Wind 

Mother nature, why do you forsake me? Wind sends otherwise amenable children into a frenzy. They appear in your lesson like a crowd of ravenous and hungry animals.

Photocopiers

At the precise moment you need to copy something vital, the machine breaks. Your observation approaches. You look up at the sky and ask the photocopier gods to change the toner.  

Work scrutiny

You desperately avoid written work because there will be less to sticker, mark and cover in pen. “What thou does not see cannot be judged” - The book of Mr Chips, 3/16.

Wasps

A single wasp appears like an attack helicopter. Students stand up, screaming, and run for the doors. Other children laugh hysterically - it all happens in slow motion for you, flashing before your eyes like a highlight reel of your darkest teacher moments. You attempt to kill the wasp by chasing it around waving a textbook. Other teachers come out and wonder what the hell is going on. You’ve lost control because of a yellow and black fly.

Non-uniform day

A child is wearing a cow onesie sat next to a child who tried to dress like Nicki Minaj for the day. Your lesson is on photosynthesis. It’s a wonderful time to be alive.

The lunch queue

“Sir, he’s pushing me!” times 20. “Go to the back!” you shout. A meeting of the United Nations commission on who was there first ensues. You have a performance management meeting in five minutes to decide on your pay for 2018-19 but this must take precedence. 

Clicky pens

You are explaining something in class and in the background, the consistent and rhythmical clicking of a pen. You flinch and spasm on each repetitive sound. With every passing moment, you get closer and closer to completely losing the plot until you decide to have a huge rant about clicky pens that will go down in school folklore as “Mr/s ____ (enter your name here) and the pen rant”.

Glue sticks with no lids

It feels like yesterday that you got a new pack, but now you discover five of them without lids on, sprawled on the floor. Glue sticks are like gold dust, you look forward to the next set of new ones appearing...probably sometime in 2020.

Field manure

A medieval smell creeps into your classroom. You consider whether this is a metaphor for the day, no, it’s just the farmers in the fields next to school spreading manure. Seconds after the smell hits, children are presenting themselves as though a nuclear bomb has landed nearby, covering their noses, hysterically bawling and tearfully sulking.

Email

Just emails. Thousands of them. Damn you, Tim Berners-Lee.

Wet break 

Students roam the corridors outside your room while you cover your ears and rock up and down on your chair. “I only wanted to eat my sandwich in peace for five minutes!”.

The fart

You’ve just finished a serious whole class dressing down, finishing with a poignant moral message and then a classical slapstick fart cuts through the room like a sword. Lord help me and grant me the divinity to stay strong.

Bats

The classroom becomes Omaha Beach, children run for cover as your serene reading lesson descends into the set of a war film.  

Chewing gum

“Are you chewing?”

“No.”

Five minutes later...

“You are chewing.”

“I’m not.”

“Open your mouth.”

*Opens to show no gum.*

Repeat cycle until losing the will to live.

Apostrophes

Ed Dorrell and Kate Parker who edit most of my Tes articles will know very well that I can’t really say much about this other than: “Do as I say, not as I do”. Although, it’s fair to say that the invention of the apostrophe was a dark moment in the history of marking and assessment.

Tom Rogers is a teacher who runs rogershistory.com and tweets @RogersHistory

For more columns by Tom, view his back catalogue.