Today, the class teacher was on a course, so we had a day in which I, Ms Fab and Mrs GSOH were in charge. I use the phrase 'in charge' very loosely here. We did all the lessons we should have done, but we did them with more chatter and disorganisation than are normally allowed.
I took the opportunity to take out three of our Moody Girls, and gave them a lecture on how everyone was fed up with the argument they'd all managed to string out since Monday morning. Poisonous glances have been shot across the classroom at regular intervals - if you'd been standing in the way, you'd have had holes burned right through you. Sneery faces, squabbling at break-times and pointed whispering-behind-hands have been the norm this week. One girl had tried to patch things up, but had had her apology thrown back at her because 'it was said in a funny tone of voice'.
I was using a 'funny tone of voice' myself, when I sent them into the library, as I was speaking with gritted teeth. Two girls were happy to make up, but the third was enjoying her sulk far too much to stop. She folded her arms and gave me a look that told me she'd watched Mean Girls too many times. We'd tried to deal with the situation nicely, earlier in the week, so I just said that I didn't care if they weren't friends and never spoke to each other again, but everyone in the class was sick of their arguing. I then returned the least guilty of the three to the classroom and told the others I was giving them five minutes together to sort it out. There was to be no screaming, and no blood-stains on the carpet, I added, then left them to it.
Five minutes later, I returned to two girls showing their true ages (ten), in floods of tears and mid-hug. The class can breathe a collective sigh of relief. Until next time.
I took the opportunity to take out three of our Moody Girls, and gave them a lecture on how everyone was fed up with the argument they'd all managed to string out since Monday morning. Poisonous glances have been shot across the classroom at regular intervals - if you'd been standing in the way, you'd have had holes burned right through you. Sneery faces, squabbling at break-times and pointed whispering-behind-hands have been the norm this week. One girl had tried to patch things up, but had had her apology thrown back at her because 'it was said in a funny tone of voice'.
I was using a 'funny tone of voice' myself, when I sent them into the library, as I was speaking with gritted teeth. Two girls were happy to make up, but the third was enjoying her sulk far too much to stop. She folded her arms and gave me a look that told me she'd watched Mean Girls too many times. We'd tried to deal with the situation nicely, earlier in the week, so I just said that I didn't care if they weren't friends and never spoke to each other again, but everyone in the class was sick of their arguing. I then returned the least guilty of the three to the classroom and told the others I was giving them five minutes together to sort it out. There was to be no screaming, and no blood-stains on the carpet, I added, then left them to it.
Five minutes later, I returned to two girls showing their true ages (ten), in floods of tears and mid-hug. The class can breathe a collective sigh of relief. Until next time.
We also had a problem with a broken knee. One boy had been helped in at break-time and was sitting outside the office with an ice-pack and a sympathetic friend. 'I think I broke my knee. I can't walk properly,' he told me. He confirmed that he could move his leg '...a little bit. But it really hurts when I do this.' And he then twisted his knee cap in a way that made me wince. After sending his Sympathetic Friend back to class, I told him, 'Sit there until you feel ready to come back in. We're just getting the iPads out.' He was in the classroom before I was. 'I managed to click my knee back into place,' he informed me.
Jolly good.
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