Following the discovery that various of my previous pupils have found my blog, I have removed posts relating to my experiences as a teacher.
I have explained, in person, to my class why I left the school, which is that I was not well and had to take some time off. They accept this, and are aware that I did not leave because of them.
I apologise for any distress my posts may have caused, but have taken great care never to write about individual children, or specific incidents, nor have I ever given information which could identify the school or my pupils.
Now that the problem has been identified, it has been addressed. Further comments on the topic are welcome but will be moderated.
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching. Show all posts
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Friday, April 11, 2008
A Whole New World...
That's it guys, I'm out of my old school and into a new one and I can't actually describe to you what a difference there is having moved.
It's like a separate planet! The children not only don't swear at you, run away, walk out, threaten violence or refuse to work. They actually..... *smile*! They actually, and I could be wrong abou this, but they appear to actually want to learn.
Oh
My
God.
I feel like a different person after 4 days at my new school - I actually remember why I wanted to teach, and that is that I do fundamentally like children. Younger children in particular generally avoid picking up the terrible inhibitions and complexes that we adults carry around without really noticing. Of course, that is provided they've had the right input from their parents to make that possible, which sadly the children at my previous skill often hadn't. They were contradictory that they lacked of emotional maturity but often had a very jaded and cynical attitude which we associate all to often with "maturity". Fortunately, my new class don't have that problem - they're exacty as they should be and I couldn't be happier.
Children keep you young. They make you smile and remind you that the world is fascinating.
They are unashamedly keen, interested and enthusiastic - they don't pretend not to care because it's not "cool" to care.
They usually know more than you think they do, but you have to ask the right way or they keep it to themselves. Most children are capable of far, far more than we give them credit for.
Children are deeply honest about things you wouldn't consider saying out loud. If your hair clashes with your jumper they tell you so, not because they want to upset you, but because it's true and they think you need to know.
Every day I remember another reason why this is the job I want to do, and I'm so happy to have landed in such a lovely school. However I do think that this will all work out for the best: without the experiences I've had I might never have decided to go to Thailand, and I wouldn't appreciate "normal" teaching for the great job it really is.
Things are finally looking up :)
It's like a separate planet! The children not only don't swear at you, run away, walk out, threaten violence or refuse to work. They actually..... *smile*! They actually, and I could be wrong abou this, but they appear to actually want to learn.
Oh
My
God.
I feel like a different person after 4 days at my new school - I actually remember why I wanted to teach, and that is that I do fundamentally like children. Younger children in particular generally avoid picking up the terrible inhibitions and complexes that we adults carry around without really noticing. Of course, that is provided they've had the right input from their parents to make that possible, which sadly the children at my previous skill often hadn't. They were contradictory that they lacked of emotional maturity but often had a very jaded and cynical attitude which we associate all to often with "maturity". Fortunately, my new class don't have that problem - they're exacty as they should be and I couldn't be happier.
Children keep you young. They make you smile and remind you that the world is fascinating.
They are unashamedly keen, interested and enthusiastic - they don't pretend not to care because it's not "cool" to care.
They usually know more than you think they do, but you have to ask the right way or they keep it to themselves. Most children are capable of far, far more than we give them credit for.
Children are deeply honest about things you wouldn't consider saying out loud. If your hair clashes with your jumper they tell you so, not because they want to upset you, but because it's true and they think you need to know.
Every day I remember another reason why this is the job I want to do, and I'm so happy to have landed in such a lovely school. However I do think that this will all work out for the best: without the experiences I've had I might never have decided to go to Thailand, and I wouldn't appreciate "normal" teaching for the great job it really is.
Things are finally looking up :)
Sunday, March 16, 2008
A trip down Memory Lane
also known as falling off your bike for the first time in about 15 years.
Yes, I actually fell off my bike this afternoon when I was cycling to trampolining class when I went round a corner and my back wheel slid out from under me on a patch of mud. I skinned my knee, hurt my palm a bit and bled everywhere, but nothing that wont heal and form a badass scab...
And, AND! I didn't cry at all and I even went to trampolining even though I fell off my bike. Because I am A Big Girl.
Admittedly, I did go "Aaaaargh! Owwwwww!" and glance around to see if anyone was there to look worried and ask if they could help/call an ambulance/give me a cuddle/kiss it better, but sadly I was alone and my manly whimpering went unheeded.
My bike feels weird, though - all wibbly and unsteady (or is that just me?) so it's a trip to the bike shop to have it checked over and my front brake fixed again (remember how the kids playfully sabotaged my brakes? Well, they're still dodgy).
In other news, last night I went to the Tall Tales Oscars with Lovely Kal, at the Scottish Storytelling Centre on the Royal Mile. It was a fun night where storytellers competed to tell the best tall tale, for the honour of winning a trophy shaped like a gnome. Lots of jokes and very good fun, and obviously good company.
Tomorrow I have about 4,000 people coming over to value the flat, give estimates for work and so on, I have to get a passpor application form because my passport's still in my maiden name, have lots of passport pictures taken, and other wee jobs like that. I also need to make another appointment with my lovely doctor as my voice is still fucked, and I think I'm in need of a higher dose of anti-depressants. Training in the evening, and sorted.
Yes, I actually fell off my bike this afternoon when I was cycling to trampolining class when I went round a corner and my back wheel slid out from under me on a patch of mud. I skinned my knee, hurt my palm a bit and bled everywhere, but nothing that wont heal and form a badass scab...
And, AND! I didn't cry at all and I even went to trampolining even though I fell off my bike. Because I am A Big Girl.
Admittedly, I did go "Aaaaargh! Owwwwww!" and glance around to see if anyone was there to look worried and ask if they could help/call an ambulance/give me a cuddle/kiss it better, but sadly I was alone and my manly whimpering went unheeded.
My bike feels weird, though - all wibbly and unsteady (or is that just me?) so it's a trip to the bike shop to have it checked over and my front brake fixed again (remember how the kids playfully sabotaged my brakes? Well, they're still dodgy).
In other news, last night I went to the Tall Tales Oscars with Lovely Kal, at the Scottish Storytelling Centre on the Royal Mile. It was a fun night where storytellers competed to tell the best tall tale, for the honour of winning a trophy shaped like a gnome. Lots of jokes and very good fun, and obviously good company.
Tomorrow I have about 4,000 people coming over to value the flat, give estimates for work and so on, I have to get a passpor application form because my passport's still in my maiden name, have lots of passport pictures taken, and other wee jobs like that. I also need to make another appointment with my lovely doctor as my voice is still fucked, and I think I'm in need of a higher dose of anti-depressants. Training in the evening, and sorted.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
Boing!
I decided to give trainng a miss on Sunday, mostly because one of my pupils will be there and I suspect I'd struggle to explain why I'm not well enough to teach, but I am well enough to smack the pads...
So, instead, I went trampolining, which is something I've always fancied trying. I'd done it a wee bit as a teenager and I managed to convince Mr Paul to come as well, so that took alot of the nerves out of the situation. At the risk of sounding abuout 12..... it was sooooo cool! I mean, how can bouncing dead high be anything other than cool, really.
The strange thing about it was that a) I was actually pretty good, and b) you don't feel nervous when you're doing it, but as soon as you get off you realise your heart is pounding and you feel sick with the adrenaline, it's all very strange. I'm going to go back again next week, but I doubt I'll be trying out for the Olympics any time soon.
In other news tomorrow I'm starting Thai lessons with a nice Thai lady up the road who teaches the language and does Thai massage. I'm going to take advantage of my excessive free-time and desire to be constantly moving by spending a few hours a week learning Thai until I go back to work, and then I'll carry on at weekends. It's something I've wanted to do for quite a while now, but put off for various reasons.
It's only been a week since I've been at work, but already I'm remembering a whole host of things about myself that I'd all but put aside for a rainy day, and it's actually quite exciting having the opportunity to pursue some of them.
As for work? Well, I'm not ready to think about that yet. I'm still struggling a bit with the symptoms of stress - panics, an aching jaw from clenching it and grinding my teeth without realising it, raw fingers and non-existant fingernails from the biting, difficulty sleeping.
I'll get there though, and before I do I will have learned some Thai and some trampolining moves :)
So, instead, I went trampolining, which is something I've always fancied trying. I'd done it a wee bit as a teenager and I managed to convince Mr Paul to come as well, so that took alot of the nerves out of the situation. At the risk of sounding abuout 12..... it was sooooo cool! I mean, how can bouncing dead high be anything other than cool, really.
The strange thing about it was that a) I was actually pretty good, and b) you don't feel nervous when you're doing it, but as soon as you get off you realise your heart is pounding and you feel sick with the adrenaline, it's all very strange. I'm going to go back again next week, but I doubt I'll be trying out for the Olympics any time soon.
In other news tomorrow I'm starting Thai lessons with a nice Thai lady up the road who teaches the language and does Thai massage. I'm going to take advantage of my excessive free-time and desire to be constantly moving by spending a few hours a week learning Thai until I go back to work, and then I'll carry on at weekends. It's something I've wanted to do for quite a while now, but put off for various reasons.
It's only been a week since I've been at work, but already I'm remembering a whole host of things about myself that I'd all but put aside for a rainy day, and it's actually quite exciting having the opportunity to pursue some of them.
As for work? Well, I'm not ready to think about that yet. I'm still struggling a bit with the symptoms of stress - panics, an aching jaw from clenching it and grinding my teeth without realising it, raw fingers and non-existant fingernails from the biting, difficulty sleeping.
I'll get there though, and before I do I will have learned some Thai and some trampolining moves :)
Sunday, March 02, 2008
That Sunday Feeling.
Having spent about 10 hours this weekend doing paperwork, and about 45 minutes planning actual teaching (doesn't that just say it all?) Sunday night rolls around again.
I hate Sunday night because it means there is absolutely nothing standing between me and Monday morning. My least favourite occurence in the week. I really shouldn't be allowed to speak to people on a Monday morning as I am pathologically incapable of being anything other than utterly depressed and negative and am likely to respond to a simple "How was your weekend?" with something along the lines of "Shite! It's all shite! I wish I were dead!", which is possibly a little uncalled for.
I've got to have a shower. I've got to go to bed. But I can't drag myself off the sofa. It's been days, if not weeks since I has a night's sleep that didn't include at least one nightmare about school. Last night's was particularly bad, and it's all symptomatic of just how awful my (and lots of my colleagues') jobs has become.
I'm a grown woman and all I can think is "I don't want to go to school tomorrow"
Sad.
I hate Sunday night because it means there is absolutely nothing standing between me and Monday morning. My least favourite occurence in the week. I really shouldn't be allowed to speak to people on a Monday morning as I am pathologically incapable of being anything other than utterly depressed and negative and am likely to respond to a simple "How was your weekend?" with something along the lines of "Shite! It's all shite! I wish I were dead!", which is possibly a little uncalled for.
I've got to have a shower. I've got to go to bed. But I can't drag myself off the sofa. It's been days, if not weeks since I has a night's sleep that didn't include at least one nightmare about school. Last night's was particularly bad, and it's all symptomatic of just how awful my (and lots of my colleagues') jobs has become.
I'm a grown woman and all I can think is "I don't want to go to school tomorrow"
Sad.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Asthma is *so* last season.
I've decided I'm bored of asthma now, so that topic is finished. I don't want to get all drama-queeny and boring about it and, really, there's only so much to say.
Sooooooooo.... what's new with you?
What - nothing?
Fair enough - I'll tell you what's new with me instead, because it's my blog and I'll randomly change the subject if I want to.
Firstly, teaching.
Fucksake. Kids these days.
To cut a long story short, and save you from excessive woe, the job's been a nightmare. The staff have been great and how they drag themselves in day after day and maintain any semblance of positivity is beyond me. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge I'm moving on somewhere hopefully more inspiring at the end of this academic year. The upshot of it all is that the appalling behaviour, constant abuse and aggro and high-stress levels have driven me to drugs, and not even fun ones: boring anti-depressants. They don't even make you hallucinate or anything. Boo.
Interview time is, however, upon us, so I'm trying to be positive. I've applied for 3 jobs so far at lovely, lovely schools with children who have a whole range of different issues, but who are at least not likely to swear at me, run away, throw furniture, threaten violence or damage property on a regular basis. I'm trying for optimism and have started putting together an interview outfit which is actually proving more stressful than the application process. Honestly, what a girl.
In other news it is only 4 meagre days until the fight. FOUR.
SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.
Nah, it'll be fine. Honest. (shitshitshitshitshit...)
I've trained as hard as I can: running, swimming, cycling, sparring, double pads with Ally and Ann, and I've cut a ridiculous amount of weight, going from 70kg to 62.3kg in 7 weeks. I've got an entire cupboard full of treats for the weekend of the fight, but I'm not going to go crazy with the food, I've got a fight a month after this for a few months so I need to keep my weight stable and I have no desire to go through this stupid weight thing again.
That said, here's my list of yummy food I currently crave:
- Thai barbeque ribs and chicken wings
- Dominoes BBQ pizza
- Burger King Bacon double cheese burger
- Snickers bar
- Croissant with raspberry jam or nutella
- Galaxy chocolate of any variety
- Toasted bagel with cream cheese and crispy bacon
- Oodles of toast
- Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Therapy icecream
- Fish and Chips
- Roast chicken & chunky home made chips
But I promise not to actually eat all those things - the last thing I want to do is but 8 kilos back on again and have to lose it by the 15th March...
I'm pretty much organised for Saturday. I'll be out of school like a bat out of hell when the bell rings at 12.35 on Friday, up to the Commonwealth Pool for a sauna, down to Tollcross to get my hair braided, maybe a sneaky massage in Stockbridge and back home for a salt bath to get this last 2 kilos off. I've got my kit washed and ready and I've stocked up on ibuprofen, thai oil, baby oil and vaseline. I've decided what I'm eating before and after the fight and bought as much of it as I can, with a list of what else is needed and what needs to be packed in my bag on the day.
I'm excited but not scared, I think I can make a decent go of this fight and maybe layeth the smacketh down.
Now, because I'm an honest girl and I think this is pretty funny (and I finally told Paul, so I can tell you), I'm going to share with you an embarassing example of how much of an idiot I am.
John, chief instructor at the gym, suggested Ann and I go and get a tan. We're both very pale - Ann's allowed because she's Swedish, I'm just pale... because.
I wasn't going to bother because, frankly, it's ridiculous, but I was a bit miserable today so I thought "What the hell, why not, treat yourself."
So I did.
Now I have sunburnt boobs.
Idiot.
Sooooooooo.... what's new with you?
What - nothing?
Fair enough - I'll tell you what's new with me instead, because it's my blog and I'll randomly change the subject if I want to.
Firstly, teaching.
Fucksake. Kids these days.
To cut a long story short, and save you from excessive woe, the job's been a nightmare. The staff have been great and how they drag themselves in day after day and maintain any semblance of positivity is beyond me. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge I'm moving on somewhere hopefully more inspiring at the end of this academic year. The upshot of it all is that the appalling behaviour, constant abuse and aggro and high-stress levels have driven me to drugs, and not even fun ones: boring anti-depressants. They don't even make you hallucinate or anything. Boo.
Interview time is, however, upon us, so I'm trying to be positive. I've applied for 3 jobs so far at lovely, lovely schools with children who have a whole range of different issues, but who are at least not likely to swear at me, run away, throw furniture, threaten violence or damage property on a regular basis. I'm trying for optimism and have started putting together an interview outfit which is actually proving more stressful than the application process. Honestly, what a girl.
In other news it is only 4 meagre days until the fight. FOUR.
SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.
Nah, it'll be fine. Honest. (shitshitshitshitshit...)
I've trained as hard as I can: running, swimming, cycling, sparring, double pads with Ally and Ann, and I've cut a ridiculous amount of weight, going from 70kg to 62.3kg in 7 weeks. I've got an entire cupboard full of treats for the weekend of the fight, but I'm not going to go crazy with the food, I've got a fight a month after this for a few months so I need to keep my weight stable and I have no desire to go through this stupid weight thing again.
That said, here's my list of yummy food I currently crave:
- Thai barbeque ribs and chicken wings
- Dominoes BBQ pizza
- Burger King Bacon double cheese burger
- Snickers bar
- Croissant with raspberry jam or nutella
- Galaxy chocolate of any variety
- Toasted bagel with cream cheese and crispy bacon
- Oodles of toast
- Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Therapy icecream
- Fish and Chips
- Roast chicken & chunky home made chips
But I promise not to actually eat all those things - the last thing I want to do is but 8 kilos back on again and have to lose it by the 15th March...
I'm pretty much organised for Saturday. I'll be out of school like a bat out of hell when the bell rings at 12.35 on Friday, up to the Commonwealth Pool for a sauna, down to Tollcross to get my hair braided, maybe a sneaky massage in Stockbridge and back home for a salt bath to get this last 2 kilos off. I've got my kit washed and ready and I've stocked up on ibuprofen, thai oil, baby oil and vaseline. I've decided what I'm eating before and after the fight and bought as much of it as I can, with a list of what else is needed and what needs to be packed in my bag on the day.
I'm excited but not scared, I think I can make a decent go of this fight and maybe layeth the smacketh down.
Now, because I'm an honest girl and I think this is pretty funny (and I finally told Paul, so I can tell you), I'm going to share with you an embarassing example of how much of an idiot I am.
John, chief instructor at the gym, suggested Ann and I go and get a tan. We're both very pale - Ann's allowed because she's Swedish, I'm just pale... because.
I wasn't going to bother because, frankly, it's ridiculous, but I was a bit miserable today so I thought "What the hell, why not, treat yourself."
So I did.
Now I have sunburnt boobs.
Idiot.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Bigotry: The Greatest Evil?
The low hum of conversation in the industriously busy classroom is a lovely sound: children thinking for themselves, collaborating with each other and developing some independence. There are moments, however, when a teacher might regret allowing children to chat, quietly, whilst they work.
Me: [ ... ]
What can you say to that, really? I explained the difference between not liking pollution in China, and not liking all Chinese people, and how one really has nothing to do with the other.
I likened it to my own distaste for American foreign politics, which has nothing to do with the majority of American people, and the child seemed to get it.
But, seriously?
Inside I was laughing my ass off.
Remember at school discos? When the song would come to an abrupt and startling close, just in time to expose the shouted "Fuck!" at the end of your previously private conversation?
...
"I hate chinkies!"
I'm somewhat taken by surprise by this comment, which soars like a lone, racist bird out over the buzz of chat which fills the classroom, leaving children, silent and awed in its wake. It's not difficult to find the source of the comment: I know the voice, and I know the location of its owner. I'm not keen to make a big fuss at the time because I don't want to give comments like that more attention than they deserve, and they don't deserve any. I settle for my standard recourse in a situation which I consider serious but where I want time to think about how best to deal with it in the long term:
"Language like that is totally inappropriate, and I wont stand for it in the classroom. That's 15 minutes of your Golden Time, and you can stay back after class to discuss the seriousness of what you have said."
Having made my point and cowed the accused, class continues and the end of the day rolls around.
We sit together, at the child's desk, rather than mine, so they feel comfortable and not like they're being interviewed, but I don't beat around the bush:
Me: So, what was that all about?
Child: Sorry.
Me: No, seriously, what was that about - where did that come from? For starters, explain to me what you meant with that comment.
Child: Well, I do! I hate Chinkies!
Me: Please, stop saying "Chinkies", it's not a nice word - do you mean Chinese food, or Chinese people? Either way, please say "Chinese".
Child: Chinese people.
Me: Why?! You can't just say things like that - where has this come from?
Child: Well, have you seen the state of the pollution in the rivers in China?
Me: [ ... ]
Me: Sorry?
Child: China's rivers and waterways are some of the most polluted in the world - it's appalling!
Oh....kay.
What can you say to that, really? I explained the difference between not liking pollution in China, and not liking all Chinese people, and how one really has nothing to do with the other.
I likened it to my own distaste for American foreign politics, which has nothing to do with the majority of American people, and the child seemed to get it.
But, seriously?
Inside I was laughing my ass off.
Bigotry... the greatest evil?
No, seemingly it's pollution in the rivers and waterways of Beijing.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Made it.
It's finally the october break, and I'm so tired that there isn't even a descriptive term for it. Every new teacher (and every experienced one, for that matter) will tell you that it's that first term which really stings. The sheer work involved in that first round of forward planning, where you have not a clue what you're supposed to do. The unfamiliarity with the resources in the school - where the fuck is everything? What are you supposed to do? The daily battle with behaviour: a problem in any new class, let alone a class like mine. New children, new staff, new surroundings - it's a big challenge and one which takes its toll on any teacher.
There have been many occasions over the past 8 weeks where I have really, truly doubted my ability to make it even this far as a teacher, let alone to the end of the year, so I do have a certain degree of pride in the fact I've made it to half-term, and further that I've done so without a nervous breakdown. It hasn't, however, been easy. I've cried myself stupid many times at school, in the toilets at lunch and break, in my room at the end of the day, thinking "What the fuck am I playing at - it's not worth it". And I'm not the only one, by a long stretch, it's been hard for others who I know, harder even.
But, it's not been a wasted term: I've made progress personally and professionally. My disaterous first unofficially observed lesson has been improved upon with two good, if not outstanding lessons, of which I'm fairly proud. The constant stream of bad, shocking behaviour has been, if not replaced, broken up by lessons in which the behaviour could be desribed as very good. It's been a good few weeks since I've cried from stress or despair about teaching, and it's also a few weeks since I've considered quitting, although the last week was a time in which I regularly had to force myself into school against my own wishes.
Of course, I've made life a bit more difficult for myself with the training - I've spent a term getting into school for 7.15, working 11 hours a day to leave at 6.15 (when the school closed), and training for an hour or sometimes two every night. My poor, uncomplaining husband has literally not seen me for more than 2 waking hours a day for over 2 months, but he never makes a fuss - he may well be too good for me.
So, praise be, I've got a week of no school. A week of sleeping late, doing what I want, or not doing anything at all. I've got no fights scheduled at the moment, so I don't need to diet as such, but I intend to eat healthily, exercise lots and try to get a bit more healthy: I am at the moment a bit on the grey, spotty, cold-ridden side, as my immune system has taken quite a wallop recently.
The highlights?
It's made me very happy to see the way that some wee boys, who would have me believe they're the hardest thing since Ghengis Khan, will light up with joy and self-satisfaction at the mention of a pleased note home to their mothers in a special, silver bound jotter with stars on which says "Colin* is a Star!" inside the front cover. (*names changed to protect identity)
Small victories, like having taken two girls who hadn't understood in maths, out of class in my own time to try again to explain how fractions convert to decimals and vice versa, and having them say "oooohhhh, right....I get it now - I understand", can really make your day.
Hearing, second or third hand, that management consider you "well organised" is nice in an anally retentive, superficial kind of way.
Camp was a great experience - some of these children are just not designed for formalised education, and they thrived in the environment of activity, self-relience, and challenge which camp provided. Also, being surrounded by young men and women who were all, without exception, cool and who were not afraid to tell the little hard-nuts just how unimpressed they were by their antics certainly did them no harm.
So, it's not been all bad by any means, and I'll stick it out I think and make it to the end of the year.
But in the meantime?
Fuck teaching. I'm on holiday :)
There have been many occasions over the past 8 weeks where I have really, truly doubted my ability to make it even this far as a teacher, let alone to the end of the year, so I do have a certain degree of pride in the fact I've made it to half-term, and further that I've done so without a nervous breakdown. It hasn't, however, been easy. I've cried myself stupid many times at school, in the toilets at lunch and break, in my room at the end of the day, thinking "What the fuck am I playing at - it's not worth it". And I'm not the only one, by a long stretch, it's been hard for others who I know, harder even.
But, it's not been a wasted term: I've made progress personally and professionally. My disaterous first unofficially observed lesson has been improved upon with two good, if not outstanding lessons, of which I'm fairly proud. The constant stream of bad, shocking behaviour has been, if not replaced, broken up by lessons in which the behaviour could be desribed as very good. It's been a good few weeks since I've cried from stress or despair about teaching, and it's also a few weeks since I've considered quitting, although the last week was a time in which I regularly had to force myself into school against my own wishes.
Of course, I've made life a bit more difficult for myself with the training - I've spent a term getting into school for 7.15, working 11 hours a day to leave at 6.15 (when the school closed), and training for an hour or sometimes two every night. My poor, uncomplaining husband has literally not seen me for more than 2 waking hours a day for over 2 months, but he never makes a fuss - he may well be too good for me.
So, praise be, I've got a week of no school. A week of sleeping late, doing what I want, or not doing anything at all. I've got no fights scheduled at the moment, so I don't need to diet as such, but I intend to eat healthily, exercise lots and try to get a bit more healthy: I am at the moment a bit on the grey, spotty, cold-ridden side, as my immune system has taken quite a wallop recently.
The highlights?
It's made me very happy to see the way that some wee boys, who would have me believe they're the hardest thing since Ghengis Khan, will light up with joy and self-satisfaction at the mention of a pleased note home to their mothers in a special, silver bound jotter with stars on which says "Colin* is a Star!" inside the front cover. (*names changed to protect identity)
Small victories, like having taken two girls who hadn't understood in maths, out of class in my own time to try again to explain how fractions convert to decimals and vice versa, and having them say "oooohhhh, right....I get it now - I understand", can really make your day.
Hearing, second or third hand, that management consider you "well organised" is nice in an anally retentive, superficial kind of way.
Camp was a great experience - some of these children are just not designed for formalised education, and they thrived in the environment of activity, self-relience, and challenge which camp provided. Also, being surrounded by young men and women who were all, without exception, cool and who were not afraid to tell the little hard-nuts just how unimpressed they were by their antics certainly did them no harm.
So, it's not been all bad by any means, and I'll stick it out I think and make it to the end of the year.
But in the meantime?
Fuck teaching. I'm on holiday :)
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Results....
Well, it's not quite the unblemished record I was hoping for, but it is, as they say in East Lothian "No Bad". I got a draw this time, against an embarrassingly young (15) female fighter called Hayley Thomson from Fighting Fit Gym, but who I can safely say is tough as old boots.Another C -class 3 rounder, I was much more tired during this fight than for the two previous ones, for various reasons. Initially I was supposed to be fighting a different girl at 64kg, who pulled out at the last minute because of weight issues, and was rematched with my opponent, Hayley Thomas, at 62 kgs. This did mean a 2 kg weight cut in the 5 days before the fight, which was no fun at all, especially since I also had to go away on school camp the weekend of the fight. Have you ever tried sidling up to a chef at an activity camp and telling him his pizza and chips looks fab, but would he mind heating up this bowl of Weight Watchers soup? No? It's embarrassing.
Anyway, camp was great fun, but did unfortunately involve forfeiting the usually standard rest period before a fight and swapping it for 17 hour days of abseiling, archery, trapeze, raft-building, and child entertaining. Not a plan of action I intend to ever repeat again. Turns out that looking after 10 children on an outdoor activity weekend, in the cold on 800 calories a day is actually not much fun at all, but I am glad I went even still.
So, in addition to all that, obviously I had no access to a sauna or a salt bath, so the day before the fight ran thusly:
06.00-07.00 - 3 mile run in a sweat suit.
08.00 - fruit for breakfast
09.00 - 10.30 - abseiling
10.30 -12.00 - archery
12.00 - 14.00 - Lunch (soup) and general child coralling
14.00-15.30 - trapeze
15.30-17.00 - Raft building (sat on the side for this one - didn't fancy dunking myself in a freezing cold muddy pond!)
17.00-18.00 - child minding and dinner (soup)
18.00-19.00 - 3 mile run in a sweat suit
19.00-20.30- Child activities
20.30-11.00 - getting children to sleep
11.00-06.00 - lying awake worrying about weight
Come fight morning I was mostly grey, spotty and knackered and in a final fart in the face from fate, spending a weekend with 50 hormonal girls brought my period on with no warning, on the morning of the fight. Nice.
So, a very kind colleague gave me a lift back to Edinburgh at 06.30 from the camp just north of Perth, getting me back to my house at about 08.30 on the Sunday morning, and Ally picked me up about an hour later and we and Kim drove through to Baillieston for the weigh in at 11.00. Come 12.15 my opponent hadn't arrived yet and rather than risk me going out and hunting down a ned for sustenance the referee officiated my weigh-in so I could get down the serious business of eating..... EVERYTHING.
Or, at least, everything that was left after Ally got his grubby paws on it... ;)
The fight itself is a bit of a blur - I remember various points with particular clarity, such a the moment when John shouted "push her off and high kick", so I pushed, stepped in and threw my hip, only to watch my "high-kick" hit her just above the knee.
"Hmmmmm...", I thought. "Shit."
I remember thinking "Holy fuck, I'm tired. I wish she'd just go away!", but she didn't, so we fought it out to the end. I beat her on the outside because I'm stronger and more technical, but she beat me in the clinch because she's fitter and had a much higher rate of activity. In the end it was announced in the ring as a win to me, but it was a mistake and was in fact a draw to us both.
To be honest, I'm happy with that - I felt at the time I didn't deserve to win, and I'm more comfortable with that decision. However, I am disappointed not to have another win, obviously, and I'm also a bit disappointed in myself because I know I can do better, and that I didn't prepare well enough for the fight.
However, I learned alot from it - I know exactly what I did wrong and why I didn't win, and I know how to fix it, and next time I definitely wont be making the same mistakes again.
So watch out ;)
Check out the photos of the show here, I'm about halfway down, looking, erm, photogenic as ever:
http://www.marktimmphotography.co.uk/gallery_99026.html
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
On the treadmill
That's it - I'm Mrs Aarayan now, and *I* am a Real Teacher. 32 11 year-olds think so, so it must be true.
All weekend before the Monday I was, how shall I say.... a miserable git. Just feeling terrified, negative: "I can't do it, I don't even know if I want to do it, I can't cope".
The news early on Friday morning, just as I was starting to feel like it *might* just be ok, that I was to have a new boy, with extremely complex additional needs, and who would bring my class total to one under the legal limit, put me on somewhat of a downer.
So, I worried myself sick, irritated my husband beyond belief and dragged myself up and out the door at 6.45am on Monday morning, to begin what I was sure would be the first day of a truly crappy career. However, as is so often the case, I was wrong.
Yes it's definitely going to be difficult, but it's going to be ok - I'm earning the class's respect and reaping rewards in generally good behaviour. I'm managing not to take bad behaviour personally and set appropriate sanctions and rewards, and I'm making my class a positive, effective learning environment for the children who want to learn.
I am confident that I will have plenty of stories to tell, albeit deeply anonymised, because this is certainly going to be an interesting year if nothing else.
The first battle is won - never again will I have to endure the build up and the dread of that first bell on my first ever day as a teacher. I've started on the treadmill and I've survived. And more importantly, I'm starting to believe that I may actually be a real, live teacher.
Let's wait and see....
All weekend before the Monday I was, how shall I say.... a miserable git. Just feeling terrified, negative: "I can't do it, I don't even know if I want to do it, I can't cope".
The news early on Friday morning, just as I was starting to feel like it *might* just be ok, that I was to have a new boy, with extremely complex additional needs, and who would bring my class total to one under the legal limit, put me on somewhat of a downer.
So, I worried myself sick, irritated my husband beyond belief and dragged myself up and out the door at 6.45am on Monday morning, to begin what I was sure would be the first day of a truly crappy career. However, as is so often the case, I was wrong.
Yes it's definitely going to be difficult, but it's going to be ok - I'm earning the class's respect and reaping rewards in generally good behaviour. I'm managing not to take bad behaviour personally and set appropriate sanctions and rewards, and I'm making my class a positive, effective learning environment for the children who want to learn.
I am confident that I will have plenty of stories to tell, albeit deeply anonymised, because this is certainly going to be an interesting year if nothing else.
The first battle is won - never again will I have to endure the build up and the dread of that first bell on my first ever day as a teacher. I've started on the treadmill and I've survived. And more importantly, I'm starting to believe that I may actually be a real, live teacher.
Let's wait and see....
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Let's start at the very beginning
Today was my first day as a salaried teacher. Admittedly, I didn't have to teach anybody anything, it was inservice, but my contract began today, and from today I am a real, live teacher.
So how was it? Well, the school performed very badly in last September's HMIe inspection report and as such has alot of work to do to avoid this ever happening again. Much of this work has been begun, but alot still has to happen, and since the previous HeadTeacher has now left and a new HT has joined the staff, big changes are afoot. The school is also in the process of being systematically rebuilt and refurnished, so it is a time of massive change and, hopefully, improvement.
The upshot of all this is... meetings. We discussed the previous inspection and the results, how the staff felt things had improved and where they felt things needed to go in order to develop which was interesting for me, not having seen the school as it was when the fateful inspection took place. I know what I need to be doing in my class to improve learning and teaching and meet the requirements of the HMIe, but it's difficult to think in a wider, whole-school context because I don't know the school. This will be a long-running thing, and I think the theme of the year will be "Development Meetings".....fun.
After that we had some discussions about contracted time and stuff which made no sense to any of us probationers, followed by a yummy lunch.
A Fire Dude (official title) came to talk to us from the Council, due in part to the fact that the school has only *just* ceased to be an official "building site" and instead be classified as a "place of work", so we now know how not to burn to death.
After this I had a meeting with my stage partners (i.e. the other teachers of P7, of which there is 1 full time, 2 job share and my own 0.3 - the teacher who takes the class when I'm not there). We planned activities for the week ahead, and all in all I feel much more comfortable about what's going to happen next week and what I'm going to be doing.
Then I went back to my classroom, faffed around for an hour and came home, steadfastly resisting the urge to take stuff back with me, stare at it, panic, and do nothing useful at all.
Tomorrow it's back to school to get all the fiddly little jobs like putting name labels on the children's trays, creating group sheets, making laminated letters to label the big wall boards with (saying things like "environmental studies" etc.) and I expect we'll talk more about timetabling, development plans etc.
So, now you know what an inservice day is like (you poor, bored souls), tonight Paul and I are going to order a new and lovely bed, and I'm going to drink some wine and possibly have chinese for dinner (even though that's very naughty) to celebrate the fact that I am now, officially, a properly independent grown up.
Now, when you're all facing the front, listening carefully and not talking, you may put your chairs up on the tables, get your bags and line up at the door for home-time....
Good evening, class - see you tomorrow :)
So how was it? Well, the school performed very badly in last September's HMIe inspection report and as such has alot of work to do to avoid this ever happening again. Much of this work has been begun, but alot still has to happen, and since the previous HeadTeacher has now left and a new HT has joined the staff, big changes are afoot. The school is also in the process of being systematically rebuilt and refurnished, so it is a time of massive change and, hopefully, improvement.
The upshot of all this is... meetings. We discussed the previous inspection and the results, how the staff felt things had improved and where they felt things needed to go in order to develop which was interesting for me, not having seen the school as it was when the fateful inspection took place. I know what I need to be doing in my class to improve learning and teaching and meet the requirements of the HMIe, but it's difficult to think in a wider, whole-school context because I don't know the school. This will be a long-running thing, and I think the theme of the year will be "Development Meetings".....fun.
After that we had some discussions about contracted time and stuff which made no sense to any of us probationers, followed by a yummy lunch.
A Fire Dude (official title) came to talk to us from the Council, due in part to the fact that the school has only *just* ceased to be an official "building site" and instead be classified as a "place of work", so we now know how not to burn to death.
After this I had a meeting with my stage partners (i.e. the other teachers of P7, of which there is 1 full time, 2 job share and my own 0.3 - the teacher who takes the class when I'm not there). We planned activities for the week ahead, and all in all I feel much more comfortable about what's going to happen next week and what I'm going to be doing.
Then I went back to my classroom, faffed around for an hour and came home, steadfastly resisting the urge to take stuff back with me, stare at it, panic, and do nothing useful at all.
Tomorrow it's back to school to get all the fiddly little jobs like putting name labels on the children's trays, creating group sheets, making laminated letters to label the big wall boards with (saying things like "environmental studies" etc.) and I expect we'll talk more about timetabling, development plans etc.
So, now you know what an inservice day is like (you poor, bored souls), tonight Paul and I are going to order a new and lovely bed, and I'm going to drink some wine and possibly have chinese for dinner (even though that's very naughty) to celebrate the fact that I am now, officially, a properly independent grown up.
Now, when you're all facing the front, listening carefully and not talking, you may put your chairs up on the tables, get your bags and line up at the door for home-time....
Good evening, class - see you tomorrow :)
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Back to School
I started my final placement recently, so for the next 5 weeks I'll mostly be pretending to be a teacher, and trying to look like I know what I'm doing. (This is a running theme in my life - I pretend this alot. Alot alot.)
During this year at uni I've been to several schools on placement - the Headteacher (HT) at this most recent school described my experiences as ranging "from the sublime to the ridiculous", and I'm pretty much with her on that. I've taught in a very poor area, a very nice area and somewhere in between, and seen various ranges of resources, types of social and economic backgrounds and issues which go along with them.
This new school is, however, by far the "best". It has a flawless HMIe report, Interactive Whiteboards (IWBs) up the wazoo, a body of pupils entirely made up of middle-class, pretty well-behaved children, a young, energetic, innovative staff, and a brand new school building choc-a-bloc with brilliant ideas and resources for the kids.
Obviously I can't tell you which school I'm at, any more than I can tell you any of the other schools I've been to - for starters I might decide I want to say something rude about one of the children, and then where would I be? Up Shit Creek with no paddle, that's where... (And obviously all that confidentiality stuff too, etc etc, yadda yadda).
So, I'm feeling very lucky, but don't think for a second that this means everything will be fine and dandy: all children have issues, all jobs have downsides: one school is much like another in that sense, it's just a question of how much easier or harder the situation is made by external factors like money, colleagues and parents.
Placement proper begins on Monday, which is also when the teaching (blagging)and working (panicking) really begins, and I am looking forward to it in a way. It's nice to be in the classroom again, and not at bloody, bloody uni (sorry, I literally can't help it - I've developed Moray House related Tourettes Syndrome), and the kids are lovely, as is the teacher I'm working with, so I'll be sure to share all the good stories I'll inevitably collect over the next five weeks...
...'Cos kids just say the funniest things, don't they? Funny, cute things? You know, all the funny, cute, not at all terrifying and inappropriate things 11 years olds say, ask, repeat?...
Watch this space.
During this year at uni I've been to several schools on placement - the Headteacher (HT) at this most recent school described my experiences as ranging "from the sublime to the ridiculous", and I'm pretty much with her on that. I've taught in a very poor area, a very nice area and somewhere in between, and seen various ranges of resources, types of social and economic backgrounds and issues which go along with them.
This new school is, however, by far the "best". It has a flawless HMIe report, Interactive Whiteboards (IWBs) up the wazoo, a body of pupils entirely made up of middle-class, pretty well-behaved children, a young, energetic, innovative staff, and a brand new school building choc-a-bloc with brilliant ideas and resources for the kids.
Obviously I can't tell you which school I'm at, any more than I can tell you any of the other schools I've been to - for starters I might decide I want to say something rude about one of the children, and then where would I be? Up Shit Creek with no paddle, that's where... (And obviously all that confidentiality stuff too, etc etc, yadda yadda).
So, I'm feeling very lucky, but don't think for a second that this means everything will be fine and dandy: all children have issues, all jobs have downsides: one school is much like another in that sense, it's just a question of how much easier or harder the situation is made by external factors like money, colleagues and parents.
Placement proper begins on Monday, which is also when the teaching (blagging)and working (panicking) really begins, and I am looking forward to it in a way. It's nice to be in the classroom again, and not at bloody, bloody uni (sorry, I literally can't help it - I've developed Moray House related Tourettes Syndrome), and the kids are lovely, as is the teacher I'm working with, so I'll be sure to share all the good stories I'll inevitably collect over the next five weeks...
...'Cos kids just say the funniest things, don't they? Funny, cute things? You know, all the funny, cute, not at all terrifying and inappropriate things 11 years olds say, ask, repeat?...
Watch this space.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Teaching Reading Comprehension
This (see above) is what I am supposed to be giving a presentation on at uni on Thursday morning. Oh Lord. As you can probably tell, by the fact that I'm here rather than working on my presentation, I am not exactly filled with excitement and joy at this prospect. "Clueless" would be one way to describe me on this subject. Another way would be "hopeless". Without hope, even. So, given that I am "without hope", you'd think it'd be a good idea to be working my butt off to try and get on top of this task......
You'd be wrong. The best thing to do is ignore it and hope it goes away, somewhat like a big spider, or a monster. Perhaps if I stick my fingers in my ears and go "lalalalalalalalalalaaaaaaa" with my eyes closed, when I re-open them it will be Friday, the presentation will be over and I will have blown everyone away with my perspicacity. What does that mean...? I dunno. But it sounds good - an ideal example of obfuscation ;p (look it up).
So, in a pretty flawless example of how to procrastinate (and use long words so that updating your blog takes even longer, another good way of procrastinating) here is a link to the funniest thing I've seen all week (if anyone knows how to embed video links and could tell me, that'd be great):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zvul3DC4l4E
Now back to my presentation....... Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalaaa..........aaaargh!
Go away big, scary, spider-monster!
You'd be wrong. The best thing to do is ignore it and hope it goes away, somewhat like a big spider, or a monster. Perhaps if I stick my fingers in my ears and go "lalalalalalalalalalaaaaaaa" with my eyes closed, when I re-open them it will be Friday, the presentation will be over and I will have blown everyone away with my perspicacity. What does that mean...? I dunno. But it sounds good - an ideal example of obfuscation ;p (look it up).
So, in a pretty flawless example of how to procrastinate (and use long words so that updating your blog takes even longer, another good way of procrastinating) here is a link to the funniest thing I've seen all week (if anyone knows how to embed video links and could tell me, that'd be great):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zvul3DC4l4E
Now back to my presentation....... Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalaaa..........aaaargh!
Go away big, scary, spider-monster!
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