I have a real thing for the underdog children.
I realise how wrong that sounds - but hold off calling the police because it's really quite innocent. But, I have a couple of rough classes at the moment and seem to - unintentionally - get on best with the kids in my classes who everyone else seems to despise. I root for them. I talk to them in the corridor. I defend them when the staffroom turns on them like wolves and a chipmunk - and I always get eaten alive, because funnily enough experienced teachers don't always like to hear that the trainee doesn't agree with their bitter description of their nemesis.
This week, though, the boys I have been defending have let me down. Big time. More than that - (brace yourself for that immortal line) - they have really, REALLY let themselves down.
In fact, they could only be described as purebred idiots. Imbeciles. Fools. Twits. Tw*ts, even. Absolute flaming F'wits.
I'm only going to tell you about one today because I only have the time/mental stamina for one!
There is a current epidemic throughout the school for fighting. It only started recently, but has escalated with terrifying speed. The fights get more dangerous and more frequent every day. Only year 7 are not infected - but it's probably only a matter of time.
So, during tutor time today I overhear a conversation which makes me - literally - want to scream. And weep. And shake the child involved until his brains fall out because he clearly isn't using them.
Said boy - N - is in my year 11 class. They're predicted E grades - some Ds. N, however, is desperate for a C and together we're going to make sure he gets it. He is a lovely guy, works SO SO SO hard and is always friendly - very popular with his classmates.
He threatened someone with a weapon today, and then beat them unconscious. In front of a small number of teachers - most of whom were too afraid to physically intervene because of the extreme violence and the fact that there were weapons involved.
Hearing about fights at school is always sad.
But to hear that it was one of my favourite pupils...
I was just gutted.
What is going on in school at the moment? There seems to be no reason, other than bored and the rain (I've learnt that teachers blame a lot of things on the weather).
Bring on the Easter hols!
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Domestic Gods: Nice thought, but no thanks.
The boyfriend invaded my territory last night.
Stop laughing - that isn't a sordid euphemism.
In our house, I own the kitchen. I also have responsibility for the lounge, the bathrooms, the bedroom and the study. That's basically the entire flat.
Last night, I found my boyfriend loading the dishwasher.
Until now, I didn't realise he was aware that we actually have a dishwasher. Well, obviously the dishes are cleaned somehow - but I thought he assumed that was me.
But no, last night I discover him stacking plates in the dishwasher. I was stunned, pleased and a little amused.
I am completely ambivalent about this situation.
1. Oh, he's finally recognised its existence... thank goodness... Less work for me. Result. And I didn't EVEN have to hint this time (my hints usually go along the lines of "please can you put those plates in the dishwasher? Plates? Dishwasher? - Please?" whilst resisting the urge to click my fingers and point). Housework does build up quickly* in our flat, even though there are only two of us: I have taken over most of the free space with files, document boxes, my laminator/photocopier/guillotine etc. Teacher-y things have spread from the study into the lounge, and have well and truly taken over now. A couple of months ago we discussed getting a maid - then decided that it was a silly idea because the flat was too messy to ever invite anyone into, much less expect them to attempt to tidy it. So if the boyfriend is now going to share the housework with me, that is absolutely awesome.
*I feel I should point out here that our flat is CLEAN - there are no piles of last week's takeaways, dirty laundry, etc. It's just not that tidy.
2. The kitchen is my domain... The dishwasher my favourite ally.
And there is a system, actually... Everything has a place otherwise it doesn't all fit in. No, small bowls go on the bottom shelf and why have you spaced it out like that so there are only two saucepans on that row instead of four?! Now we'll have to put it on twice! Oh, you've already turned it on? Honey, it runs for over two hours and is SO LOUD. Do you never wonder why I only put it on overnight??
You see guys, whether you meticulously attempt to help with housework or wait until the rats have moved in and the entire inside of your fridge is covered in grey fluff, you will be in trouble. Your best bet is honestly just to keep your head down and avoid all confrontation with the kitchen. Feminists will die a little inside at that comment, but I don't care. There is a reason those sexy maid outfits only come in female versions.
Alright, so we are overworked and stressed and we may well get up an hour before you, get in an hour later and rarely go to bed on the same day we woke up because of the amounts of work we bring home. And sometimes we prioritize essays and our year 10s over hoovering the lounge (solution: get a Roomba). We put away washing and tidy at 2am because that's the only point we have time.
And of course it would be lovely if a magical housework fairy (that's you) did all the work whilst we typed and wept and consumed gallons of wine/tea. But don't feel the need to get too carried away with being 'helpful' or we may just wonder what you hit your head on. Even if you don't understand the intricate way of positioning the plates on the racks and don't put all the forks together in one compartment, we still love you to bits.
Stop laughing - that isn't a sordid euphemism.
In our house, I own the kitchen. I also have responsibility for the lounge, the bathrooms, the bedroom and the study. That's basically the entire flat.
Last night, I found my boyfriend loading the dishwasher.
Until now, I didn't realise he was aware that we actually have a dishwasher. Well, obviously the dishes are cleaned somehow - but I thought he assumed that was me.
But no, last night I discover him stacking plates in the dishwasher. I was stunned, pleased and a little amused.
I am completely ambivalent about this situation.
1. Oh, he's finally recognised its existence... thank goodness... Less work for me. Result. And I didn't EVEN have to hint this time (my hints usually go along the lines of "please can you put those plates in the dishwasher? Plates? Dishwasher? - Please?" whilst resisting the urge to click my fingers and point). Housework does build up quickly* in our flat, even though there are only two of us: I have taken over most of the free space with files, document boxes, my laminator/photocopier/guillotine etc. Teacher-y things have spread from the study into the lounge, and have well and truly taken over now. A couple of months ago we discussed getting a maid - then decided that it was a silly idea because the flat was too messy to ever invite anyone into, much less expect them to attempt to tidy it. So if the boyfriend is now going to share the housework with me, that is absolutely awesome.
*I feel I should point out here that our flat is CLEAN - there are no piles of last week's takeaways, dirty laundry, etc. It's just not that tidy.
2. The kitchen is my domain... The dishwasher my favourite ally.
And there is a system, actually... Everything has a place otherwise it doesn't all fit in. No, small bowls go on the bottom shelf and why have you spaced it out like that so there are only two saucepans on that row instead of four?! Now we'll have to put it on twice! Oh, you've already turned it on? Honey, it runs for over two hours and is SO LOUD. Do you never wonder why I only put it on overnight??
You see guys, whether you meticulously attempt to help with housework or wait until the rats have moved in and the entire inside of your fridge is covered in grey fluff, you will be in trouble. Your best bet is honestly just to keep your head down and avoid all confrontation with the kitchen. Feminists will die a little inside at that comment, but I don't care. There is a reason those sexy maid outfits only come in female versions.
Alright, so we are overworked and stressed and we may well get up an hour before you, get in an hour later and rarely go to bed on the same day we woke up because of the amounts of work we bring home. And sometimes we prioritize essays and our year 10s over hoovering the lounge (solution: get a Roomba). We put away washing and tidy at 2am because that's the only point we have time.
And of course it would be lovely if a magical housework fairy (that's you) did all the work whilst we typed and wept and consumed gallons of wine/tea. But don't feel the need to get too carried away with being 'helpful' or we may just wonder what you hit your head on. Even if you don't understand the intricate way of positioning the plates on the racks and don't put all the forks together in one compartment, we still love you to bits.
Sunday, 14 March 2010
The Truth, The Whole Truth, and Nothing But...
Depending on who you are and how close we are, you either know everything about me or very little. I'm all for sharing with my friends.
You would think that, with an anonymous situation like blogging, free-for-all detail would be the way forward. But I think I'm actually really conservative - there are a few things I just don't blog about.
1. Work
Sure, I'm quite open about the fact that I'm a trainee teacher. And that I've recently been employed and therefore am well on my way to becoming a genuine teacher. But you don't know where - and that's really important! I don't usually blog about school but it's bound to come up sometimes - and it'd a *Disaster* if it got back to my Department/the kids. In a career where it's technically inappropriate and irresponsible to go out and get drunk at the weekend, blogging too openly is not really a smart move.
2. Religion
I'm a Christian, but I don't feel the need to use my blog as an evangelic vehicle. I'm more than happy to discuss my faith, but I strongly dislike sounding as though I'm just out to convert the masses and put another notch in my Biblical bedpost.
I wasn't too impressed to come across a New Scientist headline the other day about atheists having a reputation for being "well educated" - the implications about people with faith being all too obvious. I also hate the word 'religious' - I get riled when people refer to me in that way. It has awful connotations - yes I have faith, and I'm not ashamed of it.I'll talk about it happily with anyone. But I hate having a label which reminds me of those people who force their unfounded and usually outrageous beliefs down the throat of anyone within earshot of their megaphone. Hell - they drive everyone mad so please don't judge other 'religious' people based on your experience of people on street corners.
3. Sex
I know what some of you are thinking.
The reason I don't discuss sex is because of the above point - clearly, I don't have any. You're wrong, but let's leave it there for now. I'll probably come back to this topic when I eventually get round to blogging about H.
You would think that, with an anonymous situation like blogging, free-for-all detail would be the way forward. But I think I'm actually really conservative - there are a few things I just don't blog about.
1. Work
Sure, I'm quite open about the fact that I'm a trainee teacher. And that I've recently been employed and therefore am well on my way to becoming a genuine teacher. But you don't know where - and that's really important! I don't usually blog about school but it's bound to come up sometimes - and it'd a *Disaster* if it got back to my Department/the kids. In a career where it's technically inappropriate and irresponsible to go out and get drunk at the weekend, blogging too openly is not really a smart move.
2. Religion
I'm a Christian, but I don't feel the need to use my blog as an evangelic vehicle. I'm more than happy to discuss my faith, but I strongly dislike sounding as though I'm just out to convert the masses and put another notch in my Biblical bedpost.
I wasn't too impressed to come across a New Scientist headline the other day about atheists having a reputation for being "well educated" - the implications about people with faith being all too obvious. I also hate the word 'religious' - I get riled when people refer to me in that way. It has awful connotations - yes I have faith, and I'm not ashamed of it.I'll talk about it happily with anyone. But I hate having a label which reminds me of those people who force their unfounded and usually outrageous beliefs down the throat of anyone within earshot of their megaphone. Hell - they drive everyone mad so please don't judge other 'religious' people based on your experience of people on street corners.
3. Sex
I know what some of you are thinking.
The reason I don't discuss sex is because of the above point - clearly, I don't have any. You're wrong, but let's leave it there for now. I'll probably come back to this topic when I eventually get round to blogging about H.
Friday, 12 March 2010
Baby Gets Shaky After School...
'Shaky' is probably going to be a very apt description of my state tomorrow morning... I've got some celebrating to do! I'm heading out tonight with some of the IBM boys to celebrate becoming, in their words, an official tax payer and no longer a scrounging student.
It sounds much more exciting in my words: a REAL, PROPER, OFFICIAL, grown up TEACHER!
Yesterday I had the interview for the VIJ (actually, a quick scan of my drafts folder shows that I never published the posts leading up to this, so I should probably explain that VIJ is the Very Important Job that I've been desperate for) and...
1. I have never been so scared in my life*
2. I really enjoyed being there and know it's the right place for me
3. They employed me!!
4. There was another girl at the interview too, who was so lovely - and they've employed her too, so we'll get to work/be NQTs together!
5. They employed me!!
I officially start in September, but will actually start in late June. I am SO excited, although I woke up this morning CONVINCED I'd dreamed the whole thing! (Yesterday morning, I was convinced I'd slept through the interview, which would have actually been quite an achievement considering I didn't sleep).
I had such a nice time yesterday seeing the department I started my training in. They were all exactly the same - still fabulous. This shouldn't be surprising as it really wasn't that long ago that I was there, but it feels like a VERY long time ago! I can't wait to go back in September as an official teacher, knowing that this time there's no countdown until I have to go. The person leaving is moving onto an even better situation (if such a thing is imaginable); so whilst I am really sad they're going, I'm also incredibly excited for their adventure. (I LOVE it when life goes through those phases of being one big happy adrenaline rush).
As the only girl in the group going out tonight, I usually do all of our organising - but tonight I've been spoiled! The boys have chosen a restaurant for me, one which I've never been to but have been assured is very good. It's Asian, and I love Asian food. Then we've booked a table at P&P, which does a beaauutiful chocolate cocktail... After several of those, we could end up anywhere!
Then tomorrow, I can rejoin the real world of lesson planning and marking - the mocks year 10 did in my absence yesterday are eagerly anticipating being smothered in green** pen...
* That's not strictly true. The scariest moment of my life was when my horse nearly died and I was signing the 'yes you can put my horse down if you need to' papers (they made me!) with one hand; holding a tube in position up his nose with the other; desperately pretending I couldn't feel the blood soaking my legs. Whilst surrounded by six - I exaggerate not - SIX student vets frantically prepping him for surgery. But that's a whole other story.
**(Heaven forbid I use red pen...)
It sounds much more exciting in my words: a REAL, PROPER, OFFICIAL, grown up TEACHER!
Yesterday I had the interview for the VIJ (actually, a quick scan of my drafts folder shows that I never published the posts leading up to this, so I should probably explain that VIJ is the Very Important Job that I've been desperate for) and...
1. I have never been so scared in my life*
2. I really enjoyed being there and know it's the right place for me
3. They employed me!!
4. There was another girl at the interview too, who was so lovely - and they've employed her too, so we'll get to work/be NQTs together!
5. They employed me!!
I officially start in September, but will actually start in late June. I am SO excited, although I woke up this morning CONVINCED I'd dreamed the whole thing! (Yesterday morning, I was convinced I'd slept through the interview, which would have actually been quite an achievement considering I didn't sleep).
I had such a nice time yesterday seeing the department I started my training in. They were all exactly the same - still fabulous. This shouldn't be surprising as it really wasn't that long ago that I was there, but it feels like a VERY long time ago! I can't wait to go back in September as an official teacher, knowing that this time there's no countdown until I have to go. The person leaving is moving onto an even better situation (if such a thing is imaginable); so whilst I am really sad they're going, I'm also incredibly excited for their adventure. (I LOVE it when life goes through those phases of being one big happy adrenaline rush).
As the only girl in the group going out tonight, I usually do all of our organising - but tonight I've been spoiled! The boys have chosen a restaurant for me, one which I've never been to but have been assured is very good. It's Asian, and I love Asian food. Then we've booked a table at P&P, which does a beaauutiful chocolate cocktail... After several of those, we could end up anywhere!
Then tomorrow, I can rejoin the real world of lesson planning and marking - the mocks year 10 did in my absence yesterday are eagerly anticipating being smothered in green** pen...
* That's not strictly true. The scariest moment of my life was when my horse nearly died and I was signing the 'yes you can put my horse down if you need to' papers (they made me!) with one hand; holding a tube in position up his nose with the other; desperately pretending I couldn't feel the blood soaking my legs. Whilst surrounded by six - I exaggerate not - SIX student vets frantically prepping him for surgery. But that's a whole other story.
**(Heaven forbid I use red pen...)
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Glitter & Champagne (& hoping I didn't dream it...)
Particularly apt, given that I'm from Cheshire, wouldn't you say?
Earlier this week I posted something about 7 Reasons My Life is Amazing. Today just happened to top the lot. Twice over.
I'll elaborate when a) I'm no longer speechless and b) I have finished clearing* the lounge in order to make room on the table for champagne and lemon cake...
*this is a short way of saying that I'm madly throwing everything bar the sofas and bookcases into random boxes and then hiding them in the study.
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Sunday, 7 March 2010
'The Cure' were right about boys...
Dear Duke,
It is a girl’s prerogative to be ruled by her emotions and not by any law of common sense. We've all seen examples of how catapulting from one extreme emotion to another is just a daily occurrence in a girl's life. This can be anything, even things that men find trivial - including, for instance, (but not limited to) ecstatic squealing that a certain handbag has been released in purple, and subsequent hysterical sobbing because said handbag has sold out.
Girls are naturally open. Ask a man about a film he’s seen – “it was good, yeah. Special effects are great” or, if it wasn’t too successful, “rubbish plot, not much happened.” Ask a girl – “it was great – made me cry/laugh!” or “I felt really bored for most of it.” Sharing emotion happens without any intentional thought. And, I have to admit, that’s something I love about my female friends. Being with people who are so emotionally honest allows for really close friendships.
(You may take that any way you wish).
However... With true female ‘logic’, I’m now going to go back on what I’ve just said.
The more serious the situation, the less emotion is immediately visible. This is the point at which to raise your guard even further – and make sure the kettle is on. Biscuits can only help matters further – even if the girl is upset because she mistakenly believes she is the size of a baby elephant.
(This is a FACT. It says so on one of my Facebook groups...)
Once the tea is made (Amaretto if it’s serious) and biscuits and tissues are within reach, you have two main choices of where to wait out the storm.
1. If you can't bear tears but suspect that they are on their way (and believe me, the longer she pretends “everything’s fine”, the more tears are imminent), make a hasty exit to the pub. Whilst you’re gone, your girlfriend will cry, phone her [female] friends, cry more, eat the biscuits, cry a bit more, rack up a huge phone bill, and eventually feel better for it. In the meantime, you have a laugh with your friends. When you come home, you face a sullen, pale raccoon who sulks because you ‘abandoned her’; but at least she isn’t sobbing incoherently into your chest and wiping mascara and snot all over your t-shirt.
2. Assemble tea, biscuits, tissues – and get ready to offer them in turn. Flashcards would be an extremely useful addition here – definitely a niche in the market for those.
A word of advice? Option 1 is really appealing. And sometimes you’ll be able to pull it off. But if in doubt, go for 2. She doesn’t need to know that whilst you’re ‘mmhmm’-ing and pulling her closer than you’re mentally replaying the game from the weekend. And if you get your t-shirt messy, you have little option but to take it off. At which point you can trade in all those brownie points you’ve just earned for staying with her and listening to her...
A.x
I had planned to conclude with some intelligent musings on why it wasn't (as) acceptable for men to cry.
Then I found these images and the second one made me laugh, which I think answered my question. A crying girl can, allegedly, mix vulnerability with some kind of pathetic yet admirable beauty. (Note to girls: amount of dignity retained is in negative correlation to amount of alcohol consumed before crying episode).
And what about crying men? Well...
I challenge you not to even smirk...
It is a girl’s prerogative to be ruled by her emotions and not by any law of common sense. We've all seen examples of how catapulting from one extreme emotion to another is just a daily occurrence in a girl's life. This can be anything, even things that men find trivial - including, for instance, (but not limited to) ecstatic squealing that a certain handbag has been released in purple, and subsequent hysterical sobbing because said handbag has sold out.
Girls are naturally open. Ask a man about a film he’s seen – “it was good, yeah. Special effects are great” or, if it wasn’t too successful, “rubbish plot, not much happened.” Ask a girl – “it was great – made me cry/laugh!” or “I felt really bored for most of it.” Sharing emotion happens without any intentional thought. And, I have to admit, that’s something I love about my female friends. Being with people who are so emotionally honest allows for really close friendships.
(You may take that any way you wish).
However... With true female ‘logic’, I’m now going to go back on what I’ve just said.
The more serious the situation, the less emotion is immediately visible. This is the point at which to raise your guard even further – and make sure the kettle is on. Biscuits can only help matters further – even if the girl is upset because she mistakenly believes she is the size of a baby elephant.
(This is a FACT. It says so on one of my Facebook groups...)
Once the tea is made (Amaretto if it’s serious) and biscuits and tissues are within reach, you have two main choices of where to wait out the storm.
1. If you can't bear tears but suspect that they are on their way (and believe me, the longer she pretends “everything’s fine”, the more tears are imminent), make a hasty exit to the pub. Whilst you’re gone, your girlfriend will cry, phone her [female] friends, cry more, eat the biscuits, cry a bit more, rack up a huge phone bill, and eventually feel better for it. In the meantime, you have a laugh with your friends. When you come home, you face a sullen, pale raccoon who sulks because you ‘abandoned her’; but at least she isn’t sobbing incoherently into your chest and wiping mascara and snot all over your t-shirt.
2. Assemble tea, biscuits, tissues – and get ready to offer them in turn. Flashcards would be an extremely useful addition here – definitely a niche in the market for those.
A word of advice? Option 1 is really appealing. And sometimes you’ll be able to pull it off. But if in doubt, go for 2. She doesn’t need to know that whilst you’re ‘mmhmm’-ing and pulling her closer than you’re mentally replaying the game from the weekend. And if you get your t-shirt messy, you have little option but to take it off. At which point you can trade in all those brownie points you’ve just earned for staying with her and listening to her...
A.x
I had planned to conclude with some intelligent musings on why it wasn't (as) acceptable for men to cry.
Then I found these images and the second one made me laugh, which I think answered my question. A crying girl can, allegedly, mix vulnerability with some kind of pathetic yet admirable beauty. (Note to girls: amount of dignity retained is in negative correlation to amount of alcohol consumed before crying episode).
And what about crying men? Well...
I challenge you not to even smirk...
7 Reasons My Life is Amazing!
Monday: My loverly, wonderful, super little pony jumped over a course of jumps which I'd 'jazzed up' by throwing colourful rugs over them. He was shaking with nerves, but still did it. 'Proud' doesn't even cut it. (This is another reason I don't particularly want children. I honestly don't think they be able to would make me as proud as he does. He is my baby).
Tuesday: My friend/guitar teacher's band's demo album was FINALLY ready. I bought several copies, so I could have one in each car and one in the house... Love that band and have been rocking out en route to school every morning. On a school note, year 10 have finally finished their coursework and we could actually get on with some teaching. And for a group which were initially super glued to their normal teacher, they were really good.
Wednesday: I found some backbone and pulled out of the interview for the job I didn't want. All about having faith that what's meant to be will be.
Thursday: My university tutor came in to observe me with my mental, bouncing-off-the-walls class and graded me 'Very Good' (top mark). I was extra pleased considering I'd planned the lesson in half an hour after being told in the morning that the SOW I'd planned was being put back until after Easter, therefore I couldn't teach the lesson I'd prepared for the observation.
Friday: I was at the stables and ended up riding an 18.3hh monster. Who was a dream ride.
Saturday: A friend bailed us out by going to IKEA with the rest of our shopping list (the stuff that wouldn't fit in the car last week) and then helping assemble it all. Not only do we have great friends but now we also have a gorgeous lounge to entertain them in.
Sunday: I met the loveliest girl at Church, and we've arranged to go and see Jane Austen's house one Saturday.
Monday: Hasn't happened yet. But I'm sure it will be good.
Tuesday: My friend/guitar teacher's band's demo album was FINALLY ready. I bought several copies, so I could have one in each car and one in the house... Love that band and have been rocking out en route to school every morning. On a school note, year 10 have finally finished their coursework and we could actually get on with some teaching. And for a group which were initially super glued to their normal teacher, they were really good.
Wednesday: I found some backbone and pulled out of the interview for the job I didn't want. All about having faith that what's meant to be will be.
Thursday: My university tutor came in to observe me with my mental, bouncing-off-the-walls class and graded me 'Very Good' (top mark). I was extra pleased considering I'd planned the lesson in half an hour after being told in the morning that the SOW I'd planned was being put back until after Easter, therefore I couldn't teach the lesson I'd prepared for the observation.
Friday: I was at the stables and ended up riding an 18.3hh monster. Who was a dream ride.
Saturday: A friend bailed us out by going to IKEA with the rest of our shopping list (the stuff that wouldn't fit in the car last week) and then helping assemble it all. Not only do we have great friends but now we also have a gorgeous lounge to entertain them in.
Sunday: I met the loveliest girl at Church, and we've arranged to go and see Jane Austen's house one Saturday.
Monday: Hasn't happened yet. But I'm sure it will be good.
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