TQ - work so far

TQ The second attempt at designing spreads for magazines

by Ben KIther.

COVERS The covers have been designed to be informative, eye catching and to show that this magazine is diferent to your usual teaching magazine from the get -go.

Simple colour palettes of vibrant versions of traditionally British colours (white red and blue) juxtaposed with bold yet elegant typefaces and simple shapes are utilised to make it feel as though the viewer is looking at the magazine through a porthole or window, which is exactly what the idea of reading ths magazins is. It is intended to be a window into what life as someone involved in education is like.

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about first hand experiences.

Getting the Point Across Why We Teach Starting Over New School Good Days Bad Days

TQ

S ERLY INE FOR ERS. WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM

GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS

OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

A NEW QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM

GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

THIS IS A NEW QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM

GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

THIS IS A NEW QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM

GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about first hand experiences.

In the classroom

Starting over

Good days & bad days

New students

Why i teach

Old school, new start

The power struggle

I-learning

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING THE POWER STRUGGLE INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. STARTING OVER IN THE CLASSROOM

NEW STUDENTS

GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS

OLD SCHOOL, NEW START

WHY I TEACH

i-LEARNING

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about first hand experiences.

In the classroom

Starting over

Good days & bad days

New students

Why i teach

Old school, new start

The power struggle

I-learning

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about first hand experiences.

In the classroom Good days & bad days Why i teach The power struggle Starting over New students Old school, new start I-learning

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM

GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM

GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

NEW

TQ

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

NEW

TQ

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

NEW

TQ

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

NEW

TQ

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES.

IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

COVERS PT.2 The second attempt at producing covers is heavily influenced by John Walsh’s work for Flux magazine and features previously created ideas yet further refines or positions them.

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

WRITTEN BY PEOPLE DIRECTLY INVOLVED WITH THE TEACHING INDUSTRY ABOUT FIRST HAND EXPERIENCES. IN THE CLASSROOM GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS WHY I TEACH THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS OLD SCHOOL, NEW START i-LEARNING

TQ THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

NEW

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about first hand experiences.

In the classroom Good days & bad days

Why I teach

The power struggle

Starting over

New students Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about first hand experiences.

In the classroom Good days & bad days Why I teach

The power struggle Starting over

New students

Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about first hand experiences.

In the classroom Good days & bad days Why I teach

The power struggle Starting over

New students

Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

A QUARTERLY MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about their first hand experiences.

In this issue : In the classroom Good days & bad days

The power struggle Why I teach Starting over

New students Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW QUARTERLY

THIS ISA In this issue : In the classroom Good days & bad days The power struggle Why I teach Starting over New students Old school, new start I-learning

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about their first hand experiences.

TQ

NEW QUARTERLY

THIS ISA

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about their first hand experiences.

In this issue : In the classroom Good days & bad days

The power struggle Why I teach Starting over

New students Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW QUARTERLY

THIS ISA

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about their first hand experiences.

In this issue : In the classroom Good days & bad days

The power struggle Why I teach Starting over

New students Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW QUARTERLY

THIS ISA

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS.

Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about their first hand experiences.

In this issue : In the classroom Good days & bad days

The power struggle Why I teach Starting over

New students Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW QUARTERLY

THIS ISA

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about their first hand experiences.

In this issue : In the classroom Good days & bad days

The power struggle Why I teach Starting over

New students Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW QUARTERLY

THIS ISA

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about their first hand experiences.

In this issue : In the classroom Good days & bad days

The power struggle Why I teach Starting over

New students Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW QUARTERLY

THIS ISA

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about their first hand experiences.

In this issue : In the classroom Good days & bad days

The power struggle Why I teach Starting over

New students Old school, new start I-learning

TQ

NEW QUARTERLY

THIS ISA

THE NEW BEGINNINGS ISSUE

MAGAZINE FOR TEACHERS. Written by people directly involved with the teaching industry about their first hand experiences.

In this issue : In the classroom Good days & bad days

The power struggle Why I teach Starting over

New students Old school, new start I-learning

CONTENTS Circle motif, overprint and transparent layers, DIN, Walbaum, Bodoni. The pattern is emerging.

The ideas for the contents page all revolve around the idea that regular pages are in one colour/heading and spreads specific to this issue are in another.

An apt quote from John Cotton Dana fits in nicely with some of the pages and is an idea that could be worked into future issues as well

C

ontents

Regulars •••••••••••••••• From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days

This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only •••••••••••••••• The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

C

ontents

Regulars

From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

Who dares to teach must never cease to

learn

John Cotton Dana

C

ontents

Regulars

From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

Who dares to teach must never cease to

learn

John Cotton Dana

C

ontents

Regulars

From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

Who dares to teach must never cease to learn John Cotton Dana

C

ontents

Regulars

From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

Who dares to teach must never cease to learn John Cotton Dana

C

ontents

Regulars

From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

Who dares to teach must never cease to learn John Cotton Dana

C

ontents

Regulars

From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

Who dares to teach must never cease to learn John Cotton Dana

C

ontents

Regulars

From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

Who dares to teach must never cease to learn John Cotton Dana

C

ontents

Regulars

From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

Who dares to teach must never cease to learn John Cotton Dana

C

ontents

Regulars

From the editor In the classroom 15 Minutes Good days & bad days This & that Why i teach Next issue

This Issue Only The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work

Who dares to teach must never cease to learn John Cotton Dana

CONTENTS

REGULARS •••••••••••••••• FROM THE EDITOR

THIS ISSUE ONLY •••••••••••••••• THE POWER STRUGGLE

IN THE CLASSROOM

STARTING OVER

15 MINUTES

NEW STUDENTS

GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS

WHY I STARTED TEACHING

THIS & THAT

OLD SCHOOL, NEW START

WHY I TEACH

WHY I TEACH

NEXT ISSUE

HARD AT WORK

CONT THIS ISSUE ONLY •••••••••••••••• THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK

TENTS REGULARS •••••••••••••••• FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY •••••••••••••••• THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK

REGULARS •••••••••••••••• FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

CONT THIS ISSUE ONLY •••••••••••••••• THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK

TENTS REGULARS •••••••••••••••• FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY •••••••••••••••• THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER

NEW STUDENTS

WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS •••••••••••••••• FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY •••••••••••••••• THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER

NEW STUDENTS

WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK

REGULARS •••••••••••••••• FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER

NEW STUDENTS

WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK

REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

Inside this issue

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER

NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

Inside this issue THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER

NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

THIS ISSUE ONLY • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • THE POWER STRUGGLE STARTING OVER NEW STUDENTS WHY I STARTED TEACHING OLD SCHOOL, NEW START WHY I TEACH HARD AT WORK REGULARS • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • FROM THE EDITOR IN THE CLASSROOM 15 MINUTES GOOD DAYS & BAD DAYS THIS & THAT WHY I TEACH NEXT ISSUE

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

This Issue Only • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • The Power Struggle Starting Over New Students Why I Started Teaching Old School, New Start Why I Teach Hard At Work Regulars • • • • • • • •• • • • • • • • • • From The Editor In The Classroom 15 Minutes Good Days & Bad Days This & That Why I Teach Next Issue

SPREAD 1 After my tutorial where I presented a full magazine I was told by my tutor to concentrate on creating a large number of options to a smaller number of spreads. So here is spread 1 ‘In the Classroom’.

As with the covers the circle motif is intended to create the idea that the reader is viewing into something not normally seen.

IN THE CLASSROOM Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams.I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and diffi cult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use with them.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter

home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum. I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know?

“Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.”

They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLA

ASSROOM Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoonfeeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly.

I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor

behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLA Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

ASSROOM

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students

‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem

Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how di they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how di they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those

who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE ROOM

CLASS Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper.

“This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoonfeeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach.

But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.

Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small

stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.”

They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLA “There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor

behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it

ASS ROOM received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed

to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLA “There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor

behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it

ASS ROOM received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed

to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE

CLASS RO “There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon

OOM Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

CL

IN THE

LASS ROOM “There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon

Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE

CLASS ROOM “There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon

Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASS ROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those

who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small

stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small

stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students

‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem

Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students

‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it.

They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem

Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well. If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students?

I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

A METHOD IN

MY MADNESS

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

IN THE CLASS Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an

S ROOM insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I

have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

IN THE CLASSROOM Oenone Crossley-Holland talks about how introducing new methods has proved more than beneficial when it comes to results, and more importantly, student interaction.

“There is a poem on your desk,” I told my bottom set Year 11s two weeks before they were due to sit their GCSE English literature paper. “This is not a poem that will appear in your exams. I want you to read the poem and decide which of the eight GCSE poets we’ve studied might have written it.”

You may think that giving a low-ability class an unfamiliar and difficult task, rather than spoon-feeding them another straightforward revision exercise, was an insanely dangerous approach. But there was method in my madness.

The two-year GCSE course with these students, who were all predicted Ds and Es, had not run smoothly. I battled against apathy, lack of confidence, poor behaviour and literacy levels so low that the students struggled to explain what it was they could understand. There were good lessons but there were also many bad ones.Then, two months before the exams,on a visit to another school, I saw a new strategy I thought I could use.

Rather than putting individual students ‘on report’ with a set of small, basic targets (to listen to the teacher, to follow instructions), I would put the whole class on a weekly report with a selection of eight challenging targets (for example, ‘I have referred to another person’s point and developed their idea further or explained how my understanding is different’).

The students had to meet every target, every

lesson. Those who managed it received small stationery prizes and a letter home, those who didn’t received a phone call home. The change was dramatic. The greater challenge had made them up their game. And so it was, a fortnight before the exams, that I gave them a poem that wasn’t part of the curriculum.

I didn’t guide them through it, or give them small tasks to help them get into it. They each had to decide who the author could be, write the name down, and then be prepared to explain their choice.

Twenty students thought that Simon Armitage was the author of the poem Evening. They were right. But how did they know? “Well, he’s writing about time, yeah, and he writes about time in the other ones. And, I don’t know, it just feels like him.” They were chuffed to pieces that they could work out who the poet was – and I was thrilled to give them something that was just for their enjoyment, but that also made them think.

It proved a powerful lesson for me as well.

If you force students to aim higher, they are much more likely to hit the mark.

Did giving this class greater challenges, rather than smaller ones, pay off? In their exams, six students achieved a grade C, and one a B. And the other 13 students? I should have set the bar much higher, much earlier.

Oenone Crossley-Holland teaches English in south London.

SPREAD 2 Spread 2 revolves around the idea of what teachers may do with their 15 minute breaks between classes. It would be a column that features in each issue so I thought showing lots of options here would be extra useful.

15 Minutes As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15 MINUTES

15 Minutes As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside.

I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15 MINUTES

15 Minutes As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside.

I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15 MINUTES

As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside.

I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15 MINUTES

15 Minutes As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates,

using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15 MINUTES

As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson

and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

1 5 MINU

As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson

and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

UTES

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

1 5 MINUT

As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson

and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

TES

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

1 5 MINU

As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

UTES

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

1 M

1 5 MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15 MINUTES

As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15 MIN

NUTES

As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk

before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15 MIN

NUTES

As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5

minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system.

When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MIN

5

NUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MIN

5

NUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MIN

5

NUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MIN

5

NUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

1

M

15

MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

1

15

MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous

lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the

children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

15

MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the

children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester

1 5 MINUTES As the last of my students tears out of the doorway, seemingly burning with excitement at the very though of 15 minutes of football and wild rampaging through the school grounds in their crisp new uniforms before lessons resume I take a second to re-organise the chairs and tables, wipe down my board gather books and have a second to myself.

I used to slope off to the staff room for a cigarette and a coffee, but since the smoking ban I’ve had to start taking my cig breaks outside. I can’t stand the

children seeing me smoke so I have taken to walking 5 minutes out of the gates before lighting, inhaling, exhaling and repeating until I feel my cravings for nicotine subside.

Constantly going over my previous lesson and the rapidly approaching class I start to stroll back towards the school gates, using the noise from the yard as my alarm system. When the children are going quiet I need to up my pace to a brisk walk, ensuring I can arrive back at my desk before the clatter of students occupies the corridors.

Once back at my desk I begin my ritual of writing down today’s lesson plan on the board and disposing of the chewing gum which I pop in on the walk back from my cigarette, eager hands knocking on my door as the gum hits the bin.

Students enter, class begins and I can’t help but crack a smile.

Chris Scanlon is a Drama teacher in Manchester