There are two types of “honeymoon”. The first sort you need to commit to marriage to qualify for, which is a bit drastic. The second will occur every September in the new school year.

For a couple, the honeymoon period is full of good intentions. They compliment each other, they see the best qualities in their partner, and they want to present the best of themselves to each other.

Similarly, in September there exists this quaint period of a fortnight where all classes seem keen and anxious to please. They sit there, eyes bright - and if they had they tails, you can bet they’d be bushy too.

But then it passes. And your behaviour management has to go back up a gear. And normality returns.

Sometimes, I wonder why we get these honeymoon periods at all. Is it because students have returned full of resolutions to improve this year? Because they’ve overdosed on an unsatisfactory diet of Xbox and trash TV, and are now hungry for something more substantial? Or because they’re biding their time and sussing you out before they strike? Probably a mix of all three.

‘The first lessons were bliss’

What if things were different? What if the honeymoon never ended? Is there some kind of magic spell you can say during the honeymoon period that will make it last forever?

I picked up a class one year that I had been warned about. “They had lots of different teachers last year,” my head of department explained.

In front of us lay the SIMs print out of the whole class. The head of department began to circle which students had parents who wrote to complain; switched colours for which students were under achieving; switched colours again for the students who had been placed on department report. It looked like a Picasso-inspired Twister mat by the end. I gulped.

The first few honeymoon lessons were bliss. I told them how well behaved I thought they were. I wouldn’t normally do this - it isn’t part of my normal routine. But I thought, the sun is shining, let’s try and drag out the honeymoon.

‘Extended honeymoon’

I called parents with sincere compliments for their children, I drew attention to their best qualities (“Great listening today!”; “Thoughtful contributions everyone!”). I gave them the best of me and made a point of telling their form tutors and head of year how good they’d been.

It was hard because it was a big class, but I made the most of the quiet period at the start of the year where marking hadn’t kicked in properly yet. I praised that class like I hadn’t praised a class before. And on the odd occasion they stepped out of line, I admonished them with faux shock. “Of all my classes, I wouldn’t expect it of you,” I said as I shook my head.

The strange thing is, it worked. And the reason why it worked was because there wasn’t actually anything wrong with the class. They had just fooled themselves into thinking they were “naughty” because they hadn’t had a chance to show anyone they were good.

Unfortunate circumstances had meant they’d got it into their heads they were a bad and uncontrollable class... but all they needed was a bit of an extended honeymoon.

Grainne Hallahan has been teaching English in Essex for 10 years. She is part of the #TeamEnglish Twitter group