by Bryony Allen |
…Flicking through her jotter at parent's evening was also a top tip from teacher training college – possibly the only one. Looking for that one elusive anecdote that Mr. and Mrs. Jackson really must hear about Gemma was a fabulous way of killing at least one whole minute. That left only nine minutes in which she had to listen to their complaints about how her teaching had failed to ignite Gemma’s true spark – how do you recreate fizz in a flat bottle of Coke?
It was 12.21 - thirty nine minutes before the next bout commenced. Luckily, another spell of laryngitis had put paid to Katie's choral speaking club, which her cherubs attended every Wednesday lunchtime with glee. Choral speaking was 'a success of the school', if you believed the prospectus. Indeed the children loved the lunchtime club; spoke with enthusiasm, beautifully clear diction and with as close to a genuine love of learning as they were ever likely to experience at Beaver's Brook Primary School. If only she could bottle that passion and turn it into an aromatherapy essence, Katie’s year sixes would not only achieve level four but sneer at its ease.