This week, the darlings and I have been preparing frantically for our end-of-term assembly in which we shall be performing our own interpretation of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream-coat. I came up with the idea in January, when I foolishly promised we would give the school "a musical extravaganza it would never forget". It seemed like a great plan at the time.
We had just inherited a class piano, which, despite having three missing black keys and two silent ones, proved popular with both staff and pupils (I hasten to add, the playing of Chopsticks and one-fingered versions of the theme from Jurassic Park have now been banned).
As it turns out, the production of Joseph has been a cross-curricular tour de force, touching almost every corner of the timetable. It's literacy, art, music and RE all rolled into one - my kind of lesson planning. The trouble is, after the usual round of flu bugs, African drumming workshops and swimming galas, the class population has been somewhat depleted - not to mention the fact that my Pharaoh keeps disappearing off to his anger management club.
Alas, quality rehearsals have been a rarity and with less than a week to go, I fear I'm rather counting on wishful enthusiasm to get us through.
Still, there's nothing like a bit of last minute pressure to squeeze out the brilliance in people. This week, we have managed to build an entire Egyptian temple, a prison cell, a spice market and a giant cowl; while a carefully chosen task force has been stitching sequins on to the dreamcoat.
And that's in between singing, singing and more singing.
I have faith. Somehow or other it's going to come together. Now if you'll excuse me, I have 12 shepherd costumes which simply won't make themselves
Louisa Leaman is a London teacher