, tell us a funny story. Funny stuff must happen in school every day! I remember when I was at school we got up to so many pranks - it was hilarious! What's the funniest thing that's ever happened to you?"

*sigh*
Um...well there was this one time, Year 8 (nutters) last lesson on a Friday, they walk in after lunch break and there'd been three fights involving members of the class, they were sweaty, angry, loud...looking back it was a recipe for disaster. I was being Observed by an External Observer as part of my training and had planned a perfectly pitched, creative, differentiated lesson that was going to blow her mind. I felt tired from the late hours spent planning the night before, but I also felt slick.

It all started to go wrong from the moment the children entered, really. The lesson was on morning routine - "Le matin". Over the course of the opening 20 minutes things got more and more hectic. At any given point, mini tornados of chaotic behaviour were breaking out at random in different parts of my classroom. C and R were wrestling each other, B was chucking a pencil at A, but hitting T instead, T thought it was A who did it because A laughed so she lobbed something at him, but he dodged her missile so it hit MM instead. The latter screamed for Sir and once again blamed A and so it went on. I valiantly ploughed on with my lesson, conscious with every passing chaotic second that the Observer was noting something down in her Log, looking up at me over her specs before scowling round the room. She later explained to me that her stern looks were meant to scare the kids into some semblance of decent behaviour, but at the time they terrified me, while having no noticeable effect on the Year 8s whatsoever.

In order to comprehend the acute embarrasment that followed you need to picture two things. Firstly, in previous lessons I had used a football terrace-style chant to teach basic vocabulary and to keep the class together as one group. Along the lines of:
Sir: When I say 'rouge', you say 'red'. ROUGE!
Class: RED!
Sir: ROUGE!
Class: RED!
etc...
Secondly, in this lesson I was determined to teach French in French! Teaching in Target Language as it's called requires lots of acting, gesturing, questioning and dynamism to stop pupils from zoning out. So as part of the 'morning routine' lesson, I physically demonstrated je me douche, je me lève, je m'habille...and in the course of the last of these I'd left my jacket on my chair and now strode around the classroom-cum-bombsite in shirtsleeves, putting out fires as best I could, getting more and more flustered and panicked with each incident.

It then followed, that I ran over to K, relieved that a pupil had a legitimate question about the actual work that I had set. While leaning over the desk to help her I heard B pipe up behind me:
B: Hey!...Sir's got a sweaty back...
pause while the cogs turn
B: When I say sweaty, you say back. SWEATY!
Class: BACK!
B: SWEATY!
Class: BACK!

The difference in perspective from the two sides of the classroom really is staggering sometimes. Neither B nor Year 8 remember the incident, while it's clear it will remain with me for a long time to come. And yet I probably do certain things in the course of exercising my responsibilities and my authority of which I am blissfully unaware, but which are magnified in the children's minds and will also not be forgotten for quite a while!