Having abandoned my rat-race career in London six months ago, I joined Sandringham School as part of the Graduate Trainee Programme.

Last term's article painted an ever-so-rosy picture: the question is, has my opinion changed?

Was I right to swap big bucks for job satisfaction?

Am I winning that war of attrition with the students?

To dispel any uncertainty, and annoy the doom-and-gloom merchants, I can honestly say I am still in love with my new career.

Confidence

Since last I wrote, the novelty value of being new kid on the block has been replaced by a genuine feeling of being part of the team, and of enhancing the learning of my students.

One of the many reasons I embarked upon such a great step was to appease my community-minded conscience: to give students confidence and help them have fun.

I cannot begin to describe the immense feeling of pride you feel when a students improves the quality of their work or behaviour in response to you efforts.

Over last term, I also saw development outside of the classroom.

There is no feeling as magnificent as when a previously disinterested student is coaxed into producing an outstanding piece of work

Previous column

I was ever so proud of my Year 7 students who gave up their evenings to rehearse a musical version of Scrooge to perform to their old primary schools.

It's that enthusiasm that makes teaching such a satisfying choice of profession.

Back to the day-job: what about the disruptive students? The can't-be-bothered brigade?

Well, I won't pretend that each and every student is dedicated and motivated: but what jobs are without their challenges?

Some you win, some you lose, and of those you lose it is important to recognise that the student may be disruptive due to factors beyond your control (a bad lesson earlier in the day, problems with siblings or simply missing breakfast).

This "emotional intelligence" requires you to empathise with the student, to see things from their perspective.

Yet there is no feeling as magnificent as when a previously disinterested student is coaxed into producing an outstanding piece of work through nothing more than praise and encouragement.

No lost causes

One small example: a student with an appalling history of attendance and focus finally wrote one paragraph of coursework for me.

He was embarrassed about its content, and did not want me to review it, but he had written a passionate piece describing just how he felt at that moment: frustrated, his anger simmering and ready to boil over.

Ignoring the content, I praised the quality of the writing, and we chatted for 10 minutes.

The next day he brought me five pages of work, the next he voluntarily gave up his lunchtime to catch up. No one is a lost cause.

So what would I change? Not the staff or pupils.

Not the fire drills on a sodden playing field in the middle of December. Not my show-stopping performance as one of the Three Kings in the Staff Nativity.

Detention case

Perhaps the one issue that grates is the way the profession can be portrayed by the media.

"One in three teachers are ready to quit!" screamed the headlines. Yet strip out those due to retire, planning maternity leave or moving in to other jobs in education, and there is no story.

The public's support matters, too. Take the mother and daughter who proposed to challenge detentions on the basis that they contravened the European Convention on Human Rights.

The daughter admitted breaking school rules, but as these did not constitute "the law" she demanded the right to an independent tribunal before a detention was imposed.

This sort of woolly thinking (in the minority, admittedly) is a teacher's nightmare. School prepares students for the real world. If you break (fair) workplace rules, you can be disciplined for breach of contract.

A parent and student have their own contract with a school: to respect others, and not to inhibit others' learning. Education thrives in a partnership between parent, pupil and teacher.

Luckily at Sandringham, our parents are fantastic and enjoy a healthy relationship with the school. So I'll descend from my soapbox.

So what lies ahead? This term I have assumed responsibility for a tutor group. The challenge of Shakespeare looms: how to make his work accessible and entertaining for 11 year olds.

And, most importantly, what to do with my evenings now that 20-week-old Billy is sleeping through the night!

Watch this space. And be jealous!

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