So you know how sometimes you really want something, and you convince yourself over and over again that it's all working out the way you want it to, and then someone (or multiple someones) interfere and tell you it couldn't possibly happen? When I was in England, I really really wanted something, and was 100% convinced that if I was patient I'd get it in the end. Then the skeptics came around, and convinced me that I was wasting my time. Begrudgingly, I tried to forget about it. However, I was never wholeheartedly into the idea of giving up. Obviously if you're heart isn't into it, either for or against, you can't fully commit yourself.
Turns out I was given pretty shit advice, some of it from people with questionable motives. It's kind of made me second guess who I can really trust. Some people were clearly trying to manipulate me, which is in itself a bit appauling, and others were likely genuinely unaware. Overall, its taught me that I should just trust my own intuition, and sod what everyone else says. As it stands, I wasn't too far off the mark to begin with, and I could have very nearly made some horrendous mistakes. Luckily for me, I'm smarter than that, and I stuck to my guns, despite wavering slightly under the direction of other people's advice.
I won't make the same mistakes again, which is the silver lining to the whole experience. That, and the fact that I didn't slip far enough into making things irreversible.
Anyways, I've likely blabbed entirely too much, as per usual. I'm off to put on my game face.
Cheers
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
On Not Wanting To Return To England
I am loving it way too much, back in Canada. I didn't really realize how much I missed it, and the lovely people that inhabit it, until I came back. I missed it so much. I missed people so much...and just the thought of having to leave them again is killing me. So for the remainder of my time here, I'm not going to think about it.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
On How It Should Be Me
So I've recently downloaded the greatest hits by Simply Red. If you don't know who that is, you're crazy. I'm sure if you hear a few of his songs, you will realize who he is. Pretty solid stuff, I must admit. Anyways, I've been blasting it on my iPod, over my speakers, in school tonight. The sun 'Sunrise' has just finished playing, and I really like the chorus for some reason. I remember they played the song at Roots (either that, or my brain is thinking they did, because it's such a familiar song to me). I dig the song, and I'm note sure why. Anyways, the chorus really appeals to me, so I thought it fitting to quote it:
'I don't know if it's even in your mind at all...
It could be me...
At this moment in time.
Is it in you mind at all?
It should be me...
It could be me....
That's stuck in your mind
Forever.'
Don't ask why I did that. I couldn't explain it to you, even if I wanted to. What's more likely is that you'll just understand what I mean. Some of you, anyways. Others will likely remain completely in the dark. Rest assured, however, that you are not alone. I think on some level, I am there with you.
But anyways. The title of the blog isn't just about the song. It also applies, on some level, to my professional career. Oh how I should really get some kudos for my work. I know in the last few blogs I've been pointedly negative. I make no apologies for this, because it was, and in some ways still is, the way I felt. I still feel as if the negative comments I recieve greatly outweigh the postive. However, I've recently marked some new pieces of coursework from my year 10 group and it's just restored some of my faith in myself. I've marked 6 students work so far (they're the only ones to get it done EARLY), and have awarded 5 As and one B. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Their writing had markedly improved since the last piece of work, which I would like to think has SOMETHING to do with me. I'm hoping that perhaps they've taken on some of my advice in writing this new essay. They also seem to have really understood the poems (the essay was comparing and contrasting two poems), which means that I must have taught them something about how to read and analyze poetry. If this is the case, then it's a huge ego boost for me, because I used to consider poetry my weakest teaching subject. However, Mr. Smith (the wonderful teacher to whom I owe much of my teaching prowess, and in fact my career) really opened up my eyes to the wonders of teaching poetry. He showed me that it can be fun, and I've in effect tried to continue teaching poetry the way he taught it; with enthusiasm and through interesting activites. I'd like to think that the good marks in coursework are therefore a reflection of good practice, taught by me.
I'm going to think that, anyways, nuts to whatever anyone else says.
Anyways, my laptop charger has been royally fucked by my roomies, who ripped it out of the wall and tore it up.....stupid assholes. So my laptop will be rendered ineffectual in about twenty minutes time. That means I won't be online unless I'm on the internet at school...until I come home, and buy my new laptop. It's about damn time.
Try not to miss me too much....
Cheers
'I don't know if it's even in your mind at all...
It could be me...
At this moment in time.
Is it in you mind at all?
It should be me...
It could be me....
That's stuck in your mind
Forever.'
Don't ask why I did that. I couldn't explain it to you, even if I wanted to. What's more likely is that you'll just understand what I mean. Some of you, anyways. Others will likely remain completely in the dark. Rest assured, however, that you are not alone. I think on some level, I am there with you.
But anyways. The title of the blog isn't just about the song. It also applies, on some level, to my professional career. Oh how I should really get some kudos for my work. I know in the last few blogs I've been pointedly negative. I make no apologies for this, because it was, and in some ways still is, the way I felt. I still feel as if the negative comments I recieve greatly outweigh the postive. However, I've recently marked some new pieces of coursework from my year 10 group and it's just restored some of my faith in myself. I've marked 6 students work so far (they're the only ones to get it done EARLY), and have awarded 5 As and one B. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself. Their writing had markedly improved since the last piece of work, which I would like to think has SOMETHING to do with me. I'm hoping that perhaps they've taken on some of my advice in writing this new essay. They also seem to have really understood the poems (the essay was comparing and contrasting two poems), which means that I must have taught them something about how to read and analyze poetry. If this is the case, then it's a huge ego boost for me, because I used to consider poetry my weakest teaching subject. However, Mr. Smith (the wonderful teacher to whom I owe much of my teaching prowess, and in fact my career) really opened up my eyes to the wonders of teaching poetry. He showed me that it can be fun, and I've in effect tried to continue teaching poetry the way he taught it; with enthusiasm and through interesting activites. I'd like to think that the good marks in coursework are therefore a reflection of good practice, taught by me.
I'm going to think that, anyways, nuts to whatever anyone else says.
Anyways, my laptop charger has been royally fucked by my roomies, who ripped it out of the wall and tore it up.....stupid assholes. So my laptop will be rendered ineffectual in about twenty minutes time. That means I won't be online unless I'm on the internet at school...until I come home, and buy my new laptop. It's about damn time.
Try not to miss me too much....
Cheers
Friday, December 12, 2008
On Really Being A Disillusioned Bitch
It seems as if my anger knows no bounds, these days. I walk into the building now, and I seethe with it. It doesn't help when I go to my mailbox, and find a nice green form, requesting that I fill in all the details of my recent illness, to be discussed with the higher powers at the school here, and then sent of to the powers that be in Cambridgeshire County Council. It says its confidential, and that it's for payroll purposes. I scoffed at it, and threw it out. I don't get paid directly by the CCC, so they have no business prying into my affairs. They can go suck on it, for all I care.
I also got an e-mail detailing the 'Staff Training Day' on January 5th. There is something slotted in to 'discuss illness and sick leave'. Wow. Feels like yet another personal dig. Excuse me for being concerned about my health. I can't really dictate to my doctors, and the hospital that I had to visit twice, when it's convenient for ME to see THEM. They are doctors for Christs sake. They call the shots, and I gladly acquiesce. Ugh. I'm going to tune out for that part, and likely the entire day, of Training. It's bullshit, and we all know it.
Not to mention the fact that the Training day is, yet again, strictly departmental. This staff is so fragmented, it's not even funny. Since there is no staff room (yah, chew on that idea for awhile), its rare that I ever meet and mingle with other members of staff. If I didn't have friends in other departments, who I met through sheer determination to NOT be so lonely in September, then I'd never have a life outside school. It's like the higher powers frown upon staff socialization of any kind. English teachers talking with Maths teachers? Heaven forbid that. They might get crazy ideas, and overthrow us! Pffft. Stupid. Not sure what they hope to gain by keeping the staff so dismembered, but it certainly is a very noble effort.
There are plenty of people in this school that I don't know on a first name, or last name for that matter, basis. How horrible is that? These are people that work in the same building as me! Ridiculous.
Anyways, this entire post is just a basic reiteration of the fact that I am increasingly growing weary of this place. Again, I would like to point out that it is not necessarily the children that get me down (though in some cases, and classes, it is), but more the bureaucracy that exists in this school. And perhaps the country in general.
I can't wait for it to be a week today, and I can't wait to go back to a place where I fit in and feel normal.
I can't wait to be a Canadian amongst a sea of Canadians. Bring on those slow, flowing southwestern Ontario drawls (and cute southwestern Ontario boys). I'm ready for you.
I also got an e-mail detailing the 'Staff Training Day' on January 5th. There is something slotted in to 'discuss illness and sick leave'. Wow. Feels like yet another personal dig. Excuse me for being concerned about my health. I can't really dictate to my doctors, and the hospital that I had to visit twice, when it's convenient for ME to see THEM. They are doctors for Christs sake. They call the shots, and I gladly acquiesce. Ugh. I'm going to tune out for that part, and likely the entire day, of Training. It's bullshit, and we all know it.
Not to mention the fact that the Training day is, yet again, strictly departmental. This staff is so fragmented, it's not even funny. Since there is no staff room (yah, chew on that idea for awhile), its rare that I ever meet and mingle with other members of staff. If I didn't have friends in other departments, who I met through sheer determination to NOT be so lonely in September, then I'd never have a life outside school. It's like the higher powers frown upon staff socialization of any kind. English teachers talking with Maths teachers? Heaven forbid that. They might get crazy ideas, and overthrow us! Pffft. Stupid. Not sure what they hope to gain by keeping the staff so dismembered, but it certainly is a very noble effort.
There are plenty of people in this school that I don't know on a first name, or last name for that matter, basis. How horrible is that? These are people that work in the same building as me! Ridiculous.
Anyways, this entire post is just a basic reiteration of the fact that I am increasingly growing weary of this place. Again, I would like to point out that it is not necessarily the children that get me down (though in some cases, and classes, it is), but more the bureaucracy that exists in this school. And perhaps the country in general.
I can't wait for it to be a week today, and I can't wait to go back to a place where I fit in and feel normal.
I can't wait to be a Canadian amongst a sea of Canadians. Bring on those slow, flowing southwestern Ontario drawls (and cute southwestern Ontario boys). I'm ready for you.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
On Needing to Come Home. Now.
Ugh. I am just hitting my end point, these days. I cannot see how I can make it another week in this country. I am just getting brow-beaten here, and starting to really NOT enjoy my time here. Everything that I do at school these days, I feel like I'm making mistake after mistake. We had to mark each others 'mock exams' (Yah, try wrapping your Canadian minds around the concept of a fake exam). It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. The exams here, in English at least, do not test what you've taught the kids. Not really. It tests whether or not they're literate and can write. There are two different exams that they write; one tests their knowledge of English in general, and the other tests English Literature. That means that, nation wide, these kids are being taught, essentially, the same thing. You may argue that that doesn't sound bad, but after being at CASS, where I was taught how to teach by possibly the brightest English teacher I've ever met (and most forward thinking, at that), I've come to realize how archaic it seems. There is absolutely no fun in the English here. There is no personal flair. I couldn't find a smashing new book, and teach it to my year 11s, because they wouldn't pass the exam at the end of the year. The exam that is on a set, prescribed, canonized text. Sure, one of them is the lovely novel 'Of Mice and Men'. No qualms there. But do the kids really get the novel? Do they walk away from it, and think 'Wow, I really get what he's trying to say about society and humanity'. Doubtful. They teach them to write 'empathetic' responses from the point of view of characters in the novel. Oh. Right. That really gets their brains spinning. It's a joke. A bloody joke. That's what I think of the damn thing. It's the bloody stupidest thing I've ever heard of, and cannot understand why the damn exam has so much weight placed upon it. It's ludicrous.
In Canada, teachers write and mark their own exams. They set the content of their courses, and they leave a LOT more up to the individual. Independent Learning Projects? The dreaded ILPs? Remember those? I remember I had to pick from a list of books, read one, and write a series of journal entries, and a final analytical essay on it. Last year, I did the same thing with the 11s I taught in placement. It was wonderful stuff. I remember producing some really outstanding work on the novels I did for my ILPs; and I could do it at my own pace. The kids last year produced outstanding things for me, and they did it (relatively) on time. This year? Are you kidding me? They preach about independent learning left and right, and yet I've yet to see a single example of it in practice. In English, that is.
I tried assigning books to students, only to find they did not, and I mean ever, complete the reading independently at home. They are so used to being spoon fed, which is to say READ TO, that they expected it; nay, demanded it. So I read the whole bloody book to them. Read aloud to 16 year olds, who are perfectly capable of reading for themselves. Can they possibly understand the book? Maybe, on a basic level, or if they are auditory learners. But it's my opinion that they need to read it for themselves to truly understand it. And many of them WILL have to come back to the novel, when the time to write their exam on it approaches in the summer. What a waste; to re-read a book again, when reading it thoroughly themselves the first time would have sufficed. Lazy gits. Then again, its not really their fault, but rather the system that produced them. They've had their asses wiped for them the whole way through, so why should they change for me? I've never in my life met a people who assume so much for themselves; a people who think they deserve the world on a silver platter, and then some. Self-righteousness abounds.
And it's not just the students. They can't learn that themselves. It's modelled to them by their parents and by the very people who teach them.
'You are British. You are the best. Demand the best. Oh, by the way, here it is, I will give it to you now...but you've got to learn how to get it yourself later....'
The people I work with seem to assume that I have no life whatsoever, aside from bending over backwards to make sure everyone else is happy.
'Are you finding the marking hard to cope with?' they ask.
Oh no, not in the slightest. It's completely normal for me to have to input a different series of grades every two weeks, and then interview every student who received a new report. No, that's not too much.
Add these stupid mock exams to the pile, and my workload increased two-fold. But you know what? I did it. In fact, I was the first one to complete all their marking, I think. We marked each others groups. I got them back as fast as I could. The grades, after all, were due to be in TOMORROW. When did I get MY groups back? Oh, just today. No big deal. Oh, and remember, the marks all need to be put in by tomorrow. Better get on that.
Right. Thanks for that. While you had weeks to get yours on, because I marked them efficiently, it's alright for me to do it the NIGHT before. Perfectly normal. Am I struggling under the weight of the marking? No, not at all. Totally prepared. Thanks for the teamwork.
Then someone had the audacity to tell me I was falling behind in marking my year 8 workbooks.
'I was flipping through them the other day, when you weren't here [nice to know they snoop through my work when I'm off ill, by the way], and noticed you hadn't marked anything in them for a long time,' she said frowning.
'You know, parents do look at these books when they go home, and they'll start worrying if they don't see comments. It starts to build up. And then they'll be calling...' she said, shaking her finger at me.
'Oh. Right. Okay, well I will get on that...' I said, throwing on a fake smile for good measure.
'They're all going to be reviewed after Christmas, so you might like to have a real go through them, before you leave for the holidays. Don't want to fall behind,' she said. She was trying to sound nice, but really she sounded disapproving and condescending. I could almost hear the ',you stupid Canadian' following after.
Frustration bubbled in me, but I increased my fake smile, nodded my head, and said I'd be on it 'post-haste'. You know. Not like I've been ill lately, or anything. Hey. No big deal.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, is going why way. The only positive feedback I got today, and it's been the first in ages, was that my year 10 group appeared to be working really well today, when the head happened to walk through. Of course they were working well, I've finally managed to gain their respect and trust. How did I do this, you ask? Well, I treated them like adults, to begin with. I let them listen to their iPods while doing individual work. Well, she'd caught onto that as well.
'Oh, and this business of your 10s and 11s listening to iPods...it has to stop. It's against school policy,' she said before she left.
'Sure, sorry. They just work better on their coursework if they have their iPods...' I tried to explain.
'Yes, they may, but it is still school policy,' she said curtly, before she left.
Ah, alright then. I can understand that one. I'll stop that tomorrow, as soon as I can. It won't be very popular, and I will likely go down in the books of the kids, yet again, but I don't want to step on any more toes than I already have. What with my falling behind in marking (apparently), and for already being a nose-ring wearing liberal Canadian freak.
Oh, and did I mention that I'm a 'bitch' of a marker? Apparently the mock exams that I marked were 'overly harsh and critical'. They had to re-mark most of them.
Guess that shows how my professional judgement is valued. And it proves, yet again, that these kids have their noses powders and asses wiped for them by the faculty of the school. Heaven forbid they get a mark they actually deserve. It might bruise their ego, and then they'd never bounce back.
*sigh* I am unconditionally bitter today, in case you can't already tell by the scathing remarks and dripping sarcasm. Everyone has their moments, myself included.
I like to think the truth really comes out when I'm upset; my polite Canadian ways get pushed aside, and the claws come out.
I hate this place right now; not really the kids, as it's not their fault, and a lot of them are lovely. But I hate the system they're being mass-produced in, and I hate the bloody country that's churning them out. The government wonders why they have problems, but I know what it is. Get the spoon out out their mouths (and asses), and maybe these kids stand a chance in the world.
Then again, why would they ever leave the Motherland?
I feel for the entire lot, I do.
But, it's nearly time for me to go home, and I cannot wait. This journey across the sea, into this bizarre and foreign culture, has really made me appreciate everything I've left behind. Great parents, great family, great friends, and a great education system. I cannot wait to start working in Canada; teaching kids how to think for themselves, and don't have everyone saying 'one ply or two?'
In Canada, teachers write and mark their own exams. They set the content of their courses, and they leave a LOT more up to the individual. Independent Learning Projects? The dreaded ILPs? Remember those? I remember I had to pick from a list of books, read one, and write a series of journal entries, and a final analytical essay on it. Last year, I did the same thing with the 11s I taught in placement. It was wonderful stuff. I remember producing some really outstanding work on the novels I did for my ILPs; and I could do it at my own pace. The kids last year produced outstanding things for me, and they did it (relatively) on time. This year? Are you kidding me? They preach about independent learning left and right, and yet I've yet to see a single example of it in practice. In English, that is.
I tried assigning books to students, only to find they did not, and I mean ever, complete the reading independently at home. They are so used to being spoon fed, which is to say READ TO, that they expected it; nay, demanded it. So I read the whole bloody book to them. Read aloud to 16 year olds, who are perfectly capable of reading for themselves. Can they possibly understand the book? Maybe, on a basic level, or if they are auditory learners. But it's my opinion that they need to read it for themselves to truly understand it. And many of them WILL have to come back to the novel, when the time to write their exam on it approaches in the summer. What a waste; to re-read a book again, when reading it thoroughly themselves the first time would have sufficed. Lazy gits. Then again, its not really their fault, but rather the system that produced them. They've had their asses wiped for them the whole way through, so why should they change for me? I've never in my life met a people who assume so much for themselves; a people who think they deserve the world on a silver platter, and then some. Self-righteousness abounds.
And it's not just the students. They can't learn that themselves. It's modelled to them by their parents and by the very people who teach them.
'You are British. You are the best. Demand the best. Oh, by the way, here it is, I will give it to you now...but you've got to learn how to get it yourself later....'
The people I work with seem to assume that I have no life whatsoever, aside from bending over backwards to make sure everyone else is happy.
'Are you finding the marking hard to cope with?' they ask.
Oh no, not in the slightest. It's completely normal for me to have to input a different series of grades every two weeks, and then interview every student who received a new report. No, that's not too much.
Add these stupid mock exams to the pile, and my workload increased two-fold. But you know what? I did it. In fact, I was the first one to complete all their marking, I think. We marked each others groups. I got them back as fast as I could. The grades, after all, were due to be in TOMORROW. When did I get MY groups back? Oh, just today. No big deal. Oh, and remember, the marks all need to be put in by tomorrow. Better get on that.
Right. Thanks for that. While you had weeks to get yours on, because I marked them efficiently, it's alright for me to do it the NIGHT before. Perfectly normal. Am I struggling under the weight of the marking? No, not at all. Totally prepared. Thanks for the teamwork.
Then someone had the audacity to tell me I was falling behind in marking my year 8 workbooks.
'I was flipping through them the other day, when you weren't here [nice to know they snoop through my work when I'm off ill, by the way], and noticed you hadn't marked anything in them for a long time,' she said frowning.
'You know, parents do look at these books when they go home, and they'll start worrying if they don't see comments. It starts to build up. And then they'll be calling...' she said, shaking her finger at me.
'Oh. Right. Okay, well I will get on that...' I said, throwing on a fake smile for good measure.
'They're all going to be reviewed after Christmas, so you might like to have a real go through them, before you leave for the holidays. Don't want to fall behind,' she said. She was trying to sound nice, but really she sounded disapproving and condescending. I could almost hear the ',you stupid Canadian' following after.
Frustration bubbled in me, but I increased my fake smile, nodded my head, and said I'd be on it 'post-haste'. You know. Not like I've been ill lately, or anything. Hey. No big deal.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, is going why way. The only positive feedback I got today, and it's been the first in ages, was that my year 10 group appeared to be working really well today, when the head happened to walk through. Of course they were working well, I've finally managed to gain their respect and trust. How did I do this, you ask? Well, I treated them like adults, to begin with. I let them listen to their iPods while doing individual work. Well, she'd caught onto that as well.
'Oh, and this business of your 10s and 11s listening to iPods...it has to stop. It's against school policy,' she said before she left.
'Sure, sorry. They just work better on their coursework if they have their iPods...' I tried to explain.
'Yes, they may, but it is still school policy,' she said curtly, before she left.
Ah, alright then. I can understand that one. I'll stop that tomorrow, as soon as I can. It won't be very popular, and I will likely go down in the books of the kids, yet again, but I don't want to step on any more toes than I already have. What with my falling behind in marking (apparently), and for already being a nose-ring wearing liberal Canadian freak.
Oh, and did I mention that I'm a 'bitch' of a marker? Apparently the mock exams that I marked were 'overly harsh and critical'. They had to re-mark most of them.
Guess that shows how my professional judgement is valued. And it proves, yet again, that these kids have their noses powders and asses wiped for them by the faculty of the school. Heaven forbid they get a mark they actually deserve. It might bruise their ego, and then they'd never bounce back.
*sigh* I am unconditionally bitter today, in case you can't already tell by the scathing remarks and dripping sarcasm. Everyone has their moments, myself included.
I like to think the truth really comes out when I'm upset; my polite Canadian ways get pushed aside, and the claws come out.
I hate this place right now; not really the kids, as it's not their fault, and a lot of them are lovely. But I hate the system they're being mass-produced in, and I hate the bloody country that's churning them out. The government wonders why they have problems, but I know what it is. Get the spoon out out their mouths (and asses), and maybe these kids stand a chance in the world.
Then again, why would they ever leave the Motherland?
I feel for the entire lot, I do.
But, it's nearly time for me to go home, and I cannot wait. This journey across the sea, into this bizarre and foreign culture, has really made me appreciate everything I've left behind. Great parents, great family, great friends, and a great education system. I cannot wait to start working in Canada; teaching kids how to think for themselves, and don't have everyone saying 'one ply or two?'
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
On Finally Getting The Help Needed
Well, today I had a talk with the English head, who expressed concern over hearing about the fiasco on Friday. She said, under no uncertain terms that Jimmy won't be returning to my lessons for the rest of the term, if ever. Personally, I won't settle for anything short of a full-removal. I refuse to teach the kid; he is a loose canon, and a total drag on the class as a whole. When he's in the room, no one learns, because I'm totally preoccupied with him.
This morning he was perhaps the second student into the room. He walked up to me, head hung, shoulders down, looking the picture of pathetic.
"I'm sorry about my behaviour on Friday," he said.
"Thank you, Jimmy," I said, bruskly. I wasn't sure how to deal with him, since I knew that he'd be taken out in moments.
A few other students filed in, looking covertly at Jimmy and then myself.
At that moment, the head walked in from the back.
"Right, Jimmy, gather your things, you're coming with me," she said.
"WHAT?!" he boomed.
"Gather your things, you're coming with me to the Orwell office. You're not working in here," she said. She didn't say it with any emotion, it was straight deadpan.
"AW MAN!" he yelled, throwing his things onto the floor. Before I could even think straight, he and pivoted on his heels and ran clear from the room.
The other students stared after him, and then looked to me.
I raised my hands and shrugged my shoulders at the English head.
"This is what I deal with," I said, simply and matter-of-factly.
"Right then, I'll deal with this," she said, and she left.
The rest of the class got instantly down to work. It was...like a whole other class. I couldn't really believe it.
The end of the day I got a bit of a pick-me-up as well. I was driving back with Rachel, and she told me about how a girl in her form, who happens to be in one of my year 8 teaching groups, had told her that I was her favourite teacher. She said that the thing she likes about me the most is that I talk to them as if they're people, and not children. I thought about it, and I really do! I smiled to myself, glad to know that at least some kids appreciate me! \
Cheers for now.
This morning he was perhaps the second student into the room. He walked up to me, head hung, shoulders down, looking the picture of pathetic.
"I'm sorry about my behaviour on Friday," he said.
"Thank you, Jimmy," I said, bruskly. I wasn't sure how to deal with him, since I knew that he'd be taken out in moments.
A few other students filed in, looking covertly at Jimmy and then myself.
At that moment, the head walked in from the back.
"Right, Jimmy, gather your things, you're coming with me," she said.
"WHAT?!" he boomed.
"Gather your things, you're coming with me to the Orwell office. You're not working in here," she said. She didn't say it with any emotion, it was straight deadpan.
"AW MAN!" he yelled, throwing his things onto the floor. Before I could even think straight, he and pivoted on his heels and ran clear from the room.
The other students stared after him, and then looked to me.
I raised my hands and shrugged my shoulders at the English head.
"This is what I deal with," I said, simply and matter-of-factly.
"Right then, I'll deal with this," she said, and she left.
The rest of the class got instantly down to work. It was...like a whole other class. I couldn't really believe it.
The end of the day I got a bit of a pick-me-up as well. I was driving back with Rachel, and she told me about how a girl in her form, who happens to be in one of my year 8 teaching groups, had told her that I was her favourite teacher. She said that the thing she likes about me the most is that I talk to them as if they're people, and not children. I thought about it, and I really do! I smiled to myself, glad to know that at least some kids appreciate me! \
Cheers for now.
Friday, December 5, 2008
On Gaining Sympathy, But Only After Looking Foolish
Well, I've done it again. I've cried at school. Only this time it was worse; exponentially worse. I cried and let my students see it. My horrible problem of being an emotional basket case has made me look the fool once again. Nothing new there, really. I can't think of too many occasions when I haven't come out looking foolish; it's the standard order of business. But I digress. I am sure you are wondering what chain of events set me off this time? I aim to please, so here's how it all went down...
I had early lunch today; it's a staggered system, so you either have lunch at 12:35 or 1:35. I hate having late lunch, by the way. That's entirely too late to eat lunch, in my opinion. But that's neither here nor there. I had to buy a sandwich today, since I've been avoiding the grocery store due to the weather (and my subsequently feeling 'under it'). I was sitting on the stage, munching away at it, while a feeling of dread was creeping slowly into my subconscious. I'm not entirely sure why I was prematurely beginning to dread the remainder of my afternoon, but it wasn't looking good for me. I knew I was going to have my 9s directly after lunch, and something in the pit of my stomach was preparing me for the worst. I walked back up the stairs to the second floor, mumbling under my breath that the afternoon was a fresh departure from the morning (where I'd already had an issue with my bottom set year 11s). I talked myself into smiling, and tried to put on my best and brightest face. I was resolved to not let the kids sense my frustration and apprehension, as that would undoubtedly turn them against me. I was almost buying into my own false beliefs! One of the more dominate boys in the classroom, one whom I know for a fact likes and respects me, walked in early. He usually comes into my lesson early, just to chat with me. Its usually at these times that he confides his frustrations with other staff and students to me. We talk things over, and I try to leave him with a better sense of his value as a person and a student. He's a well meaning kid, who I feel gets misinterpreted by other teachers. I feel like we're allies of sorts; he helps me out by getting the unruly kids to smarten up when I want them to, and I help him sort out his issues at school. Anyways, as per usual he came in about 5 minutes early, and we discuss the most recent assignment. I talk him through it, and he runs a few ideas past me. The bell rings, and pupils start to slowly filter in.
The noise level increases slowly but surely, the more students start to enter. I try to keep them under my thumb, by repeating the starter activity over and over; Write as many words as possible that end in -CES. A few of them get their books out, and start brainstorming. Most sit around, giggling, chatting, and generally acting like children.
I do manage to get them to settle down, but only long enough to hand out the task for the day. They were to read through a rather cheeky Canadian article on people who talk at the movie theatre. I actually found the worksheet in my own high school notes, and thought it would work in terms of analyzing persuasive writing. It's not a boring piece, in fact it's quite interesting, so I had high hopes for it. There were also questions the students were meant to answer. After giving everyone a handout and explaining what I wanted them to do (which I had also written on the board, step by step), I told the students to tuck in, and get down to business.
A few did. Most did not. The level of chatter continued to be high. I walked around trying to quiet people down, individually. This failed horribly.
"Alright year 9, you need to read the essay first, then start on the questions. I expect there to be about 5 minutes of silence while everyone does the reading," I said.
A few more heads turned down to read, but again most did not. I started to get annoyed.
"Guy's, stop talking. Start reading. Let's do this!" I said loudly.
A few snickers. No more quiet. I felt the frustrations building up. You have no idea how personally draining it is to feel like you've got absolutely no control over a room of 13 year old kids. I was trying to talk over them, but could hardly hear my own voice. None of them looked at me, none of them even acknowledged my existence. A few of them started to sing loudly a song from High School Musical. When I turned to face the culprits, they would stop singing and another group behind me would pick up. It was a blatant play on my authority, and it was making me look foolish.
I sighed, and said in my calmest voice, "Alright. Since you can't control yourselves when asked, I have to take the next step. Anyone who talks in the next 5 minutes will be joining me for a detention next week."
Most students heard the threat, and decided to get down to business. The singing stopped, as did much of the tapping and rustling. A few, however, did not.
I weighed my options, and knew I had to act on my threat, otherwise I'd lose them forever.
"Great! Jimmy, thanks for volunteering to join me after school next week!" I said, enthusiastically.
The student whipped around in his seat to face me. He's the smallest kid in my class, but also the loudest. This kid puts my sister to shame, when it comes to having a naturally loud voice. When he really turns it on, it is ear piercing.
"WHAT?" he boomed. I still cannot understand how such a loud voice comes out of such a puny child. "Aw hell, I didn't do nothing Miss!" he moaned at me.
"Yah!" the kid behind him piped in.
"Awesome! Thanks for joining us as well, Billy!" I said to the interjector.
"WHAT?!" they both squealed.
"You heard what I said, the next person who spoke was going to be joining me after school. Looks like that's you!" I said.
"Aw, Miss, I didn't say anything!" the interjector said.
"Oh yes you did, you said 'Yah'. That's something."
"WHAT, that's stupid. I was just agreeing with something he said! One word!" the kid moaned at me.
"Yah, well you shouldn't have. You need to control yourself. If Jimmy says something, you don't have to comment on EVERY word that comes out of his mouth. I'm sick of this crap," I said.
"Aw MAN," the interjector said.
"Look, I will revoke the detention if you work quietly for the rest of the lesson," I said.
"Fine..." the interjector said.
"This is bullshit," said Jimmy.
"So far yours still stands, Jimmy. Especially with that language."
"WHAT? WHY? THIS IS SO STUPID, I HATE THIS SHIT. YOU MAKE ME SO ANGRY!" he boomed. Everyone in lesson was staring at us. Jimmy looked frantically behind me, and noticed the eyes of his peers on him. Grinning callously, he pushed his chair violently out of the way.
"I'M OUTTA HERE!" he screamed.
He rocketed past the door, and then made a huge scene outside my classroom by slamming his body into the lockers. Beside my door are two free-standing units of lockers. They're empty, so they're not very heavy. Jimmy ran into them, pushed as hard as he could, and sent them sprawling onto the floor. One fell across my doorway, slamming into more lockers as it did so (I have a corner room).
The kids broke into uproarious laughter. Frustrated and at a loss of what to do, I turned on the kids and snapped at them to be quiet and get back to work. They didn't listen to me, and instead started in on me.
"Miss, pick up those lockers. If there's a fire thats a hazard to our escape."
"Miss, what are you going to do about Jimmy? He can't just leave, can he?"
"If he can leave, I can leave"
"He probably won't even get punished for this!"
"SHUT UP!" I yelled, losing my temper. "I am not going to let his ruin this lesson. You all need to get back to work, while I send out a message that he's gone off his rocker..."
They totally ignored me, and started talking animatedly about what'd happened.
At that moment, the head teacher decides to walk in.
"Jimmy's just stormed out, he slammed into those lockers..." I said meekly.
"Right. I'll go find him," he said.
A few moments later, it seemed like half a second at most, he returned.
"Right. Mind if I sit in here a moment?" he asked.
I could feel the pressure behind my eyes building up, and I was fighting back tears desperately. My brain grasped onto this chance, this chance to leave the room for even just a minute.
"Can you excuse me just one moment?" I asked. I didn't get through the entire section, nor out the door, before I erupted into tears. I had tried to save it for when I was outside the room, but as soon as I opened my mouth it was over. The kids had all seen me break down, and the moment my voice cracked on 'excuse me', it was over. A hush fell over the classroom.
I stood outside, the open door behind me. No doubt the head teacher was thrown for a loop. I could hear him walkin up the room. He came out to me first, put a hand on my shoulder, and told me to take my time. Then he marched back into my room, shutting the door behind him. I spent the next ten minutes pacing up and down the hallway, trying to calm myself down. In the meantime, the head teacher could be heard lecturing away at my students. There were no comments back from them. The only tidbit that I did make out was something about how my being a 'passionate teacher' was the reason behind my tears, and that they were essentially assholes for reducing me to this. It was hella embarrassing to hear. I don't want to be the passionate crier! Now they're all going to go home and tell their parents that their English teacher broke down in class because she's 'passionate'. Great. Awesome news.
Anyways, I composed myself and after awhile walked back in. The head looked at me as if I had three heads, and asked if I was alright to continue the lesson. I nodded my head and mumbled, 'Sorry'. At him. He left.
The students looked down at their paper, and got down to business. No one talked to me for about ten minutes. I walked around the classroom, feeling the tension as thick as ever. Eventually one of the students, one of my 'helpless handraisers' put up his hand. I could feel everyone watching me, listening to how I was going to react to him. He quietly asked me his question, and I quietly helped him along. When I stood up, there was a collective sigh of relief from the rest of the class. It's almost as if they felt like my being normal with the student meant I could generally be normal with them. Hands started going up around the room, and I spent the rest of the lesson quietly answering questions. A few of the girls caught my eye, and tried to smile at me, with pity splashed all over their faces. I smiled back, not wanting them to feel like I was a complete bitch.
At the end of lesson three girls and three boys stayed behind, while the others shuffled quietly out. They all expressed their sincere apologies to me, and told me that I was a 'good teacher' and that I didn't deserve to be treated like shit.
"We promise to make more of an effort, to get everyone else to stop being idiots," one of the girls said.
"We know we were being awful, and we're sorry..." one of the boys said.
I thanked them all, and assured them that I was fine (the looks of concern on their faces signalled their worries about me). They all smiled at me, with that patronizing smile people usually give to little children when they feel extreme amounts of pity for them. I cringed inwardly at being the receiver of this look from a group of 13 year olds. I shooed them from my room, with many assurances of my well-being.
One of the boys, however, hung behind the rest.
"Miss, am I part of the problem?" he asked. His faced and tone portrayed a genuine concern, and my heart instantly melted.
"No, you're not. You don't HELP the problem any, by stopping bad behaviour, but you aren't a direct cause of it.," I said.
He nodded, as if he understood what I meant.
"I'll try harder to get the other guys to behave," he said. "I'll try."
I smiled at him, "Thanks, Timmy, that would mean a lot to me."
He smiled at me, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and opened the door to leave.
"Have a good weekend, Miss," he said as he left.
"You too."
I had early lunch today; it's a staggered system, so you either have lunch at 12:35 or 1:35. I hate having late lunch, by the way. That's entirely too late to eat lunch, in my opinion. But that's neither here nor there. I had to buy a sandwich today, since I've been avoiding the grocery store due to the weather (and my subsequently feeling 'under it'). I was sitting on the stage, munching away at it, while a feeling of dread was creeping slowly into my subconscious. I'm not entirely sure why I was prematurely beginning to dread the remainder of my afternoon, but it wasn't looking good for me. I knew I was going to have my 9s directly after lunch, and something in the pit of my stomach was preparing me for the worst. I walked back up the stairs to the second floor, mumbling under my breath that the afternoon was a fresh departure from the morning (where I'd already had an issue with my bottom set year 11s). I talked myself into smiling, and tried to put on my best and brightest face. I was resolved to not let the kids sense my frustration and apprehension, as that would undoubtedly turn them against me. I was almost buying into my own false beliefs! One of the more dominate boys in the classroom, one whom I know for a fact likes and respects me, walked in early. He usually comes into my lesson early, just to chat with me. Its usually at these times that he confides his frustrations with other staff and students to me. We talk things over, and I try to leave him with a better sense of his value as a person and a student. He's a well meaning kid, who I feel gets misinterpreted by other teachers. I feel like we're allies of sorts; he helps me out by getting the unruly kids to smarten up when I want them to, and I help him sort out his issues at school. Anyways, as per usual he came in about 5 minutes early, and we discuss the most recent assignment. I talk him through it, and he runs a few ideas past me. The bell rings, and pupils start to slowly filter in.
The noise level increases slowly but surely, the more students start to enter. I try to keep them under my thumb, by repeating the starter activity over and over; Write as many words as possible that end in -CES. A few of them get their books out, and start brainstorming. Most sit around, giggling, chatting, and generally acting like children.
I do manage to get them to settle down, but only long enough to hand out the task for the day. They were to read through a rather cheeky Canadian article on people who talk at the movie theatre. I actually found the worksheet in my own high school notes, and thought it would work in terms of analyzing persuasive writing. It's not a boring piece, in fact it's quite interesting, so I had high hopes for it. There were also questions the students were meant to answer. After giving everyone a handout and explaining what I wanted them to do (which I had also written on the board, step by step), I told the students to tuck in, and get down to business.
A few did. Most did not. The level of chatter continued to be high. I walked around trying to quiet people down, individually. This failed horribly.
"Alright year 9, you need to read the essay first, then start on the questions. I expect there to be about 5 minutes of silence while everyone does the reading," I said.
A few more heads turned down to read, but again most did not. I started to get annoyed.
"Guy's, stop talking. Start reading. Let's do this!" I said loudly.
A few snickers. No more quiet. I felt the frustrations building up. You have no idea how personally draining it is to feel like you've got absolutely no control over a room of 13 year old kids. I was trying to talk over them, but could hardly hear my own voice. None of them looked at me, none of them even acknowledged my existence. A few of them started to sing loudly a song from High School Musical. When I turned to face the culprits, they would stop singing and another group behind me would pick up. It was a blatant play on my authority, and it was making me look foolish.
I sighed, and said in my calmest voice, "Alright. Since you can't control yourselves when asked, I have to take the next step. Anyone who talks in the next 5 minutes will be joining me for a detention next week."
Most students heard the threat, and decided to get down to business. The singing stopped, as did much of the tapping and rustling. A few, however, did not.
I weighed my options, and knew I had to act on my threat, otherwise I'd lose them forever.
"Great! Jimmy, thanks for volunteering to join me after school next week!" I said, enthusiastically.
The student whipped around in his seat to face me. He's the smallest kid in my class, but also the loudest. This kid puts my sister to shame, when it comes to having a naturally loud voice. When he really turns it on, it is ear piercing.
"WHAT?" he boomed. I still cannot understand how such a loud voice comes out of such a puny child. "Aw hell, I didn't do nothing Miss!" he moaned at me.
"Yah!" the kid behind him piped in.
"Awesome! Thanks for joining us as well, Billy!" I said to the interjector.
"WHAT?!" they both squealed.
"You heard what I said, the next person who spoke was going to be joining me after school. Looks like that's you!" I said.
"Aw, Miss, I didn't say anything!" the interjector said.
"Oh yes you did, you said 'Yah'. That's something."
"WHAT, that's stupid. I was just agreeing with something he said! One word!" the kid moaned at me.
"Yah, well you shouldn't have. You need to control yourself. If Jimmy says something, you don't have to comment on EVERY word that comes out of his mouth. I'm sick of this crap," I said.
"Aw MAN," the interjector said.
"Look, I will revoke the detention if you work quietly for the rest of the lesson," I said.
"Fine..." the interjector said.
"This is bullshit," said Jimmy.
"So far yours still stands, Jimmy. Especially with that language."
"WHAT? WHY? THIS IS SO STUPID, I HATE THIS SHIT. YOU MAKE ME SO ANGRY!" he boomed. Everyone in lesson was staring at us. Jimmy looked frantically behind me, and noticed the eyes of his peers on him. Grinning callously, he pushed his chair violently out of the way.
"I'M OUTTA HERE!" he screamed.
He rocketed past the door, and then made a huge scene outside my classroom by slamming his body into the lockers. Beside my door are two free-standing units of lockers. They're empty, so they're not very heavy. Jimmy ran into them, pushed as hard as he could, and sent them sprawling onto the floor. One fell across my doorway, slamming into more lockers as it did so (I have a corner room).
The kids broke into uproarious laughter. Frustrated and at a loss of what to do, I turned on the kids and snapped at them to be quiet and get back to work. They didn't listen to me, and instead started in on me.
"Miss, pick up those lockers. If there's a fire thats a hazard to our escape."
"Miss, what are you going to do about Jimmy? He can't just leave, can he?"
"If he can leave, I can leave"
"He probably won't even get punished for this!"
"SHUT UP!" I yelled, losing my temper. "I am not going to let his ruin this lesson. You all need to get back to work, while I send out a message that he's gone off his rocker..."
They totally ignored me, and started talking animatedly about what'd happened.
At that moment, the head teacher decides to walk in.
"Jimmy's just stormed out, he slammed into those lockers..." I said meekly.
"Right. I'll go find him," he said.
A few moments later, it seemed like half a second at most, he returned.
"Right. Mind if I sit in here a moment?" he asked.
I could feel the pressure behind my eyes building up, and I was fighting back tears desperately. My brain grasped onto this chance, this chance to leave the room for even just a minute.
"Can you excuse me just one moment?" I asked. I didn't get through the entire section, nor out the door, before I erupted into tears. I had tried to save it for when I was outside the room, but as soon as I opened my mouth it was over. The kids had all seen me break down, and the moment my voice cracked on 'excuse me', it was over. A hush fell over the classroom.
I stood outside, the open door behind me. No doubt the head teacher was thrown for a loop. I could hear him walkin up the room. He came out to me first, put a hand on my shoulder, and told me to take my time. Then he marched back into my room, shutting the door behind him. I spent the next ten minutes pacing up and down the hallway, trying to calm myself down. In the meantime, the head teacher could be heard lecturing away at my students. There were no comments back from them. The only tidbit that I did make out was something about how my being a 'passionate teacher' was the reason behind my tears, and that they were essentially assholes for reducing me to this. It was hella embarrassing to hear. I don't want to be the passionate crier! Now they're all going to go home and tell their parents that their English teacher broke down in class because she's 'passionate'. Great. Awesome news.
Anyways, I composed myself and after awhile walked back in. The head looked at me as if I had three heads, and asked if I was alright to continue the lesson. I nodded my head and mumbled, 'Sorry'. At him. He left.
The students looked down at their paper, and got down to business. No one talked to me for about ten minutes. I walked around the classroom, feeling the tension as thick as ever. Eventually one of the students, one of my 'helpless handraisers' put up his hand. I could feel everyone watching me, listening to how I was going to react to him. He quietly asked me his question, and I quietly helped him along. When I stood up, there was a collective sigh of relief from the rest of the class. It's almost as if they felt like my being normal with the student meant I could generally be normal with them. Hands started going up around the room, and I spent the rest of the lesson quietly answering questions. A few of the girls caught my eye, and tried to smile at me, with pity splashed all over their faces. I smiled back, not wanting them to feel like I was a complete bitch.
At the end of lesson three girls and three boys stayed behind, while the others shuffled quietly out. They all expressed their sincere apologies to me, and told me that I was a 'good teacher' and that I didn't deserve to be treated like shit.
"We promise to make more of an effort, to get everyone else to stop being idiots," one of the girls said.
"We know we were being awful, and we're sorry..." one of the boys said.
I thanked them all, and assured them that I was fine (the looks of concern on their faces signalled their worries about me). They all smiled at me, with that patronizing smile people usually give to little children when they feel extreme amounts of pity for them. I cringed inwardly at being the receiver of this look from a group of 13 year olds. I shooed them from my room, with many assurances of my well-being.
One of the boys, however, hung behind the rest.
"Miss, am I part of the problem?" he asked. His faced and tone portrayed a genuine concern, and my heart instantly melted.
"No, you're not. You don't HELP the problem any, by stopping bad behaviour, but you aren't a direct cause of it.," I said.
He nodded, as if he understood what I meant.
"I'll try harder to get the other guys to behave," he said. "I'll try."
I smiled at him, "Thanks, Timmy, that would mean a lot to me."
He smiled at me, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and opened the door to leave.
"Have a good weekend, Miss," he said as he left.
"You too."
Thursday, November 27, 2008
On Missing My Little Man
Yet again, I am sitting in my freezing classroom waiting for Rachel to be ready to go home, and trying to bring myself out of the dreary mood I am currently in. My day didn't go particularly bad, though I wouldn't necessarily say it was the best either.
I started the day off on the bad foot though. I had my alarm set for 6am, as I had hoped to wake up early, have a shower, and then perhaps curl my hair. I don't usually curl my hair on a weekday, but I felt like putting in a little extra effort. As my alarm gentle prodded me out of sleep this morning, I was overcome with the most soul-crushing desire to never leave my bed. I blindly batted the shelf about my head, searching for my phone (which acts as my alarm). When my fingers finally rested on it, I instinctively, without looking, mashed the snooze button. Pulling the covers over my head, I nestled in further, refusing to allow myself to wake.
Twenty minutes later, the alarm alerted me again. Realizing that I would no longer be able to curl my hair, I cursed my own laziness and reluctantly hauled myself out of bed. The walk to the bathroom, though short, was torture. My house is, like my classroom, unseasonably cold in the morning. I think that my room mates turn the heater off a night, to save energy. Cheap bastards. My shower was long and steamy, as I took my time washing up. I even shaved my legs in their entirety, in a prolonged effort to stay in the shower. Eventually I ran out of things to do, and sadly departed from the shower.
Getting dressed seemed to take ages, as I couldn't properly decide what to wear. I wanted to leave most of my 'nicer' clothes for the weekend, and was therefore left with the scrubby rejects. Feeling even more dejected, I put together a rather bland outfit. I tied on a pretty scarf to try to spice it up a bit, but wasn't thoroughly impressed. A sub-par effort, if I'd ever seen one.
Next I tackled my hair. It was the only thing that went my way, and I was fairly pleased with the result; a smooth and shiny layer of blond locks cascading down my back and over my shoulders. My hair is finally starting to get to a decent length, and impresses me most days. It just needs a colouring. I'll work on that soon.
Anyways, I got into school this morning feeling a bit rubbish as a result of my lackluster start. I went through the paces at the staff briefing, gulped down my coffee, and then collected my tutor group for our Thursday morning Orwell House assembly. I was horrified to have to sit through a twenty minute assembly on God. Hearing the very mention of God in a public school is beyond shocking for me, coming from the Canadian system. You don't talk about religion in a public school in Canada; it's just not done. Especially not at an assembly. That's what Catholic schools are for. They can cram the religion down your throat, but at least you have to choose to be there. I disagreed immensely with the assembly this morning. It felt like they were throwing God at me, and I wasn't buying into it. The kids also looked slightly uncomfortable sometimes, which made it worse. It was just a bizarre experience. I almost walked out, when one of the presenters started talking about 'thinking for yourself, by following God'. Seems a bit contradictory, no?
Anyways, having choked my way through the assembly, I prepared myself for the rest of my day. It went fairly smoothly. My 8s were a bit off the wall, but nothing I couldn't handle. My top set 11s were decent enough, though they weren't too thrilled at the prospect of doing Poetry for the rest of the term. Too bad for them! I did manage to get quite a few amazing drawings out of them though, as a response to Helene Johnson's 'Sonnet to a Negro in Harlem'. I've got some artists in my class, it would seem. I was impressed. I read the first chapter of 'Of Mice and Men' to my bottom year 11s. I can honestly say it was the first time they'd been quiet for an entire class period. Ever. It was so nice, really. Reading, for me, is very relaxing, so reading aloud to them was a delight. They were also following along, as I could hear them turning the pages as I did. This is a definite improvement over their usual performance; I didn't have to nag anyone to stay on task! They also answered my questions after, with genuinely good answers. I couldn't ask for more.
My 10s were a bit of a struggle, but I got them in the end. The fact that they clearly respect me helps a lot, so I was able to use the respect card to get them back on track.
The biggest surprise of the day was my 9s though. They were, shock of all shocks, actually fairly well behaved for me today. There was a bizarre incident though, before class started...
...one of the boys, who always arrives early, walked into the room and said, 'Oh, Miss Carson! I am surprised to see you here. There were rumours that you'd been sacked!'
'Excuse me?!' I asked, whirling around to face him. I was truly shocked to hear this, as it was definitely news to me.
'Yah, people were saying you got sacked,' he said, as if it were no big deal.
'Who? Who has been saying that?' I prodded.
'Oh...I dunno...just lots of people,' he said.
'Students, or teachers?' I asked.
'Oh....students...' he said, clearly getting a bit uncomfortable.
I decided to leave him alone, 'Weird. Well, I haven't been sacked, cuz here I am!'
A few other students walked in, all expressing surprise to see me.
'Miss! If you'd been sacked, I would have staged a protest!' one of the boys said.
I smiled, glad to hear that I had some supporters. I had to spend a few minutes assuring the class I hadn't been sacked, and then carried on with the lesson.
We're doing persuasion, so I had them watch Obama's acceptance speech in Chicago and analyse the effectiveness of his speech. I was happy to see them able to pick out all the effective elements of his speech. I think we had one of our most productive lessons to date. For the first time ever they left the room without me feeling as if nothing had been accomplished. I think it's also the first Thursday since I've come here that I haven't felt totally frazzled at the end of the day. What a welcome change. I can only hope that things will continue on this way.
The decent-ness of my day did not, however, push away the pervasive feeling of gloom that'd been hanging over me all day. I just feel utterly exhausted, and I'm not really sure why. Perhaps it's just that time of year. I feel mentally drained, and it's starting to affect me physically. I find myself wishing away the days, hoping for Christmas and the return trip to my family to come sooner.
Sitting here at the end of the day, I was trying to think of things I could do to give myself the relief I crave, when it struck me that I've been missing something simple. I've been missing the simple act of picking up my kitty, Gabriel, and being able to hug him and feel instantly better. It's one thing to hug a person and get that release, but its something totally different when it's a pet. I remember reading somewhere that old age homes and hospitals that allow pets to visit with the patients see a marked improvement in attitude. Animals somehow bring out a happy feeling within us. Maybe it's because they love us unconditionally, or maybe it's just that we crave something small to hold against our bodies sometimes. For me, I know I like to bury my nose in the soft, warm fuzz on the top of Gabriel's head and just breath in. That may sound bizarre, but it's strangely relaxing for me. He's such a fluffy kitty, so holding him is like holding a big puffy lump of warmth. Mind you, he's got quite a lot of attitude, and doesn't stand to be held for long by ANYONE, myself included. When push comes to shove though, he could always tell when I needed to be able to smother him with hugs and kisses, and grudgingly allowed me to do so. No one else, my mother aside, has been able to do this to him, so I think it's because I'm his 'Mama'.
Anyways, today I really realized how much I missed doing that. I wish I could go home right now, walk through my door, and call out 'Gabriel!'. He'd come running down, I'd scoop him up, and bury my face in his, smelling the dewy soft scent that is the top of his head. Oh how I miss that.
I only hope that in the months since I've been gone he hasn't forgotten me. It would crush me to go home and have him growl and hiss at me as he does most other people. My fingers are crossed that my scent and my voice remain embedded in his deep subconscious, and that hearing and smelling me will trigger instant recognition. They say cats have a terrible memory, so I truly am hoping that his inner instinct will work in my favour.
Honestly, the first thing I do when I enter the house in Tillsonburg is going to be to call his name and hunt him down. He owes me a hug, and I intend to collect.
Anyways, I am going to try to persuade Rachel to hit the road soon. I don't relish being here much longer; it's already 5:30 and it's not getting any earlier. Besides, I have a dinner to make tonight, for a very lovely young man, and I'd like to get started on that as soon as possible.
Cheers.
I started the day off on the bad foot though. I had my alarm set for 6am, as I had hoped to wake up early, have a shower, and then perhaps curl my hair. I don't usually curl my hair on a weekday, but I felt like putting in a little extra effort. As my alarm gentle prodded me out of sleep this morning, I was overcome with the most soul-crushing desire to never leave my bed. I blindly batted the shelf about my head, searching for my phone (which acts as my alarm). When my fingers finally rested on it, I instinctively, without looking, mashed the snooze button. Pulling the covers over my head, I nestled in further, refusing to allow myself to wake.
Twenty minutes later, the alarm alerted me again. Realizing that I would no longer be able to curl my hair, I cursed my own laziness and reluctantly hauled myself out of bed. The walk to the bathroom, though short, was torture. My house is, like my classroom, unseasonably cold in the morning. I think that my room mates turn the heater off a night, to save energy. Cheap bastards. My shower was long and steamy, as I took my time washing up. I even shaved my legs in their entirety, in a prolonged effort to stay in the shower. Eventually I ran out of things to do, and sadly departed from the shower.
Getting dressed seemed to take ages, as I couldn't properly decide what to wear. I wanted to leave most of my 'nicer' clothes for the weekend, and was therefore left with the scrubby rejects. Feeling even more dejected, I put together a rather bland outfit. I tied on a pretty scarf to try to spice it up a bit, but wasn't thoroughly impressed. A sub-par effort, if I'd ever seen one.
Next I tackled my hair. It was the only thing that went my way, and I was fairly pleased with the result; a smooth and shiny layer of blond locks cascading down my back and over my shoulders. My hair is finally starting to get to a decent length, and impresses me most days. It just needs a colouring. I'll work on that soon.
Anyways, I got into school this morning feeling a bit rubbish as a result of my lackluster start. I went through the paces at the staff briefing, gulped down my coffee, and then collected my tutor group for our Thursday morning Orwell House assembly. I was horrified to have to sit through a twenty minute assembly on God. Hearing the very mention of God in a public school is beyond shocking for me, coming from the Canadian system. You don't talk about religion in a public school in Canada; it's just not done. Especially not at an assembly. That's what Catholic schools are for. They can cram the religion down your throat, but at least you have to choose to be there. I disagreed immensely with the assembly this morning. It felt like they were throwing God at me, and I wasn't buying into it. The kids also looked slightly uncomfortable sometimes, which made it worse. It was just a bizarre experience. I almost walked out, when one of the presenters started talking about 'thinking for yourself, by following God'. Seems a bit contradictory, no?
Anyways, having choked my way through the assembly, I prepared myself for the rest of my day. It went fairly smoothly. My 8s were a bit off the wall, but nothing I couldn't handle. My top set 11s were decent enough, though they weren't too thrilled at the prospect of doing Poetry for the rest of the term. Too bad for them! I did manage to get quite a few amazing drawings out of them though, as a response to Helene Johnson's 'Sonnet to a Negro in Harlem'. I've got some artists in my class, it would seem. I was impressed. I read the first chapter of 'Of Mice and Men' to my bottom year 11s. I can honestly say it was the first time they'd been quiet for an entire class period. Ever. It was so nice, really. Reading, for me, is very relaxing, so reading aloud to them was a delight. They were also following along, as I could hear them turning the pages as I did. This is a definite improvement over their usual performance; I didn't have to nag anyone to stay on task! They also answered my questions after, with genuinely good answers. I couldn't ask for more.
My 10s were a bit of a struggle, but I got them in the end. The fact that they clearly respect me helps a lot, so I was able to use the respect card to get them back on track.
The biggest surprise of the day was my 9s though. They were, shock of all shocks, actually fairly well behaved for me today. There was a bizarre incident though, before class started...
...one of the boys, who always arrives early, walked into the room and said, 'Oh, Miss Carson! I am surprised to see you here. There were rumours that you'd been sacked!'
'Excuse me?!' I asked, whirling around to face him. I was truly shocked to hear this, as it was definitely news to me.
'Yah, people were saying you got sacked,' he said, as if it were no big deal.
'Who? Who has been saying that?' I prodded.
'Oh...I dunno...just lots of people,' he said.
'Students, or teachers?' I asked.
'Oh....students...' he said, clearly getting a bit uncomfortable.
I decided to leave him alone, 'Weird. Well, I haven't been sacked, cuz here I am!'
A few other students walked in, all expressing surprise to see me.
'Miss! If you'd been sacked, I would have staged a protest!' one of the boys said.
I smiled, glad to hear that I had some supporters. I had to spend a few minutes assuring the class I hadn't been sacked, and then carried on with the lesson.
We're doing persuasion, so I had them watch Obama's acceptance speech in Chicago and analyse the effectiveness of his speech. I was happy to see them able to pick out all the effective elements of his speech. I think we had one of our most productive lessons to date. For the first time ever they left the room without me feeling as if nothing had been accomplished. I think it's also the first Thursday since I've come here that I haven't felt totally frazzled at the end of the day. What a welcome change. I can only hope that things will continue on this way.
The decent-ness of my day did not, however, push away the pervasive feeling of gloom that'd been hanging over me all day. I just feel utterly exhausted, and I'm not really sure why. Perhaps it's just that time of year. I feel mentally drained, and it's starting to affect me physically. I find myself wishing away the days, hoping for Christmas and the return trip to my family to come sooner.
Sitting here at the end of the day, I was trying to think of things I could do to give myself the relief I crave, when it struck me that I've been missing something simple. I've been missing the simple act of picking up my kitty, Gabriel, and being able to hug him and feel instantly better. It's one thing to hug a person and get that release, but its something totally different when it's a pet. I remember reading somewhere that old age homes and hospitals that allow pets to visit with the patients see a marked improvement in attitude. Animals somehow bring out a happy feeling within us. Maybe it's because they love us unconditionally, or maybe it's just that we crave something small to hold against our bodies sometimes. For me, I know I like to bury my nose in the soft, warm fuzz on the top of Gabriel's head and just breath in. That may sound bizarre, but it's strangely relaxing for me. He's such a fluffy kitty, so holding him is like holding a big puffy lump of warmth. Mind you, he's got quite a lot of attitude, and doesn't stand to be held for long by ANYONE, myself included. When push comes to shove though, he could always tell when I needed to be able to smother him with hugs and kisses, and grudgingly allowed me to do so. No one else, my mother aside, has been able to do this to him, so I think it's because I'm his 'Mama'.
Anyways, today I really realized how much I missed doing that. I wish I could go home right now, walk through my door, and call out 'Gabriel!'. He'd come running down, I'd scoop him up, and bury my face in his, smelling the dewy soft scent that is the top of his head. Oh how I miss that.
I only hope that in the months since I've been gone he hasn't forgotten me. It would crush me to go home and have him growl and hiss at me as he does most other people. My fingers are crossed that my scent and my voice remain embedded in his deep subconscious, and that hearing and smelling me will trigger instant recognition. They say cats have a terrible memory, so I truly am hoping that his inner instinct will work in my favour.
Honestly, the first thing I do when I enter the house in Tillsonburg is going to be to call his name and hunt him down. He owes me a hug, and I intend to collect.
Anyways, I am going to try to persuade Rachel to hit the road soon. I don't relish being here much longer; it's already 5:30 and it's not getting any earlier. Besides, I have a dinner to make tonight, for a very lovely young man, and I'd like to get started on that as soon as possible.
Cheers.
Monday, November 24, 2008
On Killing Time At School
I'm sitting in my classroom, and it's 5:07. I'm waiting patiently for Rachel to finish marking up some exams, whilst freezing my ass off. I'm not entirely sure why, but it seems as if the temperature in my room is constantly evading my comfort zone. It's either ridiculously hot and stuffy in here, or else bone chillingly cold. There is no happy medium, rather just a constant fluctuation that annoys me (and my students) to no end. Tonight it seems worse than usual though. My finger tips are actually a touch purple, which is never a good sign. That is why I decided to try updating the blog. A steady stream of blood to my fingers, spurned on by the insane pace at which I type, should help induce some warmth. My toes, however, are a lost cause.
In fact, it was just the other day that I realize that my feet are being left literally in the cold these days. It appears that with all my planning and packing, I've failed to sufficiently provide for my feet. The shoes I brought over were summer shoes, no doubt about it. Cute flats, a crummy pair of slip on trainers (that my mates affectionately call the ugliest shoes in the world, bless), and my tried-and-true red patent leather peep toes. Not the type of shoes that would see you through winter, in any country. No, I clearly was not thinking in terms of the distant future; winter.
I was watching Jason play football on Saturday, when I was struck with the complexity of my situation. It was minus SOMETHING for sure, and sitting on a bench watching the game was hell on earth (if hell happens to be an extremely cold place instead of extremely hot. It's a place of extremes, and that's all that matters). For all my bragging about being a 'tough and hearty' Canadian girl, it didn't take me long to admit that I was freezing my ass, and in this case toes, off. the flimsy little brown flats that I was wearing were doing nothing by way of protecting my toes from the elements. I tried in vain to position myself so that my feet were covered by some part of my body. I tried folding my legs up and sitting on them, but this was only comfortable for about five minutes before the bones in my heels started to dig into me. I tried to sit cross-legged on the bench, only to realize that sitting in this position is only feasible for children. Apparently I can't stretch well that way any more. It felt like I was going to pull my groin out, not to mention the fact that my tailbone was effectively placed in the most uncomfortable position ever; directly on the hard wooden slab that was my seat. I didn't last long sitting that way, that's for sure. I even took off my scarf, and wrapped it around my feet, in what surely must have made me look mildly retarded. Again, this did not provide me with the comfort I sought.
Instead, I took to bouncing my feet up and down off the pavement, in an attempt to get the warmth of my blood flowing to them. This tactic worked somewhat, but it still did not keep my feet from feeling detached from my body at the end of two and a half hours.
The entire time I was jiggling my feet, the thought of my lusciously padded Emu's was swimming through my head. I recalled a time last year, in Thunder Bay, when my previous winter boots and succumbed to the harsh realities of a true Canadian winter. The zipper had split down the side, as I tried to cram my increasingly warmth-protected feet and lower calf into them. Turns out those boots could only accept my bare leg, and not the jean and long-john clad one I tried to stuff into them. Shame, really, as they were a rather cute pair of boots.
The Emu's had been purchased after hours of deliberation in the Mall in Thunder Bay. Faced with -50 degree temperatures, I simply could not brave the elements without the best in foot protection. I looked at a few pair of Uggs, and nearly bought some, but the Emu's offered me something the Uggs could not; a stylish lace up look. The laces, I reckoned, would allow me to wear as many layers on my bottom half as was necessary. No bursting zippers here! I remember sinking my feet into the thick sheep's wool lining of the boots, and feeling an instant surge of heat. They were the toastiest thing I'd ever experienced. They were Divine. I laced up both pairs, and sauntered around the store, getting a real feel for the boots. My feet, even in my socks, felt as if they were snuggled deep within the bouncy, springy, soft confines of a sheep's back. I cooed at the way they looked on me in the mirror, and instantly was sold.
The true test was wearing them out of the store. Would they withstand the cold temperatures? Turns out they did, and then some. I was never with cold feet last winter. It was a delight.
It was these thoughts that were swimming through my head as I was shuffling my feet in vain. Why, oh why, hadn't I thought to bring my boots with me? My feet were screaming there discontent at me, as was my brain. Silly, silly girl. I suppose that's just my punishment though, for assuming that England wasn't nearly cold enough to warrant Emu's. All I know for certain is that they will be lodged solidly on my feet for the return flight. I want my first steps back in England in January to be in my snuggly warm Emu's.
But enough reminiscing....
Things are going relatively well at school. I feel like I am finally getting into the swing of things with my groups. They're finally, for the most part, starting to respect me. This means that they're actually taking what I say seriously, and participating more in lesson. It was a constant struggle last term, as you are likely well aware. Students are finally getting to know me, on a personal level as well, and I them. More and more of them are stopping in after classes to talk to me. This makes me feel well liked, as I rarely stayed after to talk to my own teachers, unless I a) liked them and b) felt comfortable with them. The only downside to this is that I think some of them like me a touch too much; not necessarily on a 'romantic' level (though some do, I'm told), but on a 'friend' level. I had always hoped to come across as a friendly, approachable teacher, but had hoped that I could draw the line at 'being a friend'. It has not,nor never will be, my intention to befriend the students. As a professional, it's impossible to be an effective teacher and their friend. You just lose too much authority in the process of becoming a friend. Some of my students, though, are increasinly telling me a tad too much. I won't get into it here, for privacy's sake, but some of them tell me things I don't really want to hear. These aren't things that are alarming on a safety level, but are more alarming on a 'shit, I don't want to know you're into that stuff at your age' level. Mind you, I was likely into at least SOME of the stuff they're on about when I was their age. Or perhaps not. I'm not sure, and frankly I would rather not go there.
I have, however, had more than one student come to me and tell me things about other teachers that is not very professional to hear. I make absolutly no comments back, either for or against what they say, but I still feel like it puts me in an awkward position. I don't really relish the idea of hearing students bitch and moan about my co-workers, and I certainly cannot comment on what the students are saying, as that would be 100% unprofessional of me. I also cannot, in good conscience, take their word over that of the people I work with. Rest assured, nothing they say is incriminating, but they do a great disservice to my co-workers on a personal level. It's a tad awkward to listen to, but in most cases I turn off my ears and then switch the topic of conversation. As much as I like to hear that I'm a well liked teacher, I don't like to hear it at the expense of my friends and collegues.
Well, I do believe that Rachel is ready to depart now, which means I must log off! I will try to update this a bit more frequently, but really it's all a matter of when time affords me the opportunity of leisure.
Until then, cheers!
In fact, it was just the other day that I realize that my feet are being left literally in the cold these days. It appears that with all my planning and packing, I've failed to sufficiently provide for my feet. The shoes I brought over were summer shoes, no doubt about it. Cute flats, a crummy pair of slip on trainers (that my mates affectionately call the ugliest shoes in the world, bless), and my tried-and-true red patent leather peep toes. Not the type of shoes that would see you through winter, in any country. No, I clearly was not thinking in terms of the distant future; winter.
I was watching Jason play football on Saturday, when I was struck with the complexity of my situation. It was minus SOMETHING for sure, and sitting on a bench watching the game was hell on earth (if hell happens to be an extremely cold place instead of extremely hot. It's a place of extremes, and that's all that matters). For all my bragging about being a 'tough and hearty' Canadian girl, it didn't take me long to admit that I was freezing my ass, and in this case toes, off. the flimsy little brown flats that I was wearing were doing nothing by way of protecting my toes from the elements. I tried in vain to position myself so that my feet were covered by some part of my body. I tried folding my legs up and sitting on them, but this was only comfortable for about five minutes before the bones in my heels started to dig into me. I tried to sit cross-legged on the bench, only to realize that sitting in this position is only feasible for children. Apparently I can't stretch well that way any more. It felt like I was going to pull my groin out, not to mention the fact that my tailbone was effectively placed in the most uncomfortable position ever; directly on the hard wooden slab that was my seat. I didn't last long sitting that way, that's for sure. I even took off my scarf, and wrapped it around my feet, in what surely must have made me look mildly retarded. Again, this did not provide me with the comfort I sought.
Instead, I took to bouncing my feet up and down off the pavement, in an attempt to get the warmth of my blood flowing to them. This tactic worked somewhat, but it still did not keep my feet from feeling detached from my body at the end of two and a half hours.
The entire time I was jiggling my feet, the thought of my lusciously padded Emu's was swimming through my head. I recalled a time last year, in Thunder Bay, when my previous winter boots and succumbed to the harsh realities of a true Canadian winter. The zipper had split down the side, as I tried to cram my increasingly warmth-protected feet and lower calf into them. Turns out those boots could only accept my bare leg, and not the jean and long-john clad one I tried to stuff into them. Shame, really, as they were a rather cute pair of boots.
The Emu's had been purchased after hours of deliberation in the Mall in Thunder Bay. Faced with -50 degree temperatures, I simply could not brave the elements without the best in foot protection. I looked at a few pair of Uggs, and nearly bought some, but the Emu's offered me something the Uggs could not; a stylish lace up look. The laces, I reckoned, would allow me to wear as many layers on my bottom half as was necessary. No bursting zippers here! I remember sinking my feet into the thick sheep's wool lining of the boots, and feeling an instant surge of heat. They were the toastiest thing I'd ever experienced. They were Divine. I laced up both pairs, and sauntered around the store, getting a real feel for the boots. My feet, even in my socks, felt as if they were snuggled deep within the bouncy, springy, soft confines of a sheep's back. I cooed at the way they looked on me in the mirror, and instantly was sold.
The true test was wearing them out of the store. Would they withstand the cold temperatures? Turns out they did, and then some. I was never with cold feet last winter. It was a delight.
It was these thoughts that were swimming through my head as I was shuffling my feet in vain. Why, oh why, hadn't I thought to bring my boots with me? My feet were screaming there discontent at me, as was my brain. Silly, silly girl. I suppose that's just my punishment though, for assuming that England wasn't nearly cold enough to warrant Emu's. All I know for certain is that they will be lodged solidly on my feet for the return flight. I want my first steps back in England in January to be in my snuggly warm Emu's.
But enough reminiscing....
Things are going relatively well at school. I feel like I am finally getting into the swing of things with my groups. They're finally, for the most part, starting to respect me. This means that they're actually taking what I say seriously, and participating more in lesson. It was a constant struggle last term, as you are likely well aware. Students are finally getting to know me, on a personal level as well, and I them. More and more of them are stopping in after classes to talk to me. This makes me feel well liked, as I rarely stayed after to talk to my own teachers, unless I a) liked them and b) felt comfortable with them. The only downside to this is that I think some of them like me a touch too much; not necessarily on a 'romantic' level (though some do, I'm told), but on a 'friend' level. I had always hoped to come across as a friendly, approachable teacher, but had hoped that I could draw the line at 'being a friend'. It has not,nor never will be, my intention to befriend the students. As a professional, it's impossible to be an effective teacher and their friend. You just lose too much authority in the process of becoming a friend. Some of my students, though, are increasinly telling me a tad too much. I won't get into it here, for privacy's sake, but some of them tell me things I don't really want to hear. These aren't things that are alarming on a safety level, but are more alarming on a 'shit, I don't want to know you're into that stuff at your age' level. Mind you, I was likely into at least SOME of the stuff they're on about when I was their age. Or perhaps not. I'm not sure, and frankly I would rather not go there.
I have, however, had more than one student come to me and tell me things about other teachers that is not very professional to hear. I make absolutly no comments back, either for or against what they say, but I still feel like it puts me in an awkward position. I don't really relish the idea of hearing students bitch and moan about my co-workers, and I certainly cannot comment on what the students are saying, as that would be 100% unprofessional of me. I also cannot, in good conscience, take their word over that of the people I work with. Rest assured, nothing they say is incriminating, but they do a great disservice to my co-workers on a personal level. It's a tad awkward to listen to, but in most cases I turn off my ears and then switch the topic of conversation. As much as I like to hear that I'm a well liked teacher, I don't like to hear it at the expense of my friends and collegues.
Well, I do believe that Rachel is ready to depart now, which means I must log off! I will try to update this a bit more frequently, but really it's all a matter of when time affords me the opportunity of leisure.
Until then, cheers!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
On the Hunt Being On
The hunt is officially on. For what, you ask? A new place to live, in Cambridge. Yes. You've read right, my dears. I'm planning on making the momentous leap into big city life. Some of you may be wondering why. My response can be summed up in one word: convenience. Ever since I made friends with the staff, I've been out in Cambridge nearly every weekend. It was always a bit of a hassle, because I had to mooch a place to spend the night off of my co-workers. This didn't always end up working out too pleasantly, and I had more than my fair share of awkward moments. Anyways, over the past few weeks, I've spend an ever increasing amount of time in the city, not just on weekends. As such, the cost of commuting as started to outweigh itself in simplicity. I've had to catch a few cabs home, at the hefty cost of thirty pounds. If you convert that into Canadian dollars, it's around sixty bucks. For a ride that costs 6 bucks Canadian via the bus. Talk about a gigantic rip off. They hose you for everything you're worth in this country.
But I digress. The point is, while I can afford to keep commuting to my 'life' outside of school, I am putting my foot down, and refusing to do it. That is why, starting just the other day, I am actively searching for a new place to live in Cambridge.
I must admit, however, that my knowledge of the area outside the city centre is lacking immensely. Lucky for me, I've got a lovely boy who can help me pinpoint the location of prospective places. I'll also try to get him to come view a few places with me, should I ever reach that stage in the renting process. I'm picky, so I rarely agree to view a place unless I've been swept away. You've got to have the right feeling for it! It's kind of like dating; if you don't feel the initial spark of interest, there's no sense wasting your time!
I'm hoping to move after Christmas, but you never know. It could very well take longer (though I certainly hope that it doesn't, for a number of reasons). It would just be ridiculously convenient, and frankly a lot for fun, if I were located in Cambridge. The only downside is that, should I live close to the city centre, I will be tempted to shop more than I already am. Bad combination. Very bad, indeed.
I'll just try to limit my shopping addiction, that's all. I'll see what I can do. With Christmas coming up, and so many lovely people to buy presents for, it's a touch hard.
But anyways. Enough of that.
I haven't talked about school lately, so perhaps I should provide a brief update in that avenue.
Things have been going fairly well since half term ended. I really feel I came to a turning point with my year 10s. I won some of their respect, in allowing them to listen to their iPods while doing individual work. The only problem with that is that they try to put them in during group work, or even when I am talking, and I have to crack the whip and get them to put them away. However, I can't let them push me around, so I should really take no issue with having to constantly reprimand them for improper iPod use. Frankly, I could get into a lot of trouble with the school, should they find out I'm breaking the iPod rule. But it really does get the kids to work quietly during individual learning time, so I don't want to give it up. I had the assistant head principal sit in on a lesson with my 10s before the break, and they were absolute angels. Someone once told me that you can always tell whether a class likes you by how they behave when someone else is in the room. If they know its an important thing for you, and they like you, they will be on their best behaviour. If they don't give two shits about you, they will carry on like normal. If that is true, than I have to take their behaviour to mean they do like and respect me...they've just got a weird way of showing it.
My year 9s continue to be my problem class. The last lesson I had them, they would not settle down. When I tried to do a group discussion, they went absolutely ape shit. I had to shut off the lights, raise my voice, and threaten them with after school detentions in order to get them to work as I wanted them to. It's a constant frustration to me, as I don't think I should have to threaten them to get them to work. That said, again, when someone is observing me in lesson, they act like civilized beings...so they must, on some bizarre level, like me a little.
I was off 'sick' yesterday (mental health day...heh heh), and was told this morning that my 9s were the worst behaved children the supply had ever experienced. She told me that if she had to deal with those kids every day, she'd be handing in her notice and quitting. She asked me, with real concern in her eyes, if they were like that every lesson. I kind of smiled at her knowingly, shook my head in the affirmative, and told her I was a very strong woman. She laughed, and agreed wholeheartedly. I can only hope she goes to the department head, and lets her know exactly what type of children I deal with, because I think sometimes she doesn't believe they're that bad. I think she thinks if SHE had them, she could tame them. I think she's wrong. But then again, what do I know?
My 11s are alright. The top set ones, anyways. We've been doing exam preparation, which is INSANELY boring bookwork...there really is no way to jazz it up...and they've been, for the most part, taking it seriously. Hopefully they do well on the exams; that'd make ME look good, as a teacher. Fingers crossed. My bottom set, however, are likely to all bomb it, with the exception of perhaps two girls and one of the boys. They don't take any of the prep work I do seriously, and only do it half assed. In fact, its not even half an effort they give. For a response that requires a good solid 5 paragraph essay response, they write down 5 basic sentences, and then moan the rest of the period about how 'boring' my lessons are. Ugh. They are in for a rude awakening after the exams, that's for damn sure. I hope their parents care. They should.
My 8s, as per usual, are little dolls. They listen to me, do my lessons, and are generally sweethearts. I maintain my position on wishing to teach only year 8s and 7s in the future. They are the perfect age, and I would take on all the 8s and 7s at a school, just to not have to teach any of the other year groups.
But that's just selfish, isn't it? Everyone needs a challenge now and again. Even....me...unfortunately.
Hmm. Well, I have definitely yammered on enough for one evening. I am deathly tired, for some reason, and plan to hit the sheets shortly. I need a day of solid sleep, I think, to rest up my weary head. I think too much. It's a curse, really.
Cheers.
But I digress. The point is, while I can afford to keep commuting to my 'life' outside of school, I am putting my foot down, and refusing to do it. That is why, starting just the other day, I am actively searching for a new place to live in Cambridge.
I must admit, however, that my knowledge of the area outside the city centre is lacking immensely. Lucky for me, I've got a lovely boy who can help me pinpoint the location of prospective places. I'll also try to get him to come view a few places with me, should I ever reach that stage in the renting process. I'm picky, so I rarely agree to view a place unless I've been swept away. You've got to have the right feeling for it! It's kind of like dating; if you don't feel the initial spark of interest, there's no sense wasting your time!
I'm hoping to move after Christmas, but you never know. It could very well take longer (though I certainly hope that it doesn't, for a number of reasons). It would just be ridiculously convenient, and frankly a lot for fun, if I were located in Cambridge. The only downside is that, should I live close to the city centre, I will be tempted to shop more than I already am. Bad combination. Very bad, indeed.
I'll just try to limit my shopping addiction, that's all. I'll see what I can do. With Christmas coming up, and so many lovely people to buy presents for, it's a touch hard.
But anyways. Enough of that.
I haven't talked about school lately, so perhaps I should provide a brief update in that avenue.
Things have been going fairly well since half term ended. I really feel I came to a turning point with my year 10s. I won some of their respect, in allowing them to listen to their iPods while doing individual work. The only problem with that is that they try to put them in during group work, or even when I am talking, and I have to crack the whip and get them to put them away. However, I can't let them push me around, so I should really take no issue with having to constantly reprimand them for improper iPod use. Frankly, I could get into a lot of trouble with the school, should they find out I'm breaking the iPod rule. But it really does get the kids to work quietly during individual learning time, so I don't want to give it up. I had the assistant head principal sit in on a lesson with my 10s before the break, and they were absolute angels. Someone once told me that you can always tell whether a class likes you by how they behave when someone else is in the room. If they know its an important thing for you, and they like you, they will be on their best behaviour. If they don't give two shits about you, they will carry on like normal. If that is true, than I have to take their behaviour to mean they do like and respect me...they've just got a weird way of showing it.
My year 9s continue to be my problem class. The last lesson I had them, they would not settle down. When I tried to do a group discussion, they went absolutely ape shit. I had to shut off the lights, raise my voice, and threaten them with after school detentions in order to get them to work as I wanted them to. It's a constant frustration to me, as I don't think I should have to threaten them to get them to work. That said, again, when someone is observing me in lesson, they act like civilized beings...so they must, on some bizarre level, like me a little.
I was off 'sick' yesterday (mental health day...heh heh), and was told this morning that my 9s were the worst behaved children the supply had ever experienced. She told me that if she had to deal with those kids every day, she'd be handing in her notice and quitting. She asked me, with real concern in her eyes, if they were like that every lesson. I kind of smiled at her knowingly, shook my head in the affirmative, and told her I was a very strong woman. She laughed, and agreed wholeheartedly. I can only hope she goes to the department head, and lets her know exactly what type of children I deal with, because I think sometimes she doesn't believe they're that bad. I think she thinks if SHE had them, she could tame them. I think she's wrong. But then again, what do I know?
My 11s are alright. The top set ones, anyways. We've been doing exam preparation, which is INSANELY boring bookwork...there really is no way to jazz it up...and they've been, for the most part, taking it seriously. Hopefully they do well on the exams; that'd make ME look good, as a teacher. Fingers crossed. My bottom set, however, are likely to all bomb it, with the exception of perhaps two girls and one of the boys. They don't take any of the prep work I do seriously, and only do it half assed. In fact, its not even half an effort they give. For a response that requires a good solid 5 paragraph essay response, they write down 5 basic sentences, and then moan the rest of the period about how 'boring' my lessons are. Ugh. They are in for a rude awakening after the exams, that's for damn sure. I hope their parents care. They should.
My 8s, as per usual, are little dolls. They listen to me, do my lessons, and are generally sweethearts. I maintain my position on wishing to teach only year 8s and 7s in the future. They are the perfect age, and I would take on all the 8s and 7s at a school, just to not have to teach any of the other year groups.
But that's just selfish, isn't it? Everyone needs a challenge now and again. Even....me...unfortunately.
Hmm. Well, I have definitely yammered on enough for one evening. I am deathly tired, for some reason, and plan to hit the sheets shortly. I need a day of solid sleep, I think, to rest up my weary head. I think too much. It's a curse, really.
Cheers.
Friday, November 7, 2008
On Saying Some Stuff
Alright, so I am aware that, as per usual, I haven't updated much lately. To be fair, I've had an awful lot going on lately! It was a wild and crazy half term break....well less wild and crazy, really, and more breathtakingly amazing. I needed the break more than I thought, and seriously enjoyed it immensely. If I'm being 100% honest, it was probably one of the best weeks of my life. Edinburgh was, to put it lightly, the most amazing place I've ever been. Everywhere I looked was something ridiculously beautiful. This sheer history of the place awed me. I also loved the atmosphere of the city. It was so vibrant and fun, bubbly and amazing. I loved every second of it, and I would seriously consider moving there some day. It was amazing. I am officially in love with the city of Edinburgh.
Anyways, more than that happened over the half term as well. I'd love to get into it here, but some things should remain personal. If you really want to know, ask me! The only tidbit you'll get is that I'm happy, and I think I'll be happy for awhile now. :)
Well, perhaps when I get bored this weekend I will write more. Right now my heart is just not in it.
Cheers!
Anyways, more than that happened over the half term as well. I'd love to get into it here, but some things should remain personal. If you really want to know, ask me! The only tidbit you'll get is that I'm happy, and I think I'll be happy for awhile now. :)
Well, perhaps when I get bored this weekend I will write more. Right now my heart is just not in it.
Cheers!
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
On Knowing I am NOT a Crap Teacher
So today I had a good day teaching. I had my lovely year 8s, and my bottom set year 11s. My lessons went well, and the kids don't hate me. My 8s.....I wish all my classes were like my 8s. Teaching them has really made me want to go home and get my Junior/Intermediate qualifications, because I much prefer teacher that age group right now....not so much the 9s, as they are Intermediate...but the Juniors....they're dolls. I can work on my 9s though.
Anyways...I just really wanted to get that out there...that I've realized, after a really really shit day...that I am NOT a shit teacher. I am a very good teacher. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.
I can't let them get me down, and I'll try not to in the future.
Cheers.
Anyways...I just really wanted to get that out there...that I've realized, after a really really shit day...that I am NOT a shit teacher. I am a very good teacher. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't.
I can't let them get me down, and I'll try not to in the future.
Cheers.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
On Letting Staff See Me Cry
Well, I've given the story away with the title today. I cried at school. Again. The only difference between this time and all the other times is that people walked in today. I also cried more than once, in front of different people. God, I am weepy. So green. So embarrassing. Here's how it went down...
Tuesday I usually dread, because I start the day off with my year 9s. There is a staff briefing every Tuesday and Thursday, where they give us coffee. Usually I inhale a cup of super sugary brew, because I need the extra caffeine to deal with them. I sat through the meeting today, chugging my coffee, and hoping that it wouldn't go as badly as it went last week.
It started off alright. A few of the students weren't there at first, and when the kids came in they quietly got down to work. I was pretty impressed, and even commented on how pleased I was with how they'd entered the room and gotten down to business.
As I was doing the roll call, a group of fairly bad students wandered in. They were already late, so common courtesy would dictate that they SHOULD enter quietly. Instead, they stormed in, making as much noise as humanly possible.
"Sorry Miss," one of the boys said, a stupid cocky grin plastered on his face. "We got held back in form time...had to have a private conversation with our tutor. Man to man..."
"That's fine..." I said, "But if you're going to come in late, at least do so quietly"
"Yah, Jimmy (name changed, for obvious reason)...remember what we were told. Smarten up," the other boy said, sarcastically.
I glared at them until they sat down, then continued on with the lesson.
I was reading 'Lord of the Flies' aloud. I can't let the kids read it themselves, because they'd never do anything. Usually there are minor disruptions while I read, and today was no exception. Usually I roam around while reading, which is a feat in itself to do without tripping and falling, so I cruised around putting out one interruption after another.
The two boys who'd wandered in late though, could not settle down. They kept shouting each other's names out as I read. I'd go stand by one, giving my hard teacher stare between words, only to have the other one do something stupid and distracting. So then I'd have to move over there, and repeat my actions. I guess I should have removed one of them, but it's so hard to think of the right thing to do in the heat of the moment. Regardless, it was obvious to me, and to the entire class, that they were playing with me. Other boys in the class started to pick up on it, and decided they wanted in on the game. Random coughs started throughout the room. I could never figure out who was making what noise, so it was hard to stop it. I'd stop reading, stare at the clock, and wait for their silence, but as soon as I started to read again the minor irritations would begin again.
A different boy, who is always a bit of a firestarter, started to really act up. He put his hand up while I was reading, so I stopped to ask him what his question was.
"Nothing, " he said. "I'm just bored."
I felt myself getting pretty angry, but I chose to ignore his bratty comment, and plowed ahead. The girls in the room were all devotedly following along with the reading, and I didn't want to deprive them of learning, just because the boys were deciding to immature.
The distractions didn't stop though, as the boys started to really push me around. A cough would issue in one corner, followed by a fart noise in another, followed by a name being shouted in another. Finally, having had enough of this nonsense, I finished the chapter.
"Alright. Since you guys aren't going to let me read aloud, you can finish the book independently. I want everyone to turn to chapter 12, and start reading. If I hear a single peep, even one little noise, you're asking me for an after school detention," I said.
The girls all started reading instantly. The boys were hesitant. I could tell most of them didn't want to chance an after school with me.
I started to stroll around the room, to ensure everyone was reading, and instantly heard chatter from the front when I was at the back.
I whipped around, to see who it was, and low and behold, it was young Jimmy. I walked slowly towards him. He saw me the entire time, but gave me a rebellious look.
"Diary please," I demanded when I got to him.
"Why Miss?" he asked.
"You were talking. You heard what I said. Diary please."
"Oh MAN...this is bullshit. Other people were talking, but you ALWAYS pick on me. This is retarded. I hate this class. This is a crap teaching group, and you're even more of a crap teacher. We don't learn anything, and you ALWAYS pick on me and never anyone else. I hate you and I hate this class. Everyone hates it," he ranted. "This is complete bullshit."
I tried to calmly write in his planner that he had a detention with me Thursday, but my hand was shaking, because I was getting a bit upset. The entire time I was writing, he was causing a huge scene, bitching and moaning about what a "crap" teacher I was. I'm not going to lie, it was really really hard for me to not cry right then and there.
I finished writing, and then turned to face the class.
"Anyone else want to join Jimmy?" I asked.
Silence.
"Good."
I started to walk away, and instantly heard Jimmy mumbling under his breath about what a shit teacher I am, and how crappy the lessons are.
I wheeled around to face him, and gave him quite possibly the dirtiest look on the face of the planet. He gave it right back. It was 100% evident that he HATED my GUTS. I'm not sure if you've ever seen a kid look at you that way....but it's really hard to take. It crushed me a little bit, and I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it goes back to my being completely naive and stupid. I guess a ridiculous part of me wants to be liked. I know that's not important, and I also know it's impossible ... you can't get everyone to like you, especially not people you're supposed to have authority over. I definitely have to get over that. But I haven't yet. I'm working on it.
I stared him down though, until finally he gave up and opened his book.
Meanwhile, the firestarter boy I told you about earlier fed directly off Jimmy's behaviour, and started talking as loudly as he could to the person behind him.
I strolled over to him, and asked for his diary. Jimmy instantly started bitching again. I couldn't deal with that now though.
"WHAT?!" the other boy screamed.
"Your diary. It should already be out. Get it out now," I said, trying to stay calm.
"I don't have it," he said defiantly.
"Right, well you know the automatic response to not having your diary with you," I said, knowing he would cave.
"FINE!" he said, bending to rummage in his bag.
He pulled the diary out, throwing it on the table.
I opened it, and started writing.
"What are you writing?" he asked.
"That you have an after school with me," I said.
"WHAT?! BULLSHIT. This school is fucking anal. Every FUCKING thing I do..." he said.
"Wow. You're really heaping on the reasons today, aren't you?" I said, as I wrote more.
"Fuck you, and fuck this school. I'm NOT coming. I'm going on holiday anyways, so it's pointless to assign one," he said.
"Well, you'll just serve it after half term," I replied.
"The hell I will," he said.
"Try skipping it, and see how that turns out for you," I said.
"Fuck this, I'm out of this STUPID class. You're an asshole," he yelled at me. He threw his chair down and whipped past me and out the door.
I stared after him, unsure of what to do.
The class started to giggle.
I looked over at Jimmy, and he looked back at me, a smug grin on his face. It was like he was telling me he wasn't the ONLY one who thought I was crap.
"Keep reading," I said meekly.
They all bowed their heads, and read silently for the last 5 minutes. I wandered through the room, aimlessly, going over all the things that had JUST happened. Finally, it was time to dismiss them.
"Jimmy, I need to talk to you a moment," I said.
Everyone filed out, all of them giving me either looks of total disgust and hatred, or sympathy.
Jimmy was staring at the floor.
"Give me your diary," I said.
He started to protest, but I told him it wasn't a bad thing.
I crossed out the after school detention, and wrote in lunchtime detention.
"I shouldn't even do this, but maybe it'll serve as a warning to you. I expect way better from you. And frankly, when you say, in front of the entire class, that I'm a crap teacher....well on a personal level that's not nice. I don't like that. I'm a person too, Jimmy. That hurts."
He glanced up at me for a second, then looked back at the floor.
"I know. I'm sorry. I said it in the heat of the moment, and I shouldn't have. Ask my Mum...I do that a lot. I didn't mean it," he said.
"It doesn't matter if you meant it. You said it, people heard it, and it's rude and disrespectful to me for you to say that. It makes me look bad, and it makes you look bad. You need to control yourself...."
"Yah. Okay. Sorry Miss," he said. He was squirming. It was obvious to me he wanted to leave.
The mean part of me wanted to make him squirm some more, but instead I told him he could go....but that his mother would be hearing from me.
He shot me a worried glance, before hardening, and turning away.
"Things have to change, Jimmy," I shouted after him.
I walked around the room, pushing in chairs, collecting forgotten books. My mind was racing a million miles a minute. I kept replaying in my mind Jimmy calling me a crap teacher. The venom in his voice rebounded in my head. I walked to my desk, and collapsed into my chair. I stared at the computer monitor, my eyes starting to well up with tears. I tried to fight them back, tried to think of anything else. Anything but the fact that I was officially a crap teacher.
Louise walked into my room at that moment.
"Are you alright?" she asked, "How were they?"
"Crap," I said. "Totally awful."
"Aw, what happened?" she asked.
"I....I....." I started to say. I couldn't finish. I hid my face in my hands, and started to cry. I mean, really really cry. None of this watery eyes, emotional shit. Actual hard weeping.
"Oh my god, Krista, no! Don't let them do this to you! Don't cry!" she said. She put her books down on the nearest table, and walked over to me. She put her arms around my shoulders, and pressed her face against mine. It was actually very comforting. I haven't had someone, especially a woman, be so intimate with me in awhile. It was very motherly, and it was kinda nice. I couldn't stop crying though.
She let me cry, rubbing my back, and nuzzling my hair.
"It's alright. You can't take what they say personally. You are NOT a crap teacher. It is not your fault they are a difficult group. You're doing everything you can. And we will work to make this right. It is NOT you. Don't EVER let them tell you it's you. It's not you."
Allison walked in at this point. She saw me crying, and walked over.
"Jesus. The little shits...don't let them get to you. They are not worth it," she said.
I started to suck it up, at this point. I opened my desk to get some tissues, and started to dry my eyes.
I explained to them what had happened. Louise was indignant, and told me to talk to Leslie.
"They have to know they can't get away with bullying you, which is what they are doing," she said.
I agreed with her, and resolved to not only talk to a LOT of mothers, but to talk to Leslie too.
I did talk to Leslie, later in the day. It was between my double period with my 10s, at lunch. She came in, asking if I was alright. I don't know what it was, but the look on her face made me burst into tears again. I started to weep harder than before, as I tried to explain the story to her.
She was livid. She told me she would pull the two main boys out of class that afternoon, and exclude them from my next lesson. Then she gave me some words of wisdom, and some professional advice. I could tell she felt bad that I was crying...I felt bad too. Its horribly embarrassing to cry in front of your boss. I felt like such a rookie. I still feel like the biggest rookie on the face of the planet.
But this class...this class is getting the best of me. The worst thing is, I don't know how to fix it. I was trying, trying really hard...and I was making SOME headway....but obviously not enough.
Anyways, I just felt like shit the rest of the day. I had to try to teach my last period, after balling my eyes out to Leslie, as if nothing was wrong. I'm sure the kids could tell. You can always tell when someone's been crying...and I'd cried TWICE in the day. My eyes were a bit puffy....not very attractive.
It's just such a huge embarrassment to me. I hate being such a sensitive sap. Such an open book. I wish I could learn not to wear my emotions on my sleeve. I wonder when I will grow that hard skin that so many teachers have? Maybe by the end of the year? I can only hope.
It doesn't help that on a personal level, my life is pretty bland right now. I come home, and all I really want is someone to turn to, to talk to...and I'm met with the solitude of my own room. My roomies are nice, but they've got their own lives, and I don't factor in very high...plus the language barrier makes it a bit hard. The thing I want more than anything right now is to just rest my head on someone. A hug'd be nice. Just a hug, where I could take a deep breath, close my eyes, and forget about how crap my job can be sometimes. Just melt into nothing. And I don't just mean a dude here. It could be my Mama, or my sister, or my best girl pals. But a fellow'd be nice too.....cuz they've got nicer arms, and no boobies to get in the way of a nice lay-down. Oh how I'd fancy a snuggle. Ha ha ha!
God, I want to go home. God, I want half term to come....I need a break from my life, and Scotland will provide just that.
I need a drink.
I need a lot of things.
I need a hug most of all.
Cheers.
Tuesday I usually dread, because I start the day off with my year 9s. There is a staff briefing every Tuesday and Thursday, where they give us coffee. Usually I inhale a cup of super sugary brew, because I need the extra caffeine to deal with them. I sat through the meeting today, chugging my coffee, and hoping that it wouldn't go as badly as it went last week.
It started off alright. A few of the students weren't there at first, and when the kids came in they quietly got down to work. I was pretty impressed, and even commented on how pleased I was with how they'd entered the room and gotten down to business.
As I was doing the roll call, a group of fairly bad students wandered in. They were already late, so common courtesy would dictate that they SHOULD enter quietly. Instead, they stormed in, making as much noise as humanly possible.
"Sorry Miss," one of the boys said, a stupid cocky grin plastered on his face. "We got held back in form time...had to have a private conversation with our tutor. Man to man..."
"That's fine..." I said, "But if you're going to come in late, at least do so quietly"
"Yah, Jimmy (name changed, for obvious reason)...remember what we were told. Smarten up," the other boy said, sarcastically.
I glared at them until they sat down, then continued on with the lesson.
I was reading 'Lord of the Flies' aloud. I can't let the kids read it themselves, because they'd never do anything. Usually there are minor disruptions while I read, and today was no exception. Usually I roam around while reading, which is a feat in itself to do without tripping and falling, so I cruised around putting out one interruption after another.
The two boys who'd wandered in late though, could not settle down. They kept shouting each other's names out as I read. I'd go stand by one, giving my hard teacher stare between words, only to have the other one do something stupid and distracting. So then I'd have to move over there, and repeat my actions. I guess I should have removed one of them, but it's so hard to think of the right thing to do in the heat of the moment. Regardless, it was obvious to me, and to the entire class, that they were playing with me. Other boys in the class started to pick up on it, and decided they wanted in on the game. Random coughs started throughout the room. I could never figure out who was making what noise, so it was hard to stop it. I'd stop reading, stare at the clock, and wait for their silence, but as soon as I started to read again the minor irritations would begin again.
A different boy, who is always a bit of a firestarter, started to really act up. He put his hand up while I was reading, so I stopped to ask him what his question was.
"Nothing, " he said. "I'm just bored."
I felt myself getting pretty angry, but I chose to ignore his bratty comment, and plowed ahead. The girls in the room were all devotedly following along with the reading, and I didn't want to deprive them of learning, just because the boys were deciding to immature.
The distractions didn't stop though, as the boys started to really push me around. A cough would issue in one corner, followed by a fart noise in another, followed by a name being shouted in another. Finally, having had enough of this nonsense, I finished the chapter.
"Alright. Since you guys aren't going to let me read aloud, you can finish the book independently. I want everyone to turn to chapter 12, and start reading. If I hear a single peep, even one little noise, you're asking me for an after school detention," I said.
The girls all started reading instantly. The boys were hesitant. I could tell most of them didn't want to chance an after school with me.
I started to stroll around the room, to ensure everyone was reading, and instantly heard chatter from the front when I was at the back.
I whipped around, to see who it was, and low and behold, it was young Jimmy. I walked slowly towards him. He saw me the entire time, but gave me a rebellious look.
"Diary please," I demanded when I got to him.
"Why Miss?" he asked.
"You were talking. You heard what I said. Diary please."
"Oh MAN...this is bullshit. Other people were talking, but you ALWAYS pick on me. This is retarded. I hate this class. This is a crap teaching group, and you're even more of a crap teacher. We don't learn anything, and you ALWAYS pick on me and never anyone else. I hate you and I hate this class. Everyone hates it," he ranted. "This is complete bullshit."
I tried to calmly write in his planner that he had a detention with me Thursday, but my hand was shaking, because I was getting a bit upset. The entire time I was writing, he was causing a huge scene, bitching and moaning about what a "crap" teacher I was. I'm not going to lie, it was really really hard for me to not cry right then and there.
I finished writing, and then turned to face the class.
"Anyone else want to join Jimmy?" I asked.
Silence.
"Good."
I started to walk away, and instantly heard Jimmy mumbling under his breath about what a shit teacher I am, and how crappy the lessons are.
I wheeled around to face him, and gave him quite possibly the dirtiest look on the face of the planet. He gave it right back. It was 100% evident that he HATED my GUTS. I'm not sure if you've ever seen a kid look at you that way....but it's really hard to take. It crushed me a little bit, and I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it goes back to my being completely naive and stupid. I guess a ridiculous part of me wants to be liked. I know that's not important, and I also know it's impossible ... you can't get everyone to like you, especially not people you're supposed to have authority over. I definitely have to get over that. But I haven't yet. I'm working on it.
I stared him down though, until finally he gave up and opened his book.
Meanwhile, the firestarter boy I told you about earlier fed directly off Jimmy's behaviour, and started talking as loudly as he could to the person behind him.
I strolled over to him, and asked for his diary. Jimmy instantly started bitching again. I couldn't deal with that now though.
"WHAT?!" the other boy screamed.
"Your diary. It should already be out. Get it out now," I said, trying to stay calm.
"I don't have it," he said defiantly.
"Right, well you know the automatic response to not having your diary with you," I said, knowing he would cave.
"FINE!" he said, bending to rummage in his bag.
He pulled the diary out, throwing it on the table.
I opened it, and started writing.
"What are you writing?" he asked.
"That you have an after school with me," I said.
"WHAT?! BULLSHIT. This school is fucking anal. Every FUCKING thing I do..." he said.
"Wow. You're really heaping on the reasons today, aren't you?" I said, as I wrote more.
"Fuck you, and fuck this school. I'm NOT coming. I'm going on holiday anyways, so it's pointless to assign one," he said.
"Well, you'll just serve it after half term," I replied.
"The hell I will," he said.
"Try skipping it, and see how that turns out for you," I said.
"Fuck this, I'm out of this STUPID class. You're an asshole," he yelled at me. He threw his chair down and whipped past me and out the door.
I stared after him, unsure of what to do.
The class started to giggle.
I looked over at Jimmy, and he looked back at me, a smug grin on his face. It was like he was telling me he wasn't the ONLY one who thought I was crap.
"Keep reading," I said meekly.
They all bowed their heads, and read silently for the last 5 minutes. I wandered through the room, aimlessly, going over all the things that had JUST happened. Finally, it was time to dismiss them.
"Jimmy, I need to talk to you a moment," I said.
Everyone filed out, all of them giving me either looks of total disgust and hatred, or sympathy.
Jimmy was staring at the floor.
"Give me your diary," I said.
He started to protest, but I told him it wasn't a bad thing.
I crossed out the after school detention, and wrote in lunchtime detention.
"I shouldn't even do this, but maybe it'll serve as a warning to you. I expect way better from you. And frankly, when you say, in front of the entire class, that I'm a crap teacher....well on a personal level that's not nice. I don't like that. I'm a person too, Jimmy. That hurts."
He glanced up at me for a second, then looked back at the floor.
"I know. I'm sorry. I said it in the heat of the moment, and I shouldn't have. Ask my Mum...I do that a lot. I didn't mean it," he said.
"It doesn't matter if you meant it. You said it, people heard it, and it's rude and disrespectful to me for you to say that. It makes me look bad, and it makes you look bad. You need to control yourself...."
"Yah. Okay. Sorry Miss," he said. He was squirming. It was obvious to me he wanted to leave.
The mean part of me wanted to make him squirm some more, but instead I told him he could go....but that his mother would be hearing from me.
He shot me a worried glance, before hardening, and turning away.
"Things have to change, Jimmy," I shouted after him.
I walked around the room, pushing in chairs, collecting forgotten books. My mind was racing a million miles a minute. I kept replaying in my mind Jimmy calling me a crap teacher. The venom in his voice rebounded in my head. I walked to my desk, and collapsed into my chair. I stared at the computer monitor, my eyes starting to well up with tears. I tried to fight them back, tried to think of anything else. Anything but the fact that I was officially a crap teacher.
Louise walked into my room at that moment.
"Are you alright?" she asked, "How were they?"
"Crap," I said. "Totally awful."
"Aw, what happened?" she asked.
"I....I....." I started to say. I couldn't finish. I hid my face in my hands, and started to cry. I mean, really really cry. None of this watery eyes, emotional shit. Actual hard weeping.
"Oh my god, Krista, no! Don't let them do this to you! Don't cry!" she said. She put her books down on the nearest table, and walked over to me. She put her arms around my shoulders, and pressed her face against mine. It was actually very comforting. I haven't had someone, especially a woman, be so intimate with me in awhile. It was very motherly, and it was kinda nice. I couldn't stop crying though.
She let me cry, rubbing my back, and nuzzling my hair.
"It's alright. You can't take what they say personally. You are NOT a crap teacher. It is not your fault they are a difficult group. You're doing everything you can. And we will work to make this right. It is NOT you. Don't EVER let them tell you it's you. It's not you."
Allison walked in at this point. She saw me crying, and walked over.
"Jesus. The little shits...don't let them get to you. They are not worth it," she said.
I started to suck it up, at this point. I opened my desk to get some tissues, and started to dry my eyes.
I explained to them what had happened. Louise was indignant, and told me to talk to Leslie.
"They have to know they can't get away with bullying you, which is what they are doing," she said.
I agreed with her, and resolved to not only talk to a LOT of mothers, but to talk to Leslie too.
I did talk to Leslie, later in the day. It was between my double period with my 10s, at lunch. She came in, asking if I was alright. I don't know what it was, but the look on her face made me burst into tears again. I started to weep harder than before, as I tried to explain the story to her.
She was livid. She told me she would pull the two main boys out of class that afternoon, and exclude them from my next lesson. Then she gave me some words of wisdom, and some professional advice. I could tell she felt bad that I was crying...I felt bad too. Its horribly embarrassing to cry in front of your boss. I felt like such a rookie. I still feel like the biggest rookie on the face of the planet.
But this class...this class is getting the best of me. The worst thing is, I don't know how to fix it. I was trying, trying really hard...and I was making SOME headway....but obviously not enough.
Anyways, I just felt like shit the rest of the day. I had to try to teach my last period, after balling my eyes out to Leslie, as if nothing was wrong. I'm sure the kids could tell. You can always tell when someone's been crying...and I'd cried TWICE in the day. My eyes were a bit puffy....not very attractive.
It's just such a huge embarrassment to me. I hate being such a sensitive sap. Such an open book. I wish I could learn not to wear my emotions on my sleeve. I wonder when I will grow that hard skin that so many teachers have? Maybe by the end of the year? I can only hope.
It doesn't help that on a personal level, my life is pretty bland right now. I come home, and all I really want is someone to turn to, to talk to...and I'm met with the solitude of my own room. My roomies are nice, but they've got their own lives, and I don't factor in very high...plus the language barrier makes it a bit hard. The thing I want more than anything right now is to just rest my head on someone. A hug'd be nice. Just a hug, where I could take a deep breath, close my eyes, and forget about how crap my job can be sometimes. Just melt into nothing. And I don't just mean a dude here. It could be my Mama, or my sister, or my best girl pals. But a fellow'd be nice too.....cuz they've got nicer arms, and no boobies to get in the way of a nice lay-down. Oh how I'd fancy a snuggle. Ha ha ha!
God, I want to go home. God, I want half term to come....I need a break from my life, and Scotland will provide just that.
I need a drink.
I need a lot of things.
I need a hug most of all.
Cheers.
Monday, October 20, 2008
On Laughing at Myself
Oh dear, dear me. Ha ha ha! Do you ever get in those emo moods, where all you want to do is punch something really soft and malleable, just to feel better? I think I was definitely in one of those moods the ENTIRE weekend. I was a snarly, nasty bitch....to everyone and their mother. One of my students told me today she saw me walking down the street in St. Ives (on my way home from my horrendous night in Cambridge), and she said I looked like I had just gouged someone's eyes out...in other words, I looked very very angry. Go figure. I was. As such, I probably should have stayed AWAY from this blog...and quite possibly Facebook AND MSN...because after re-reading what I wrote....well...holy shit....anger abounds. Anger and a little bit of self pity.
Alright, heaps of self pity.
Whatever. I'd like to think that happens to the best of us. Or at least the best WOMEN out there. We're emotional weirdos, and you know it. Hormones fluctuating on a monthly basis, and all that. That is 110% my excuse. Also, booze and tiredness added to the general shittiness of my mood. Yikes. Watch the eff out.
Anyways, I am totally out of my funk today, and back in typical Krista Carson form. Ready to talk on the world, one day at a time. I'm still missing a TON of people back home...one or two more than others....and I'm still regretting SLIGHTLY my decision to come here. Again, the career reasons are all right....but on a personal level the timing couldn't have been more shit. Although, I do blame myself for that as well. I took my sweet ass time this summer, realising right from wrong. Wasted a loooooot of time. Stupid, stupid. Ah well. I figure next summer I can make up for past mistakes, and take what I should have taken ages ago.....And all that. I've likely said too much, but I doubt highly that the person in question reads this rubbish...and if they do, I'm not very ashamed to admit the truth....Though I am embarrassed JUST enough to not actually come out and say what I mean. Ha ha. Again, typical Krista Carson form.
If that person DOES read this...well shit. You should have a pretty clear idea of my intentions now, so consider yourself warned. I'm used to getting what I want, so....yah....it's basically game over for you.
Ha ha. Unless, of course, I've misread the situation AGAIN....which wouldn't be very surprising, considering I ALWAYS do. Ha ha ha ha! Ah well. One day I will get it right.
But I digress.
I leave for Scotland in a few short days. I am very very excited about this trip. I'm going with a few other teachers that came over with Dream, the stupid company that recruited me. At least two of the guys, if all goes as planned. Should be interesting. At least I know they'll protect me from Scottish weirdos...should those exist. Though I'm not sure who will protect me from these blokes, should that situation arise. Ha ha. Naw, it won't. Though...I AM pretty irresistible. My girlish good looks, and outrageous personality win over even the most skeptical of men....even if just for awhile. Ha ha ha. Jokes, jokes. I'm not full of myself, honest.
But I do intend to be a touch flirty with any Scottish honey's I may run into during my travels. The plan is to hit a lot of pubs at night...and if I go dressed to impress, with my face and bod all sexified, speaking in my.....irresistible Canadian accent (yah right!)....well I'll be the hit of the century. Mmmmmm. Gerard Butler, watch out. It's time for the return of the mack.
Jokes, jokes.
But seriously, amped for the trip.
I'm also looking forward to Friday night. A girl from work, Nima, wants to take me out on the town with her. Girls night out. I plan to look super duper sexy, and just work the ego all night. I'll be sultry and coy all night. See how many hearts I can break in an evening, perhaps. I'm good at that. I can put up an amazing front, ha ha ha. It's all in the eyes. Even though I'm probably the nicest, sweetest, un-sex kitten girl on the face of the planet. Hence why I always get s-crewed (and NOT literally, thank you. Figuratively. Remember...nice Canadian girl here).
Well...I mostly just wanted to write to let you all know that I'm fine and dandy. Back to being my confident and strong self. Ain't nobody going to keep me down. I'm a damn fine lady, and fuck you if you don't know it!!
Cheers, my darlings.
Alright, heaps of self pity.
Whatever. I'd like to think that happens to the best of us. Or at least the best WOMEN out there. We're emotional weirdos, and you know it. Hormones fluctuating on a monthly basis, and all that. That is 110% my excuse. Also, booze and tiredness added to the general shittiness of my mood. Yikes. Watch the eff out.
Anyways, I am totally out of my funk today, and back in typical Krista Carson form. Ready to talk on the world, one day at a time. I'm still missing a TON of people back home...one or two more than others....and I'm still regretting SLIGHTLY my decision to come here. Again, the career reasons are all right....but on a personal level the timing couldn't have been more shit. Although, I do blame myself for that as well. I took my sweet ass time this summer, realising right from wrong. Wasted a loooooot of time. Stupid, stupid. Ah well. I figure next summer I can make up for past mistakes, and take what I should have taken ages ago.....And all that. I've likely said too much, but I doubt highly that the person in question reads this rubbish...and if they do, I'm not very ashamed to admit the truth....Though I am embarrassed JUST enough to not actually come out and say what I mean. Ha ha. Again, typical Krista Carson form.
If that person DOES read this...well shit. You should have a pretty clear idea of my intentions now, so consider yourself warned. I'm used to getting what I want, so....yah....it's basically game over for you.
Ha ha. Unless, of course, I've misread the situation AGAIN....which wouldn't be very surprising, considering I ALWAYS do. Ha ha ha ha! Ah well. One day I will get it right.
But I digress.
I leave for Scotland in a few short days. I am very very excited about this trip. I'm going with a few other teachers that came over with Dream, the stupid company that recruited me. At least two of the guys, if all goes as planned. Should be interesting. At least I know they'll protect me from Scottish weirdos...should those exist. Though I'm not sure who will protect me from these blokes, should that situation arise. Ha ha. Naw, it won't. Though...I AM pretty irresistible. My girlish good looks, and outrageous personality win over even the most skeptical of men....even if just for awhile. Ha ha ha. Jokes, jokes. I'm not full of myself, honest.
But I do intend to be a touch flirty with any Scottish honey's I may run into during my travels. The plan is to hit a lot of pubs at night...and if I go dressed to impress, with my face and bod all sexified, speaking in my.....irresistible Canadian accent (yah right!)....well I'll be the hit of the century. Mmmmmm. Gerard Butler, watch out. It's time for the return of the mack.
Jokes, jokes.
But seriously, amped for the trip.
I'm also looking forward to Friday night. A girl from work, Nima, wants to take me out on the town with her. Girls night out. I plan to look super duper sexy, and just work the ego all night. I'll be sultry and coy all night. See how many hearts I can break in an evening, perhaps. I'm good at that. I can put up an amazing front, ha ha ha. It's all in the eyes. Even though I'm probably the nicest, sweetest, un-sex kitten girl on the face of the planet. Hence why I always get s-crewed (and NOT literally, thank you. Figuratively. Remember...nice Canadian girl here).
Well...I mostly just wanted to write to let you all know that I'm fine and dandy. Back to being my confident and strong self. Ain't nobody going to keep me down. I'm a damn fine lady, and fuck you if you don't know it!!
Cheers, my darlings.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
On Hating My Life
Well, when I last posted, on Tuesday, I was on my way to having a pretty shit week. Turns out that I wasn't even close to thinking how shit it could get. Wednesday was alright, as it was the trip to the Think Tank. Thursday was pretty tough, and Friday was a shit storm. All of my classes were like hyperactive, yet uninterested twats. Nothing was going the way I wanted it to go, and the students were pushing me around like never before. After last period, I sat at my desk and just wallowed in how awful the day had went. I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry. I did. Then people started to wander in (which never happens), so I had to suck it up and try to appear alright. I doubt that worked well, since I've never been good at hiding my feelings. Like a goddamn open book. I wish I wasn't, because there's nothing I hate more than people's pity. I got a lot of that Friday...and it makes me want to be sick. Don't feel sorry for me. Everything that goes wrong in my life is my own fault. I make my own choices, and the fact of the matter is most of those choices are the wrong ones. I am notorious for being a stupid, stupid, naive girl. Very naive. I believe everything people tell me...and then wonder why I'm always getting hurt. People lie. I should know that by now....
Sometimes I really wish I'd never made the decision to come here. I get that it will be good for my career...that I did it for that reason alone. But there are so many personal reasons why I shouldn't have come. I'm a strong person, but only up to a certain degree. I don't know how much longer I can put up this front. I'm not happy here, and I haven't been in awhile. I thought maybe I was starting to enjoy it...but no...I was kidding myself. When it comes right down to it, when something goes wrong, and I need someone to talk to, I've got no one. I miss my family, and I miss my friends, and I miss....a lot. And when I think about what I COULD have had, if I had stayed...well it's frustrating. I'm very tempted to book a last minute flight home for half term....but I think that'd just make life a lot harder...cuz I wouldn't want to come back. I'd spend time with the people I miss, and realize that this isn't worth it. As it stands, I think my best bet is to throw myself into this last week, go to Scotland, and try to just forget how much I miss home. I dunno......I'm so fucking mad right now. Mostly at myself though.... but that will pass.
Anyways, I was just listenin to a song by The Script, and was like "damn, this song describes me to a T".....so I'll leave you with that, while I go sulk some more.
Cheers.
Don’t keep yourself away
Don’t live your life that way
Of course he’s gonna say anything you want
Then leave quicker than he came now you got yourself to blame
Don’t put yourself back in the fire again
It’s the same damn things you’re so quick to believe
You do it over and over again
And it’s the same mistakes that I’m watching you make
You do it over and over again
So before they bring you down
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
Cause they’ll bring you down, down, down
Oh, please don’t be so naive
Don’t wait ‘till your heart bleeds
Love wasn’t built for speed, listen to me girl
He keeps fuckin’ with your head, tryin to get you into bed
And in the morning you’ll just hate yourself
It’s the same damn things you’re so quick to believe
You do it over and over again
And it’s the same mistakes that I’m watching you make
You do it over and over again
So before they bring you down
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
Cause they’ll bring you down, down, down
And you give until there’s nothing to give
Until there’s nothing to give
Until there’s nothing to give
Before they bring you down
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for everything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
Before they break you down, down, down
Cause girl they’ll bring you down, down, down
Cause they’ll bring you down, down, down
Cause they’ll bring you down, down, down
Sometimes I really wish I'd never made the decision to come here. I get that it will be good for my career...that I did it for that reason alone. But there are so many personal reasons why I shouldn't have come. I'm a strong person, but only up to a certain degree. I don't know how much longer I can put up this front. I'm not happy here, and I haven't been in awhile. I thought maybe I was starting to enjoy it...but no...I was kidding myself. When it comes right down to it, when something goes wrong, and I need someone to talk to, I've got no one. I miss my family, and I miss my friends, and I miss....a lot. And when I think about what I COULD have had, if I had stayed...well it's frustrating. I'm very tempted to book a last minute flight home for half term....but I think that'd just make life a lot harder...cuz I wouldn't want to come back. I'd spend time with the people I miss, and realize that this isn't worth it. As it stands, I think my best bet is to throw myself into this last week, go to Scotland, and try to just forget how much I miss home. I dunno......I'm so fucking mad right now. Mostly at myself though.... but that will pass.
Anyways, I was just listenin to a song by The Script, and was like "damn, this song describes me to a T".....so I'll leave you with that, while I go sulk some more.
Cheers.
Don’t keep yourself away
Don’t live your life that way
Of course he’s gonna say anything you want
Then leave quicker than he came now you got yourself to blame
Don’t put yourself back in the fire again
It’s the same damn things you’re so quick to believe
You do it over and over again
And it’s the same mistakes that I’m watching you make
You do it over and over again
So before they bring you down
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
Cause they’ll bring you down, down, down
Oh, please don’t be so naive
Don’t wait ‘till your heart bleeds
Love wasn’t built for speed, listen to me girl
He keeps fuckin’ with your head, tryin to get you into bed
And in the morning you’ll just hate yourself
It’s the same damn things you’re so quick to believe
You do it over and over again
And it’s the same mistakes that I’m watching you make
You do it over and over again
So before they bring you down
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
Cause they’ll bring you down, down, down
And you give until there’s nothing to give
Until there’s nothing to give
Until there’s nothing to give
Before they bring you down
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for everything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
You’ve gotta stand for something or you’ll fall for anything
Fall for anything
Before they break you down, down, down
Cause girl they’ll bring you down, down, down
Cause they’ll bring you down, down, down
Cause they’ll bring you down, down, down
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
On Not Posting In Awhile
Geez! It's been awhile since I've posted, eh? One would assume, with the lack of posting that I've been doing, that I'm a busy little beaver (like the Canadian connotation there? I do)! Well, you'd be dead on! I've been running around like a chicken with my head cut off for the past little while. Mostly, I've been attending meeting after meeting after meeting, much to my discomfort (and physical pain, in some instances). In case you were wondering, the physical pain mostly came from wearing heels for a twelve hour day...but you could also factor in uncomfortable seating at uncomfortable meetings as well.
Anyways, I could bore you by going into detail about what I've been up to the past week and a bit, but I will spare you. I will give you a brief update, and then continue with today's issues (and yes, there are issues to discuss...it's been a rough week, and it's only Tuesday).
So....let me think back. Last week was the Open Evening. Basically, the school competes with a bunch of other secondary schools in the county/area, to get parents to send their children there. Competition is apparently pretty stiff, so they really try hard to impress. Interested parents of children currently in year 6 come out for the evening, get schmoozed by the Head Teacher, wander the building with preppy student guides, and watch entertaining presentations put on by the staff. Myself, I got tricked into helping run a giant game of scrabble. It was....interesting, to say the least. Just building the damn thing proved to be a challenge and a half. The string we were given to "map it out" was bloody awful, and the tape in which to stick it down was worse. It just would not stay. Rachel and I kept having to slap it down, as hard as we could, and it almost always bounded back. Eventually, we went to the Science department to get more string, and were magically given a much BETTER, and more co-operative, bundle of string. We ripped out the shit we had laying, and re-did the board with our new magically co-operative string. Then we went about setting out the board pieces, and arranging the letter tiles into piles of seven.
After we had the board set up, we had some time to kill. I wandered into the Orwell Office, and found a bunch of women cutting and pasting book photos and blurbs onto coloured paper. A new display was being constructed, and they asked for my help. I glady did so. I am rather glad I did, because it turned out to be quite funny! Ann, the second head of English, proved herself to be a very funny lady! She had us rolling on the floor laughing. Literally. Putting up the display proved to be a continuation of the good time. Before we knew it, however, it was time to get down to business.
Showtime (and I aptly call it that) approached, and I settled into "Game show host" mood. As children and their parents entered the room, I bombarded them with words of encouragement, trying to entice them into playing the game. A few refused, shyly hiding behind their parents, but most were quite eager to play. In fact, I quickly found that the parents were highly competitive, wanting their kids to get the best score etc. It was a bit daunting, to be honest! I felt bad for a few of the kids, whose parents really pushed them to find "better" words, or to exploit the letters they had. A bit weird to see, that's for sure.
No major problems arose. I met a few of my students parents, as they came in with their younger siblings. It was nice to put faces to names. I had a feeling some of them were rather shocked at my appearance though; I'm not sure if it's my age, or my nose ring, or what, but a few seemed a bit surprised to realize I was "the Miss Carson". "The" indeed. Legendary.
Anyways, the night went off alright. We didn't leave the building until around 9 though, which was a tad horrifying, considering I am there at ten to 8 every day. Ugh. Long long day. Rachel and I ended up joining the Geography boys (who are an hilarious and jovial bunch) for a pint in Fenstanton before going to bed. I slept well that night.
Not a whole lot worth writing about happened between then and now. Aside from the weekend, which started off slow (I went to bed early Friday night), and then ended up being probably the best weekend I've had here so far! I just had a wicked fun time, going out, seeing people, having some drinks, and sharing more than a few laughs.
Coming off that weekend, I was really hoping to have a good week. In fact, I kept thinking this week was going to be GREAT, because I have a nice break in the middle (a trip to Birmingham with the Science department on Wednesday). However, it's now only Tuesday, and I already want to shoot myself in the head.
You see, last week the year 9 reports went home. As you should be aware, my year 9 class is a total terror. They constantly push me, and make me question my desire, if not my ABILITY, to teach. In an effort to "shock" them into realizing I mean business, I wasn't exactly nice when I assessed them. In fact, I was tough as nails. I gave a lot of people really crap marks. In my defence, they totally deserved them. Their attitude towards learning (ATL) was total rubbish, and they're kidding themselves if they think otherwise. So I was brutally honest in my reporting, and I think the marks were indeed "shocking" to a number of students.
Yesterday, Leslie came to me at the end of the day, to let me know that three of my year 9 girls had come to see her about the grades I'd given then. I instantly knew exactly who the girls were. When I listed the names to Leslie, she nodded.
"I'm not going to apologize for the grades," I said. "They deserved them."
"I'm not asking you to apologize. I have no doubts they deserved them. I just wanted you to be aware that there is some discontent out there," she said. She smiled at me constantly, so I could tell she was trying not to seem threatening. It was clear she didn't want to scare me, or make me feel that I had been at fault.
We had a rather frank talk about what the problem was. She told me these girls had requested a class change. My heart sunk.
"Here we go," I thought, "My teaching ability is suddenly thrown into question because three stuck up girls are pissed I called them on their own laziness and stupidity".
However, Leslie tried to explain to me that my teaching wasn't being questioned, and that she understood I had a tough "group of characters".
We decided to allow someone to come observe the class in action, this Thursday, to try and figure out strategies. We also are going to work on picking ONE person, one truly disruptive person, to move out of the class. I can think of a few I wouldn't mind giving the ol' heave ho - but that'd be a cheap solution. One I can deal with. I have an idea of who I want switched out, but that too might be TOO easy. We'll leave it up to the moderator.
With that in the process of being resolved, I rested easy Monday night.
Today, I had my year 9s first period. As the students started their slow shuffle into the room, there were murmurs of discontent. This was the first period that I'd had with them, since the reports went home.
"Miss, why did I get a lever 3?" I heard.
Not looking up to acknowledge the speaker, I said, "If you want to discuss grades with me, see me after class."
"Miss, why did I get a level TWO?!" I heard a high pitched, and extremely whiny girl ask.
I turned, looked over her head at the clock, and said, "Come see me after class, to discuss your mark."
She huffed at me, and refused to move.
"No. I don't deserve this mark. My mum is going to go bananas when she sees this..." she started.
"Sit down. This is not the appropriate place to discuss this," I said calmly to her.
She scowled at me, then marked to her seat. The entire way there she was bitching and complain about how she'd been given an "unfair" mark.
I rolled my eyes.
Instantly, comments started being hurled around the room.
"Yah, well I got a 3."
"HE got a 3?!? THATS NOT FAIR!"
"Oh yah, well I got a two as well. I've NEVER got a two before...."
I could feel myself losing them, so I shouted at them to do the Word Challenge on the board, and to stop talking about grades.
"If you want to talk about grades, do so individually after class with me," I said.
I was met with grumbles. The hatred for me was very evident, throughout the entire classroom.
Bubbles of discontent quickly surfaced again, and before I could stop it, I was being bombarded with comments about how "unfair" I was, and how "we haven't done anything to warrant these marks".
The worst, however, was when one of the girls smugly shouted, "Yah, well I'M SWITCHING ENGLISH CLASSES!"
The rest of the class turned to look at her. She smiled, smug at having won the entire class over for the moment.
Eruptions of agreement spilled forth.
Devastated at the mob mentality that was being directed at me, I felt myself wilt a little. I must admit, I started to doubt my abilities to teach very much. With 28 eyes turned to me, watching for my next move, I knew that now was not the time to collapse.
Instead, I threw my shoulders back and calmly said, "No one will be switching classes. You can't run away from your problems that easily. If you got a bad mark, it's the mark you deserved to get. I don't give good or bad marks. You earn them."
This shut them up for a moment, as they pondered the meaning of what I'd said.
A few rumbles started up at the back, but with a cold stare, I quickly quieted those.
I prompted them back to the Word Challenge, and tried to carry on with the lesson.
We headed to the PC lab for the majority of the class, and kids seemed to be working fairly well.
There was still some animosity amongst some of the girls, but I tried to brush it off with a firm but fair touch. I felt the end of the period went relatively well, and I tried very hard not to let their stinging criticism of my teaching at the start of the lesson get to me. However, at the end, I was given a rather sound slap on the face, by one of the quieter girls in my class.
All the other students had left the room in a noisy mass of swirling chaos. This last girl was slowly and deliberately putting her books into her bag. As she walked past me on her way to the door, she half turned and said, "I'm going to get out of this class."
"Excuse me? Why?" I asked, genuinely shocked.
"Because I can't work with the people in this class. We never get anything done," she said coldly.
"Yes we do," I said. "And besides, if anyone moves, it won't be you...."
"We'll see about that," she said, haughtily, as she strolled out the door.
I stared looking after her for a good thirty seconds. Maybe it was a culmination of everyone else's badgering, or maybe it was something else...whatever it was, her comments to me, seemingly out of the blue (I'd given her a decent mark), struck me harder than anyone elses.
I could understand the "bad" ones wanting out. Students like that will never take responsibility for their actions. They will always blame someone else for their shortcomings. The easiest person to blame right now is me, and so they are. I can deal wit that. I can brush that off. But to have one of the "good" ones slam me....well that was something else entirely. It really made me question my own abilities. Can I handle this class? Is it THAT bad?! Some days I think it is, and others I don't. I do take responsibility for some of the things that happen (or fail to happen) in my class...but I refuse to take responsibility for everything. If you get a bad mix of kids, it's really hard to get them to perform the way you want them to. At least, it is when you are as green a teacher as me. I will always admit to my shortcomings, and my "newbness" is a very large one. I often have no idea what I am doing, and find that usually my instincts are right. However, with this class, I feel like it's hit and miss. They don't trust me. They don't respect me. They plain don't like me. I cannot, no matter how hard I try, get them to be the class I KNOW they can be. It's very frustrating.
I can only hope that the monitoring I get on Thursday will help me figure out what to do. I'd hate to think that I'm failing at teaching....but right now, it sometimes feels that way (at least with this ONE class).
That said, it IS only one of my six classes. I don't think I am doing bad with my other classes at all. It is just my 9s that are totally out of control, and I have no idea how to rein them in. But I'm willing and able to learn.
But anyways...I really don't want to bitch and moan all the time in here. That was never my intention.
Tomorrow I am going with the year 9s (the entire year) to Birmingham, to what is called the "Think Tank". It's some sort of science museum, or something, if I understand all the e-mails right. I am mighty excited to be able to visit a new part of England "on the company dime".
More to come on that later though. Counting down the days till the weekend!! (Which should, if all predictions come true, be even better than the last).
Cheers!
Anyways, I could bore you by going into detail about what I've been up to the past week and a bit, but I will spare you. I will give you a brief update, and then continue with today's issues (and yes, there are issues to discuss...it's been a rough week, and it's only Tuesday).
So....let me think back. Last week was the Open Evening. Basically, the school competes with a bunch of other secondary schools in the county/area, to get parents to send their children there. Competition is apparently pretty stiff, so they really try hard to impress. Interested parents of children currently in year 6 come out for the evening, get schmoozed by the Head Teacher, wander the building with preppy student guides, and watch entertaining presentations put on by the staff. Myself, I got tricked into helping run a giant game of scrabble. It was....interesting, to say the least. Just building the damn thing proved to be a challenge and a half. The string we were given to "map it out" was bloody awful, and the tape in which to stick it down was worse. It just would not stay. Rachel and I kept having to slap it down, as hard as we could, and it almost always bounded back. Eventually, we went to the Science department to get more string, and were magically given a much BETTER, and more co-operative, bundle of string. We ripped out the shit we had laying, and re-did the board with our new magically co-operative string. Then we went about setting out the board pieces, and arranging the letter tiles into piles of seven.
After we had the board set up, we had some time to kill. I wandered into the Orwell Office, and found a bunch of women cutting and pasting book photos and blurbs onto coloured paper. A new display was being constructed, and they asked for my help. I glady did so. I am rather glad I did, because it turned out to be quite funny! Ann, the second head of English, proved herself to be a very funny lady! She had us rolling on the floor laughing. Literally. Putting up the display proved to be a continuation of the good time. Before we knew it, however, it was time to get down to business.
Showtime (and I aptly call it that) approached, and I settled into "Game show host" mood. As children and their parents entered the room, I bombarded them with words of encouragement, trying to entice them into playing the game. A few refused, shyly hiding behind their parents, but most were quite eager to play. In fact, I quickly found that the parents were highly competitive, wanting their kids to get the best score etc. It was a bit daunting, to be honest! I felt bad for a few of the kids, whose parents really pushed them to find "better" words, or to exploit the letters they had. A bit weird to see, that's for sure.
No major problems arose. I met a few of my students parents, as they came in with their younger siblings. It was nice to put faces to names. I had a feeling some of them were rather shocked at my appearance though; I'm not sure if it's my age, or my nose ring, or what, but a few seemed a bit surprised to realize I was "the Miss Carson". "The" indeed. Legendary.
Anyways, the night went off alright. We didn't leave the building until around 9 though, which was a tad horrifying, considering I am there at ten to 8 every day. Ugh. Long long day. Rachel and I ended up joining the Geography boys (who are an hilarious and jovial bunch) for a pint in Fenstanton before going to bed. I slept well that night.
Not a whole lot worth writing about happened between then and now. Aside from the weekend, which started off slow (I went to bed early Friday night), and then ended up being probably the best weekend I've had here so far! I just had a wicked fun time, going out, seeing people, having some drinks, and sharing more than a few laughs.
Coming off that weekend, I was really hoping to have a good week. In fact, I kept thinking this week was going to be GREAT, because I have a nice break in the middle (a trip to Birmingham with the Science department on Wednesday). However, it's now only Tuesday, and I already want to shoot myself in the head.
You see, last week the year 9 reports went home. As you should be aware, my year 9 class is a total terror. They constantly push me, and make me question my desire, if not my ABILITY, to teach. In an effort to "shock" them into realizing I mean business, I wasn't exactly nice when I assessed them. In fact, I was tough as nails. I gave a lot of people really crap marks. In my defence, they totally deserved them. Their attitude towards learning (ATL) was total rubbish, and they're kidding themselves if they think otherwise. So I was brutally honest in my reporting, and I think the marks were indeed "shocking" to a number of students.
Yesterday, Leslie came to me at the end of the day, to let me know that three of my year 9 girls had come to see her about the grades I'd given then. I instantly knew exactly who the girls were. When I listed the names to Leslie, she nodded.
"I'm not going to apologize for the grades," I said. "They deserved them."
"I'm not asking you to apologize. I have no doubts they deserved them. I just wanted you to be aware that there is some discontent out there," she said. She smiled at me constantly, so I could tell she was trying not to seem threatening. It was clear she didn't want to scare me, or make me feel that I had been at fault.
We had a rather frank talk about what the problem was. She told me these girls had requested a class change. My heart sunk.
"Here we go," I thought, "My teaching ability is suddenly thrown into question because three stuck up girls are pissed I called them on their own laziness and stupidity".
However, Leslie tried to explain to me that my teaching wasn't being questioned, and that she understood I had a tough "group of characters".
We decided to allow someone to come observe the class in action, this Thursday, to try and figure out strategies. We also are going to work on picking ONE person, one truly disruptive person, to move out of the class. I can think of a few I wouldn't mind giving the ol' heave ho - but that'd be a cheap solution. One I can deal with. I have an idea of who I want switched out, but that too might be TOO easy. We'll leave it up to the moderator.
With that in the process of being resolved, I rested easy Monday night.
Today, I had my year 9s first period. As the students started their slow shuffle into the room, there were murmurs of discontent. This was the first period that I'd had with them, since the reports went home.
"Miss, why did I get a lever 3?" I heard.
Not looking up to acknowledge the speaker, I said, "If you want to discuss grades with me, see me after class."
"Miss, why did I get a level TWO?!" I heard a high pitched, and extremely whiny girl ask.
I turned, looked over her head at the clock, and said, "Come see me after class, to discuss your mark."
She huffed at me, and refused to move.
"No. I don't deserve this mark. My mum is going to go bananas when she sees this..." she started.
"Sit down. This is not the appropriate place to discuss this," I said calmly to her.
She scowled at me, then marked to her seat. The entire way there she was bitching and complain about how she'd been given an "unfair" mark.
I rolled my eyes.
Instantly, comments started being hurled around the room.
"Yah, well I got a 3."
"HE got a 3?!? THATS NOT FAIR!"
"Oh yah, well I got a two as well. I've NEVER got a two before...."
I could feel myself losing them, so I shouted at them to do the Word Challenge on the board, and to stop talking about grades.
"If you want to talk about grades, do so individually after class with me," I said.
I was met with grumbles. The hatred for me was very evident, throughout the entire classroom.
Bubbles of discontent quickly surfaced again, and before I could stop it, I was being bombarded with comments about how "unfair" I was, and how "we haven't done anything to warrant these marks".
The worst, however, was when one of the girls smugly shouted, "Yah, well I'M SWITCHING ENGLISH CLASSES!"
The rest of the class turned to look at her. She smiled, smug at having won the entire class over for the moment.
Eruptions of agreement spilled forth.
Devastated at the mob mentality that was being directed at me, I felt myself wilt a little. I must admit, I started to doubt my abilities to teach very much. With 28 eyes turned to me, watching for my next move, I knew that now was not the time to collapse.
Instead, I threw my shoulders back and calmly said, "No one will be switching classes. You can't run away from your problems that easily. If you got a bad mark, it's the mark you deserved to get. I don't give good or bad marks. You earn them."
This shut them up for a moment, as they pondered the meaning of what I'd said.
A few rumbles started up at the back, but with a cold stare, I quickly quieted those.
I prompted them back to the Word Challenge, and tried to carry on with the lesson.
We headed to the PC lab for the majority of the class, and kids seemed to be working fairly well.
There was still some animosity amongst some of the girls, but I tried to brush it off with a firm but fair touch. I felt the end of the period went relatively well, and I tried very hard not to let their stinging criticism of my teaching at the start of the lesson get to me. However, at the end, I was given a rather sound slap on the face, by one of the quieter girls in my class.
All the other students had left the room in a noisy mass of swirling chaos. This last girl was slowly and deliberately putting her books into her bag. As she walked past me on her way to the door, she half turned and said, "I'm going to get out of this class."
"Excuse me? Why?" I asked, genuinely shocked.
"Because I can't work with the people in this class. We never get anything done," she said coldly.
"Yes we do," I said. "And besides, if anyone moves, it won't be you...."
"We'll see about that," she said, haughtily, as she strolled out the door.
I stared looking after her for a good thirty seconds. Maybe it was a culmination of everyone else's badgering, or maybe it was something else...whatever it was, her comments to me, seemingly out of the blue (I'd given her a decent mark), struck me harder than anyone elses.
I could understand the "bad" ones wanting out. Students like that will never take responsibility for their actions. They will always blame someone else for their shortcomings. The easiest person to blame right now is me, and so they are. I can deal wit that. I can brush that off. But to have one of the "good" ones slam me....well that was something else entirely. It really made me question my own abilities. Can I handle this class? Is it THAT bad?! Some days I think it is, and others I don't. I do take responsibility for some of the things that happen (or fail to happen) in my class...but I refuse to take responsibility for everything. If you get a bad mix of kids, it's really hard to get them to perform the way you want them to. At least, it is when you are as green a teacher as me. I will always admit to my shortcomings, and my "newbness" is a very large one. I often have no idea what I am doing, and find that usually my instincts are right. However, with this class, I feel like it's hit and miss. They don't trust me. They don't respect me. They plain don't like me. I cannot, no matter how hard I try, get them to be the class I KNOW they can be. It's very frustrating.
I can only hope that the monitoring I get on Thursday will help me figure out what to do. I'd hate to think that I'm failing at teaching....but right now, it sometimes feels that way (at least with this ONE class).
That said, it IS only one of my six classes. I don't think I am doing bad with my other classes at all. It is just my 9s that are totally out of control, and I have no idea how to rein them in. But I'm willing and able to learn.
But anyways...I really don't want to bitch and moan all the time in here. That was never my intention.
Tomorrow I am going with the year 9s (the entire year) to Birmingham, to what is called the "Think Tank". It's some sort of science museum, or something, if I understand all the e-mails right. I am mighty excited to be able to visit a new part of England "on the company dime".
More to come on that later though. Counting down the days till the weekend!! (Which should, if all predictions come true, be even better than the last).
Cheers!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
