463. Mustard trousers and grey socks

We all pile into the classroom and find out we have to move the chairs and tables to make a friendly square. That way we will be able to growl at each other better.

My colleague tells me not to talk too much so we can get away at 6 sharp. For the first hour I am bored and sit there waiting for the clock to tick tock its way to 6. 

I check out the way the people are dressed and give them a grade each. Mustard trousers are so last decade and are just not suitable for a man in that position. The tie is too loose (only ok if you're Brad Pitt or Colin Firth), the shirt is white and the tie is black. 0 for creativity and self-expression. The jacket looks cheap. He wears glasses and looks and acts nice. He should not act nice. He is an inspector. 3/10

Much to my surprise the head has made some progress in the way he is dressed. Even though he is dressed in boring grey (fits my mood so I don't mind too much). The shoes are black, the socks are grey to match the grey trousers (huge improvement here), white shirt and grey tie and grey jacket that he takes off anyway ten minutes into the meeting. The man is a great fidget. 6/10

I turn my attention to the assistant head and am pleased to see he is wearing black shoes and has ditched the white trainers (honestly!). He is wearing black socks and trousers and jacket and tie. He looks bored. If boredom makes one fidget, it makes the other slump into a deep slumber. 7/10

My colleagues and I sit at the tables now arranged in a big square. There is no tea. No coffee. The man chairing the meeting (Mr Mustard-Trousers Inspector) is going to show us some slides. OH NO PLEASE NOT A PPP that he will comment while everyone snores.

The usual stuff about this and that and the other. And the get into groups or pairs and work on this. How predictable. Then we get to talk. 

One of us wants to show that she is on top of things.

'Well ...' she says in false shyness 'I do have this tool that I have devised myself over the year' (I want to puke or laugh, am not sure which) and it involves a meta-cognition process (I suppress a laugh and look around to see if people are impressed - they're not) and the learners have to ...'

I switch off. Doodle a bit on my notebook. A few grumpy faces, a few flowers in a vase, some pots. A fierce monster.

Here she goes again.

'I use the Pomodoro method and it is incredibly useful.'

The colleague to my right tells me: 'What's this about tomatoes?' She used to work in Italy but has never heard about the tomato method.

I want to leave the room just for a couple of minutes, to take a breath of air just so I don't act nasty with people who show off their pedagogical science. I cannot because I am sitting in the far corner of the room.

Then we move on to some grids and marking methods that Mr Mustard-Trousers calls the 'ventilation of the marks'. All I can think of is A/C systems going on full blast and my students' papers flying around in the room. This is no good. I am not a good pedagogue and I cannot use meta-cognition nor vegetables to make my students eager to progress in the English language. I rummage into my bag to find a hankie so I can shed tears over this.

Then the most horrible slide come on: the dreadful grid with lots of boxes filled with stuff like 'uses a wide range of vocabulary' or 'makes mistakes but those are not a hindrance to the communciation process'.

The assistant head, who has been on his phone for the last 20 minutes, gets up and leaves the room. For good. He won't be back. The head has been fidgeting so much that he is now sitting with his legs spread out, his chair at least half a yard away from his desk, and he goes from leaning so far back I fear he might fall over to letting his head drop to his chest as if he was about to fall asleep. He honestly looks like he is thinking : 'what on earth is all this gobbledygook?' I fera he might leave too when Mr Mustard-Trousers announces the poster activity on A3 paper. I moan because we have been given A4 paper. I feel like throwing up a tantrum. Then I see that it is gone 6 o'clock. So I tidy my stuff away and pack my bag - just like my students do in class - and then we are dismissed. Everyone is now looking depressed and feeling inadequate.