The piles of grubby books, pristine
Back in September days when leaves were turning
And shoes were shining straight from Clark’s.
But now they’ve passed through many hands
As pens were chewed, checking answers nervously
Before they passed them back to teachers waiting
With red pens, ready to write ‘well done,
Good try’. But think of all those hours
Buried under marking schemes and reams
Of answers for so many hours,
Burning candles at the midnight hour,
Sleep filled eyes are drooping with
A sadness as she sees that pile
That isn’t going down. She’ll carry on
For many hours yet to come, waking on
The sagging sofa as the sun begins to rise.
Margot Kinberg
Marking time can really take it out of a person, can’t it? It’s sometimes hard to remember that each book you mark represents a student – a real person. That’s why marking can take such a long time for a thoughtful, caring teacher: so much can be at stake for the student.
patientandkindlove
Yes, it’s writing the comments that adds so much time. Wouldn’t it be nice if a tick would suffice?!
crispina kemp
Yea, I can get with that
patientandkindlove
Marking is brutal!
crispina kemp
Yea, all those young malleable minds in your hands. The wrong words, the wrong mark… I remember (aged 11) being told a piece of creative writing I’d submitted was *unique* and to this day I wonder if that was a compliment or a disguised criticism