Lazy Bloody Teachers

7 am

Woke up five times in the night.
Shove down breakfast as I drive.

Shirt's half out and half way in
the door she says 'oh just one thing'.

No 'Morning' spoken as questions chime
through morning breath and last night's wine.

Up to the office but on the way
five more issues from yesterday.

These need chasing, that needs signed,
this needs filing, what's the time?

Down to briefing, listen quiet,
ten new ideas require applying.

OFSTED looming, mark your mocks
update the system, order stock.

Paper's low but somehow arrives,
in reams in trays and droves in files.

Up to reg, 'Sign your planners,' 
'Say your prayers and mind your manners.'

'Sorry I'm late sir, grandad died,'
'No time for that now is your planner signed?'

'What's your target and how do you get there?'
'But sir mum's run off with my neighbour.'

'Tuck your shirts in, keep the noise down.' 
'But Sir, I'm sure his mum is my mum right now.'

'Get to class, now do the starter.'
All, most, some, 'You must work harder.'

Peer assess in green regularly
'Where's your main and what's the plenary?'

'Show me how you differentiate
for levels under three and up to eight.'

'How are all needs catered for?'
(When inspectors steal in through the door).

For twenty minutes to judge a year.
No grades now given but all we hear

is 'Outstanding not good' today.
Requires improvement to unsatisfactory.

Lesson two now spoon feed them
line by line their essay plan.

If you don't tell us what to do
you'll get hell in the next review.

Break time duty, outside rain,
'I won't tell you to stop again!'

Back inside and lesson three,
watered down versions of GCSE.

'Fuck you sir,' well fuck you too,
I can't say that but what I do

is remove you and spend half the day
filling paperwork for the PL's tray.

Lunchtime next but in lesson four
the suits are slipping round the door.

Here's our flightplans, assessment slips 
target grades and marking grids,

seating plans and data drops,
up to date books and I have to stop,

as 10B3 are silly beggars
and one more 3 means special measures. 

Finish that one and collect the folders.
Negative feedback from Teflon shoulders.

Lunchtime now, fill my coffee flask,
get to the office and the department asks

forty five of them, inane old questions,
swallowed politely with my indigestion.

Last long lesson of this normal shift,
'What do you mean you've forgotten it?'

Intervention session from three to four,
'I've definitely taught you this all before.'

Staff meetings run from four to five,
'You must attend, it's directed time.'

Sat on a chair at six and later,
plan tomorrow amid stacks of paper.

Slink off 'early' to furtive looks
and when the fuck do I mark the books?