In between writing, playing the drums and arm wrestling my daughter (she’s stronger than she looks), I teach. I teach music to students aged between 11 and 18 at a large comprehensive school in London. On some days it’s the most wonderful job and on others, it sucks. Not unlike most jobs I suppose, although on the wonderful days the satisfaction far outweighs any I’ve experienced from any previous employment.
I thought I’d run through my day, mostly in an attempt to get sympathy, but also just for interest. I’m writing whilst working full time and gigging at the weekends, so the day-to-day stuff does impact my writing.
I get into school at half seven, drum practice until 8, then I set up my lessons. Meeting at 8:10 for 5 minutes then into registration. I have a tutor group of 17 and 18 year olds, which makes for fun times. Recently two of my students, a boy and a girl were arguing whether women used ‘women’s charms’ to get what they want and whether this was fair or right.
Into periods 1&2 with my GCSE class, all pretty standard stuff. I finish it with a conversation with one of my students who hasn’t been in the last few lessons. Turns out she was kicked out by her mum a few months ago and has been living on people’s floors. That leaves me with just enough time to run and fill up my water before periods 3&4. Also fairly normal, my year 8s get all shy when we sing Summer Loving from Grease and my year 7 all boys class talk too much.
Lunch and the usual suspects turn up to chat and play guitars. One of my resident year 13’s does his Shane MacGowan impression whilst a couple of year 10’s sing obscure American rock songs really well.
Into period 5 and it’s business as usual, though quieter than usual, which is a relief. Afternoon registration and I’m doing last minute checks on the personal statement of one of my students who’s applying for medicine at Uni. He’s been just a little bit tense over the past few weeks, but with the click of a button, it’s all over.
After school and one of the aforementioned year 10’s comes back to chat whilst I’m planning a lesson for next week. We discuss the merits of painting and her unhealthy birthday breakfast (McDonalds and Kebabs).
Finally, around 3:50 I’m into a meeting where I’m told that the grades we expect our students to get, have just gone up. As our music grades are based upon the students’ maths results from year 6, they already bear little if any resemblance to actual musical talent. This makes an already unlikely outcome into something completely unreachable. So, you know, yay!
Home to a house filled with small people, being expertly fed and cared for by my wife, amidst the most wonderful chaos. We eat dinner, then it’s book time with the small person, interspersed with breaks to chew rubber and steal Auntie Sarah’s water. Bedtime for the little one arrives late tonight around 8ish and I sit down to write this blog.
Most nights are spent in creating stuff for the website, or tidying up loose ends. The boss (wifey) will normally have a list for me, with everything from writing blogs to editing to baking a cake.
My bedtime will arrive in about 5 minutes. The challenge is whether I can get up the stairs without collapsing.
