Not a wholesome day.

It is one of those days where I cannot be arsed with this job. In other words, it's Course Review Day. This delightful little thing is where the Programme Leaders have to write a report based upon OFSTED criteria, analyse data, prove retention and achievement statistics and explain why we're all doing such a wonderful job, thank you very much. This produces ream after ream of report, stacked to the hilts with unreliable numbers and unprovable facts, all done in order to keep some bloodless little number-cruncher in meaningful employment. And, just to add to the fun, the government's new Every Child Counts Strategy has been introduced, adding another ream of paper to each report.
As you may have guessed, it is not my favourite activity, and I've spent the best part of the day trying to drum up enthusiasm and inspiration while staring at my computer screen. While I don't mind targets and aims - I am, after all, a teacher and the Exams Officer - it's the extremely anal nature of what we have to write that I object to. It's the insistence that everything is a measurable, gradable, quantifiable thing that I hate. It's the theft of the teaching mojo: that magical, inexplicable part of the job, the moment when it all goes right and the student goes 'yes!', and these humourless beancounters think it can be all measured up and tucked in a box, in this case a coffin.
Oh, yes, I am also getting stress ulcers because of the bloody exams. Two more sets this week, then a whole week's worth in a fortnight, then two more sessions at the end of June.