On Thinking About What It Means to be Canadian

In the summer I read a pretty great book by a Canadian author, called 'The Cameraman'. Inside it, there was a quote, as a preface to one of the chapters (or sort of, at any rate) that I found very interesting... it read:

"Canadians sit quietly on their stumps and watch the country to the south - the flight of the great bald ego. They are judging, and jealous. But they get the gift of perspective"

Initially this really made me think...it made me think, and I realized that it was absolutely right! Have a read of it, and consider how absolutely profound and true it is!

That's my tidbit for the day.

On Just Wanting Christmas

Well, I can honestly say that I am so very OVER working these days. I feel as if I am checked out, mentally. I cannot be asked to plan anything these days. I have some lessons left un-taught that I had planned earlier in the year, but I cannot be asked to make up new ones for the last few lessons I have with each of my groups this week. I am being a complete and total lazy moo.

I can't really help it, because the kids are projecting this feeling of apathy as well. It can't possibly be my fault, it's all on them. If they come in full of reckless energy, then it just seeps into me.

I should also admit that other things are on my mind, namely the thought of being home in Canada. I just cannot wait to go home for the holidays. I can already smell my house; the distinctly 'home' smell that it has, of old wood and warm candles. I also can't wait to snuggle up with a blankie on the couch, sip a rye and ginger, and just enjoy it! Ah, free time. I can't waiiit.

I've checked out of England, at the moment, and cannot wait to be in MY country, with MY family and MY friends, with MY boy!

ROLL ON, CANADA!

On Having the Love

I really enjoy this song. Here is the video and lyrics below:




Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
I know I can count on you
Sometimes I feel like saying "Lord I just don't care"
But you've got the love I need To see me through

Sometimes it seems that the going is just too rough
And things go wrong no matter what I do
Now and then it seems that life is just too much
But you've got the love I need to see me through

When food is gone you are my daily meal
When friends are gone I know my savior's love is real
Your love is real

You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love

Time after time I think "Oh Lord what's the use?"
Time after time I think it's just no good
Sooner or later in life, the things you love you loose
But you got the love I need to see me through

You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love

Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air
I know I can count on you
Sometimes I feel like saying "Lord I just don't care"
But you've got the love I need to see me through

You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love
You got the love

On Making A Discover and Chapter Two

I think I have had a breakthrough. I was reading one of the NUT union magazines that gets mailed to me, when I stumbled upon an article about Assertive Behaviour Management. It was a very brief article, that summed up what it meant to use assertive language to control a classroom. Instead of losing your temper, and saying "What are you doing?" or "Is that what I asked you to do!?" (in essense, asking questions), you need to take a more assertive role. They gave a few examples, such as saying "I realize that you would prefer to talk right now, but I need you to do [insert task here], thank you".

By doing it this way, you're taking away the option factor that comes with a question, and making in a very personal demand; I NEED and THANK YOU are more assertive, and clue the students into the fact that you are in control.

All day today I practiced talking this way. I can't even count the number of times I said "I need you to" and "thank you".

And guess what. It worked.

I will try it again tomorrow, and let you know how it went.

For now, have a read of the second chapter that I've just completed.

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When I was twelve years old my family moved house. There were a lot of reasons behind the move, one of which was so that we could be closer to my Nana, who was at this point starting to get weaker. At the time my mum wasn’t working full-time, so she could go over and help Nana with the housework. That wasn’t the number one reason why we moved, not initially, but it was definitely something that helped to tip the scales. Mostly, we moved because my parents had fallen in love with this great, old red-brick century home.

It makes me laugh now to think of the house as old. Living in England has really opened my eyes about the concept of ‘time’ and ‘age’. Time is something we have a very warped perspective of in Canada, and America too, I reckon. We look at a Victorian home, with its wooden trim, smooth wood floors, grand rooms and ceilings, and hard brick exteriors, and see a ‘fixer-upper’; a house with a lot of ‘character’, as I remember my mother saying once. We take pride in having our houses look fabulous after one hundred years of hard living, when really the amount of time that has passed since the home was first inhabited to present time is nothing more than a drop in the hat. You could easily trace the different families and generations that passed through its doors.

In England, time is something completely different; it’s something truly grand and wonderful. For one thing, Victorian homes are situated in relatively new areas of a town or city. You’ll often find the city centres are filled with the older buildings with quaint thatch roofing, cobbled stones and narrow streets. As you move further away from the centre, you’ll start to find newer and newer homes (though the ability to maximize the space available has never seems to have changed). Time in England, and I’d venture out to say in all of Europe, is part of a much grander history. When you see a castle, situated on a lonely country bluff, or a village church steeple from miles away, or the thatching on a home being replaced on a bright summers day, you suddenly are struck with how old things truly are; how life carries on, buildings carry on, centuries after they were initially conceived.

As a child, even if you are a mature-for-your-age twelve year old, the fact that you are moving into an ‘old’ house makes the act of moving ten times worse. As your parents wax poetical about all the work they’re going to do on the house to improve it, all you can see is the house as it currently stands; crusty, crumbly and possibly haunted. The stairs creak as you walk up them, and the wind seems to whistle in a different tone than at your former house.

In fact, the house you’re leaving behind didn’t even have trees for the wind to whistle through. It was ideally situated in a brand-new subdivision; one of those early 1990 build suburbs; the ones that were constructed during a renewed emphasis on the working class living in clean, cookie-cutter subdivisions. A new school was built in the area to cater to the increased population, a grocery store went in, and the process of moving away from the centre of town was prolonged once more.

I couldn’t understand why my parents wanted to leave our nice ‘new’ house, in our nice ‘new’ area of town to live in some old, musty smelling house on the main street of a town a half hours drive away. I just did not see the appeal. I tried to understand their reasoning; I really did. There were things I liked about the house. For one thing, I had loved walking confidently around one of the upstairs bedrooms, proclaiming it ‘MINE’ should my parents (stupidly) decide to buy the dump. It was big, drafty and had a HUGE front window, which the reader in me thought would be perfect for Saturday morning snuggles in bed with a book. I also liked the idea of the in-ground pool. No kid can resist the allure of a pool; all summers leading up to the move were constantly spent trying to make friends with people who had pools. If we moved here, we’d be the cool kids with the pool. I’d be rolling in friends (the idea that people would use me for the pool had never occurred to me at the time).

I also liked the spacious back yard. It had apple trees, mulberry trees, raspberry bushes, and lilacs in the spring. It was so picturesque, like a quaint home in the country, and it was on the main street! I had more than one day-dream about setting up for a picnic back there, with a gaggle of little girls around me, sharing whatever girly gossip young girls of that age share.

Despite all these positives though, I detested having to leave my friends behind. When the move finally happened, I took it badly. I spent the first few weekends having sleepovers with my old friends; they’d come to me one weekend, and I’d go to then the next. It must have been hard on my parents, to watch me struggle with the change so poorly. I’m not sure can say I’d be particularly good at watching my own child suffer, but then again I’ve not had to deal with that yet; I’m still too young to even consider children (despite the fact that my mother was my age when she had me).

Things may have gone a bit smoother for me if the town we’d moved to had been at all accepting of ‘new-blood’ (as I affectionately started to call myself). Perhaps it is phenomenon that exists in all small towns, or perhaps it is a product of this particular small town; whatever it was, integrating myself into the youth culture of the town proved to be more trouble than nought. I still don’t think I’ve managed it, thirteen years down the line.

Sure I made friends; I think the element of ‘newness’ played on my side for a few days. On my first day, I remember asking my mum to do my hair in a French braid, because I felt that I was at my most attractive with my hair plaited back; it allowed me to show off my teeny tiny ears, which for some bizarre reason I felt were my best feature. I also took ages picking out a suitable outfit. I can only vaguely remember what it was at the time, but I think it was something like thick green corduroy trousers and a striped green top. I could be wrong, but that sounds like something I’d wear when I was twelve and looking to impress.

Recess on that first day I had a circle of girls around me. They were firing questions at me one at a time.

“Where are you from?”
“When is your birthday?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“What do you like to watch on TV?”
“What are you wearing?!”
“Did you mummy do your hair for you?”

I struggled to answer each of them, and felt supremely overwhelmed by the whole experience. I was also struggling to decide whether some of the meaner questions had been intentionally malicious or were just the product of a young and honest mind trying to suss out a new presence on the playground. After recess I followed one of the girls back inside, and she led me to our French lesson. I remember sitting at the back of the room, fighting back tears as I struggled to control my emotions. Moving house had been hard enough, but to be thrown into a school and have the girls at me like hounds was too much for my frail mind to take.

As the days started to wear on, my timidness seemed to intensify. Where I had been bubbly, cheery and popular in my old school, I found it really hard to be that person in my new school. I tried to get on friendly terms with a few of the girls, but was mostly met with not-so-subtle rebuffs. They just didn’t seem interested in me. I felt as if I were a bother to them. It was hard to deal with, and slowly my self-esteem seemed to shrink into itself.

I think a lot of my self-image issues in my later teen years started with the poor start I had at my new school. I was made to feel ‘uninteresting’ and worthless, stupid, ugly and immature. The things I was interested in were mocked, the way that I dressed was a constant source of laughter, and the things I said were pointless drivel.

Despite all the hardships, I eventually managed to associate myself with a very talkative, very chatty young girl who physically (but certainly not mentally) was a lot like myself; small, slim, with pale skin and light hair. However, where I was quiet and reserved, she was loud and boisterous. She had a laugh that one can only describe as weird. It bubbled up in these odd, irregular bursts. It was unique, bizarre, and undoubtedly loud. She was just Jenny. Crazy, goofy, unpredictable Jenny.

We were joined at the hip, inseparable, for about a year. Slowly I stopped pining for my old mates, and was content to spend time with Jenny. She helped me to open up, and brought me out of my new-found shyness. I owe a lot of Jenny, because being around her brought out my own sunny interior once more.

In hindsight, there were a lot of things that could have signalled to me that things with Jenny were not as great as they seemed. For one thing, my Nana never took a fancy to her. She’d sit and listen to me as I nattered on and on about our exploits, but she remained uncharacteristically silent for the most part.
It also never occurred to me to ask Jenny what she did when we were apart. I never thought that on these occasions she’d be back with the other girls, but she was. Perhaps she was friends with me out of pity, I am not sure. I didn’t get invited to most of the big get-togethers, but I was never really made aware of this fact. I had a good relationship with my younger sister, and when I wasn’t playing with Jenny I would spend time playing with her and her friends. A few times I remember going to big group sleepovers at Jenny’s, but these always went fairly poorly. I always felt out of place unless it were just Jenny and I. Her attention seemed elsewhere when the other girls were around.

I remember telling my Nana about this, during one of our tea-time chats. I must have mentioned it in passing, which surely signalled to her my own subconscious discontent. She took a sip of her tea, savouring the warmth of it for a moment before she replied to me.

“Why do you suppose that is?” she asked me.

“I don’t know? Maybe I’m just being silly,” I said, already doubting myself. Doubt was an emotion I was becoming good friends with.

“No, I don’t think that’s it. I think you may be on to something,” she said, pausing. “True friends are hard to find.”

“I think I had true friends once...but then we moved. Except...doesn’t that mean that ...that they weren’t true friends after all? Cuz if they were, well, we’re not friends now, right?” I said, thinking out loud. The slow realisation of it was a bit troubling to me. No true friends? How dire!

“You’ll make a lot of friends in your life, my dear, but few will ever count as true friends,” she mused. “True friends will be the ones you keep for life. They’re the ones that stand by you through thick and thin. You could do something catastrophically stupid, and they’d be there to pick you up afterwards.”

“Uh huh,” I said, deep in thought.

“Do you think that Jenny is there for you?” she asked me, point blank.

“YES,” I said, steadfastly. “Of course she is. She is my best friend!”

I fingered my half of the Ying-Yang friendship necklace I’d given to Jenny. Of course she was my true friend. She wouldn’t have accepted the necklace if she wasn’t. Right?

Nana smiled at me.“Of course she is,” she said.

I don’t remember much else about that conversation. The one thing I do remember, looking back, is that she seemed to be warning me about Jenny and about people in general. It wasn’t that she was telling me not to trust people; that more often than not you’ll meet a lot of ‘duds’. I think the thing she was trying to get across to me was that I had to be selective; to see people for who they really were. Obviously I’ve learnt that a true friend, like my Nana had said, is someone who will hold your hand through the really tough times, even if they don’t agree with what you’re doing. They’ll never say a bad word against you, and when bad words are said about you, they’ll be the first to beat them down with their own words of retaliation.
I think my Nana knew all along that Jenny was a dud. I think she could see where that friendship was going to go right from the start. I wish I’d have know it as well, or failing that, that she’d have given me better warning. However, we all know that life’s lessons are best learnt the hard way.

On Starting a Novel

Right...so I've often thought about writing a novel of some sort, but I've never really been sure if I've got what it takes. I read loads, and I write loads on here, but I'm far too modest to think that I'm any good at it. However, Michael has been encouraging me lately to try my hand at writing a draft of a novel, and today I sat down and started a chapter. I thought I'd post it here, and see what people think of it. It's meant to be a bit autobiographical, but with some elements of fiction. I'm going to make up quite a lot of it, but base it loosely on my own life. The idea is that it should centre around a young woman (very much like me) who is coming to terms with who she is. She uses her grandmother as a standard for what she hopes to become, and struggles to come to terms with whether or not she's half the woman her grandmother was...in the end, she will come to realize that she is, so please don't think that the first chapter (which ends negatively here) is an indication of where the novel will end up...

Let me know what you think...

A few days before my Nana died, I visited her in intensive care. I remember thinking that she looked so small, so frail, tucked tightly into the bed. She had oxygen tubes through her nose, and while that would probably scare some children, it was a normal sight to me. She was dying from emphysema, and had been using an oxygen machine to help her breath for a number of years. I don’t think there are many other diseases in the world that kill you as slowly as emphysema. Slowly but surely, as the years went by, my Nana was being suffocated. Each breath was one ragged step closer to the end. It was a hard concept to wrap my head around at the time, but I understand it now.

She was acutely aware of all this, for she would often share with me the mistakes she made in her youth, particularly about smoking. Even today, on the odd occasion that I have a smoke, I feel a sharp pang of guilt. I can almost feel her disdain. My Nana was a very intelligent woman, and as strong as they come. She was never one to bite her tongue, even if it meant offending someone; if she knew she was right, she’d say so. I know that if she could speak to me, she’d tell me I was being an absolute idiot to smoke. She’d shake her head softly, her eyes closed as if in physical pain. She would then point her thin, strong finger at me, and say, “Krista, you’re a damned fool for doing that to yourself. Did my death teach you nothing?”

Looking back, I think my Nana has taught me a lot about life, even though she’s been gone for ten years. I think once she knew she was dying, years before it actually happened, she’d made a conscious decision to give me as much advice as she possibly could. She must have known that she wouldn’t be around to see me meet my potential as a woman, and so she started speaking to me as if I were an adult when I turned thirteen.

The first time she did this was over a discussion about sex. The two of us were sitting at the table in the kitchen. It was eight or nine at night, and we were having a cup of tea. Living in England now, I don’t associate any special feelings with tea. It’s something I drink in copious amounts on a daily basis. However, back then it was a special ritual between my Nana and I. I only ever drank tea with my Nana. It was our ‘thing’.

This particular night wasn’t long after my thirteenth birthday. I remember feeling quite grown up at the time. I didn’t want to be treated as a child, but felt that most people spoke to me as if I were one, and treated me as one as well. However, I viewed myself as separate from my peers; they didn’t accept me much at the time. I wasn’t well liked, and spent a lot of time on my own. As such, I spent much of my time with my nose in a book, and if I weren’t reading, I’d be doodling silly little Japanese style girls. You know, the ones with gigantic breasts, thin waists, and long flowing hair; All things I wished I had. I didn’t know my place in that world yet, but I was awkwardly trying to position myself within it.

My Nana and I were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on our tea. Tea time was always a time when we’d talk. I can’t even remember half of the things we talked about now. Instead, I remember the way I felt talking; I felt happy, and loved. I loved my Nana, and she loved me. She’d ask me about school, and when I told her about the troubles I was having with the girls in my grade, she’d shake her head sadly.

“Jealousy has a strange way of affecting people,” she said.

“What do they have to be jealous of? I’m a loser,” I replied.

“You are most assuredly not a loser, my dear. You’re a lovely, bright, intelligent and friendly young girl,” she said. “You’re also pretty. You may not see that now, but I see it, and everyone else sees it.”

I stared deeply into my mug, and felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I wasn’t very good at accepting other people’s praise of me, mainly because I just didn’t feel it was deserved. I suffered from a severe case of low self-esteem. I think to some degree I always will, but that’s another matter.

“Other people often see what we ourselves cannot,” she continued. “Perhaps they see your potential, and are threatened by you because of it. If they push you down, and keep you there, then you can’t rise up to challenge them. It’s sad, really, but often people put down others because they’re insecure about themselves.”

“Maybe,” I said, not really believing her. Nana’s are supposed to say nice things about their grandchildren. She had to say these things to me, but I doubted that they were actually true. I felt uncomfortable talking about the whole thing, to be honest. I had accepted the fact that I was not attractive, and that I was a loser. It hadn’t been easy to accept at first, but now that I’d come to terms with it, I didn’t like to be told otherwise.

“They are jealous,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“Maybe,” I repeated. “But...” I paused for a moment, unsure of whether to breach the topic with my nana, “they are all so much more popular than I’ll ever be. Plus they’ve all got boyfriends... no boys ever look at me.”

I instantly felt silly for saying anything. It showed my own jealousies, and made me just as petty as they were. My envy, of course, was directed towards their ability to attract members of the opposite sex. My thirteen year old self was extremely envious of that. I had started to take an interest in boys the year before, and it slowly got stronger and stronger. At the time I had an undying love for a blonde haired, blue eyed boy in my grade.

“Pffft! Boyfriends?” my Nana laughed. “Sweetheart, never ever base your value as a person on men. You don’t need a man to make you whole!”

I looked up at her, unsure of what to say. What she was saying had nothing to do with what I had said, or so I thought.

“Listen. I’m going to tell you something now. I’m not sure if your mum has talked to you about any of this, but I think that you are old enough to know the truth. Don’t rush into anything. Don’t rush into a relationship, just because everyone around you is in one. Boys will say anything to you, to get what they want. You’re a pretty girl, and you’re too sweet. Some day the right boy will come, and he’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated. But before him, a bunch of wrong ones will come. And they will try to get you to do things, like sex, that maybe you aren’t ready to do.”

I nearly spit up my tea. Did my Nana just say something about sex? Dear god! It was the last thing on my mind. I was attracted to boys, but I was absolutely terrified of them. The idea of even talking to a boy made my cheeks flush bright red, and I’d develop a nervous shake in my hands.

“Okay,” I mumbled, hoping she’d drop the subject.

“And let me tell you something else. Sex is great. It feels really good, for both the man and the woman. But that doesn’t mean it is something you should just rush into. You should wait, and do it when you’re in love with someone, otherwise it’s cheap.”

I felt faint with horror, having listened to this. My Nana had just told me sex felt great. The world as I knew it was imploding. The last thing I wanted to picture was my nana having sex and enjoying it.

“Okay,” I said again.

She was silent for awhile, looking at me with this knowing look. As far as I know, my Nana never regretted saying the things she said. She was an intensely proud woman, and I think she felt justified in voicing her opinion, no matter what the circumstances. She must have known that years later, after she’d gone, I’d think back on this talk, and realise how right she’d been.

However, at the time I tried hard not to remember that talk. It wasn’t until that moment in the ICU that it came back to me, amongst other memories. I stood at the door to the room, looking in on my Nana, and was flooded with all my memories with her. I was fifteen at the time, and wasn’t ready to lose her. There was so much I wanted her to see.

Her eyes opened slowly, and she focused on me standing in the doorway. She beckoned for me to come to her. I shuffled slowly over to the side of her bed, unsure of where to look. I didn’t like seeing her like this. She was such a strong woman, and yet here she was, laying in bed, tubes and wires everywhere, looking so small. Small and tired, and...not my Nana.

She couldn’t speak. I think it was too painful for her, what with all the tubes going down her throat to keep her alive. Someone had gotten her a little pad of paper, which she used to communicate with the nurses or various members of the family. She beckoned for me to get her the pen, which was on the bedside table. I grabbed it, clicked it open, and handed it to her.

It was hard for her to write. Her hand weakly held onto the pen, and she couldn’t put much pressure on it to write. Her hand moved slowly, shaking the entire time. I was watching the back of her hand the entire time, trying to see how the IV was implanted into the skin on the top of her hand. Her veins looked thin and winding. I hadn’t noticed how small her hands were before, but I noticed it now.
She finished writing, and angled the pad at me.

“Just like me” it read.

She pointed at me, then slowly back at herself. I burst into a fit of tears, unable to contain myself.

The thing is, I cried because I wasn’t sure I was. I wasn’t sure I deserved to even be considered as good a woman as my Nana, and even to this day I am not sure. My entire life I have associated her with this beautiful, headstrong, independent woman. She was proud, to a fault sometimes, not leaving the house once she had to start using oxygen; it was a sign of weakness that she was ashamed to have anyone see. She ruled over the family, held it steadfastly together, despite growing rifts. The feeble relationships between my mother and her siblings were held together through my Nanas’ sheer force of will for it not to fall apart. She wouldn’t allow that to happen, not while she was alive. Nothing escaped her sharp wit. Nothing went unnoticed. So how could she have possibly compared myself to her? How could she be so wrong?

On Christmas Break Approaching

It's nearly December. I can hardly believe it. It feels as if the school year has just started. I'm not complaining though; I am quite content with the idea of having some time off. I'm not overly thrilled about the waiting game I will have to play once back in Canada, but it will be nice to be home. I'm not sure how long the Visa application will take to go through, but I hope it's not TOO long. I don't know how much leeway the school is willing to give me, in terms of being late for the start of term. There isn't too much I can do about it though. I got the earliest appointment that I could, and I am doing my best to ensure I've got all the paperwork filled correctly. At the end of the day though, I am human, and I'm unaquainted with this bureaurocratic nonsense.

But anyways.

I am quite excited at the thought of being home in a few weeks time. I can't wait to show Michael my home, my Canada. It will be really great to be back home, feeling comfy and cozy. I love Christmas as well. It's my favourite time of the year, and not just because of the presents. I enjoy the time spent with family. I just really love the feeling that you get on Christmas Day; waking up early, making coffee for my dad, the unwrapping, the eating of Fluffy omelette, the eating of smoked salmon, cheese, crackers, chips and dip...and then that long awaited, mouth watering TURKEY. The house is always so warm, with the oven heating things up, and the fire (even if it is electric) glowing bright. Even the tree emits a warm twinkle. I love sitting around the living room, talking and laughing with family, sipping on a drink and just relaxing and enjoying the time spent with family. It's a great day, and will be even greater with Michael there - to include him in the family tradition!

Anyways, talking about these things makes me want it to come faster, so I should stop, for fear of making myself too anxious! I'd hate to wish my life away!

Cheers.

On Stress

I know that lately I've been saying that I've been a lot happier than I was last year, and while that isn't necessarily a lie, I feel like sometimes it's a bit of a stretch. My personal life is top-notch; I love my boyfriend, I love my housemates, and I love my friends. However, I feel as if my job isn't as brilliant as I sometimes say. I DO love my department. They are everything that I've ever said they are; supportive, helpful, caring. Its the kids that are really starting to get to me. They're not necessarily horrible and full of malice...but they are a lot more different than I'd initially thought. They're much more complacent and rude. They consistently talk when I am talking. At least a my old school, when I got really stroppy at them, they'd take the hint and shut up. At this school, its almost as if they don't hear me at all. They're so apathetic, it often leaves me feeling distraught. I feel as if I'm screeching all day, trying to get students to shut their mouths and just pay me some attention. Its not ALL the students that are like that, but it's a large majority of most of my groups. There are a few students in each group who stare at me, their eyes pleading with me, wishing that we could just get on with it.

I feel bad for these children, because I am incapable of handling large masses of disobedient children. I'm not sure what tactics should be used, when you've got more children disobeying than obeying. Do you send out all the children at the same time? It's impossible! I may have to ask some of my colleagues what they do...but I am a bit afraid of looking and sounding like a complete idiot. I should know how to handle the kids by now...I don't want to be the only one who has issues like this..

...its just stressful. I often leave the school feeling fully drained. I feel much more drained than I did last year, and I never thought that'd be the case. Perhaps some of that is due to Michael not being around to comfort me when I need him. I'm not sure... it could be any number of things, but mostly it has to do with the kids pushing me to my mental limit, by completely ignoring me.

Anyways, I'm off to relax and watch some telly.

Ta.

On Being A Bad Blogger!

Geez, I really did not think that it would be nearly two months before I came back on here, to update you about my comings and goings! I could probably spout off a number of excuses, but I think that ultimately there is no need. As you know, I started a new job this September, and I've been fairly busy keeping on top of things. Its been a good year, but it hasn't been without its challenges. I must admit I am much more confident this year, and I am not making the mistakes I made last year either. However, I am nowhere near where I want to be, in terms of my knowledge of British curriculum, but I think I have a good working knowledge of it. I couldn't quote you things about what the curriculum entails, but I can certainly use it enough to back up all the lessons that I plan.

Anyways, I don't really want to bore people by blabbing on and on about the curriculum, because regardless of where you are, that is bureaucratic bullshit. The bottom line is that I am much happier this year than I was last year, and it mostly has to do with the people I work with. They are a very lovely and supportive bunch, who are genuinely concerned about me as a person first, and a teacher second. It's really nice to be welcomed and accepted into a department for who I am, and for what I can bring to the table. I feel as if my efforts do not go unnoticed, and that I am actually appreciated. It's a nice change, and it goes miles in making me a happier teacher and person.

I have, however, had some issues that have been of major concern for me. My visa has been a huge bone of contention. I don't want to get into the specifics of it here and now, but at the root of it is the fact that the school 'underestimated' (their words) what it would take to get me a legal working visa. The truth is they didn't even consider it until it was too late, and when they started to look into what it would take to get me a working visa, they realized they'd let too much time pass.

The news was broken to me, over my lunch break, that after November 9th the school could no longer legally employ me on my current visa. I was dumbstruck. I wasn't entirely sure what was expected of me, or what this news even meant. Was I out of a job on that date? Were they forcing me back home, and saying 'Sorry about your luck?'. I started to cry in the Finance office, and asked 'What do you want me to do?'.

I was told I would have to go back to Canada, and re-apply.

'I can't go back until Christmas. I can't afford it...' was my reply.

All I got in return was a blank stare. The man pushed a box of tissues at me. I took one, wiped my eyes and stood up.

'This is bullshit!' I said, before slamming the door and leaving.

I walked back to the English office, crying all the way. When I sat down, everyone was around me, asking what was wrong. The Department head quickly ushered me out of the office and into her own private one. She asked what was wrong, and when I explained she was livid. She stormed out of the room, and came back a few moments later. She told me I wouldn't be teaching the last lesson of the day - two of my colleagues would split my group - and that I should spend the last hour trying to sort out the next steps to take. She also had me call the union.

I did as she said, and called the union, as well as searched the Internet for answers.

To make a long story short, I found out that the school COULD have had me apply for a leave to remain, which would have gotten me a working permit at the school for up to three years, or until termination of employment. However, you need at least a month to put in that application, and I wouldn't have had time, at this stage, to do that. The only option was that I return to Canada.

I called home, and sorted it out with my Mum that I would come home on my October half term, and get the ball rolling as quickly as possible.

The next day, I e-mailed the Finance guy, telling him I would go home in October, but that they had to support me through it, with the knowledge that when I returned I would retain my job AND be paid for the time I missed. I also asked for some compensation for the visa application (which was not cheap), and asked if they'd also help comp the flight.

I got a reply back saying he'd managed to sort out my staying until Christmas (how convenient), and that they'd give me 150 pounds towards the costs on my return to England and that the job would be waiting for me should I return to England. I am still a bit annoyed at the terms in which it was worded to me, but in the end I cannot do much else. I am returning home at Christmas, and have booked an appointment to apply for a working visa - it could get turned down, in which case I will be royally screwed, but I am really hoping that it is not. I hate to say this, because I know it hurts people back home, but I do have a life here in England, and its not one that I want to give up. I have a wonderful boyfriend, whom I love more than anything. I also really, really enjoy my job, and adore the people I work with. I have high hopes of spending a good number of years at this school, working and developing my own teaching. I've already been asked to help teach a Media course next year, which would be amazing! I have great hopes for my future in England, and I would hate for it all to be cut short, simply because the school 'underestimated' the visa application process. I feel cheated by the school, and if I don't get the visa, I'm not entirely sure what I will do...

But anyways, I'm told myself that I must remain positive throughout this whole thing. I don't know why I would be denied the visa, and I just have to keep thinking that that will not happen. I will get the visa, and I will return, and do what I was meant to do!

I'll blog more later! I promise it won't be so long in between!

On The New Year

Well, I am three full days into the new school year, and slowly but surely I feel as if things are off to a good start.

The first day was a bit of a write off, as I had to stay with my form group for two lessons (doing nothing, essentially, which was a huge bore), taught lesson three and four, and then had a whole school assembly lesson five. The students I had for those two lessons seemed decent enough. The one group was a bottom set ten group; this means that typically they're the weaker students, the ones who need a little bit more one-on-one work. There are 7 students in the class, in total, as well as one TA (Teachers Assistant). She seemed like a bit of a finger-pointer - all flash, no substance - but I could have hastily judged her. We shall see. The second group was one of my two top set year eight groups. They were chatty and energetic, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

Yesterday was the first full teaching day for me, and again it went decently enough. I'd like to say that it went better than my first full day last year, but when I try to think back to that day, I am left with a blank. I think after I publish this post I may go back and read what I wrote last year, to refresh my memory a little bit. Anyways, the day was decent, as I said. There wasn't a whole lot that really stood out in my mind worth mentioning.

Besides my form group, that is.

We are NOT getting off on the right foot. It's a group of year 11 students, and I feel as if they are severely trying to take advantage of my 'new to the school' status. This school is quite hard on the uniform policy, though I can understand why. The uniform at the school is much nicer than at my previous school; there is a white button up polo, tie, pullover and blazer that makes up the entire uniform. Students are expected to wear the entire uniform, blazer included, at all times. Only when the teacher says students can remove their blazers are they allowed to take it off. My students, however, keep pushing the uniform boundaries with me. I walked in this morning, and had been there only a few seconds, when a more senior member of staff walked through my room.

I don't know how she did it, she must have amazing eyesight, because she instantly lit into a girl for having nail polish on (it is against the rules). She hauled her out of the room, and gave her a tongue lashing in the hall before sending her to remove the polish. She then came back, and put the entire class to task for 'taking advantage of such a young and promising young teacher'. They sat silent, eyes down, as she had a go at them, and I was secretly quite happy that someone could finally get them to shut up.

However, as soon as she left, they started to kick off again. I tried to relay some messages, and they continued to talk over me. I stood there, mouth open, for a moment, trying to muster up the energy required to screech at them.

I didn't have to though, as the department head chose this moment to make her presence known; she also came in, guns blazing, at my form. She took them to task again for being disrespectful to me, glowering down at any eyes that chanced to look at her.

After the second telling-off, they settled down for the rest of our time together, but it wasn't an ideal start to the day. It also left a bad taste in my mouth, in terms of the year 11 class I was going to meet that afternoon. It made me very nervous about that group. I kept thinking of all the ways the lesson could go wrong, and it was starting to put my stomach in a knot.

However, as soon as the year 11 group came into my room, I knew I'd misjudged the year group. They were lovely, mature, and listened to me. They were the first group all week to sit silently and do the short writing task I assigned. I was awed. I told them as such. They had a chuckle, and said that last year they'd been quite chatty, and that likely they'd have chatty days this year as well, but that they'd try to buckle down. They seemed to have a lot of respect for each other, listening to each other as they spoke. This is a good sign to me, because it means that if I can gain their respect they will treat me the same, and not talk when I talk.

Anyways, I started the day with a very poor start, but ended it on a very high note. I am left now feeling pretty strongly about things, and I hope that this feeling remains. I would love to have a happy year this year, instead of the turbulent one I had last year.

I will keep you posted.

On Being Apprehensive About The New Year

I've got a few days of freedom left.

The new school year, which entails a new school for me, starts in just over a week's time. I thought I'd be a lot better prepared for this, mentally, but as the date looms nearer and nearer, I start to feel more and more nervous about it. Despite the fact that I now have a full years teaching experience under my belt, I am still very afraid that I am 'unskilled' in the ways of teaching. I worry now that I caught some sort of break at Swavesey (though, even in writing that I have to contain a chuckle, as that cannot possibly be true), and magically was able to make my way through the year. What if I am not cut out for this new school? What if the students are even more horrendous to me, and they cause me to suffer any number of clamities, up to and including a mental breakdown?!

I know you may think I am being silly and melodramatic, and I will admit that I am. However, one cannot escape such nagging thoughts. In the back of my mind I know that I am a great teacher. I also know that I'm a pretty strong woman, to have made it this far. I also know I'm in a much better position this year than I was last year. I think if you go back and read what I was writing at this time last year (it was August 23rd, 2008 that I landed in England!)there will be a stark difference in narrative; I was so obviously unskilled and unversed in a large number of things. I didn't know the British Curriculum. I didn't have any friends. I didn't have a place to live. I didn't understand the accents. I didn't understand the culture and the customs (trust me, there are stark differences). I now have a much better grasp on nearly all of those things, the accent aside. A year in, and I still struggle to understand some of what people are saying to me, my own boyfriend included. It's a slow process, I reckon.

I think the one thing that will really help me out this year is my newfound understanding of the curriculum, and the way things work here. I struggled for months with the curriculum last year, and it wasn't until I was thrown head-first into things that it started to click for me. Now I have a pretty good understanding of how things work, and will be starting the year with a much more solid foundation, in terms of where I need to go with my students. I floundered last year, quite badly. I will be the first to admit that the first two terms (all the way to Christmas) were pretty much rubbish. My teaching was rubbish, my assignments were rubbish, and my marking was rubbish. It wasn't until I had time for a little reflection (and a new laptop, with a much easier to manipulate Microsoft PowerPoint 2007) that I truly came into my own. Now I think I can create and plan really visually awesome and mentally stimulating lessons, using my creativity (which grew out of my increasing comfort with the curriculum) and my technological flare. I am by no means a computer whiz; I don't make elaborately complicated presentations, but I do make them very visually appealing, and try to include as little text as possible. For me, the PowerPoints are not about getting loads of boring information across to the students. Instead, they are my interactive lesson plans. Instead of writing my lessons plans out on paper, I include all my steps (and reminders to myself, in very subtle language) on various slides. With loads of images, videos and sounds. It's the best and easiest way for me to plan my lessons, and the students seem to respond well to them. They know that every lesson I do includes a PowerPoint, and when they're off ill, or for any other reason, they know they can ask me for the PowerPoint they missed to be able to see what we did.

It works well for me, and is something I am good at. I plan to do it for the forseeable future. It's a skill I didnt' have at this time last year, but one I definitely have now.

I hope that the students at my new school come to appreciate my style of teaching, because I know it took some time at the old one. Time for the students to come to terms with me, as a person and a teacher. I'm going to try to start off being more strict. I have to earn their respect as a teacher first and foremost, which was something I struggled with last year. I am going to follow the school rules to a T, and be consistent. Once we've established that I mean business, then I can let up and get comfortable. But I'm smarter now. I know that being nice to students right off the bat will not get you anywhere. It just shows them you're weak. I don't want to be the pushover this year, and the only person who can control that happening is me.

I'm going to give it my all, and hope for the best.

I'm still nervous though. Dreadfully nervous. But a wise friend of mine once said that being nervous is a good thing, because it shows you care.

Obviously I do care; I want to be the best teacher I can be. I want to be the best teacher in the school. Or at least have the students view me that way. At the end of the day, that's what matters most to me; having students view me as an effective and good teacher.

Fingers crossed that I can achieve that level of success.

Cheers.

On The End Of My First Year Teaching

Gosh, I am being really shit at this blogging thing lately, aren't I? I used to be so regular at it, and then all of a sudden I got a social life, and bam, no more time for me to record my thoughts. I am terribly sorry for those of you who get a kick out of reading this. I got a kick out of writing it, mainly because I have a penchant for blathering on mindlessly. I'm one of those people who feels that my thoughts are all-important --- to myself. Oddly, I enjoy writing these things, and then immediately going through and reading what I've just written. It kind of allows me to reflect a little bit better. It may sound strange and self-loving, I know, but that's the honest truth. I'm not one to cover anything up. What you see is what you get.

Anyways, I could probably write a whole story about my last few weeks of teaching, but suffice it to say, I'm (yet again) not really in much of a mood to type out the whole thing. The last day was a good one, on a general level. The entire last week I just felt like I had checked out - and the kids had too. My lessons, while still teaching the curriculum, were a bit lacking my usual flair. I also relied heavily on DVDs on the last day. I just could not shake the feeling that a) I didn't care, that b) the kids didn't care, and c) my memories of my own education never had me learning on the last day. It just doesn't make sense to learn on the last day. You're not getting tested or marked on anything, so what is the point? I was also completely out of the mindset of being at my school. A few uber lazy year 10 students handed me some severely overdue coursework, which I was kind enough to (begrudgingly) mark whilst watching DVDs in my other lessons.

I received many cards, candies, cakes and gifts. It was touching, because students that I thought had no regard for me were the ones that expressed the most sadness at seeing me leave. It was heartwarming.

I will undoubtedly miss the students at the school. They can be an inspiring lot, if you get past the trust issues and the laziness (which is extremely hard to do). I won't miss the school itself, of the bureaucracy, or the department in which I worked. That lot, for the most part, can fade into memory for me. A few of them will be kindly remembered, but most won't. One man in particular didn't even bother to say goodbye to me. What a douche. He can rot, for all I care, because he's a pompous little asshole.

But no matter. It is over. I never have to set foot in that school again. If you've read this from the start, you'll know what a trial this past year has been. It's been tough. I've learnt a lot; about teaching, about children, and about myself. I've grown in immense ways, and in ways I never thought imaginable at this time last year. I'd like to think I'm a new person, but really I'm not. I'm the same ol' me, but a little wiser, a little tougher, and a little more prepared. Just a little though.

I am still very nervous about next year, and the new challenge that will bring to me. I feel more prepared than I was last year, starting at a new school, but I still see so many challenges along the way. I'm scared, but I'm also ready. I feel like the fresh start will really give me the chance I need to finally be the teacher I wanted to be, way back in teachers college.

This isn't to say I'm not already that teacher, but I'm not exactly what I had imagined...not quite. I need to have a lot more respect to be the teacher I want to be. Obviously that comes with time, but I'm willing to put it in...so I hope I get it back.

Anyways, thats about all I feel up to writing for now.

My parents are over for a visit, and it's been absolutely lovely to see them. Its so nice to be in the same room with them again, to just chat. Even just watching the television with them is nice, because it takes me back to a simpler time, when I was living at home. I love my parents, and miss them terribly. I dread having them leave to go back to Canada, because it is so comforting to know they're in the same country as me right now. They may not be with me, at the moment, but I feel they are much closer, much more accessible. I feel less detached from home, knowing they are here. It's weird, but true. Seeing them also makes me regret, just a little, my decision to stay here. There are so many reasons for me not to go home, but seeing my parents reminds me of the one reason TO go back; my family. I miss them a lot. The idea of not being near to them for the rest of my life is very intimidating, and its not something that I would do lightly. Obviously, the desire for me to stay in England rests not just in being able to work, but being able to love. I do feel I've met someone who is worth staying here for. He's a really fabulous young man, and right now, the thought of leaving him is out of the question. Which makes things very confusing for me, because I want to stay here and start my future here, but I also have such a strong pull to go home, in my family. They'd be very upset if I chose to stay in England.

It's all so hard to work out, but I know that for the time being I have to focus on the forthcoming year. Whatever happens after that happens. I have to take it one day at a time.

Cheers

On Writing a Poem

Crushed

Do you really thinks so little,
Of my thoughts,
My views,
My stare

That you'd roll your eyes
And laugh at
All the ways I show I care?

Do I really factor so small,
With the way I try to show
How you're killing me with 'kindness'
Despite the fact I know

You disregard by concern,
And misinterpret my distaste.
You clearly just don't give a damn,
A fact you make with haste.

I'm fed up with trying to change you,
It's a battle never won.
I could try until my face was blue,
Till the setting of the sun.

One day I pray you'll notice,
And feel a pang of some regret,
For the teacher you crushed daily
With your voice,
Your hate,
Your threat.

On June Being Nearly Done

I feel I must apologize; I really have been slacking on updating this thing lately. However, I really have been super busy. I've been trying to secure a job for next year (which I was finally successful at obtaining), trying to plan for my two new year 7 groups (it's proven to be MORE work to have these classes than the two year 11groups that I lost - yet another bone of contention that I have these days), having a healthy social life with my wonderful new man, and generally just trying to survive.

I could probably type for ages, and spin a really nice yarn, about everything that's happened over the past few weeks. I've got a few narratives that I'd like to put out there, but I also don't want to bore people with the mediocrity of my life.

I suppose where I should begin is with the tale of my successful job interview.

It started at the ungodly early hour of 5:30 am. I had to get up early, because they'd asked me to be at the school at 8 in the morning, which is before classes start. Usually that wouldn't be a big deal, as I'm at my school now at around that time (or maybe 10 minutes after). However, because the school isn't as close as my current school, I had to work out a different travel plan. Unfortunately the only option open to me, due to where I currently live, was calling a taxi. I knew it was going to cost me a pretty penny, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. The taxi arrived at 7am, and whisked me on my way.

It was a pretty long ride. If you've ever lived or travelled in England, I think you can sympathize when I say that the roads here are laid out in the most inconvenient way; you can only get into towns or cities via a few select roads. It's not like back home, where you can enter a town on one of many different side or residential roads. In England it seems as if they want to make life hard for communters. You can walk anywhere in this country, and have a multitude of pathways to choose from, but if you're driving you're pretty much stuck with one route. There are rarely alternative routes, unless you want to get sidetracked. It seems like in order to get from A to B you are forced to go through C first, backtrack around D and then finally your path will bring you to B. It's ridiculous. Whoever designed the roadworks here must have been on drugs. You cannot get onto the highways at multiple points either. There are very few spots where you can merge onto a highway. One way, baby.

But anyways, I am digressing. The trip to the school seemed to take an eternity. We also encountered pretty conjested traffic (and this was on COUNTRY roads, mind you), and I started to get a bit nervous that I would be late.

Finally we arrived in the village. Unfortunately, neither myself nor the cab driver knew where the college was. However, he followed some signs, and we found it easily enough. However, unbenounced to us, the school is situated on two sites. I was dropped off at the second site. It was a bit of a trek for me, and I made a few wrong turns, but eventually I found my way to the office.

Walking up to the school, I was struck with how beautiful it was. It seemed to me to be located in a cream colouted, Victorian style mansion. The front entrance was a large, floor to ceiling door wooden door, with marble columns and a round marble porch. As I walked into the reception, I definitely got the impression that the place had been converted from a former home. In the centre, past the main reception, was a large wooden staircase, leading upstairs somewhere. Around me where a few spacious rooms, with high ceilings and wooden floors.

I walked up to the recpetion desk, got a vistors badge, and waited to be collected. Soon one of the assistant heads came and brought me to a meeting room, to fill in a bunch of forms. I was then chatted up by him, and he basically explained that the day would run fairly laid-back. He hinted that they'd already decided to hire me, based on what they'd heard from my current head of department, and that today was just to ensure that it was going to be a good fit. This made me feel a little more secure about the process, as interviews in England can be very daunting.

I was then met by the department head, who was very laid back and friendly. She was a cheery looking, bubbly woman, who made many jokes to try and put me at ease. She seemed to not take things super seriously, which also served to put me at ease. I was definitely starting to feel pretty good about this school.

The department head lead me up the wide wooden stairs, telling me that students did not get to walk up the stairs; it was a privelege only teachers had. They creaked loudly with each step, which instantly made me think of my home in Tillsonburg. We laughed at the noise, and it was explained to me that the building had initally been built by a race horse jockey in the 1900s. However, due to gambling, he had lost all his money, and hence the house. It was then bought by the village and turned into a posh grammar school. Years later it was bought out by the public system, and merged with the school across the pathway (which is why the school is in two sites), to become the school it is today. The English and Maths departments are located in this old main building, and the other departments are in the other half.

I conducted my lesson after this, which I felt went really well. I had a good rapport with the students, which I think was observed. They were also eager to discuss some of the topics I had at hand (the lesson was on facts and opinions), which I think boded well for me.

After the lesson, I was whisked into the 'English Teachers Jacuzzi', which is the comfy English office. It was laden with soft chairs, tables, a mini-fridge, and loads of books and sweets. I was chatted up, and felt completely at home.

I was then given a tour of the school by two year 8 students, and finished with my interview with a panel of governors and the department head.

I answered the questions as honestly as possible, and with as much confidence as I could muster, and it paid off. I was offered the job.

I quickly accepted.

I am so eager to start at this school, because it is absolutely beautiful, and the staff seems very very friendly.

I will update more, as it comes up.

Cheers.

On Just Saying

I know I've been awol for the past little while; it's been a busy time for me. I'm in a pretty decent place in life though, all things considered. They could be better, but they could also be a hell of a lot worse. I'm still looking for work, but I remain positive about that. I'll find something.

I'm happy. I'm with a really amazing guy these days, and he makes me smile.

On Wanting A Rudding Job Already!

Jezus, this job search thing is harder than I thought; you hear all the time that they're short English teachers, or teachers in general, but when push comes to shove what they mean to say is they're short BRITISH English teachers. And in my interview experience, that's just not the case. I'm really annoyed with getting passed over for jobs just because I'm Canadian, and therefore not as experienced with the British education system. Yah, thats true. So what. I came here with very little knowledge, and for someone starting from square one, I'd like to think I've done pretty well for myself. I'm a fast learner, and I've made very few mistakes along the way. Sure, I'm not perfect; I had some mishaps, but nothing monumental. Apparently that means very little though; the ability to adapt isn't as good as I had thought.

Its just blooming frustrating, to look at the job market worldwide, and have to constantly be worrying. It's driving me mad. I just want some security for next year, and I know in this crazy economy that's a lot to ask, but I'm still asking.

Ah, I could rant on and on about the interview I went to today, but I'll just leave it at that. They passed me over for some old fart lady teacher, who had more experience than me. Obviously, on a realistic level, I cannot fault them for that in the slightest. Education really isn't the type of profession where you can afford to take risks. You've got young lives on the line. But dammit, going the safe route vs going a new (but not unreliable) route still doesn't fly with me.

But whatever. The job that I'm meant to get will come soon enough. I hope.

I hate worrying.

On Something Something In The Month Of May

I realise that the month of May is now done and dusted, but I do feel as if I didn't blog nearly as much as I could have during the month. I would like to say it is because I was terribly busy - in fact, that may very well be the case, I can't really recall. I think mostly it was that it was a whirlwind of activity, from start to finish. A lot of things happened in the month, and it's often hard to keep track. Sometimes I feel as if time is slipping through my fingers before I have time to realise what I've lost. I wish that it would slow down a little.

For one thing, I cannot believe that the end of my first year teaching is nearly upon me. I feel as if it went by way too fast, now that the end is in sight. I definitely think I've grown a lot in this year. I don't necessarily even mean just as a teacher; I think as a person I have grown a lot as well. I was talking to my friend Rachelle today, and she made a comment about how she hasn't changed. It made me wonder if I had. It's hard for me to judge, because I'd like to say that I haven't, but I also haven't been around my friends and family in months (at least not for prolonged periods), and if I were going to change at all, they would be the ones who would notice. The friends I make here only know the Krista that I am when I am here. That person could be totally different from Canadian Krista; how would I know?! It's a weird thing to think about, and I do hope that I have stayed the same. I mean, obviously I'm perhaps a little bit more 'worldly', having now lived in England for nearly a year (and planning on staying for more). I've been fortunate enough to travel (not nearly enough, I might add), and seen most of the United Kingdom. I still need to venture across the channel though. That'll come next year, I hope.

It all hinges on my ability to find a job for September. I do hope to get that all sorted soon, so I can stop worrying. It's hard looking at the lack of jobs in Canada. I've already made up my mind to stay in England, but I still worry. I miss home a great deal; I miss my family and I miss my friends. I miss 'home' and everything that it entails. I miss my cat. I just miss being there. But I also know that I'm not done here. I'm not done with this part of my life, this road of the journey. I don't want to say that I'd stay in England forever, because we'll never know how the future turns out, but I also can't say that I won't. It's weird. Really weird. I feel that my future is really up in the air. I'm not sure where I want to be in five years. I'm not sure who I want to be in five years. I just hope that in five years time I'm comfortable in my career as a teacher, and that I am FINALLY madly in love with some amazing guy (who, I must admit, I hope is British - I do adore their accents. Nearly a year into it, and I still do not find the accent unattractive).

Anyways, I've gone off on a bit of a tangent here, and for that I apologize. I will try to update this more, so that I'm not as disconnected from the people back home. I will try to keep you posted on the comings and goings of my life.

Things in my current job are going well. The kids are really starting to grasp that I won't be back in September, and a lot of them are feeling quite sad about it. Not a day goes by that at least one of them doesn't express some anger and concern about my position in September. A few have said they are going to chain me to my desk. It makes me feel pretty good to know that the kids like and respect me that much; they don't want to see me go. I remember I had a teacher like that once, and I remember how much respect it takes to be able to TELL a teacher how you feel. So I really do appreciate the kids, and their concern for me. I am going to miss them a lot. I'd like to think that I will never forget them, but knowing me and my bad memory, it's likely that I will, some day. Definitely not some day soon though.

I know I had a bit of a rough start with some of them, but at the end of the day they're all pretty wonderful. The school itself has some wonderful elements about it. It is by no means perfect, but come the end of July I will be a much stronger teacher, thanks to the experiences I've had at the school. I will owe the school a great deal.

Anyways, I am going to sign off now, and leave you with some more Taylor Swift lyrics, just because I enjoy the song.

Cheers.

-----------------------------------------------------

There's somethin' 'bout the way
The street looks when it's just rained
There’s a glow off the pavement
Walk me to the car
And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there
In the middle of the parking lot
Yeah

We're drivin' down the road
I wonder if you know
I'm tryin' so hard not to get caught up now
But you're just so cool
Run your hands through your hair
Absent mindedly makin' me want you

And I don't know how it gets better than this
You take my hand and drag me head first
Fearless
And I don't know why but with you I'd dance
In a storm in my best dress
Fearless

So baby drive slow
‘Til we run out of road in this one horse town
I wanna stay right here in this passenger’s seat
You put your eyes on me
In this moment now capture every memory

And I don't know how it gets better than this
You take my hand and drag me head first
Fearless
And I don't know why but with you I’d dance
In a storm in my best dress
Fearless

Well you stood there with me in the doorway
my hands shake
I'm not usually this way but
You pull me in & I’m a little more brave
It’s the first kiss, it's flawless, really somethin’, it’s fearless.

And I don't know how it gets better than this
You take my hand and drag me head first
Fearless
And I don't know why but with you I’d dance
In a storm in my best dress
Fearless

On Being A Lazy Git

Ahh, I really feel like such a rubbish teacher these days. That's saying a lot, considering I'm on my holidays right now, and technically shouldn't even be thinking about teaching. However, the fact remains that I brought a rather sizable stack of marking home with me, and I've really failed to put much of a dent into it. I did manage to complete all my year 10 mock exams. However, I also have to mark Allisson's groups (she went to Japan for the break, and I figured I would be a great mate and take that load off her back. She's had a rough go of it, so I don't mind....not really), and I've yet to even touch that pile. I also have to get through a few dozen year 8 gothic short stories; these are from my two top set groups, which means that the kids are insanely bright, and therefore insanely overachieving, which in turn means they will write a LOT. Looking through the pile....I can confirm that they have, in fact, written a lot. At least it will be a little more entertaining than reading boring coursework essays.

Ugh.

Why did I mention coursework!? I've only just remembered that I set a due date for the first Monday back. I really am a glutton for punishment. Ha.

Honestly though, I moan, but I don't really mean it. I think I moan because it is expected of me. I'd be considered a weirdo if I didn't, right? :P Ha ha.

Anyways, I am going to try and get through as much marking as I can tonight, so that I can go out tomorrow night (Bury St Edmunds is in the works, apparently) and enjoy myself.

Cheers.

On Blogging On My May Half Term Break

It's pretty insane how fast the time is going, these days. I have always found that once the weather starts to warm up, the days speed past. Perhaps it is because we find ourselves enjoying the days more; you know how they always say that the things you want to go slowly speed by, while the things you want to get over and done with drag on. It seems a bit bizarre though, considering the fact that the days are technically longer (with more hours of sunlight, anyways), yet they seem to slip out of your fingers. I can't believe that it was 5 weeks ago that I was in Canada. It seems like just yesterday, and yet I know it wasn't. I miss being home still, with all the comforts that comes with it, but at the same time I really am nowhere near being done in England.

That said, I really need to lock down a job for the fall. I was offered two days at week at my current school, but that offer isn't one I can seriously consider. As much as I would love to stay at the school (for the children only, trust me), two full days of work is not enough to get me by. I can't even supply on the three days I don't work at the school, because I don't have a car. Its not very easy to get from one place to another without transportation. The buses are fine and dandy if you're not in a hurry, but they're by no means reliable.

My fingers are still crossed that something will come up soon, because I really do hate this waiting game.

I start with two groups of year 7s next week as well. I am prepared for the one class, and wholly under prepared for the other. It's not my fault though, as I was told I would be teaching Shakespeare's 'A Midsummer Nights Dream', only to be told on Friday (when I was not in) that it was being changed to 'Argue the Case', whatever that may be. I mean, talk about absolute SHIT notice. How exactly do they expect me to plan anything decent, if I wasn't even there on the last day to get the appropriate resources. What this NOW means is that I have to go into the school, on my holiday, and find the resources that I need. I am really quite frustrated with the lack of communication and preparation at this school. They should have provided me with way more notice than they did, because now I am left feeling like I've got an impossible workload, with very little idea of where I am going and what I am doing. I am not impressed, at all. As sad as it sounds, its all just another reason why I cannot continue to stay at the school; I'm under appreciated. It just seems like another example of 'too little, too late'....which is another underlying theme in my life.

School aside though, things in my life are looking up. Way up. You know I don't like to blog about personal things though, because you never know who may read this, and take it the wrong way. Suffice it to say, I've met someone new, and he's the total package; very very good looking, sweet, funny, intelligent... but anyways, I don't want to jinx it by saying any more. You know how it is... don't want to make any premature leaps, gotta look first.

I've not got a lot more to say at the moment; my mind is kind of in a lazy mood these days. I'll try to find some time to write more later in the week, should something come up.

Cheers.

On Having A Good Day Teaching

I left the school on Friday smiling. This isn't something that happens on a daily basis, so it's a noteworthy event. I must admit that when I entered the building in the morning I was unsure about how the day would unfold. It was our last day with the year 11 students; they're off for the rest of the year, only coming in to write exams. This is the only time I've seen the British system try to let the students access their learning in an independent fashion. It's the only time that anything they learn is up to them. I doubt they'll use it though; most of my students simply see it as the start to their summer, with a few pesky exams in the middle. Ah well, those students who are worried about doing well will do well; those who muck about will have an eye opening experience ahead of them.

Anyways, on Friday's I typically have my higher 11s first period, then a free, then my bottoms, lunch, my 9s and finish with my 8s. Fridays are usually a pretty high-energy day, with the kids coming in with bucketloads of food, sugar and hyperactive hormones. I usually have to brace myself for a day in which I am constantly using my 'high' voice - the high pitched voice I reserve for trying to shout over students who are in a constant state of titters and giggles. I stock myself well with tea.

When the 11s came in, they were mostly subdued. All of them commented on how this was their last ever English lesson at the school, and with me. The got their folders out (binders, for my Canadian readers), and sat looking at me wistfully. We shared a few jokes, and then I powered up the projector and started in on the 'quiz' like Literature exam revision. It was a silly thing my colleagues had made, where a character name and image came on the board, and then the kids had to see who could talk about that character for a minute. They were apprehensive about doing it. I stood there for a good five minutes trying to coax someone into trying to do it. I was met with a few arguments about how the game was 'unrealistic' and 'unfair', as it put too much 'on the spot pressure' on the students. I scoffed at them, and said they were making excuses for their possible lack of knowledge. They rebuffed me for that, but thats what I had wanted them to do. I pushed their buttons some more, telling them that if they couldn't talk about the character for a minute, then they were going to struggle to write about the character for ten. That got them. A few shot worried glances at each other, a few pulled some nasty faces at me for scaring them.

Finally, a student volunteered to go. They didn't make it to a minute, but the ice was finally broken. Only a few students did any of the talking, while the others kind of mucked about, but it was the best I could do with them, and frankly went better than I had expected.

At the end of lesson, they all got together at the front of the class for a picture. I took one for them, and then they asked me to be in one as well. We took a few, some kids hugged each other, and then the bell went.

"Make sure to take your folders! I don't want them here!" I said as they started to pack up.

"Aw Miss, you don't want the memories?" one of them asked.

"I've got enough in my head, thanks," I replied.

As they left, they all thanked me, and said I'd done a really great job. A few said sorry for being prats sometimes. I smiled at them, and wished them luck. I'll miss them.

My bottom 11s were even cuter. They asked for individual pictures with me, and asked me to sign their leavers books. I did. It was cute. They gave me sweets as well.

During the lesson, I asked them to write a letter, to work on their letter writing skills for the exam. At the end of it, one of the boys stays behind, hands me a folded piece of paper, and leaves. I unfolded it after he had left, and saw it was a letter written to me. In it, he said that he was sorry for not working hard enough in lesson, and for being a pain in the ass. He said it wasn't just with me that he did this, but with all his teachers, and was no reflection on my teaching ability. He then signed it, and added a postscript: "I will get a C on the exam, and make you proud. I promise."

As I read it, my eyes watered up a bit, because it was really very sweet.

The rest of the day went by without incident. My 9s were good; they have been ever since I got rid of the one annoying student; the one that made me lose my cool before the Easter break. After sorting out the fact that he wasn't meant to be with me these last few weeks, I happily sent him packing, and the lessons the rest of the week went fine. It really was just him that was holding me, and everyone else, back. If only I'd done it sooner.

My 8s came in after their lunch for the last period of the day bouncing off the walls. They usually come in quite hyper, but today they seemed especially ridiculous. They're a great bunch though, so I kind of did the 'fake mad teacher look' and they settled. It helps that they're really loving the Dracula unit.

As we were reading through the play, I saw a note being passed around. This was something new for me, in any of my lessons. I chose to ignore it though, as they were otherwise following along very well. At the end of the lesson, they came up to me with the note, and said it was for me.

At the top of the page was written : The following students want Miss Carson to stay next year.

They had all signed it.

It was so cute. I smiled at them, and said it was a very sweet thought. They asked me if it would do any good to hand it in to someone. I said I doubted it, and then tacked it beside my desk, on the wall, and said I'd use it to remember them. They all smiled, and then left as the bell rang.

Overall, it was a very cute day. The students made me feel appreciated, which is something I've been lacking lately.

In fact, I must admit this entire week has been a good one for me. Things are going well, and I'm in a good place. Feeling good, feeling great. Hopefully things remain on the sunny side.

x

On Blabbering Away

So today I was sitting in my classroom, plowing through piles and piles of work, thinking that the only thing that would make it all worthwhile was the fact that in a few short days I'd be two classes lighter, when the department head came into my room, and perched herself on a table beside my desk. I knew something was coming.

She started off by asking me if I was doing alright, to which I replied in the positive. She inquired about the progress I'd been making in the job search, and I had little to report (because there is no movement on that front, at the moment. That's a whole other issue, but I'd rather avoid it). All the nicey-nicey was making me wonder what was going on, and my suspicions were confirmed when she informed me of the changes to come, once the year 11s left.

Apparently I am to take on 3 lessons a week from one of my colleagues; Year 7s, to be specific, which I don't teach at the moment. It didn't stop there though. I also had to pick up another year 7 lesson. That makes 4 new lessons a week. Admittedly, that means that I'm still 4 lessons lighter than I would have been with my two groups of 11s. However, I am slightly annoyed that because I am 'not staying next year' I am taking on other people's workloads so they can have MY free time to prep. I'm not entirely sure how that is fair. Not only do they swindle me of the chance to apply for the job, they also pile me with more work. Are you kidding me?

The worst thing is, I will do the extra work, because I want the experience. I want it, but I also don't. I don't really like being dumped on. It's not fair. I will likely get very little recognition for whatever work I do, as well.

I hope they don't expect me to plan all the lessons though. If I am taking over someone else's classes - classes I know nothing about - I don't want to do the legwork. I don't want to do the marking. That should be the actual teachers work, not mine. We'll see what I get roped into though.

Anyways.

My Mum told me I should blog more about the positive experiences I'm having here, but I really do find it hard to find good things to blog about. I feel, a lot of the time, that most of my time here is spent working too hard and putting up with shit treatment by people in my personal life. Its really frustrating.

I want to be able to meet and make friends that are going to contribute positively to my life. I am hoping that in the next few weeks that will happen. I am putting the wheels in motion. I have my fingers crossed. I also must admit I have a good feeling about things...kind of like things are already clicking, at the early stages.

I'll start writing positive blogs when positive things start happening. This weekend has many possibilities.

Ta.

On Being Stupid

On Growing Up and Moving On

You'd have to be a complete moron not to notice that the last few posts I've had on here have consisted of ridiculous song lyrics, most of which recounted some form of being treated like shit, and moving on. I'd like to say that I've been acting in accordance with the songs, but it really wasn't until today that I've been 100% behind the message they all give: Fuck with me, and it's game over for you.

I also wish I could say that it was only one area of my life that the songs apply to. However, as pathetic as it sounds, it's not. It's multiple arena's. It seems as though I generally pick shit people to befriend and love. I'm not entirely sure why I do that, but I would like to think it's not necessarily a personal fault, per say. I think my problem is that I am too trusting. I give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and usually think people deserve more than one chance. As it turns out, I probably should have heeded the warning signs. They were there. A true friend wouldn't need more than once shot to prove their merit. I know that now, and I won't make the same mistake again.

I a truly tired of being treated like the bad guy, when all I've been trying to do is make everyone happy. It's really frustrating when you put yourself on the line, heart and soul, and get the big R; rejected.

It's made more frustrating by the fact that back home I know I've got this amazing support base. I have the best family, and the best friends, and they'd do anything for me. They'd never let me get treated this way, walked over this way, abused this way. My sister would crack some skulls, trust me. She told one guy he had a vagina bigger than Rosie O'Donnell, okay? That's a damn big vagina. That's a damn good sister.

But I digress.

As shit as my life can be sometimes, in terms of how people treat me, there is always a silver lining. I've got some promising things on the horizon already. :)

School has been alright lately. It hasn't been anything to write home about. I'm making it through all right. Next week is my last week with my year 11s, then they are off for their exams. That will mean two less classes for me, which is going to be heavenly. I will be able to get a lot more done at school, which means my social life will pick up considerably (or at least be able to. I need to make more non-teaching friends for it to really pick up).

I'd write more, there is a ton to tell, but I really am in no mood for it.

Ta.

On Being Done With It, Once And For All

Well, now I offically know that the tree has fallen down, and frankly I am a bit relieved. The climb was mentally and physically exhausting me. I deserve way better than to be jerked around.

--------------------------------------------


All this time I was wasting hoping you would come around
I’ve been giving out chances everytime and all you do is let me down
And its taking me this long but baby I figured you out
And you think it will be fine again but not this time around

You don’t have to call anymore
I won’t pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don’t want to hurt anymore
And you can tell me that you’re sorry
But I won’t believe you baby like I did before
You’re not sorry no more, no more, no

Lookin’ so innocent
I might believe you if I didn’t know
Could’a loved you all my life
If you hadn’t left me waiting in the cold
And you got your share of secrets
And I’m tired of being last to know
And now you’re asking me to listen
Cuz its worked each time before

But you don’t have to call anymore
I won’t pick up the phone
This is the last straw
Don’t want to hurt anymore
And you can tell me that you’re sorry
But I don’t believe you baby like I did before
You’re not sorry no no no noo
You’re not sorry no no no noo

You had me calling for you honey
And it never would’ve gone away no
You use to shine so bright
But I watched our love it fade

So you don’t have to call anymore
I won’t pick up the phone
This is the last straw
There’s nothing left to beg for
And you can tell me that you’re sorry
But I won’t believe you baby like I did before

On Telling Me Why

I took a chance, I took a shot
And you might think I'm bulletproof but I'm not
You took a swing, I took it hard
And down here from the ground, I see who you are

I'm sick and tired of your attitude
I'm feeling like I don't know you
You tell me that you love me then you cut me down

And I need you like a heartbeat
But you know you got a mean streak
Makes me run for cover when you're around

And here's to you and your temper
Yes, I remember what you said last night
And I know that you see what you're doing to me
Tell me, why?

You could write a book on how
To ruin someone's perfect day
Well, I get so confused and frustrated
Forget what I'm trying to say, oh

I'm sick and tired of your reasons
I got no one to believe in
You tell me that you want me, then push me around

And I need you like a heartbeat
But you know you got a mean streak
Makes me run for cover when you're around

Here's to you and your temper
Yes, I remember what you said last night
And I know that you see what you're doing to me
Tell me, why?

Why do you have to make me feel small
So you can feel whole inside?
Why do you have to put down my dreams
So you're the only thing on my mind?

I'm sick and tired of your attitude
I'm feeling like I don't know you
You tell me that you want me then cut me down

I'm sick and tired of your reasons
I've got no one to believe in
You ask me for my love then you push me around

Here's to you and your temper
Yes, I remember what you said last night
And I know that you see what you're doing to me
Tell me, why? Why? Tell me, why?

I take a step back, let you go
I told you I'm not bulletproof
Now you know

On Bringing Down the Tree

I know that lately I haven't been posting much in the way of an actual blog. For that I apologize. It's just that I've been so busy these past few weeks, I can hardly keep my head on straight. I've been bombarded left and right with one situation to grapple with after another. I honestly feel physically exhausted, and it's only been a few weeks since the break. Someone, somewhere, is getting a great laugh out of this. They have to be. I'm going to be disappointed if SOMEONE is not at least entertained by the mishaps that I seem to stumble into, at every turn.

The worst thing is, I feel as if I am passively being subjected to this shit. It's not as if I am asking of all this drama to just fall on me. In fact, if you know me at all, you'll know that I am very much anti-drama. I tend to avoid it like the plague. I will often take the path of least resistance, in order avoid said drama, even if that path goes down a dark alley. I'd rather stake my way alone than have to wander into a snake nest.

Lately, however, ever decision that I make seems to be ending badly. I keep putting myself out on a limb, only to find that the limb breaks under the strain. The worst thing is, instead of falling to the ground, and taking that hard hit and broken bones (or ego, or heart, or whatever else is breakable in a woman), I grasp frantically at another branch, and keep trying to climb.

I think perhaps that is a sign of my character. I don't like to give up. It's not in my nature to quit anything without giving it my all. I am going to climb to the top of this damn tree, even if it means that once I get to the top the whole damn things falls down. At least at that point I will know that the tree is officially on the ground. It is incapable of being climbed, and it wasn't for my lack of trying. It just wasn't strong enough for me. In the end, I'd rather have that one HUGE fall, with total failure at the end. At least that way I'll know I've exhausted every available option, and only THEN has it all come crashing down.

It wasn't meant to be, if that's how it ends up.

This metaphor could be applied to a lot of things right now, so don't try to guess which one specifically it is. My life, my friendships, my love life, my job....pretty much everything could be explained using this metaphor.

Leave it to an English teacher to find a way to sum her entire life up in one succinct metaphor. If only my students could read this now.

I think they'd be proud.

Ta.

On Being Let Down

You let me down, cant fix you now
Thought i could count on you to be around
You bring me down, down, down way down

What is the problem
Are you taking me seriously
Is it a joke to you
Or maybe I'm a fool

Why am I trying
So hard to be the girl that you need
How is this fair to me
When you break through

This is to much
Don't call it love
You are the reason its so hard to trust
Boy this ain't what i wanted
And now its got to stop

You let me down, cant fix you now
Thought I could count on you to be around
You bring me down, down, down way down

No more tears
Why did I let you have so much control
I gave my arm to you
And you pushed me away

Why are you here oh
Don't you see I'm letting you go
The damage is done baby
I have nothing to say

Its gone to far
Don't know who you are
I think its better that we are apart

Babe I know where I am
And I know where your not

You let me down, cant fix you now
Thought I could count on you to be around
You bring me down, down, down way down

You let me down, thought I had had found
Some one to catch me when i hit the ground
You bring me down, down, down way down (ooooh)

Would you like it if
I did the same thing to
You and I lasted
Walking years on ma shoes

Boy theres no excuse
Cause of what you did theres no me and you

Would you like it if
I did the same thing
You wouldnt of liked
Walking in time

Boy theres no excuse
Thats who you are and im so over you

You let me down, cant fix you now
Thought I could count on you to be around
You bring me down, down, down way down

You let me down,thought I had had found
Some one to catch me when I hit the ground
You bring me down, down, down way down

Down
Down
Stop bringing me, stop bringing me
Down down
Oooh

On What Goes Around (Comes Back Around)

Hey boy, is she everything you wanted in a woman
You know I gave you the world
You had me in the palm of your hand

So why your love went away
I just can’t seem to understand
Thought it was me and you babe
Me and you until the end
But I guess I was wrong

Don’t want to think about it
Don’t want to talk about it
I’m just so sick about it
Can’t believe it’s ending this way

Just so confused about it
Feeling the blues about it
I just can’t do without ya
Tell me is this fair?

Is this the way it’s really going down?
Is this how we say goodbye?
Should’ve known better when you came around
That you were gonna make me cry
It’s breaking my heart to watch you run around
‘Cause I know that you’re living a lie
That’s okay baby ’cause in time you will find…

What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around

Now boy, I remember everything that you claimed
You said that you were moving on now
And maybe I should do the same
Funny thing about that is
I was ready to give you my name
Thought it was me and you, babe
And now, it’s all just a shame
And I guess I was wrong

Don’t want to think about it
Don’t want to talk about it
I’m just so sick about it
Can’t believe it’s ending this way
Just so confused about it
Feeling the blues about it
I just can’t do without ya
Can you tell me is this fair?

Is this the way things are going down?
Is this how we say goodbye?
Should’ve known better when you came around (should’ve known better that you were gonna make me cry)
That you were going to make me cry
Now it’s breaking my heart to watch you run around
‘Cause I know that you’re living a lie
That’s okay baby ’cause in time you will find

What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around

What goes around comes around
Yeah
What goes around comes around
You should know that
What goes around comes around
Yeah
What goes around comes around
You should know that

Don’t want to think about it (no)
Don’t want to talk about it
I’m just so sick about it
Can’t believe it’s ending this way
Just so confused about it
Feeling the blues about it (yeah)
I just can’t do without ya
Tell me is this fair?

Is this the way things are going down?
Is this how we say goodbye?
Should’ve known better when you came around (should’ve known better that you were gonna make me cry)
That you were going to make me cry
Now it’s breaking my heart to watch you run around
‘Cause I know that you’re living a lie
But that’s okay baby ’cause in time you will find

What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around
What goes around, goes around, goes around
Comes all the way back around

[Comes Around interlude:]

Let me paint this picture for you, baby

You spend your nights alone
And she never comes home
And every time you call her
All you get’s a busy tone
I heard you found out
That she’s doing to you
What you did to me
Ain’t that the way it goes

You cheated, boy
My heart bleeds, boy
So it goes without saying that you left me feeling hurt
Just a classic case
A scenario
Tale as old as time
Boy you got what you deserved

And now you want somebody
To cure the lonely nights
You wish you had somebody
That could come and make it right

But boy I ain’t somebody with a lot of sympathy
You’ll see

(What goes around comes back around)
I thought I told ya, hey
(What goes around comes back around)
I thought I told ya, hey
(What goes around comes back around)
I thought I told ya, hey
(What goes around comes back around)
I thought I told ya, hey

See?
You should’ve listened to me, baby
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Because
(What goes around comes back around)