BE AFRAID!!!!!!!!!

Be afraid... it's nearly Halloween, or All Saint's Eve, or Samhain, when the souls of the departed who wander the earth in purgatory, or a meaningless political job, are prayed for. Or not.

Be afraid... of Ebola, a disease you're not going to get, which is causing misery, but no more so that malaria, dysentery, or HIV / AIDS, or even obesity, tobacco and alcohol, and we're not worrying about them, are we?

Be afraid... of bearded people, hooded teenagers, people with lots of consonants in their names who are here for your jobs, insecure gas supplies because of that naughty man Vladimir with the surname that's funny in French (almost), of Nigel and his half-baked idiots, just be afraid, OK?!

Don't. Don't fear the reaper. Even though he looks frightening, he's harmless; it's all harmless.

Have no fear of what you're doing, or where it will go. Boldly make decisions, boldly push rules to their very limits. Make what you do count, every day. Work with your classes and with your colleagues to make this next seven weeks the best it can be, despite the creeping cold and soft sodium street lights changing the backdrop of your everyday reality.

Have no fear; create what you want.

On a Teaching Tip.

Yes. The title was a cheap trick to get this track in. Unfortunately, it's taken me back to when I was a younger gentleman. Click the links if you dare.

Moving swiftly on. Teaching is the heart of what each of us do, regardless of other roles and responsibilities which we may take on. I'd like to medit8 upon this molten, ever shifting core business of ours, if you will indulge me. If you won't, I'll just say a quick thanks for your hard work during this long half-term, and you can click on the red X in the top right corner.

It's easy to say what we don't do.  We don't do child care. We don't do duvets. We don't do nonsense for the sake of it.

We don't always know what we look like when we're doing what we're doing, but it's not about that. It's about what we're doing when we're doing what we look like we're doing. And as long as we're expressing ourselves with our full capabilities, and not living in correctional facilities, it's all good.

You can be old school, new school, no school, AST school, whatever school. Just make it work. Be purposeful, and, most of all, be bold this week. Week eight of eight - never easy. Tiredness, autumnal afflictions and over-familiarity can take their toll. Don't allow that.

Just remember how we do it. Properly. Consistently. With a slinky worn as a necklace. With a smile on our chops and a spring in our steps. Or else... I'll spam you with ragga jungle breaks until you can't help but walk with an inane grin plastered on your face.

Enjoy this week - you'll enjoy the week after a lot more if you do.

Late Show

Planning. Some would say it's at the heart of what we do; I would disagree. Assessment is at heart of what we do. Assessment creates targets, creates lessons, creates purpose.

Planning gives shape to this. Merely doesn't fit in the previous sentence - it's too important for that. But it isn't the whole story. It's a narrative shape, a sense of movement from one place to another.

We need to think about planning in new ways. This isn't a new way, but it can be an effective way. Another way to change this is to to consider the shape and aim of a lesson.

Is the lesson a vortex, exploring into an idea or skill in great depth, taking the learning further and further?

Is it a journey, with regular stops and a variety of refreshments?

Does the lesson have a staccato rhythm, accentuating certain points?

Could the lesson be one of a trilogy, even part of a trilogy in five parts?

I'm intrigued to know how you picture your lessons. How do you vary things between period one and period seven, between a lesson where you introduce a text and a lesson where you recap a skill that, frustratingly, isn't as solidly embedded as it could be.

Haha. Here's our first meeting after half term. We all have to present a lesson in which we tried something, whether it worked or not, which was different from our usual approach. Something which we think might help others to change up their teaching, and secure that outstanding progress which we need. Should be fun.

The Day of the Heroic Guerilla.

Wednesday, the eighth of October - The Day of the Heroic Guerilla. One of these; not one of these. A day which Gove must want us to commemorate with drop down days, new qualifications and ceremonial marching in fancy uniforms. British Gas are sending a representative around to my house, to discuss their exceedingly attractive £400 boiler scrappage offer.

Life is bathos. Sublime ideals; ridiculous reality.

This, however, is what we live and work in. And I want to thank you for being heroic, everyday, in a fantastically mundane way. Your effort, your passion, has the ability to lift a person's life beyond the prosaic procession of inner-city life. The ear you lend to a colleague; the plan you share over lunch; the spread sheet you send; the email from a new colleague which you reply to; and the list goes on; the extra support you arrange for a pupil; the question about someone's child or family member that reminds them that people care; the room you swap with a harried, forgetful fool; there's more; the detailed analysis you produce; the ideas you offer.

The everyday grind; those tasks we undertake everyday. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. What you do each day, routinely, combines to create something truly special. Something powerful and transformative.

All I ask is that this continues - that you keep being yourselves, with style. Keep pushing, questioning, thinking, challenging, prompting and hoping.

Keep being mundanely heroic, and brilliantly so.