Department of Educational Survival Studies
By: A Tired Teacher, PhD (Partially Half-Dead)
Abstract
This week, our long-term observational study into teacher behaviour during the Christmas term has yielded critical new data.
Findings indicate a direct correlation between (a) how far we are into the term, and (b) the speed, size, and frequency of family multipack biscuit appearances in the staffroom — along with an alarming increase in mince pie consumption per capita.
In layman’s terms: the closer we get to the end of term, the more we’re all eating like Victorian orphans at a bake sale.
Introduction
The Christmas term (or “the long one,” as it’s affectionately known by those who’ve lost the will to live) is a fascinating period in teacher evolution.
It’s marked by extreme fatigue, emotional instability, and the inability to remember which mock paper you’ve already marked.
Staff behaviour begins to shift around mid-November. Early warning signs include:
- Subtle murmurs of “Just need to make it to Christmas.”
- Coffee intake reaching medically concerning levels.
- The first sighting of a Mr Kipling variety pack in the staffroom.
By December, this progresses to full-blown carbohydrate carnage.
Methodology
Over a three-week observational period, a group of researchers (also known as “teachers with no frees”) tracked the appearance and disappearance of family-sized biscuit packs and mince pies across five staffrooms in the North West.
Data was collected using a simple metric known as the Snack-to-Sanity Ratio (SSR) — calculated by dividing the number of biscuits consumed by the number of remaining weeks until Christmas.
To maintain accuracy, all observations were conducted covertly, usually while pretending to laminate something.
Findings
- Week 1 (Early November)
- The first “just in case” packet of chocolate digestives appears.
- Staff exercise restraint. Someone says, “Let’s save these for Friday.”
- Half are gone by lunch.
- Week 4 (Mid-November)
- Custard creams, bourbons, and the occasional KitKat multipack now in circulation.
- Energy levels dropping.
- “Friday Treats” have become “Tuesday Sanity Snacks.”
- Nobody knows who bought them. Nobody cares.
- Week 6 (Late November)
- The first mince pies arrive. A hush falls across the staffroom.
- Teachers cluster around them like pigeons at Greggs.
- One is eaten cold, another microwaved, and a brief argument breaks out about which is correct.
- The mince pies are gone within nine minutes.
- Week 7 (December)
- Multiple tins of Roses and Quality Street appear overnight.
- They vanish before break time.
- Someone is seen scraping the last purple wrapper from the bottom of the tin.
- It’s 10:43 a.m.
Correlation Between Sadness and Mince Pies
Data strongly supports the hypothesis that the sadder the teacher, the more mince pies they consume.
One participant (pseudonym: “Year 11 Form Tutor”) consumed six pies in a single day after accidentally attending three separate Christmas concert rehearsals.
Another participant (pseudonym: “Head of Department Who’s Lost Their Room to Exams Again”) was observed quietly eating a mince pie in the corridor while muttering “quality first teaching.”
Peak consumption occurred immediately after mock exam data entry.
Discussion
The research suggests a clear behavioural pattern:
As teacher morale drops, sugar intake rises exponentially.
It’s not hunger — it’s survival instinct.
It’s not gluttony — it’s professional development.
The mince pie, once a symbol of festive cheer, has become a coping mechanism — a small, foil-wrapped antidepressant filled with raisins and regret.
It’s now widely accepted among teaching professionals that eating four mince pies between P4 and P5 is “self-care.”
Conclusion
The study concludes that there is an unbreakable link between the proximity to Christmas and the velocity of biscuit disappearance.
By the final week of term, time itself begins to warp. A family pack of chocolate Hobnobs left at 8:30 a.m. is but crumbs by 8:37.
Mince pies don’t even hit the table — they’re gone before the foil cools.
At this stage, the average teacher is 72% caffeine, 18% pastry, and 10% unresolved trauma from the carol concert.
The final recommendation from this research?
Don’t fight it.
Stock up, sit down, and remember: if you’re halfway through a box of Mr Kipling’s and questioning your life choices, you’re not alone.
You’re just in Week 7.
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