My Past Paper Resource for the ever-dwindling Classicists

Pedagogy

I’ve complained before—perhaps over a cup of tea in the staff room, or in the quiet echo chamber of my own thoughts—about the peculiar solitude of teaching CIE Classical Studies 9274. Where was the bustling agora for us? The CIE support hub could be quiet, the Facebook groups a ghost town, and Reddit… well, let’s just say the threads exemplify how few people are crazy enough to take this course. We were a scattered cohort of teachers and learners, navigating this magnificent, dense course largely on our own.

So, I did the only thing a frustrated classicist can do. I’ve created a resource for A-Level Classical Studies 9274, using the same obsessive-compulsive principle as my IGCSE History 0470 one. It’s all here: past papers dissected, topics mapped, and question trends laid bare in an attempt to create the shared foundation I felt was missing.

But let’s get to the fun part. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding.

Back in October 2025, as we were deep in the final revision push for the November series, I decided to test a theory. I fed years of meticulously organised data for Paper 4 (Homer’s Epics) into an AI and posed a simple, high-stakes question: Based on the patterns of the last several years, what are the highest probability topics for the upcoming exam?

The AI, coolly analytical, spat out its top candidates. And lo and behold, when my students opened their exam papers, there it was: a question focusing squarely on the theme of Xenia.

Screenshot from my October 2025 chat with Deepseek.

Cue my stunned silence, followed by a very undignified moment of triumph at my desk!!! The resource I built to create clarity had just proven its predictive power. A screenshot of that AI conversation is my new favourite piece of pedagogical evidence. Do you need any more convincing of how useful this is?

The point isn’t that we can now gamble on exams. The point is that by systematically understanding the past, we can better prepare for the future. This tool makes that possible.

So, consider this your invitation to the 9274 agora. This resource is here, free for any teacher or learner who needs it. May it save you time, spark your ideas, and maybe—just maybe—give you a glimpse into the mind of the examiner.

If you find it useful, or if you have ideas to make it better, let me know. Let’s stop teaching in isolation and start building this community ourselves. After all, that’s how the classics have survived this long—through shared scholarship, one scroll (or spreadsheet) at a time.

My Attempt to Tame the Past Paper Pile

Pedagogy

Let’s be honest, my Downloads folder was a mess. In the frantic rush of the school year, it had become a digital cupboard where every IGCSE History 0470 past paper went to get lost. I knew the valuable revision tools were in there, but finding a specific question on the Spanish Civil War or the Cuban Missile Crisis felt like an archaeological dig. I needed a system, for my own sanity as much as for my students.

I’m sure more polished versions of this exist somewhere in the ether. This is not a revolutionary product, but a teacher’s homemade solution—I’m basing my aggregation off of a long-ago Instagram post by venerable Miss Stout’s History Class over in Ireland. So, I built a thing. A resource born equally from a desire to streamline my own teaching and to give my students a clearer path through the thicket of exam preparation.

The goal was simple: to slice and dice the past papers into a searchable, sortable format. For me, it has been a quiet lifesaver. I can now, in the minutes before a class, instantly pull a ‘Describe’ question from 2018 on the Potsdam Conference for a quick do-now task. I can build a focused mock exam on the Cold War in Europe without an evening of cross-referencing. It gives me back the one thing teachers never have enough of: time.

Its real success, though, is measured in the classroom. There’s a palpable drop in anxiety when a student looks at a past paper and recognises the structure, when they can say, “I’ve practiced ten of these ‘Type b’ questions.” It breaks down the monstrous exam into manageable, familiar chunks.

I will admit, the process of creating it was its own education. The Paper 2 breakdown, in particular, was a meticulous labour that required more than one pot of matcha. It’s far from perfect. I’m already looking at my own topic categories for Paper 1 and seeing the seams. History, in its glorious complexity, doesn’t always fit into the neat boxes I designed, and I’m sure the next iteration will be better.

But a work-in-progress is better than no progress at all. So, I’m putting this one out into the world. If you are a fellow educator grappling with the same paper pile, or a learner looking for a structured way to revise, you are welcome to it.

I’ve uploaded it here for anyone to use, free of charge. It’s my small contribution to the teaching community that has given me so much. If you do get a chance to use it, please let me know. I’d love to hear how it works for you, and what I can do to make it better. After all, the best resources, like the best lessons, are always a collaborative work in progress.

The First Draft: On Building a Classical Studies Course from the Ground Up

Education, Pedagogy

The light is different now. The sharp, golden clarity of a Hong Kong autumn has settled in, and with it, a certain quiet. The frantic energy of the 2025 October/November exam series has dissipated, leaving behind that peculiar, post-campaign stillness that Alexander must have felt after reaching Hydaspes. The battlefield of past papers and revision notes has been cleared away, and in the quiet, I’ve been thinking about what we’ve just built.

This past cycle of teaching Cambridge’s Classical Studies 9274 felt less like teaching a prescribed course and more like building a ship while already out at sea. The blueprint was the syllabus, yes, but the timber and the nails—the very substance of it—we had to fashion ourselves.

The most palpable challenge was the silence. Not the silence of a focused classroom, but the vast, echoing silence of a subject without a definitive textbook. It’s a peculiar kind of vertigo, standing in front of a class and knowing that the canonical resource they’re relying on is the one you stayed up past midnight formatting, the one with your own marginalia embedded in the headers. I became less a deliverer of content and more its architect, obsessively cross-referencing my homemade workbooks with the CIE scheme of work, terrified that some crucial nuance of the Athenian legal system or a pivotal flaw in Trajan’s propaganda might slip through a crack I had created.

This was compounded by a professional solitude I hadn’t anticipated. Where were the other ship-builders? The online spaces and official CIE Support hubs where teachers typically congregate to share war stories and lesson plans were, for this course, not even ghost towns. They were non-existent. It felt like just me and my 3 students, our little vessel, and a great wide ocean of curriculum.

And the calendar itself, as CIE only offers November series exams for this course, felt like a contraption designed to test our mettle. Compressing a two-year AS/A2 journey into little over a year created a peculiar, accelerated rhythm. Our summer “break” was punctuated by the faint chime of a Teams call connecting, my students’ faces blinking onto my screen from a beach in Korea, a family home in Romania, and a sleepy town in Canada, all of us trying to untangle the complexities of Homeric heroes from our scattered corners of the world. There was something beautifully anachronistic about discussing ancient myths while we were all so decidedly, digitally nomadic.

But this is where the magic, stubborn thing, took root.

Building something from scratch means you get to see the flaws in the first draft—and you are granted the rare, immediate privilege of a second draft. The lessons from this pioneer cohort are not abstract notes for some distant future; they are immediate, actionable blueprints for the students who walked in the following August. That initial, frantic build has now given way to thoughtful renovation. For example, I immediately changed the Paper 2 topic from Roman Architecture to Augustus. Ultimately, a single man’s rise to power is easier to comprehend than the unimaginable construction of some of the world’s greatest ancient remains. Additionally, I assigned the 25-26 cohort ALL of Plutarch’s Life of Alexander in the summer between their IGCSE and A-Levels. This saved us considerable time and allowed us to hit the ground running in Term 1.

The greatest unexpected yield, however, was the depth of the relationship forged in that pressure cooker. There’s no time for the formalities of a slow-burn academic relationship when you’re navigating such treacherous waters on a tight schedule. We became a tight-knit crew, fast. And the pride I feel is not the distant, professional satisfaction of a job completed, but something far more visceral. It’s the swelling, almost Priam-like pride of seeing them achieve something monumental, something they themselves might have doubted was possible in such a short span.

The light is shifting on my desk. The afternoon is waning, and there are new workbooks to refine, new primary sources to discover for the next cohort. The ship, though tested, is seaworthy. And I can’t wait to see where we sail next.

A Teacher’s Cameo & Celebrating Student Rockstars

Education, Pedagogy

When the showrunner of our school musical asked me to step into a tiny, surprise cameo role in Zombie Prom, I couldn’t resist. His vision? To spark a little extra magic by letting students spot a familiar face on stage. What I didn’t expect was just how much I’d be the one left starstruck.

Watching our cast and crew shine during production week was nothing short of awe-inspiring. These students rehearsed every Tuesday and Wednesday since October—then gave up their Saturdays for the final month—to bring this show to life. And wow, did it pay off. Their energy, talent, and professionalism blew me away: singers hitting soaring notes, dancers moving in perfect sync, actors embodying their roles with grit and heart. Absolute rockstars.

The best part? Seeing my own Year 7 students return for a second night, buzzing with excitement about the show. Their joy mirrored my own. Being part of this production wasn’t just about my silly 30-second role as the mother of a zombie’s teenage girlfriend—it was a reminder of how much creativity and connection thrive when we come together as a community.

School spirit isn’t just a phrase here. It’s the sweat, laughter, and roaring applause that filled that gym-turned-theater. Huge thanks to every student who made this musical unforgettable. You’ve set the bar sky-high!

Why take Classical Studies?

Education, Pedagogy

This time last year, my HOD and HOS asked me to make an options video for the new course I was launching in the Humanities Department—CIE A-Level Classical Studies.

As an ex-journalism student, I was THRILLED to get a chance to reignite my creative chops and have a chance to play with my beloved Adobe Audition once again. The mini-project also forced me to think about how to make the course more relatable and appealing for KIS’ unique student population. I wrote and voiced the script with their particular interests in mind.

Unfortunately, the video I produced will soon be out of commission because Marketing wants new specifications this year, aiming to create a more cohesive media presence. So… I’ll just archive it here.

Have you ever wondered, Why take Classical Studies?

Cold days and warm insights: Another term of teaching done

Education, History, Pedagogy

It’s 9°C in Hong Kong at the moment—veritably freezing for this little isle on the South China Sea—and the CNY holiday has gifted me with some respite to reflect on what might be my most satisfactory period of work to date.

Two years ago today, I was sitting in my considerably chillier Montréal apartment, working from home as a historical researcher, desperately trying to conquer the voices of the void. I loved the research, but I dearly missed teaching. There is something unquantifiably exciting about engaging with young students who are grappling with new ideas for the first time; collaborating with fellow educators who are passionate about the value they bring to a community; contributing to building a more positive microcosm of the school; and embracing the never-ending novelty of learning something every day.

January marks the end of the first term of my second year teaching at an international school in Hong Kong. Due to some career changes, a global pandemic, and some family matters, it’s actually the longest I’ve worked anywhere. This academic year is for other firsts as well: first time teaching humanities and first time serving as a Head of Year.

I had anticipated some challenges prior to taking on these new roles. Would I be able to keep up with all the new content knowledge required of my IGCSE and A-Level courses? (The answer was yes—I actually struggled more with economics within KS3 Social Studies.) Would I be able to prove that I deserved a leadership position in pastoral amongst the many more-experienced teachers at my school? (I hope so—this one I still struggle answering with critical self-empathy.) Could I do this on top of expanding the scope and success of the Yearbook Committee? (TBD—the full publication and distribution should be completed by June 2025.) Would I be able to juggle everything while also completing an assignment-heavy PGCE? (Yes—although I cannot say I did so happily.) Looking back, these challenges appear easily overcome.

Being able to combine my love of teaching with my love for history has been a large tenet of why this first term has been so successful. An astute IGCSE History student, H.N., has asked more than once “why does it seem like you don’t miss being an English teacher?” There’s nothing wrong with the subject of course—I love language and literature, and an aspect I miss more than others is how reading my students’ written work allowed me to know them a little more deeply. More than once, I responded to H.N.’s inquiry by making a joke about how I no longer know how to speak English.

But if I were to answer honestly, I would probably say… I have loved the study of the past since I took four separate history electives in my suburban Ontario high school. Or perhaps even earlier, when my dad brought me to Unionville Public Library during summer break, and I borrowed out my pre-teen weight’s worth of historical fiction. It could be further back still, when my wee brother and I sat with our feet dangling from the dining room table, listening to stories of our family’s diasporic paths. Being able to plan and deliver lessons for a subject I am so passionate about makes every workday a joyful one. Being able to geek out with fellow history enthusiasts brings out the child in me. Being able to inspire students who initially dislike the subject to change their minds is incredibly motivating!

This blog started as an exercise to prove to myself that I can still write without AI, but it seems that I have waffled for long enough. I’ve soliloquised for so long it is now 17°C and I can go enjoy the last of my break with a trip to the beach. Here’s hoping for another good term.

English Teacher Jumps Ship to Humanities

Education, Pedagogy, Public History

As I reflect on my path to this point in my career, I’m filled with a profound sense of excitement and gratitude. After years of honing my craft as an English teacher, I now have the incredible opportunity to embark on a new chapter, teaching humanities at my current international school.

My teaching journey began over a decade ago, when I first stepped into a kindergarten classroom in Qingdao, China. Those early years were both challenging and immensely rewarding, as I learned to connect with young learners and foster a love of language. From there, I moved to Hong Kong, where I started in the dark trenches of a learning centre and moved on to teach at a renowned local DSS secondary school, helping students of all ages reach their full potential.

Fast forward a few years, past a 12-month stint as a historical researcher in Montréal, I now find myself at an international school in Hong Kong with incredible mentors and leaders who gave me opportunity to teach KS3 social studies, IGCSE history, and A-Level classical studies. As I reflect on this transition, I can’t help but feel a sense of anticipation. “The study of history is the best way to understand the present,” as renowned philosopher Blaise Pascal once said, and looking back at my career these past few years, I couldn’t agree more.

Drawing on a MA in History and my experience working for a private historical consulting company, I plan to bring a unique perspective to the classroom. “History is not just a collection of facts and dates,” as historian Howard Zinn stated, “but a living, breathing narrative that shapes our world.” It is this ethos that I hope to impart to my students.

To that end, I have already begun designing posters that will adorn the walls of my future classroom, each one a vibrant representation of a different historical era or concept. “A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots,” as Marcus Garvey once said, and these visuals will serve as touchstones, sparking the imagination and curiosity of my students, inviting them to dive deeper into the rich tapestry of the past.

As I await the start of the new school year, I find myself brimming with ideas and a renewed sense of purpose. “History is a relentless master of ceremony,” as President John F. Kennedy once observed, and I’m ready to guide my students through this captivating drama, inspiring them to become active participants in shaping the future.

Feel free to use them in your classroom as well!

History + Geography Posters Download

A Yearbook to Remember

Education, Pedagogy

My First Year as Coordinator at an International School

When I was entrusted with the role of yearbook coordinator at an International School in Hong Kong, I knew it would be a rewarding challenge. While the team embarked on a journey to craft a vivid, 200-page memento that would capture the essence of our primary, springboard, and secondary school communities, I also started to develop a robust and lasting extra-curricular for our students.

Prior to this year, the school had not had a dedicated yearbook club or production process driven by students. It was up to me and my team to establish a foundation for what would become an annual tradition. From the outset, our small but passionate group tackled every aspect of the yearbook’s production with meticulous care and creativity.

We meticulously organised school photographs, class pages and student interviews, weaving together a tapestry of experiences that would resonate with our readers. The design process was a true collaborative effort, as we thoughtfully curated the layout and content of each page to bring our vision to life.

Watching the yearbook take shape was a profoundly fulfilling experience. With each new section and spread, we poured our hearts into preserving the unique spirit of our international school. The vibrant class pages, featured articles, and eye-catching advertisements all came together to create a glossy, hardcover keepsake that exceeded our wildest expectations.

The true reward, however, came when we distributed the finished yearbooks to our students and their families. The joy and pride on their faces as they thumbed through the pages was a testament to the power of our collective efforts. This tangible memento had become a lasting symbol of the community we had worked so hard to capture. I can’t begin to express how I appreciated seeing students hugging their yearbooks as they walked from class to class, asking peers and teachers to sign the covers.

As I look ahead to next year’s yearbook, I’m filled with excitement and a renewed sense of purpose. In my second year as coordinator, I’m eager to build upon the foundation we’ve laid, with a focus on increasing student involvement and establishing a lasting structure of leadership and mentorship. By empowering more of our talented students to take an active role in the yearbook’s production, I’m confident we can create an even more impressive and meaningful keepsake that truly captures the vibrant spirit of our international school community.

From the Classroom to the Silver Screen: Documentary Filmmaking at the Secondary Level

Film, Pedagogy, Uncategorized

My own love of documentary filmmaking was first sparked during an inspirational course I took in university with Professor Michael Ostroff, titled “Making Documentary History.” In this class, I learned how to use film as a powerful tool for capturing and preserving important narratives, personal experiences, and societal issues. It was a transformative experience that would go on to shape my entire approach to education and storytelling.

One of the courses I’m most proud of developing is a weekly Film Appreciation elective at the secondary school level at a local DSS secondary school. Using Bloom’s Taxonomy as a framework, I designed this class to take students on a deep dive into the art of cinema.

We started off by simply watching and discussing classic and contemporary films, honing our critical analysis skills. From there, we explored the theoretical underpinnings of filmmaking – studying camera techniques, lighting, sound design, and more.

The real magic happened when I challenged my students to put this knowledge into practice. I guided them through the process of conducting research, developing concepts, and ultimately producing their own short documentary films. Watching them learn to operate professional equipment, edit their footage, and bring their visions to life was incredibly rewarding.

Of course, our film journey took an unexpected turn in 2020 when the COVID-19 pandemic forced Hong Kong schools to shift to remote learning. Rather than letting this setback derail our progress, I pivoted the documentary filmmaking course to an online format.

Through a mix of virtual workshops, video tutorials, and one-on-one mentoring sessions, the 27 students in my Year 10 class completed 60 unique film projects. I was continually amazed by their resilience, creativity, and commitment, even in the face of such unprecedented challenges.

Looking back on this experience, I’m reminded of the transformative power of film. It has the ability to challenge our perspectives, spark meaningful discussions, and empower young people to find their voices. As an educator, there’s nothing more gratifying than witnessing that process unfold.

I’m honoured to have played a role in nurturing the next generation of cinematic storytellers. And I can’t wait to see what they create next.

Why Teachers make excellent Project Managers

Education, Pedagogy

People often say teachers are superheroes. They probably say this because they know teachers are excellent project managers, just on on an educator’s salary. In fact, the skills that teachers possess from their years of experience in education can translate seamlessly into project management in any field. Here are five reasons why teachers make great project managers:

Highly Organized: Teachers know how to prioritize tasks and manage their time effectively. They use tools like calendars, to-do lists, and project management software to stay on top of everything. For example, a teacher might use a project management software to keep track of multiple lesson plans and assignments for different classes, ensuring that each student’s needs are met.
Skilled Multitasker: Teachers are adept at juggling multiple projects and keeping them all moving forward without letting anything fall through the cracks. They can switch gears quickly when necessary and stay focused on what’s most important at any given moment. In a typical semester, a teacher might be able to juggle grading papers; planning lessons; writing exams; coordinating tournaments; designing new curriculum; and managing a school-wide pep-rally simultaneously.
Proactive Problem-Solver: Teachers are always looking ahead and anticipating potential issues that may arise. This allows them to take steps to mitigate any problems before they become major roadblocks to progress. Teachers get to know their students deeply and can anticipate that certain students will struggle with a specific topic and prepare alternative teaching methods to ensure their success.
Strong Communicator: Teachers know how to keep partners and stakeholders informed of project status and progress, ensuring that everyone is on the same page. They regularly touch base with partners and stakeholders to ensure that their needs are being met and that they are working towards shared goals. Throughout the year, teachers communicate with parents about their child’s progress and work with them to create a plan for academic success.
Collaborative Team Player: Teachers work closely with their colleagues to ensure that everyone is aligned and working towards the same goals. They are always willing to lend a hand and take on extra responsibilities when necessary. For example, a teacher might collaborate with other teachers to plan a school-wide event, ensuring that everyone’s contributions are valued and incorporated. The success of every student is a shared project.

Next time you’re looking for a project manager, consider a teacher for the job!