The Grinch who needs Christmas

I am so tired. I always thought teachers had it sweet with their six week summers, but they are fucking heroes. I get up at 5am and go to bed around midnight. Although that's only if I plan my lessons properly, which at this stage in the term I invariably don't. I have a 3 hour round trip of a commute, including a few miles of walking. I'm rocking every girls' worst fashion faux pas: the office skirt and trainers. Accessorised with a rucksack full of books and files and marking.

The kids at this school are loose cannons - I had an observation so bad yesterday that my mentor aborted it halfway through. I called security twice, but if I'm honest that was more for their safety than my own. Countdown to Christmas holidays: 5. Thank God (and Jesus, for being born and all).

My brain is empty of words. I have used up all the good ones I know and they have been replaced by phrases like:

This is a corridor, not a zoo.

I say when you pack up, not the bell.

If you threaten me one more time I'll punch you in the face, you evil little monster.

Obviously I'm kidding about the last one, but it's hard to be in a job where people swear at you all day, make rude personal comments, denigrate all your hard work and scream and kick and yet you have to remain calm and po-faced. This is why teachers need long holidays - to repair their frayed patience.

I wish I was a script editor at the BBC instead. But at least it will give me plenty of material if I ever get a job on Waterloo Road!