Get him off. Shut him up. Will someone please put a sock in the PC of the author who "teaches in a north London comprehensive" (Thank God It's Summer).
Quick, before every potential entrant to teaching decides it is an appalling way to make a living and - an even worse prospect - we all have to endure staffrooms full of sourpusses and soreheads like him.
It is sufficiently like Thank God It's Friday for us all to recognise where this anonymous writer is coming from: TGIF springs from looking back on the week's ups and downs, smiling ruefully, and cheering for te weekend. The column walks a fine line between depicting the bad bits and celebrating the good, but the rueful smile is crucial, and helps it to keep its balance. Without the balance, without the humour, it is dire.
If the summer diary is true, it portrays a desperately depressed life. And, actually, if the whole term's scenario is as bad as the columns make it look, if there really are no good bits to keep him going, the writer should quit the job and get a life. Preferably a million miles away from any school.
Hilary Moriarty Bedgebury School Kent