*They loved it, really.
Then I remembered what I was leaving them for and told them to man up and get out of my classroom.
A mere 6 teaching days until the end!
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Showing posts with label School. Show all posts
Thursday, 27 May 2010
"But Miiiiiiiiiss......Whyyyyyyy?"
So, following 'story time' at the end of today's lesson, I gathered together my wonderful year 7s and told them I would be leaving after half-term. Two of them cried. For a split second I felt like that incredibly irritating woman in 'The Sound of Music', and was tempted to sweep them all into a giant hug and tell them everything was fine - with some high-pitched singing thrown in for good measure. (Hey, last lesson I made them sit through Kate Bush's 'Wuthering Heights'. Which I sang along to. And then made them sing.* They're used to my caterwauling).
*They loved it, really.
Then I remembered what I was leaving them for and told them to man up and get out of my classroom.
A mere 6 teaching days until the end!
*They loved it, really.
Then I remembered what I was leaving them for and told them to man up and get out of my classroom.
A mere 6 teaching days until the end!
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
Horses for Courses
Sorry - been neglecting the blog again! Made the most of my extended weekend though - lots of sleeping (far too many all-nighters last week), socializing and horse riding.
My year 8's have been causing me a few problems recently. There are 32 of them, and they are seriously boisterous. In fact, I think I've blogged about them before - this is the class that have spent my lesson doing somersaults before (I've definitely blogged about that somewhere). Usually we get on fine, but I've felt the respect slipping away as they take longer and longer to get quiet each time. With my recent sleeping habits, my voice is almost completely gone so I can't raise it. Last time I attempted to shout, one pupil asked if my voice was breaking. Non-verbal signals they pretend not to see.
Honestly, the above picture is comparatively calm. So today, first lesson back after almost a week, I thought I'd nail them to the floor and then we could relax again. I had a friend email me last week asking for behaviour tips - I emailed her a thesis on the subject and thought it was about time to practice what I preached.
So I walked in, recapped the rules and consequences. They ignored the rules; I turned into the cow from hell. I had one hour of silence. Almost every child actually completed the work set. And I didn't have to attempt to shout once. No one was sent out (possible for the first time ever). No one left their seat (definitely the first time ever).
Was it one hour of blissful silence? Nope. Was there a productive, purposeful atmosphere? Nope.
It was one hour of sheer awkwardness during which I attempted to evade the rays of hatred emanating towards me. The auras of livid 32 kids require some serious mental shields, I tell you...
To be honest, I absolutely hated doing it. But I was out of ideas - the class are notoriously awkward across the school so other teachers were not a great source of advice. I'd tried rapport and getting to know them as individuals. I'd tried killing them with praise and doing pacey, personalised lessons. Ultimately they just took the mick.
No idea whether I did the right thing. Have I screwed up or can I relax next lesson and hope the fact that they've seen my nasty side will be enough to keep them on track for the next four weeks? I have no idea. We'll have to see what happens on Friday. If no post arrives between now and... let's say about six weeks from now, as I'm not too hot on posting regularly... you know they've eaten me alive.
Question is, can I have a middle ground between discipline and dislike or riots and friends? Cake and eat - ooh yes please.
AMAZING cake hey? Shame it's only just been my birthday and I will probably have forgotten about this by the time my next birthday comes around.
Moving on to real horses, real courses: Sion and I are so busy at the moment. Some of you may remember my blogging that we'd qualified for a competition in Wales - well, that was a couple of weeks ago. I had the absolute time of my life. He did some beautiful jumping and some superb (unplanned) rodeo displays, so we managed to keep the crowd entertained regardless of whether we were actually getting over the fences. I think they knew from the moment that we entered the ring backwards (because the poster opposite the gate was far too scary to walk towards) it was going to be an interesting round.
So, we had no rosettes but it was our first weekend show away from home and I think he did exceptionally well considering that over the four days he went from muscular to skeletal with all the stress.
Last weekend we attended a home show, and he was much more his usual self - he was just on fire (I never thought I'd need to clarify that this was metaphorical, but I mentioned this today in my year 7 class and then had to spend five minutes reassuring/disappointing them with the news that my horse had not spontaneously combusted because of his speed). We entered two classes and got four clears. We won one class by almost 10 seconds, and came second in the other - by 0.4 seconds!
We have another show this weekend, plus a gymkhana. We've qualified to go back to Wales this summer, plus I've applied to attend the Training Academy beforehand - just waiting to hear whether we've been accepted. I hope we are!
Whether we are or not, with all the other shows and cross-country competitions we've entered we have a busy, busy summer ahead.
I'm also off to look at another horse this weekend. She's stunning - hoping to BSJA affiliate with her as Sion is limited to about 1m now because of his hocks; plus he's obviously not getting any younger. We don't compete at 1m anymore - far better to keep it low and enjoyable for him. 2'9 is as high as he'll go over a course, although having said that we'll be doing 3ft this weekend! I haven't told Sion I'm going to look at this mare though - in a daft, unjustified, sentimental way, I feel like I'm cheating on him...
My year 8's have been causing me a few problems recently. There are 32 of them, and they are seriously boisterous. In fact, I think I've blogged about them before - this is the class that have spent my lesson doing somersaults before (I've definitely blogged about that somewhere). Usually we get on fine, but I've felt the respect slipping away as they take longer and longer to get quiet each time. With my recent sleeping habits, my voice is almost completely gone so I can't raise it. Last time I attempted to shout, one pupil asked if my voice was breaking. Non-verbal signals they pretend not to see.
Honestly, the above picture is comparatively calm. So today, first lesson back after almost a week, I thought I'd nail them to the floor and then we could relax again. I had a friend email me last week asking for behaviour tips - I emailed her a thesis on the subject and thought it was about time to practice what I preached.
So I walked in, recapped the rules and consequences. They ignored the rules; I turned into the cow from hell. I had one hour of silence. Almost every child actually completed the work set. And I didn't have to attempt to shout once. No one was sent out (possible for the first time ever). No one left their seat (definitely the first time ever).
Was it one hour of blissful silence? Nope. Was there a productive, purposeful atmosphere? Nope.
It was one hour of sheer awkwardness during which I attempted to evade the rays of hatred emanating towards me. The auras of livid 32 kids require some serious mental shields, I tell you...
To be honest, I absolutely hated doing it. But I was out of ideas - the class are notoriously awkward across the school so other teachers were not a great source of advice. I'd tried rapport and getting to know them as individuals. I'd tried killing them with praise and doing pacey, personalised lessons. Ultimately they just took the mick.
No idea whether I did the right thing. Have I screwed up or can I relax next lesson and hope the fact that they've seen my nasty side will be enough to keep them on track for the next four weeks? I have no idea. We'll have to see what happens on Friday. If no post arrives between now and... let's say about six weeks from now, as I'm not too hot on posting regularly... you know they've eaten me alive.
Question is, can I have a middle ground between discipline and dislike or riots and friends? Cake and eat - ooh yes please.
AMAZING cake hey? Shame it's only just been my birthday and I will probably have forgotten about this by the time my next birthday comes around.
Moving on to real horses, real courses: Sion and I are so busy at the moment. Some of you may remember my blogging that we'd qualified for a competition in Wales - well, that was a couple of weeks ago. I had the absolute time of my life. He did some beautiful jumping and some superb (unplanned) rodeo displays, so we managed to keep the crowd entertained regardless of whether we were actually getting over the fences. I think they knew from the moment that we entered the ring backwards (because the poster opposite the gate was far too scary to walk towards) it was going to be an interesting round.
So, we had no rosettes but it was our first weekend show away from home and I think he did exceptionally well considering that over the four days he went from muscular to skeletal with all the stress.
Last weekend we attended a home show, and he was much more his usual self - he was just on fire (I never thought I'd need to clarify that this was metaphorical, but I mentioned this today in my year 7 class and then had to spend five minutes reassuring/disappointing them with the news that my horse had not spontaneously combusted because of his speed). We entered two classes and got four clears. We won one class by almost 10 seconds, and came second in the other - by 0.4 seconds!
We have another show this weekend, plus a gymkhana. We've qualified to go back to Wales this summer, plus I've applied to attend the Training Academy beforehand - just waiting to hear whether we've been accepted. I hope we are!
Whether we are or not, with all the other shows and cross-country competitions we've entered we have a busy, busy summer ahead.
I'm also off to look at another horse this weekend. She's stunning - hoping to BSJA affiliate with her as Sion is limited to about 1m now because of his hocks; plus he's obviously not getting any younger. We don't compete at 1m anymore - far better to keep it low and enjoyable for him. 2'9 is as high as he'll go over a course, although having said that we'll be doing 3ft this weekend! I haven't told Sion I'm going to look at this mare though - in a daft, unjustified, sentimental way, I feel like I'm cheating on him...
Sunday, 18 April 2010
Volcanic Ash v. My Guilt Complex
So Easter hols = lots of fun = lots of posts. Unfortunately the only one that's finished is the most boring post ever, but hey. It's also the most recent, which means a lot of backtracking when the others are up.. Never mind. Here we go.
I went home* last week to visit my family. It was great to see them, but I did have a more serious reason for going - my nephew was having an operation, and I didn't want to leave Mum (who worries like a champion) on her own that day. It wasn't a major operation, but it did require a general anaesthetic. Last time my nephew had one of those he was horrifically ill, so I can understand her concern. My family are all on a bit of a descent into total deafness - and my poor baby nephew is accelerating past us all at a scary rate. This is his second operation to try to restore his hearing. So far, fingers crossed it worked.
*I suppose I should say "parent's home", given that I don't live there anymore. But it's still my home! I'll just be like the Queen.
But, the weekend was fast approaching and with it the end of the Easter hols (boo!). I was seriously running out of time to fulfil my good intentions of being fully planned for the first two weeks back after the hols. Time for me to look at returning down south in time to get organised (ha) for my final six weeks of training (21 lessons left with year 8!).
My first flight home was cancelled; I rescheduled. Not a problem – plenty of time, safety first, etc etc.
My second flight home was cancelled. I rescheduled. Inconvenient, but can't be helped.
My third flight home was cancelled. Seeing a pattern emerging, I declined their offer of yet another rescheduled flight.
That third flight was supposed to be this afternoon. The last opportunity to get back before Monday morning. The last direct train to my local station left an hour before the flight (no, I didn't check this earlier, when I could actually have done something about it). The only alternative was a seven and a half hour journey involving five trains in total and a £197 ticket. Pfft. No thanks.
So instead, I'm sailing down the M6 at 110mph (obviously not behind the wheel). Struck by a major guilt complex, I couldn't bring myself to take tomorrow off school and get the direct train home – even though I have no lessons and will spend the entire day watching my school laptop load, freeze, restart, and freeze again. Madness, I know, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't phone and say 'I can't get in' until I'd tried EVERYTHING. So I did what every normal girl would do – I called on Daddy. Actually... that's not really true – I'm not very good at asking for favours either. Dad offered. I declined (the whole guilt thing again). He asked what else I would do. I accepted. Now he's driving me from one end of the country to the other, and returning home again ready for his work (in Scotland!) tomorrow, in the space of one afternoon. Dad's Audi was stolen from the driveway a few weeks ago, so we're currently in his new Passat. I really like the new car, although Dad as a die-hard Audi fan isn't too happy. The Audi didn't half make you travel sick, though – this is MUCH better. I would never have been able to type blog entries/read Anthony and Cleopatra in the A6.
I am going to owe Dad a LOT of chocolate and beer after this. I'm going to be sending them over by the bucketload for the next six months.
I went home* last week to visit my family. It was great to see them, but I did have a more serious reason for going - my nephew was having an operation, and I didn't want to leave Mum (who worries like a champion) on her own that day. It wasn't a major operation, but it did require a general anaesthetic. Last time my nephew had one of those he was horrifically ill, so I can understand her concern. My family are all on a bit of a descent into total deafness - and my poor baby nephew is accelerating past us all at a scary rate. This is his second operation to try to restore his hearing. So far, fingers crossed it worked.
*I suppose I should say "parent's home", given that I don't live there anymore. But it's still my home! I'll just be like the Queen.
But, the weekend was fast approaching and with it the end of the Easter hols (boo!). I was seriously running out of time to fulfil my good intentions of being fully planned for the first two weeks back after the hols. Time for me to look at returning down south in time to get organised (ha) for my final six weeks of training (21 lessons left with year 8!).
My first flight home was cancelled; I rescheduled. Not a problem – plenty of time, safety first, etc etc.
My second flight home was cancelled. I rescheduled. Inconvenient, but can't be helped.
My third flight home was cancelled. Seeing a pattern emerging, I declined their offer of yet another rescheduled flight.
That third flight was supposed to be this afternoon. The last opportunity to get back before Monday morning. The last direct train to my local station left an hour before the flight (no, I didn't check this earlier, when I could actually have done something about it). The only alternative was a seven and a half hour journey involving five trains in total and a £197 ticket. Pfft. No thanks.
So instead, I'm sailing down the M6 at 110mph (obviously not behind the wheel). Struck by a major guilt complex, I couldn't bring myself to take tomorrow off school and get the direct train home – even though I have no lessons and will spend the entire day watching my school laptop load, freeze, restart, and freeze again. Madness, I know, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't phone and say 'I can't get in' until I'd tried EVERYTHING. So I did what every normal girl would do – I called on Daddy. Actually... that's not really true – I'm not very good at asking for favours either. Dad offered. I declined (the whole guilt thing again). He asked what else I would do. I accepted. Now he's driving me from one end of the country to the other, and returning home again ready for his work (in Scotland!) tomorrow, in the space of one afternoon. Dad's Audi was stolen from the driveway a few weeks ago, so we're currently in his new Passat. I really like the new car, although Dad as a die-hard Audi fan isn't too happy. The Audi didn't half make you travel sick, though – this is MUCH better. I would never have been able to type blog entries/read Anthony and Cleopatra in the A6.
I am going to owe Dad a LOT of chocolate and beer after this. I'm going to be sending them over by the bucketload for the next six months.
Thursday, 1 April 2010
Backflips and Breakthroughs
Easter holidays are here!!
Drove home in the sunshine, pile of books/tests/mocks on the passenger seat beside me, singing along to the radio and feeling *good*. But Skinny Love comes on the radio and the next thing I'm wondering why I can taste salt. I hadn't realised I'd begun to cry.
I've heard that song a few times since Tom's funeral and whilst it takes me back it doesn't always make me cry. It's never caught me so unexpectedly though. Maybe it's because I'm tired. Scrap that - I'm exhausted. Never in my life before yesterday have I gone to bed at 6pm (admittedly I got up again at 7.30 to eat/do work, but I just couldn't carry on without sleep first!). I am so ready for this holiday.
The kids were WILD today! And I do mean, wild.* For a moment I knew how nursery teachers feel. And monkey-trainers, although my apes didn't appear to be even remotely trained. Where is the 'dislike' button?
(Weird, huh? I hate monkeys.)
*Having said that they were wild, today we had no backflips, which meant that my heart rate remained largely normal for the entire hour with that class. (Seriously, Monday's lesson - I discovered I have most of the school gymnastic team in my class. And they decided to showcase their routine for me. Their ordinary teacher LOVED it. I was panicking like a... crazy, panicky thing... "No no no don't do it! [Oh, can't watch!]" The lighting in that room is LOW. Their backflips were HIGH. (They tried to do them off the desks, initially, but I managed to override the class teacher on that one). So they settled for doing them on the floor - safer, right? Well, maybe, but everytime their hair brushed the carpet I felt a little more sick. It was the kind of routine you would pay to see. But I would willingly have paid them to NOT do it during my lesson...).
But, today everyone remained in their seats - bonus! AND I made a major breakthrough with one child who is surrounded by C.P. issues: he spoke to me. He arrived early to my lesson - presumably trying to avoid being in the crowded corridors. I smiled, said 'morning' - cue awkward silence whilst he stared blankly at me and I carried on setting up my laptop, trying to look busy and hoping other kids would arrive soon. After a while, I heard "It's nearly the holidays, miss." Didn't recognise the voice. Turned round - still only him in the room. He doesn't sound at all how I imagined he would. Still - A.Mazing. On the way out, a quiet "have a good birthday miss". My word C, I could have hugged you.
But anyway, who decided it would actually be a good idea to put the end of term assessments (in exam conditions) on the last day of term??
When I am fully qualified, the last day of term shall be reserved solely for DVDs. I shall choose a few of my then-favourite films, whack them onto the projector at 8.30am and allow kids to file in and out every hour until it reaches 3pm. I may even share my popcorn with the lucky ones.
Drove home in the sunshine, pile of books/tests/mocks on the passenger seat beside me, singing along to the radio and feeling *good*. But Skinny Love comes on the radio and the next thing I'm wondering why I can taste salt. I hadn't realised I'd begun to cry.
I've heard that song a few times since Tom's funeral and whilst it takes me back it doesn't always make me cry. It's never caught me so unexpectedly though. Maybe it's because I'm tired. Scrap that - I'm exhausted. Never in my life before yesterday have I gone to bed at 6pm (admittedly I got up again at 7.30 to eat/do work, but I just couldn't carry on without sleep first!). I am so ready for this holiday.
The kids were WILD today! And I do mean, wild.* For a moment I knew how nursery teachers feel. And monkey-trainers, although my apes didn't appear to be even remotely trained. Where is the 'dislike' button?
(Weird, huh? I hate monkeys.)
*Having said that they were wild, today we had no backflips, which meant that my heart rate remained largely normal for the entire hour with that class. (Seriously, Monday's lesson - I discovered I have most of the school gymnastic team in my class. And they decided to showcase their routine for me. Their ordinary teacher LOVED it. I was panicking like a... crazy, panicky thing... "No no no don't do it! [Oh, can't watch!]" The lighting in that room is LOW. Their backflips were HIGH. (They tried to do them off the desks, initially, but I managed to override the class teacher on that one). So they settled for doing them on the floor - safer, right? Well, maybe, but everytime their hair brushed the carpet I felt a little more sick. It was the kind of routine you would pay to see. But I would willingly have paid them to NOT do it during my lesson...).
But, today everyone remained in their seats - bonus! AND I made a major breakthrough with one child who is surrounded by C.P. issues: he spoke to me. He arrived early to my lesson - presumably trying to avoid being in the crowded corridors. I smiled, said 'morning' - cue awkward silence whilst he stared blankly at me and I carried on setting up my laptop, trying to look busy and hoping other kids would arrive soon. After a while, I heard "It's nearly the holidays, miss." Didn't recognise the voice. Turned round - still only him in the room. He doesn't sound at all how I imagined he would. Still - A.Mazing. On the way out, a quiet "have a good birthday miss". My word C, I could have hugged you.
But anyway, who decided it would actually be a good idea to put the end of term assessments (in exam conditions) on the last day of term??
When I am fully qualified, the last day of term shall be reserved solely for DVDs. I shall choose a few of my then-favourite films, whack them onto the projector at 8.30am and allow kids to file in and out every hour until it reaches 3pm. I may even share my popcorn with the lucky ones.
Tuesday, 23 March 2010
A Pupil Broke My Heart Today...
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!
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!
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.
Saturday, 23 January 2010
Wear Sunscreen
Some more advice: don't talk to strangers and don't attempt to pick up spiky plants.
Hectic week this week, what with writing my essay/taking over my classes/writing enough job applications to satisfy the sudden mountain of vacancies; so although I've scribbled various posts I haven't actually finished any enough to publish them. So I'm going to compile some vague ramblings now into one mammoth post.
I deliberately didn't blog about school for the first couple of weeks - but it's getting better now that I'm actually teaching. I am SO excited about next lesson with year 7 - it's tomorrow, but I planned it after our lesson together on Thursday and have been looking forward to it ever since! I'm writing my own poetry SOW for them, which I thought would be tough but it's amazing. I love it! Best of all, they seem to as well.
I've also been getting lifts into school with a PE teacher, and consequently am now an honorary member of the PE dept. That's nice - they're far more sociable than the English dept (who are friendly, but prefer to work alone in their own rooms so the staffroom is permanently deserted apart from the half-hour lunch break). I did, however, manage to meet one NQT long enough to have a bit of a barney with her.
I'd like to say it wasn't my fault but it probably was. I'm not too good at the whole diplomacy side of things.
Everyone knows that when you meet someone new - especially when that someone is a lost and lonely looking trainee - common ground is a great place to start. However, a word of warning - make sure you know their opinion on said common ground before beginning to voice your own.
This NQT (let's just call her Liz) came to sit with me at lunch and began her conversation with, "I hear you were at [Hogwarts] before here, what did you think?" I opened my mouth to wax lyrical about said school when she subsequently launched into a slight tirade against it. Not angry ranting, just whingeing. I sat in shocked silence for a while, using body language/facial expressions to signal to her that she could shut up any time she liked.
She didn't.
I'm quite opinionated. I can be a real cow. I know that biting my lip is usually the best way forward, especially at work, but if you press the buttons in the right order then sometimes I can't help myself. Like when people remark that footballers actually deserve their wages (I can feel my blood simmering already). So when Liz moved onto people that I knew personally, enough was enough. I began with that awful cliche, "no offense, but I really think..." and began my own side of the debate. In what was, for me, actually quite a diplomatic manner - I think the worst I escalated to was, "well, no. I'm really sorry if what I've said has offended you in any way, but to be frank I couldn't disagree more. Maybe we should move on from this topic now."
There was a slight atmosphere for the rest of the conversation.
I also made a complete prat out of myself in the library on Thursday - I was walking past a shelf when I saw a display and something inside my head went "ooh! Shiny!"
So I stopped to look. 'Recommended Reads for Year 9' - "hmm, could be useful, I'll just grab myself one of those leaflets..." I leaned over to get one and promptly knocked the librarian's plantpot onto the floor in the process. Mortified, I bent to pick it up. The pot was still intact, fortunately, but when I picked it up and saw the plant still on the floor a momentary panic set in. A cactus? Seriously? Are they not poisonous???
But I couldn't just leave it - I had to get it back into the pot, preferably without year 7 noticing what on earth I was doing kneeling on the floor. So I gritted my teeth and grabbed it.
Please don't ever feel the need to test my hypothesis that picking up a cactus with bare hands is a painful experience.
Hectic week this week, what with writing my essay/taking over my classes/writing enough job applications to satisfy the sudden mountain of vacancies; so although I've scribbled various posts I haven't actually finished any enough to publish them. So I'm going to compile some vague ramblings now into one mammoth post.
I deliberately didn't blog about school for the first couple of weeks - but it's getting better now that I'm actually teaching. I am SO excited about next lesson with year 7 - it's tomorrow, but I planned it after our lesson together on Thursday and have been looking forward to it ever since! I'm writing my own poetry SOW for them, which I thought would be tough but it's amazing. I love it! Best of all, they seem to as well.
I've also been getting lifts into school with a PE teacher, and consequently am now an honorary member of the PE dept. That's nice - they're far more sociable than the English dept (who are friendly, but prefer to work alone in their own rooms so the staffroom is permanently deserted apart from the half-hour lunch break). I did, however, manage to meet one NQT long enough to have a bit of a barney with her.
I'd like to say it wasn't my fault but it probably was. I'm not too good at the whole diplomacy side of things.
Everyone knows that when you meet someone new - especially when that someone is a lost and lonely looking trainee - common ground is a great place to start. However, a word of warning - make sure you know their opinion on said common ground before beginning to voice your own.
This NQT (let's just call her Liz) came to sit with me at lunch and began her conversation with, "I hear you were at [Hogwarts] before here, what did you think?" I opened my mouth to wax lyrical about said school when she subsequently launched into a slight tirade against it. Not angry ranting, just whingeing. I sat in shocked silence for a while, using body language/facial expressions to signal to her that she could shut up any time she liked.
She didn't.
I'm quite opinionated. I can be a real cow. I know that biting my lip is usually the best way forward, especially at work, but if you press the buttons in the right order then sometimes I can't help myself. Like when people remark that footballers actually deserve their wages (I can feel my blood simmering already). So when Liz moved onto people that I knew personally, enough was enough. I began with that awful cliche, "no offense, but I really think..." and began my own side of the debate. In what was, for me, actually quite a diplomatic manner - I think the worst I escalated to was, "well, no. I'm really sorry if what I've said has offended you in any way, but to be frank I couldn't disagree more. Maybe we should move on from this topic now."
There was a slight atmosphere for the rest of the conversation.
I also made a complete prat out of myself in the library on Thursday - I was walking past a shelf when I saw a display and something inside my head went "ooh! Shiny!"
So I stopped to look. 'Recommended Reads for Year 9' - "hmm, could be useful, I'll just grab myself one of those leaflets..." I leaned over to get one and promptly knocked the librarian's plantpot onto the floor in the process. Mortified, I bent to pick it up. The pot was still intact, fortunately, but when I picked it up and saw the plant still on the floor a momentary panic set in. A cactus? Seriously? Are they not poisonous???
But I couldn't just leave it - I had to get it back into the pot, preferably without year 7 noticing what on earth I was doing kneeling on the floor. So I gritted my teeth and grabbed it.
Please don't ever feel the need to test my hypothesis that picking up a cactus with bare hands is a painful experience.
Monday, 11 January 2010
Application Number One.
Probably out of several, but I'm going to stop counting after 5.
So, this application has taken me one weekend plus four snow days to write. Ironically, the bulk of it was written within about an hour and a half and the remaining six days were spent persuading it to fit onto the application form and crowbarring in all the necessary lingo whilst trying not to sound pretentious.
Short of replacing my printer's ink with my blood and stapling my soul to the back as an appendix, there's nothing more I can do to it now.
So... Here goes! Sending... Sent.
I spoke to the Head's PA earlier as the upload link on their website doesn't work, and she offered to give it to the Head this afternoon if I emailed it over today.
EEEEEK!
I wonder how soon I'll hear back? Or whether I'll hear at all? Teaching might be one of those professions where they don't actively reject you, they just ignore you. In a 'no news is terrible news' sort of way. How utterly soul destroying that would be.
Fingers crossed for shortlist.
So, this application has taken me one weekend plus four snow days to write. Ironically, the bulk of it was written within about an hour and a half and the remaining six days were spent persuading it to fit onto the application form and crowbarring in all the necessary lingo whilst trying not to sound pretentious.
Short of replacing my printer's ink with my blood and stapling my soul to the back as an appendix, there's nothing more I can do to it now.
So... Here goes! Sending... Sent.
I spoke to the Head's PA earlier as the upload link on their website doesn't work, and she offered to give it to the Head this afternoon if I emailed it over today.
EEEEEK!
I wonder how soon I'll hear back? Or whether I'll hear at all? Teaching might be one of those professions where they don't actively reject you, they just ignore you. In a 'no news is terrible news' sort of way. How utterly soul destroying that would be.
Fingers crossed for shortlist.
Saturday, 9 January 2010
Not Waving But Drowning.
I don't know what's wrong with me, but I seem to be going in reverse.
I loved my first school; I had a great time. Even when my outside world was falling apart, school was something I looked forward to and could rely on.
I don't start my new school until Monday and my new mentor has already had me in tears. I'm burning out with work and I haven't even started.
Rats.
*Grits teeth.*
I AM going to pass this term.
I loved my first school; I had a great time. Even when my outside world was falling apart, school was something I looked forward to and could rely on.
I don't start my new school until Monday and my new mentor has already had me in tears. I'm burning out with work and I haven't even started.
Rats.
*Grits teeth.*
I AM going to pass this term.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Excitement!
Ohh, two exciting things happened to me today. In order of importance and excitement factor:
Firstly, 'Wales' wrote to me officially confirming my place with Sion in the Showjumping Finals. WAHEYYY! So I filled it the form, wrote my cheque and am all set to go. B thinks she can get us transport for the weekend, the dates are in the Easter hols (so no time off school; also Day One is my birthday!) and my new show jacket has arrived and is beeaaautiful.
No, sadly this is not us.* If only. The horse does look a little like Sion, but Sion has a white stripe. And is, obviously, more handsome, despite being about half the size of this horse.
Secondly, I have my first job application to fill out! This is so exciting. Who knew filling in forms could produce such a thrill? (Yes, I need to get out more/have more sex/whatever). I feel almost like a real teacher... Although I have so many ridiculously naive questions. The form says 'use black ink'; does that mean I have to handwrite it (please God let me be allowed to type it)? Is my referee my mentor or Head of Department? From which school? I've left one and haven't started at the other yet, so I'm currently homeless in that sense. Maybe I should wait a couple of weeks until I've started my second school...?
Fortunately I'm meeting with my uni tutor on Thursday so I can grill her then.
Heading off now to do the cooking/cleaning/general 'fun' housework/finish application form as far as I can/read up on my uni essay/work on my QTS standards tracker like I should have done over Christmas/open a bottle of wine.
Later!
*In order to protect myself from copyright Nazis suing me, I don't own the photo or any rights to it, etc etc. The photo is Little Big Man and Laura Chapot, winners of the $60,000 Kilkenny Internationale Cup at the Winter Equestrian Festival. Photo (c) 2007 Randi Muster. Just in case anyone was wondering...
Firstly, 'Wales' wrote to me officially confirming my place with Sion in the Showjumping Finals. WAHEYYY! So I filled it the form, wrote my cheque and am all set to go. B thinks she can get us transport for the weekend, the dates are in the Easter hols (so no time off school; also Day One is my birthday!) and my new show jacket has arrived and is beeaaautiful.
No, sadly this is not us.* If only. The horse does look a little like Sion, but Sion has a white stripe. And is, obviously, more handsome, despite being about half the size of this horse.
Secondly, I have my first job application to fill out! This is so exciting. Who knew filling in forms could produce such a thrill? (Yes, I need to get out more/have more sex/whatever). I feel almost like a real teacher... Although I have so many ridiculously naive questions. The form says 'use black ink'; does that mean I have to handwrite it (please God let me be allowed to type it)? Is my referee my mentor or Head of Department? From which school? I've left one and haven't started at the other yet, so I'm currently homeless in that sense. Maybe I should wait a couple of weeks until I've started my second school...?
Fortunately I'm meeting with my uni tutor on Thursday so I can grill her then.
Heading off now to do the cooking/cleaning/general 'fun' housework/finish application form as far as I can/read up on my uni essay/work on my QTS standards tracker like I should have done over Christmas/open a bottle of wine.
Later!
*In order to protect myself from copyright Nazis suing me, I don't own the photo or any rights to it, etc etc. The photo is Little Big Man and Laura Chapot, winners of the $60,000 Kilkenny Internationale Cup at the Winter Equestrian Festival. Photo (c) 2007 Randi Muster. Just in case anyone was wondering...
Friday, 18 December 2009
End of Term Report
So, today was my last day at my first school. I cleared out my inbox this afternoon before handing back my laptop and came across an email I’d sent my course leader at the end of my first day - “I love it - can tell I’m going to have a great time here. Thanks x.” (Keen much?) I can’t remember my first day now to save my life, but evidently I enjoyed it. And carried on enjoying it - I have had an amazing time at that school. I will miss all the pupils (well… most) and the staff (note to self: don’t start telling them all they’re my new best friends after a few too many shots tonight).
But, because I have a habit of [read: 'obsession with'] sorting things into lists, I thought I’d pick a few key bits and sort them into the highs and lows of my first PGCE placement.
Lows:
- Nothing major came to mind immediately here. I was genuinely all set up to hate the PGCE year, to have a rough time and spend every morning reminding myself that the end would be worth it, and just work through the rough times - but so far that’s not happened. You read so many horror stories the summer before you start, but no one tells you that actually, you can have fun! My first term certainly hasn’t ground me down - I have *loved* teaching and am certain that I’ve made the right choice. I’ve had a few nights where I’ve worked until 6pm and that’s it. I’ve had half-term and all my weekends to concentrate on my horse and having fun - the odd week, my drunken evenings have outnumbered my sober ones. I also don’t think I’ve ever really worked at the weekend. (Next term, when the pressure ups, might prove a bit of a culture shock!)
- In my first ever lesson with year 8, one of them asked if I had sex toys/whether I’d use them in front of the class. Admittedly, that disturbed me. But much worse (I thought) in the same lesson was the boy who turned to me after I told him to work, stared me straight in the eyes and said, “no. Make me.” That upset me much more! Actually, it reduced me to tears after the class had left. Whilst I now think is just ridiculous, but at the time I was really shocked! I just have never come across people who don’t want to do well, which I guess is because throughout my own education I was surrounded by people who knew they would be lawyers, bankers, teachers, doctors, architects: until meeting this pupil, I’d just never come across anyone with no drive.
- Having a year 10 boy throw bits of his lunch at you is also quite disturbing. But in hindsight, it’s quite comical (fortunately he missed, otherwise he’d have found himself missing a few fingers. And various other body parts.).
- There was a point about a week ago where my confidence dropped a bit. I stood in front of my classes and though, “why on earth should they listen to me?” Again though, I was lucky enough to be in a department which is all about support and I got over myself.
Highs.
- It is just awesome. One adrenaline buzz after another. I have a real thing for adrenaline rushes and I love it when things are moving really quickly: term one has done just that.
- The department I was in was super. Absolutely amazing - I thought in a department of 8 there was bound to be one or two people that I clashed with (even if not openly) but that wasn’t the case at all. They were simply a lovely bunch of people. I will miss them, and it’s a bit weird to think that whilst I admire them and they will all be a strong part of my memories of becoming a teacher, from their perspective I’m just joining the list of “Which one was that again?” Maybe I should have slashed my necklines and bought a few outrageous Secret Santa presents to make sure I’d be remembered…
- The kids. Year 8, who initially made me want to hide in the cupboard with a sniper gun at the keyhole, turned out to be, I think, my favourite class. No joke. They were energetic and (mostly) incredibly enthusiastic. Even those who were rude had the decency to be witty with it - apart from one or two, who were just not of this planet. We fell out and made up again several times in every lesson - and, surprising myself, I quite enjoyed that. I wouldn’t, however, want to be the one responsible for their GCSE results.
- This is a feature of that specific school more than teaching, but I loved the fact that most of the kids ride horses - a great way in to conversation. Talk to them about their horses or the ones they ride, tell them about yours and you go up at least five levels in their estimation. Show them a picture and it’s ten; throw in a few stories of past exploits and you’re off the scale altogether.
- Kids say the best things. (I realise this would all be better in paragraphs rather than bullets, but I started with that format and it matches the previous list so I’ll stay with it). They just make you laugh, all the time - “Miss X? You’ve addressed this card to my initials - is that supposed to be cool or something?” “No Miss, none of us could spell your surname and we forgot to ask Sir before you arrived.” Ermm, right, year 10. My surname is not that tricky. It’s probably up there with Smith and Jones in terms of ease of spelling. Or the 16 year old who announced to his class, “I’m going up north for my holidays.” “Whereabouts?” “Bath.” Classic. That’s going to be my hometown next time a pupil tells me I sound Northern.
There’s so much more I could say about my initial experiences of the PGCE, but I’ve rushed the above as it is - I have a horse who needs lungeing and I’m so looking forward to being out with him during the day, rather than after school when it’s dark and I’m rushing to get home to make dinner…
Monday, 14 December 2009
All the Right Friends
Blogs came up in conversation today and I had a sudden pang of guilt - I haven’t posted an entry since before the funeral, at least two weeks ago (’posted’ rather than ‘written’ is deliberate!). So last entry I was preparing madly to head off to Tom’s funeral. It was beautiful - heartbreaking and final and a real celebration all in one. He filled the church and its entrance hall - Tom would never believe that so many people would come up from all over the country just to say they loved him. That was great. Seeing the coffin sent my stomach spinning though: I don’t know how I imagined it to look but I’d forgotten he was so tall! It just seemed to continue for far longer than I’d expected; it dwarfed the men carrying it.
I was driving home from school today and was so bored of the radio that I flicked to my CD option. I’d forgotten what was in there - it was the CD that S made us for our ‘road trip’ to the funeral. It’s the first time I’ve listened to it since that drive. It’s full of songs which reminds us of each other, especially first year songs, and songs that Tom “secretly” loved, such as Avril Lavigne (he pretended he only had the albums because “she’s fit!”, but we knew better…). The CD made me laugh today though: so completely inappropriate for a funeral that Tom would have loved it (’I Just Died in Your Arms’, track 4…).
Still, once you’ve spent 3 years at uni with S & R you realise that there is no ‘inappropriate’, only conversation! They crack me up; their sense of humour is crude and obvious but it’s also witty and sometimes just downright fantastic.
I realised the other day that most of my friends are guys. They outnumber the girls by a huge ratio - probably around 1:4. In fact, my PGCE is the first place in a long time that I’ve found myself in a situation where my friends are predominantly girls - and that’s because there are only 4 boys on the course.
I think going to an all-girls school (the Dyke Factory) has a lot to do with this.
Someone told me once - I think it may have been a teacher - that secretly, all girls hate each other. A bit extreme, but there’s limited truth in it. Is that other girls are more threatening? In public places, if something goes wrong it will be a woman who comments. And often, a very personal comment: not “I wonder why we’re waiting?” but “Why are you so slow?”. In a shop, I’ll often hunt down the only male assistant to ask for his help. My girlfriends and I are unanimous in the fact that when we get our full-time jobs, we’d all prefer a male head of department. We all have problems with year 11 girls in our classes: they can be confrontational and bitchy in a nasty way that even the roughest lads don’t come close to. Something about the fact that in a room of people girls will immediately scan the room, check out the other girls and make instant decisions based on what they see. Girls can be so spiteful, harbouring lengthy grudges (often in secret). The lads’ approach of clearing the air with a quick argument followed by a night in the pub is far more refreshing.
I know from my friendships that girls’ friendships are deeply loyal - girls will defend their friends to the death if they feel they’ve been wronged - but they’re also very fragile. A completely unfounded “X said this about you” is often all it takes to inspire doubt which will later ruin that friendship. Saw it happen in school all the time - usually when one girl took a (probably unfounded) disliking to another and, rather than choose the fight-followed-by-beer approach, decided to alienate her.
Stereotype much? Yes, I know. I don’t know every girl or guy in the world. But of those I do know, the stereotypes are not wildly inaccurate (e.g. the second half of this blog title, definitely true). I remember reading somewhere about the biological differences in brains hardwiring them to process emotion, friendships, etc, differently - will Google it shortly and post a link.
The closest friends I’ve ever had are either men or lesbians (well, one was bisexual) - I wonder if that’s coincidence?
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
"So, he was like.."
School was hectic today. Trying to plan this week’s lessons but also next week’s for the couple of days I’m taking off for the funeral is manic. I’m almost there though, I think. Year 7 today were adorable as usual, but even year 8 were better - I think I’m finally getting somewhere with them! I was really impressed with the work one of the girls produced today - she’s been a real pain lately as she has a bit of thing for one of the main troublemakers and the flirting and giggling was starting to really irritate me. Today though, she was great. They’re obviously still friends so I don’t know what’s happened, but I’m not complaining!
Year 11 tomorrow - that will be scary. I’ve made up a seating plan based on their appalling behaviour last lesson - don’t know how well it will go down next lesson! We’ll have to see. It’s awkward being so close to their age, and I know the lessons aren’t exactly great fun, but they have to revise writing styles somehow. Tomorrow we’re looking at Stephen Fry and his views on the peculiar habit of replacing “said”with “was like”, so they might enjoy that! They’ll certainly see themselves in Fry’s imagined dialogue - “so he was like, ‘can I sit here?’, so I was like, ‘no way’.” To be honest, it's something I'm guilty of occasionally, but it still drives me mad!
I’m not teaching Year 9 for a while as they’re working on their projects and then I’m out of school for their lessons. A bit of a relief to be honest - I really struggled with them last time, and at the moment I’m just too exhausted to fight kids if they kick up a fuss. Weirdly though, all my ‘problem’ students are bright kids. They understand the explanations that they don’t bother to listen to. They do the work I ask them to and generally do it pretty well. They just don’t do it quietly - and that’s what irritates me. The constant whispering grinds me down! I can take the one-on-one confrontations I get in my other classes, the lower sets - and that surprises me. I thought, honestly, it would be the other way round. But no - I can cope with the kids who genuinely struggle or are obviously defiant and a bit angry with school or authority in general. (I say cope - I don’t teach them well, I’m not as good as I should be with them - I just mean I’ve got the patience for them). It’s the kids who talk over me or jab each other with compasses when I’m explaining things, only to turn around and go “Miss you’ve not told us what to do” who drive me up the wall.
Last thing on my mind though, really. It’s been a week now since I heard about Tom, and it’s started to sink in now.
I’ve just become friends on facebook with another member of staff at school, so I was checking my profile for any potentially.. ‘inappropriate’ status (of which there were none!) when I came across a random wall post from Tom. From just over 10 days ago. I’ve seen the message before - in the last week - and it didn’t affect me. This time I was crying before I’d even finished reading his greeting - and didn’t even realise I was crying, initially. To see a message from him, so recently, just hit me. I’ve seen it before but in a sense it had simply confirmed my persistent belief that it was all a bad dream and he was still alive - he must be, because here he was leaving me messages and there were photographs of him taken recently, etc. Now they’re just reminders that that was the last message I’ll ever receive from him.
I began training last night for my half-marathon: I’m following Macmillan’s 6 week guide for beginners to 5K at the moment. When that’s done I’ll move onto a 10K training plan, and so on. Last night I ran 1 minute at 10kmph then walked 1 minute at 5.5kmph, and repeated that 10 times. I covered over 2.5km in 20 mins, which is not at all great but I haven’t run since I tore my ligaments and I really want to avoid further injury so intend to go very slowly. I’m hoping that approach will also make me better in the long term.
I hated it - I have to be honest. I’m just not a runner! I was spectacularly bored by about 7 minutes in and resorting to watching ‘The Weakest Link’ on the gym TV. But afterwards, I felt really good actually. My thighs ached a bit today but not as much as I expected! We’ll see how I get on tomorrow…
Saturday, 21 November 2009
Break, Break, Break
It’s been almost 3 days since Tom died.
I still don’t know how I feel. I wore myself out with crying on Wednesday afternoon, but I haven’t really broken down since. My phone goes virtually nonstop, but the more people I speak to the more unreal it feels. Like we’re talking about a book we read for a lecture, or a celebrity we never knew.
I genuinely feel I wouldn’t be surprised to open my inbox to find an email from him, or receive a text. It just hasn’t clicked yet. I think that’s helped by the 300-odd mile distance between me and the rest of my uni friends - when we’re all together for the funeral that will change. How different to last week’s reunion…
I’m going to start running. I feel at the moment all I’m doing is hiding, and pretending. I expected the kids at school to drive me mad, not keep me sane. But they are doing. When I get to school at 8 o’clock and know that I will be standing in front of around 120 kids that day, talking about fairytales or politicians’ speeches, it focuses me and makes me block out everything else. At the end of every hour I’m amazed that I’m not crying and that the kids - my kids =o) - don’t even think anything has changed since last lesson. It’s a wonderful tonic but I’m sure it’s just temporary. Everything has changed. The more you shut things out the harder they’ll break through.
I don’t think words are capable of describing emotion, really. They can’t quite capture bliss, or grief - because as soon as you write it down it becomes confined to marks on a page. And overwhelming emotion is too powerful for that. How can you represent something which is consuming you with a line on a piece of paper?
So I’m going to start running. Tom ran, cycled, swam - thought nothing of a 4 hour cycle ride out for lunch, then 4 hours back. Ran miles before breakfast. I can’t even run out of the apartment to my car in the rain without feeling tired.
By running I want to tell Tom that I miss him, and have always admired him, and I’m sorry I never texted him back on Saturday when he asked how the reunion was going. I’m going to sign myself up for a 10k run in March - start small! - and ask Tom’s parents in a few weeks whether any charities have particularly helped them. If not I’ll raise money for Cancer Research.
Tom would laugh at me for thinking 10k is a big deal - but I know he’d be pleased too. I can picture the way his eyebrows would raise slightly with his wide smile, and can hear the laughing tone in his voice -"yeah? You’re really gonna run that?"
Well... in a fashion. It might be more staggering and panting than actual running, but I'll have a go.
—Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body ]
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