The new batch …

Timing a tube strike with the first day of the new school year was a master stroke of inconvenience-causing, mayhem-inducing industrial action here in London. It certainly added an edge as key members of staff languished on the wrong side of the Thames while new year sevens arrived, wide-eyed and quivering. I have the honour of sheparding one form of these new recruits through their first year, and they turned up in a flurry of nervously clutched planners, impeccably polished shoes and ridiculously oversized blazers. One boy’s parents were particularly keen to ensure all school equipment was thoroughly future-proof: in obvious anticipation of a sudden, hulk-like expansion in their son’s physical dimensions, they had bought him a uniform that would have been a bit roomy even for me. Now, received wisdom with year sevens is that one must ‘go in hard’, i.e. not matter how scared, nervous, polite and down-right tearful they appear, here shall be no quarter. Presenting oneself as an approachable, easy-going form tutor on day one means an endless stream of pointless questions on day two (year sevens are well known for their tendency to surrender all shreds of common sense at any given opportunity), and an endless stream of complaints from colleagues on day three as the new batch tests the limits of the school behaviour policy. So, I went in hard, and am now desperately praying that it’s worked: only time will tell. By the end of the week, my form were still looking sharp, and there’s only been positive feedback so far, so here’s hoping …