'Are you teaching us miss?' they ask with anticipation and a cheeky grin.
'Nah guys I'm sorry... I've even got a free so you know that I'd love to.'
'Oh nah miss, she's got no sense of umour!!'
'I'm sorry... you just go and behave. Try and have fun yeah'.
They start 'acting to cry', thinking it will persuade me.
And although I laugh, I secretly feel for them and wish I was going with them.
As a class, they start gently pushing me along with them towards the hall.
Laughing and chatting about them 'taking ova'.
These year 9's were once the hardest to teach, often ending with me walking out and feeling like I'd accomplished nothing.
They'd challenge me with their attitudes and madness - only wanting to play games and muck around.
Over time it changed, only ever so slightly but noticeable for me.
From pure hatred of the subject and the teacher, to coming to class and sometimes listening.
Chaos still reigned but it was organised and somewhat controlled.
A year later and the rapport has been strengthened again - all because of a change of teacher.
Now they realise that 'miss wasn't so bad yea?!'
I see them now in the atrium or hall, mostly the stairways where they are slowly making their way to class.
On the off chance when I teach them, be it history or maths, we have a laugh and an understanding that we're alright.
They now make me laugh and smile, like I have a place in this school.
That I have, despite the madness, made a difference in some students' life.
Bless this vivaciously manic, yet wonderfully kind group of people.
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