"We've had the call."
But.... but, I haven't marked my Year 10 books for two weeks. My displays are a tragic mess of peeling corrugated borders, and I am still half way through rewriting (for the umpteenth time) the medium term plan for Year 11 revision. Do I have time to give my classes a stern talking to and make them promise to behave.... just for two days? Not now.... please, not today.
We have less than 24 hours.
An all staff meeting is called. "We have nothing to hide. Let them see our ordinary magic. Let them see us for who we are."
Breathe.
Yeah, screw it. Let them come in. Let them scrutinise and penalise and question our every move for two days. Let them see for themselves what two years of disrupted learning looks like. Let them see first hand what life is like on the chalk face in a post pandemic world of plugging gaps, taming caged animals and Teacher Assessed Grading. The heart that had plummeted at the news of the call hardens and is pumped with a hostile determination.
The school car park is a hive of activity at 6am. No time for Starbucks this morning my friends, we have a battle to prepare for. An extra layer of foundation has been applied, a power suit has been adorned.... my lanyard! Where the bloody bollocks is my lanyard?? Oh god, I am going to let down the whole school's safeguarding policy down! I am going to be responsible for the ship sinking with the lose of my ID card. Oh wait... there it is.
Frantic whispers in the corridors begin. Where will they go first? Who will be subjected to a 'deep dive'? Will they question us on the previous set of actual GCSE results from 2019? Where is the Covid recovery curriculum for Year 9? Why this, why now?
A quiet descends, time slows. I spy a grey suit through my battered display of An Inspector Calls. What is it that Priestley says... "The Inspector need not be a big man but he creates at once an impression of massiveness, solidity and purposefulness". The irony.
Breathe.
This is it. I have 10 minutes to show this Inspector what 10 years experience of teaching a core subject looks like. 10 minutes to show how the spiral curriculum we have painstakingly created is filled with cultural capital (not just dead, white British dudes), retrieval practise and embedded learning. 10 minutes for these pupils to show progress, interleaved learning, engagement.
Do I know where my SEN pupils are? Have I placed them effectively within my seating plan? Are their AEN plans or EHCP's ingrained in my foggy memory? Is my lesson about quality first and teaching to the top?
Oh Christ, why is that child wearing trainers? And why is there a glue stick stuck to my ceiling? For the love of God, who Sharpied an unflattering moustache on Scrooge? There is a, remarkably anatomically correct if I do say, penis etched in to the desk on the back row.
Is my left eye nervously twitching or is that door handle moving?
The pupils can smell our fear. Their shoulders broadened ever so slightly and the hint of a mischievous grin plays at the corner of their lips. They know.
"Miss, why you being weird? You never normally do this in our lessons."
"Of course I do, don't be silly"
"Miss, why aren't you shouting at us about our homework? Is it because OFSTED are here?"
"No, no. I am just planning a more brutal sniper attack.... after they have left."
"Miss, will you get fired if OFSTED don't like your lesson?"
"Ummmmmm"
To be continued....
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