Right...so I've often thought about writing a novel of some sort, but I've never really been sure if I've got what it takes. I read loads, and I write loads on here, but I'm far too modest to think that I'm any good at it. However, Michael has been encouraging me lately to try my hand at writing a draft of a novel, and today I sat down and started a chapter. I thought I'd post it here, and see what people think of it. It's meant to be a bit autobiographical, but with some elements of fiction. I'm going to make up quite a lot of it, but base it loosely on my own life. The idea is that it should centre around a young woman (very much like me) who is coming to terms with who she is. She uses her grandmother as a standard for what she hopes to become, and struggles to come to terms with whether or not she's half the woman her grandmother was...in the end, she will come to realize that she is, so please don't think that the first chapter (which ends negatively here) is an indication of where the novel will end up...
Let me know what you think...
A few days before my Nana died, I visited her in intensive care. I remember thinking that she looked so small, so frail, tucked tightly into the bed. She had oxygen tubes through her nose, and while that would probably scare some children, it was a normal sight to me. She was dying from emphysema, and had been using an oxygen machine to help her breath for a number of years. I don’t think there are many other diseases in the world that kill you as slowly as emphysema. Slowly but surely, as the years went by, my Nana was being suffocated. Each breath was one ragged step closer to the end. It was a hard concept to wrap my head around at the time, but I understand it now.
She was acutely aware of all this, for she would often share with me the mistakes she made in her youth, particularly about smoking. Even today, on the odd occasion that I have a smoke, I feel a sharp pang of guilt. I can almost feel her disdain. My Nana was a very intelligent woman, and as strong as they come. She was never one to bite her tongue, even if it meant offending someone; if she knew she was right, she’d say so. I know that if she could speak to me, she’d tell me I was being an absolute idiot to smoke. She’d shake her head softly, her eyes closed as if in physical pain. She would then point her thin, strong finger at me, and say, “Krista, you’re a damned fool for doing that to yourself. Did my death teach you nothing?”
Looking back, I think my Nana has taught me a lot about life, even though she’s been gone for ten years. I think once she knew she was dying, years before it actually happened, she’d made a conscious decision to give me as much advice as she possibly could. She must have known that she wouldn’t be around to see me meet my potential as a woman, and so she started speaking to me as if I were an adult when I turned thirteen.
The first time she did this was over a discussion about sex. The two of us were sitting at the table in the kitchen. It was eight or nine at night, and we were having a cup of tea. Living in England now, I don’t associate any special feelings with tea. It’s something I drink in copious amounts on a daily basis. However, back then it was a special ritual between my Nana and I. I only ever drank tea with my Nana. It was our ‘thing’.
This particular night wasn’t long after my thirteenth birthday. I remember feeling quite grown up at the time. I didn’t want to be treated as a child, but felt that most people spoke to me as if I were one, and treated me as one as well. However, I viewed myself as separate from my peers; they didn’t accept me much at the time. I wasn’t well liked, and spent a lot of time on my own. As such, I spent much of my time with my nose in a book, and if I weren’t reading, I’d be doodling silly little Japanese style girls. You know, the ones with gigantic breasts, thin waists, and long flowing hair; All things I wished I had. I didn’t know my place in that world yet, but I was awkwardly trying to position myself within it.
My Nana and I were sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on our tea. Tea time was always a time when we’d talk. I can’t even remember half of the things we talked about now. Instead, I remember the way I felt talking; I felt happy, and loved. I loved my Nana, and she loved me. She’d ask me about school, and when I told her about the troubles I was having with the girls in my grade, she’d shake her head sadly.
“Jealousy has a strange way of affecting people,” she said.
“What do they have to be jealous of? I’m a loser,” I replied.
“You are most assuredly not a loser, my dear. You’re a lovely, bright, intelligent and friendly young girl,” she said. “You’re also pretty. You may not see that now, but I see it, and everyone else sees it.”
I stared deeply into my mug, and felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I wasn’t very good at accepting other people’s praise of me, mainly because I just didn’t feel it was deserved. I suffered from a severe case of low self-esteem. I think to some degree I always will, but that’s another matter.
“Other people often see what we ourselves cannot,” she continued. “Perhaps they see your potential, and are threatened by you because of it. If they push you down, and keep you there, then you can’t rise up to challenge them. It’s sad, really, but often people put down others because they’re insecure about themselves.”
“Maybe,” I said, not really believing her. Nana’s are supposed to say nice things about their grandchildren. She had to say these things to me, but I doubted that they were actually true. I felt uncomfortable talking about the whole thing, to be honest. I had accepted the fact that I was not attractive, and that I was a loser. It hadn’t been easy to accept at first, but now that I’d come to terms with it, I didn’t like to be told otherwise.
“They are jealous,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“Maybe,” I repeated. “But...” I paused for a moment, unsure of whether to breach the topic with my nana, “they are all so much more popular than I’ll ever be. Plus they’ve all got boyfriends... no boys ever look at me.”
I instantly felt silly for saying anything. It showed my own jealousies, and made me just as petty as they were. My envy, of course, was directed towards their ability to attract members of the opposite sex. My thirteen year old self was extremely envious of that. I had started to take an interest in boys the year before, and it slowly got stronger and stronger. At the time I had an undying love for a blonde haired, blue eyed boy in my grade.
“Pffft! Boyfriends?” my Nana laughed. “Sweetheart, never ever base your value as a person on men. You don’t need a man to make you whole!”
I looked up at her, unsure of what to say. What she was saying had nothing to do with what I had said, or so I thought.
“Listen. I’m going to tell you something now. I’m not sure if your mum has talked to you about any of this, but I think that you are old enough to know the truth. Don’t rush into anything. Don’t rush into a relationship, just because everyone around you is in one. Boys will say anything to you, to get what they want. You’re a pretty girl, and you’re too sweet. Some day the right boy will come, and he’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated. But before him, a bunch of wrong ones will come. And they will try to get you to do things, like sex, that maybe you aren’t ready to do.”
I nearly spit up my tea. Did my Nana just say something about sex? Dear god! It was the last thing on my mind. I was attracted to boys, but I was absolutely terrified of them. The idea of even talking to a boy made my cheeks flush bright red, and I’d develop a nervous shake in my hands.
“Okay,” I mumbled, hoping she’d drop the subject.
“And let me tell you something else. Sex is great. It feels really good, for both the man and the woman. But that doesn’t mean it is something you should just rush into. You should wait, and do it when you’re in love with someone, otherwise it’s cheap.”
I felt faint with horror, having listened to this. My Nana had just told me sex felt great. The world as I knew it was imploding. The last thing I wanted to picture was my nana having sex and enjoying it.
“Okay,” I said again.
She was silent for awhile, looking at me with this knowing look. As far as I know, my Nana never regretted saying the things she said. She was an intensely proud woman, and I think she felt justified in voicing her opinion, no matter what the circumstances. She must have known that years later, after she’d gone, I’d think back on this talk, and realise how right she’d been.
However, at the time I tried hard not to remember that talk. It wasn’t until that moment in the ICU that it came back to me, amongst other memories. I stood at the door to the room, looking in on my Nana, and was flooded with all my memories with her. I was fifteen at the time, and wasn’t ready to lose her. There was so much I wanted her to see.
Her eyes opened slowly, and she focused on me standing in the doorway. She beckoned for me to come to her. I shuffled slowly over to the side of her bed, unsure of where to look. I didn’t like seeing her like this. She was such a strong woman, and yet here she was, laying in bed, tubes and wires everywhere, looking so small. Small and tired, and...not my Nana.
She couldn’t speak. I think it was too painful for her, what with all the tubes going down her throat to keep her alive. Someone had gotten her a little pad of paper, which she used to communicate with the nurses or various members of the family. She beckoned for me to get her the pen, which was on the bedside table. I grabbed it, clicked it open, and handed it to her.
It was hard for her to write. Her hand weakly held onto the pen, and she couldn’t put much pressure on it to write. Her hand moved slowly, shaking the entire time. I was watching the back of her hand the entire time, trying to see how the IV was implanted into the skin on the top of her hand. Her veins looked thin and winding. I hadn’t noticed how small her hands were before, but I noticed it now.
She finished writing, and angled the pad at me.
“Just like me” it read.
She pointed at me, then slowly back at herself. I burst into a fit of tears, unable to contain myself.
The thing is, I cried because I wasn’t sure I was. I wasn’t sure I deserved to even be considered as good a woman as my Nana, and even to this day I am not sure. My entire life I have associated her with this beautiful, headstrong, independent woman. She was proud, to a fault sometimes, not leaving the house once she had to start using oxygen; it was a sign of weakness that she was ashamed to have anyone see. She ruled over the family, held it steadfastly together, despite growing rifts. The feeble relationships between my mother and her siblings were held together through my Nanas’ sheer force of will for it not to fall apart. She wouldn’t allow that to happen, not while she was alive. Nothing escaped her sharp wit. Nothing went unnoticed. So how could she have possibly compared myself to her? How could she be so wrong?
Saturday, November 28, 2009
On Christmas Break Approaching
It's nearly December. I can hardly believe it. It feels as if the school year has just started. I'm not complaining though; I am quite content with the idea of having some time off. I'm not overly thrilled about the waiting game I will have to play once back in Canada, but it will be nice to be home. I'm not sure how long the Visa application will take to go through, but I hope it's not TOO long. I don't know how much leeway the school is willing to give me, in terms of being late for the start of term. There isn't too much I can do about it though. I got the earliest appointment that I could, and I am doing my best to ensure I've got all the paperwork filled correctly. At the end of the day though, I am human, and I'm unaquainted with this bureaurocratic nonsense.
But anyways.
I am quite excited at the thought of being home in a few weeks time. I can't wait to show Michael my home, my Canada. It will be really great to be back home, feeling comfy and cozy. I love Christmas as well. It's my favourite time of the year, and not just because of the presents. I enjoy the time spent with family. I just really love the feeling that you get on Christmas Day; waking up early, making coffee for my dad, the unwrapping, the eating of Fluffy omelette, the eating of smoked salmon, cheese, crackers, chips and dip...and then that long awaited, mouth watering TURKEY. The house is always so warm, with the oven heating things up, and the fire (even if it is electric) glowing bright. Even the tree emits a warm twinkle. I love sitting around the living room, talking and laughing with family, sipping on a drink and just relaxing and enjoying the time spent with family. It's a great day, and will be even greater with Michael there - to include him in the family tradition!
Anyways, talking about these things makes me want it to come faster, so I should stop, for fear of making myself too anxious! I'd hate to wish my life away!
Cheers.
But anyways.
I am quite excited at the thought of being home in a few weeks time. I can't wait to show Michael my home, my Canada. It will be really great to be back home, feeling comfy and cozy. I love Christmas as well. It's my favourite time of the year, and not just because of the presents. I enjoy the time spent with family. I just really love the feeling that you get on Christmas Day; waking up early, making coffee for my dad, the unwrapping, the eating of Fluffy omelette, the eating of smoked salmon, cheese, crackers, chips and dip...and then that long awaited, mouth watering TURKEY. The house is always so warm, with the oven heating things up, and the fire (even if it is electric) glowing bright. Even the tree emits a warm twinkle. I love sitting around the living room, talking and laughing with family, sipping on a drink and just relaxing and enjoying the time spent with family. It's a great day, and will be even greater with Michael there - to include him in the family tradition!
Anyways, talking about these things makes me want it to come faster, so I should stop, for fear of making myself too anxious! I'd hate to wish my life away!
Cheers.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
On Stress
I know that lately I've been saying that I've been a lot happier than I was last year, and while that isn't necessarily a lie, I feel like sometimes it's a bit of a stretch. My personal life is top-notch; I love my boyfriend, I love my housemates, and I love my friends. However, I feel as if my job isn't as brilliant as I sometimes say. I DO love my department. They are everything that I've ever said they are; supportive, helpful, caring. Its the kids that are really starting to get to me. They're not necessarily horrible and full of malice...but they are a lot more different than I'd initially thought. They're much more complacent and rude. They consistently talk when I am talking. At least a my old school, when I got really stroppy at them, they'd take the hint and shut up. At this school, its almost as if they don't hear me at all. They're so apathetic, it often leaves me feeling distraught. I feel as if I'm screeching all day, trying to get students to shut their mouths and just pay me some attention. Its not ALL the students that are like that, but it's a large majority of most of my groups. There are a few students in each group who stare at me, their eyes pleading with me, wishing that we could just get on with it.
I feel bad for these children, because I am incapable of handling large masses of disobedient children. I'm not sure what tactics should be used, when you've got more children disobeying than obeying. Do you send out all the children at the same time? It's impossible! I may have to ask some of my colleagues what they do...but I am a bit afraid of looking and sounding like a complete idiot. I should know how to handle the kids by now...I don't want to be the only one who has issues like this..
...its just stressful. I often leave the school feeling fully drained. I feel much more drained than I did last year, and I never thought that'd be the case. Perhaps some of that is due to Michael not being around to comfort me when I need him. I'm not sure... it could be any number of things, but mostly it has to do with the kids pushing me to my mental limit, by completely ignoring me.
Anyways, I'm off to relax and watch some telly.
Ta.
I feel bad for these children, because I am incapable of handling large masses of disobedient children. I'm not sure what tactics should be used, when you've got more children disobeying than obeying. Do you send out all the children at the same time? It's impossible! I may have to ask some of my colleagues what they do...but I am a bit afraid of looking and sounding like a complete idiot. I should know how to handle the kids by now...I don't want to be the only one who has issues like this..
...its just stressful. I often leave the school feeling fully drained. I feel much more drained than I did last year, and I never thought that'd be the case. Perhaps some of that is due to Michael not being around to comfort me when I need him. I'm not sure... it could be any number of things, but mostly it has to do with the kids pushing me to my mental limit, by completely ignoring me.
Anyways, I'm off to relax and watch some telly.
Ta.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
On Being A Bad Blogger!
Geez, I really did not think that it would be nearly two months before I came back on here, to update you about my comings and goings! I could probably spout off a number of excuses, but I think that ultimately there is no need. As you know, I started a new job this September, and I've been fairly busy keeping on top of things. Its been a good year, but it hasn't been without its challenges. I must admit I am much more confident this year, and I am not making the mistakes I made last year either. However, I am nowhere near where I want to be, in terms of my knowledge of British curriculum, but I think I have a good working knowledge of it. I couldn't quote you things about what the curriculum entails, but I can certainly use it enough to back up all the lessons that I plan.
Anyways, I don't really want to bore people by blabbing on and on about the curriculum, because regardless of where you are, that is bureaucratic bullshit. The bottom line is that I am much happier this year than I was last year, and it mostly has to do with the people I work with. They are a very lovely and supportive bunch, who are genuinely concerned about me as a person first, and a teacher second. It's really nice to be welcomed and accepted into a department for who I am, and for what I can bring to the table. I feel as if my efforts do not go unnoticed, and that I am actually appreciated. It's a nice change, and it goes miles in making me a happier teacher and person.
I have, however, had some issues that have been of major concern for me. My visa has been a huge bone of contention. I don't want to get into the specifics of it here and now, but at the root of it is the fact that the school 'underestimated' (their words) what it would take to get me a legal working visa. The truth is they didn't even consider it until it was too late, and when they started to look into what it would take to get me a working visa, they realized they'd let too much time pass.
The news was broken to me, over my lunch break, that after November 9th the school could no longer legally employ me on my current visa. I was dumbstruck. I wasn't entirely sure what was expected of me, or what this news even meant. Was I out of a job on that date? Were they forcing me back home, and saying 'Sorry about your luck?'. I started to cry in the Finance office, and asked 'What do you want me to do?'.
I was told I would have to go back to Canada, and re-apply.
'I can't go back until Christmas. I can't afford it...' was my reply.
All I got in return was a blank stare. The man pushed a box of tissues at me. I took one, wiped my eyes and stood up.
'This is bullshit!' I said, before slamming the door and leaving.
I walked back to the English office, crying all the way. When I sat down, everyone was around me, asking what was wrong. The Department head quickly ushered me out of the office and into her own private one. She asked what was wrong, and when I explained she was livid. She stormed out of the room, and came back a few moments later. She told me I wouldn't be teaching the last lesson of the day - two of my colleagues would split my group - and that I should spend the last hour trying to sort out the next steps to take. She also had me call the union.
I did as she said, and called the union, as well as searched the Internet for answers.
To make a long story short, I found out that the school COULD have had me apply for a leave to remain, which would have gotten me a working permit at the school for up to three years, or until termination of employment. However, you need at least a month to put in that application, and I wouldn't have had time, at this stage, to do that. The only option was that I return to Canada.
I called home, and sorted it out with my Mum that I would come home on my October half term, and get the ball rolling as quickly as possible.
The next day, I e-mailed the Finance guy, telling him I would go home in October, but that they had to support me through it, with the knowledge that when I returned I would retain my job AND be paid for the time I missed. I also asked for some compensation for the visa application (which was not cheap), and asked if they'd also help comp the flight.
I got a reply back saying he'd managed to sort out my staying until Christmas (how convenient), and that they'd give me 150 pounds towards the costs on my return to England and that the job would be waiting for me should I return to England. I am still a bit annoyed at the terms in which it was worded to me, but in the end I cannot do much else. I am returning home at Christmas, and have booked an appointment to apply for a working visa - it could get turned down, in which case I will be royally screwed, but I am really hoping that it is not. I hate to say this, because I know it hurts people back home, but I do have a life here in England, and its not one that I want to give up. I have a wonderful boyfriend, whom I love more than anything. I also really, really enjoy my job, and adore the people I work with. I have high hopes of spending a good number of years at this school, working and developing my own teaching. I've already been asked to help teach a Media course next year, which would be amazing! I have great hopes for my future in England, and I would hate for it all to be cut short, simply because the school 'underestimated' the visa application process. I feel cheated by the school, and if I don't get the visa, I'm not entirely sure what I will do...
But anyways, I'm told myself that I must remain positive throughout this whole thing. I don't know why I would be denied the visa, and I just have to keep thinking that that will not happen. I will get the visa, and I will return, and do what I was meant to do!
I'll blog more later! I promise it won't be so long in between!
Anyways, I don't really want to bore people by blabbing on and on about the curriculum, because regardless of where you are, that is bureaucratic bullshit. The bottom line is that I am much happier this year than I was last year, and it mostly has to do with the people I work with. They are a very lovely and supportive bunch, who are genuinely concerned about me as a person first, and a teacher second. It's really nice to be welcomed and accepted into a department for who I am, and for what I can bring to the table. I feel as if my efforts do not go unnoticed, and that I am actually appreciated. It's a nice change, and it goes miles in making me a happier teacher and person.
I have, however, had some issues that have been of major concern for me. My visa has been a huge bone of contention. I don't want to get into the specifics of it here and now, but at the root of it is the fact that the school 'underestimated' (their words) what it would take to get me a legal working visa. The truth is they didn't even consider it until it was too late, and when they started to look into what it would take to get me a working visa, they realized they'd let too much time pass.
The news was broken to me, over my lunch break, that after November 9th the school could no longer legally employ me on my current visa. I was dumbstruck. I wasn't entirely sure what was expected of me, or what this news even meant. Was I out of a job on that date? Were they forcing me back home, and saying 'Sorry about your luck?'. I started to cry in the Finance office, and asked 'What do you want me to do?'.
I was told I would have to go back to Canada, and re-apply.
'I can't go back until Christmas. I can't afford it...' was my reply.
All I got in return was a blank stare. The man pushed a box of tissues at me. I took one, wiped my eyes and stood up.
'This is bullshit!' I said, before slamming the door and leaving.
I walked back to the English office, crying all the way. When I sat down, everyone was around me, asking what was wrong. The Department head quickly ushered me out of the office and into her own private one. She asked what was wrong, and when I explained she was livid. She stormed out of the room, and came back a few moments later. She told me I wouldn't be teaching the last lesson of the day - two of my colleagues would split my group - and that I should spend the last hour trying to sort out the next steps to take. She also had me call the union.
I did as she said, and called the union, as well as searched the Internet for answers.
To make a long story short, I found out that the school COULD have had me apply for a leave to remain, which would have gotten me a working permit at the school for up to three years, or until termination of employment. However, you need at least a month to put in that application, and I wouldn't have had time, at this stage, to do that. The only option was that I return to Canada.
I called home, and sorted it out with my Mum that I would come home on my October half term, and get the ball rolling as quickly as possible.
The next day, I e-mailed the Finance guy, telling him I would go home in October, but that they had to support me through it, with the knowledge that when I returned I would retain my job AND be paid for the time I missed. I also asked for some compensation for the visa application (which was not cheap), and asked if they'd also help comp the flight.
I got a reply back saying he'd managed to sort out my staying until Christmas (how convenient), and that they'd give me 150 pounds towards the costs on my return to England and that the job would be waiting for me should I return to England. I am still a bit annoyed at the terms in which it was worded to me, but in the end I cannot do much else. I am returning home at Christmas, and have booked an appointment to apply for a working visa - it could get turned down, in which case I will be royally screwed, but I am really hoping that it is not. I hate to say this, because I know it hurts people back home, but I do have a life here in England, and its not one that I want to give up. I have a wonderful boyfriend, whom I love more than anything. I also really, really enjoy my job, and adore the people I work with. I have high hopes of spending a good number of years at this school, working and developing my own teaching. I've already been asked to help teach a Media course next year, which would be amazing! I have great hopes for my future in England, and I would hate for it all to be cut short, simply because the school 'underestimated' the visa application process. I feel cheated by the school, and if I don't get the visa, I'm not entirely sure what I will do...
But anyways, I'm told myself that I must remain positive throughout this whole thing. I don't know why I would be denied the visa, and I just have to keep thinking that that will not happen. I will get the visa, and I will return, and do what I was meant to do!
I'll blog more later! I promise it won't be so long in between!
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
On The New Year
Well, I am three full days into the new school year, and slowly but surely I feel as if things are off to a good start.
The first day was a bit of a write off, as I had to stay with my form group for two lessons (doing nothing, essentially, which was a huge bore), taught lesson three and four, and then had a whole school assembly lesson five. The students I had for those two lessons seemed decent enough. The one group was a bottom set ten group; this means that typically they're the weaker students, the ones who need a little bit more one-on-one work. There are 7 students in the class, in total, as well as one TA (Teachers Assistant). She seemed like a bit of a finger-pointer - all flash, no substance - but I could have hastily judged her. We shall see. The second group was one of my two top set year eight groups. They were chatty and energetic, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.
Yesterday was the first full teaching day for me, and again it went decently enough. I'd like to say that it went better than my first full day last year, but when I try to think back to that day, I am left with a blank. I think after I publish this post I may go back and read what I wrote last year, to refresh my memory a little bit. Anyways, the day was decent, as I said. There wasn't a whole lot that really stood out in my mind worth mentioning.
Besides my form group, that is.
We are NOT getting off on the right foot. It's a group of year 11 students, and I feel as if they are severely trying to take advantage of my 'new to the school' status. This school is quite hard on the uniform policy, though I can understand why. The uniform at the school is much nicer than at my previous school; there is a white button up polo, tie, pullover and blazer that makes up the entire uniform. Students are expected to wear the entire uniform, blazer included, at all times. Only when the teacher says students can remove their blazers are they allowed to take it off. My students, however, keep pushing the uniform boundaries with me. I walked in this morning, and had been there only a few seconds, when a more senior member of staff walked through my room.
I don't know how she did it, she must have amazing eyesight, because she instantly lit into a girl for having nail polish on (it is against the rules). She hauled her out of the room, and gave her a tongue lashing in the hall before sending her to remove the polish. She then came back, and put the entire class to task for 'taking advantage of such a young and promising young teacher'. They sat silent, eyes down, as she had a go at them, and I was secretly quite happy that someone could finally get them to shut up.
However, as soon as she left, they started to kick off again. I tried to relay some messages, and they continued to talk over me. I stood there, mouth open, for a moment, trying to muster up the energy required to screech at them.
I didn't have to though, as the department head chose this moment to make her presence known; she also came in, guns blazing, at my form. She took them to task again for being disrespectful to me, glowering down at any eyes that chanced to look at her.
After the second telling-off, they settled down for the rest of our time together, but it wasn't an ideal start to the day. It also left a bad taste in my mouth, in terms of the year 11 class I was going to meet that afternoon. It made me very nervous about that group. I kept thinking of all the ways the lesson could go wrong, and it was starting to put my stomach in a knot.
However, as soon as the year 11 group came into my room, I knew I'd misjudged the year group. They were lovely, mature, and listened to me. They were the first group all week to sit silently and do the short writing task I assigned. I was awed. I told them as such. They had a chuckle, and said that last year they'd been quite chatty, and that likely they'd have chatty days this year as well, but that they'd try to buckle down. They seemed to have a lot of respect for each other, listening to each other as they spoke. This is a good sign to me, because it means that if I can gain their respect they will treat me the same, and not talk when I talk.
Anyways, I started the day with a very poor start, but ended it on a very high note. I am left now feeling pretty strongly about things, and I hope that this feeling remains. I would love to have a happy year this year, instead of the turbulent one I had last year.
I will keep you posted.
The first day was a bit of a write off, as I had to stay with my form group for two lessons (doing nothing, essentially, which was a huge bore), taught lesson three and four, and then had a whole school assembly lesson five. The students I had for those two lessons seemed decent enough. The one group was a bottom set ten group; this means that typically they're the weaker students, the ones who need a little bit more one-on-one work. There are 7 students in the class, in total, as well as one TA (Teachers Assistant). She seemed like a bit of a finger-pointer - all flash, no substance - but I could have hastily judged her. We shall see. The second group was one of my two top set year eight groups. They were chatty and energetic, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.
Yesterday was the first full teaching day for me, and again it went decently enough. I'd like to say that it went better than my first full day last year, but when I try to think back to that day, I am left with a blank. I think after I publish this post I may go back and read what I wrote last year, to refresh my memory a little bit. Anyways, the day was decent, as I said. There wasn't a whole lot that really stood out in my mind worth mentioning.
Besides my form group, that is.
We are NOT getting off on the right foot. It's a group of year 11 students, and I feel as if they are severely trying to take advantage of my 'new to the school' status. This school is quite hard on the uniform policy, though I can understand why. The uniform at the school is much nicer than at my previous school; there is a white button up polo, tie, pullover and blazer that makes up the entire uniform. Students are expected to wear the entire uniform, blazer included, at all times. Only when the teacher says students can remove their blazers are they allowed to take it off. My students, however, keep pushing the uniform boundaries with me. I walked in this morning, and had been there only a few seconds, when a more senior member of staff walked through my room.
I don't know how she did it, she must have amazing eyesight, because she instantly lit into a girl for having nail polish on (it is against the rules). She hauled her out of the room, and gave her a tongue lashing in the hall before sending her to remove the polish. She then came back, and put the entire class to task for 'taking advantage of such a young and promising young teacher'. They sat silent, eyes down, as she had a go at them, and I was secretly quite happy that someone could finally get them to shut up.
However, as soon as she left, they started to kick off again. I tried to relay some messages, and they continued to talk over me. I stood there, mouth open, for a moment, trying to muster up the energy required to screech at them.
I didn't have to though, as the department head chose this moment to make her presence known; she also came in, guns blazing, at my form. She took them to task again for being disrespectful to me, glowering down at any eyes that chanced to look at her.
After the second telling-off, they settled down for the rest of our time together, but it wasn't an ideal start to the day. It also left a bad taste in my mouth, in terms of the year 11 class I was going to meet that afternoon. It made me very nervous about that group. I kept thinking of all the ways the lesson could go wrong, and it was starting to put my stomach in a knot.
However, as soon as the year 11 group came into my room, I knew I'd misjudged the year group. They were lovely, mature, and listened to me. They were the first group all week to sit silently and do the short writing task I assigned. I was awed. I told them as such. They had a chuckle, and said that last year they'd been quite chatty, and that likely they'd have chatty days this year as well, but that they'd try to buckle down. They seemed to have a lot of respect for each other, listening to each other as they spoke. This is a good sign to me, because it means that if I can gain their respect they will treat me the same, and not talk when I talk.
Anyways, I started the day with a very poor start, but ended it on a very high note. I am left now feeling pretty strongly about things, and I hope that this feeling remains. I would love to have a happy year this year, instead of the turbulent one I had last year.
I will keep you posted.
Friday, August 21, 2009
On Being Apprehensive About The New Year
I've got a few days of freedom left.
The new school year, which entails a new school for me, starts in just over a week's time. I thought I'd be a lot better prepared for this, mentally, but as the date looms nearer and nearer, I start to feel more and more nervous about it. Despite the fact that I now have a full years teaching experience under my belt, I am still very afraid that I am 'unskilled' in the ways of teaching. I worry now that I caught some sort of break at Swavesey (though, even in writing that I have to contain a chuckle, as that cannot possibly be true), and magically was able to make my way through the year. What if I am not cut out for this new school? What if the students are even more horrendous to me, and they cause me to suffer any number of clamities, up to and including a mental breakdown?!
I know you may think I am being silly and melodramatic, and I will admit that I am. However, one cannot escape such nagging thoughts. In the back of my mind I know that I am a great teacher. I also know that I'm a pretty strong woman, to have made it this far. I also know I'm in a much better position this year than I was last year. I think if you go back and read what I was writing at this time last year (it was August 23rd, 2008 that I landed in England!)there will be a stark difference in narrative; I was so obviously unskilled and unversed in a large number of things. I didn't know the British Curriculum. I didn't have any friends. I didn't have a place to live. I didn't understand the accents. I didn't understand the culture and the customs (trust me, there are stark differences). I now have a much better grasp on nearly all of those things, the accent aside. A year in, and I still struggle to understand some of what people are saying to me, my own boyfriend included. It's a slow process, I reckon.
I think the one thing that will really help me out this year is my newfound understanding of the curriculum, and the way things work here. I struggled for months with the curriculum last year, and it wasn't until I was thrown head-first into things that it started to click for me. Now I have a pretty good understanding of how things work, and will be starting the year with a much more solid foundation, in terms of where I need to go with my students. I floundered last year, quite badly. I will be the first to admit that the first two terms (all the way to Christmas) were pretty much rubbish. My teaching was rubbish, my assignments were rubbish, and my marking was rubbish. It wasn't until I had time for a little reflection (and a new laptop, with a much easier to manipulate Microsoft PowerPoint 2007) that I truly came into my own. Now I think I can create and plan really visually awesome and mentally stimulating lessons, using my creativity (which grew out of my increasing comfort with the curriculum) and my technological flare. I am by no means a computer whiz; I don't make elaborately complicated presentations, but I do make them very visually appealing, and try to include as little text as possible. For me, the PowerPoints are not about getting loads of boring information across to the students. Instead, they are my interactive lesson plans. Instead of writing my lessons plans out on paper, I include all my steps (and reminders to myself, in very subtle language) on various slides. With loads of images, videos and sounds. It's the best and easiest way for me to plan my lessons, and the students seem to respond well to them. They know that every lesson I do includes a PowerPoint, and when they're off ill, or for any other reason, they know they can ask me for the PowerPoint they missed to be able to see what we did.
It works well for me, and is something I am good at. I plan to do it for the forseeable future. It's a skill I didnt' have at this time last year, but one I definitely have now.
I hope that the students at my new school come to appreciate my style of teaching, because I know it took some time at the old one. Time for the students to come to terms with me, as a person and a teacher. I'm going to try to start off being more strict. I have to earn their respect as a teacher first and foremost, which was something I struggled with last year. I am going to follow the school rules to a T, and be consistent. Once we've established that I mean business, then I can let up and get comfortable. But I'm smarter now. I know that being nice to students right off the bat will not get you anywhere. It just shows them you're weak. I don't want to be the pushover this year, and the only person who can control that happening is me.
I'm going to give it my all, and hope for the best.
I'm still nervous though. Dreadfully nervous. But a wise friend of mine once said that being nervous is a good thing, because it shows you care.
Obviously I do care; I want to be the best teacher I can be. I want to be the best teacher in the school. Or at least have the students view me that way. At the end of the day, that's what matters most to me; having students view me as an effective and good teacher.
Fingers crossed that I can achieve that level of success.
Cheers.
The new school year, which entails a new school for me, starts in just over a week's time. I thought I'd be a lot better prepared for this, mentally, but as the date looms nearer and nearer, I start to feel more and more nervous about it. Despite the fact that I now have a full years teaching experience under my belt, I am still very afraid that I am 'unskilled' in the ways of teaching. I worry now that I caught some sort of break at Swavesey (though, even in writing that I have to contain a chuckle, as that cannot possibly be true), and magically was able to make my way through the year. What if I am not cut out for this new school? What if the students are even more horrendous to me, and they cause me to suffer any number of clamities, up to and including a mental breakdown?!
I know you may think I am being silly and melodramatic, and I will admit that I am. However, one cannot escape such nagging thoughts. In the back of my mind I know that I am a great teacher. I also know that I'm a pretty strong woman, to have made it this far. I also know I'm in a much better position this year than I was last year. I think if you go back and read what I was writing at this time last year (it was August 23rd, 2008 that I landed in England!)there will be a stark difference in narrative; I was so obviously unskilled and unversed in a large number of things. I didn't know the British Curriculum. I didn't have any friends. I didn't have a place to live. I didn't understand the accents. I didn't understand the culture and the customs (trust me, there are stark differences). I now have a much better grasp on nearly all of those things, the accent aside. A year in, and I still struggle to understand some of what people are saying to me, my own boyfriend included. It's a slow process, I reckon.
I think the one thing that will really help me out this year is my newfound understanding of the curriculum, and the way things work here. I struggled for months with the curriculum last year, and it wasn't until I was thrown head-first into things that it started to click for me. Now I have a pretty good understanding of how things work, and will be starting the year with a much more solid foundation, in terms of where I need to go with my students. I floundered last year, quite badly. I will be the first to admit that the first two terms (all the way to Christmas) were pretty much rubbish. My teaching was rubbish, my assignments were rubbish, and my marking was rubbish. It wasn't until I had time for a little reflection (and a new laptop, with a much easier to manipulate Microsoft PowerPoint 2007) that I truly came into my own. Now I think I can create and plan really visually awesome and mentally stimulating lessons, using my creativity (which grew out of my increasing comfort with the curriculum) and my technological flare. I am by no means a computer whiz; I don't make elaborately complicated presentations, but I do make them very visually appealing, and try to include as little text as possible. For me, the PowerPoints are not about getting loads of boring information across to the students. Instead, they are my interactive lesson plans. Instead of writing my lessons plans out on paper, I include all my steps (and reminders to myself, in very subtle language) on various slides. With loads of images, videos and sounds. It's the best and easiest way for me to plan my lessons, and the students seem to respond well to them. They know that every lesson I do includes a PowerPoint, and when they're off ill, or for any other reason, they know they can ask me for the PowerPoint they missed to be able to see what we did.
It works well for me, and is something I am good at. I plan to do it for the forseeable future. It's a skill I didnt' have at this time last year, but one I definitely have now.
I hope that the students at my new school come to appreciate my style of teaching, because I know it took some time at the old one. Time for the students to come to terms with me, as a person and a teacher. I'm going to try to start off being more strict. I have to earn their respect as a teacher first and foremost, which was something I struggled with last year. I am going to follow the school rules to a T, and be consistent. Once we've established that I mean business, then I can let up and get comfortable. But I'm smarter now. I know that being nice to students right off the bat will not get you anywhere. It just shows them you're weak. I don't want to be the pushover this year, and the only person who can control that happening is me.
I'm going to give it my all, and hope for the best.
I'm still nervous though. Dreadfully nervous. But a wise friend of mine once said that being nervous is a good thing, because it shows you care.
Obviously I do care; I want to be the best teacher I can be. I want to be the best teacher in the school. Or at least have the students view me that way. At the end of the day, that's what matters most to me; having students view me as an effective and good teacher.
Fingers crossed that I can achieve that level of success.
Cheers.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
On The End Of My First Year Teaching
Gosh, I am being really shit at this blogging thing lately, aren't I? I used to be so regular at it, and then all of a sudden I got a social life, and bam, no more time for me to record my thoughts. I am terribly sorry for those of you who get a kick out of reading this. I got a kick out of writing it, mainly because I have a penchant for blathering on mindlessly. I'm one of those people who feels that my thoughts are all-important --- to myself. Oddly, I enjoy writing these things, and then immediately going through and reading what I've just written. It kind of allows me to reflect a little bit better. It may sound strange and self-loving, I know, but that's the honest truth. I'm not one to cover anything up. What you see is what you get.
Anyways, I could probably write a whole story about my last few weeks of teaching, but suffice it to say, I'm (yet again) not really in much of a mood to type out the whole thing. The last day was a good one, on a general level. The entire last week I just felt like I had checked out - and the kids had too. My lessons, while still teaching the curriculum, were a bit lacking my usual flair. I also relied heavily on DVDs on the last day. I just could not shake the feeling that a) I didn't care, that b) the kids didn't care, and c) my memories of my own education never had me learning on the last day. It just doesn't make sense to learn on the last day. You're not getting tested or marked on anything, so what is the point? I was also completely out of the mindset of being at my school. A few uber lazy year 10 students handed me some severely overdue coursework, which I was kind enough to (begrudgingly) mark whilst watching DVDs in my other lessons.
I received many cards, candies, cakes and gifts. It was touching, because students that I thought had no regard for me were the ones that expressed the most sadness at seeing me leave. It was heartwarming.
I will undoubtedly miss the students at the school. They can be an inspiring lot, if you get past the trust issues and the laziness (which is extremely hard to do). I won't miss the school itself, of the bureaucracy, or the department in which I worked. That lot, for the most part, can fade into memory for me. A few of them will be kindly remembered, but most won't. One man in particular didn't even bother to say goodbye to me. What a douche. He can rot, for all I care, because he's a pompous little asshole.
But no matter. It is over. I never have to set foot in that school again. If you've read this from the start, you'll know what a trial this past year has been. It's been tough. I've learnt a lot; about teaching, about children, and about myself. I've grown in immense ways, and in ways I never thought imaginable at this time last year. I'd like to think I'm a new person, but really I'm not. I'm the same ol' me, but a little wiser, a little tougher, and a little more prepared. Just a little though.
I am still very nervous about next year, and the new challenge that will bring to me. I feel more prepared than I was last year, starting at a new school, but I still see so many challenges along the way. I'm scared, but I'm also ready. I feel like the fresh start will really give me the chance I need to finally be the teacher I wanted to be, way back in teachers college.
This isn't to say I'm not already that teacher, but I'm not exactly what I had imagined...not quite. I need to have a lot more respect to be the teacher I want to be. Obviously that comes with time, but I'm willing to put it in...so I hope I get it back.
Anyways, thats about all I feel up to writing for now.
My parents are over for a visit, and it's been absolutely lovely to see them. Its so nice to be in the same room with them again, to just chat. Even just watching the television with them is nice, because it takes me back to a simpler time, when I was living at home. I love my parents, and miss them terribly. I dread having them leave to go back to Canada, because it is so comforting to know they're in the same country as me right now. They may not be with me, at the moment, but I feel they are much closer, much more accessible. I feel less detached from home, knowing they are here. It's weird, but true. Seeing them also makes me regret, just a little, my decision to stay here. There are so many reasons for me not to go home, but seeing my parents reminds me of the one reason TO go back; my family. I miss them a lot. The idea of not being near to them for the rest of my life is very intimidating, and its not something that I would do lightly. Obviously, the desire for me to stay in England rests not just in being able to work, but being able to love. I do feel I've met someone who is worth staying here for. He's a really fabulous young man, and right now, the thought of leaving him is out of the question. Which makes things very confusing for me, because I want to stay here and start my future here, but I also have such a strong pull to go home, in my family. They'd be very upset if I chose to stay in England.
It's all so hard to work out, but I know that for the time being I have to focus on the forthcoming year. Whatever happens after that happens. I have to take it one day at a time.
Cheers
Anyways, I could probably write a whole story about my last few weeks of teaching, but suffice it to say, I'm (yet again) not really in much of a mood to type out the whole thing. The last day was a good one, on a general level. The entire last week I just felt like I had checked out - and the kids had too. My lessons, while still teaching the curriculum, were a bit lacking my usual flair. I also relied heavily on DVDs on the last day. I just could not shake the feeling that a) I didn't care, that b) the kids didn't care, and c) my memories of my own education never had me learning on the last day. It just doesn't make sense to learn on the last day. You're not getting tested or marked on anything, so what is the point? I was also completely out of the mindset of being at my school. A few uber lazy year 10 students handed me some severely overdue coursework, which I was kind enough to (begrudgingly) mark whilst watching DVDs in my other lessons.
I received many cards, candies, cakes and gifts. It was touching, because students that I thought had no regard for me were the ones that expressed the most sadness at seeing me leave. It was heartwarming.
I will undoubtedly miss the students at the school. They can be an inspiring lot, if you get past the trust issues and the laziness (which is extremely hard to do). I won't miss the school itself, of the bureaucracy, or the department in which I worked. That lot, for the most part, can fade into memory for me. A few of them will be kindly remembered, but most won't. One man in particular didn't even bother to say goodbye to me. What a douche. He can rot, for all I care, because he's a pompous little asshole.
But no matter. It is over. I never have to set foot in that school again. If you've read this from the start, you'll know what a trial this past year has been. It's been tough. I've learnt a lot; about teaching, about children, and about myself. I've grown in immense ways, and in ways I never thought imaginable at this time last year. I'd like to think I'm a new person, but really I'm not. I'm the same ol' me, but a little wiser, a little tougher, and a little more prepared. Just a little though.
I am still very nervous about next year, and the new challenge that will bring to me. I feel more prepared than I was last year, starting at a new school, but I still see so many challenges along the way. I'm scared, but I'm also ready. I feel like the fresh start will really give me the chance I need to finally be the teacher I wanted to be, way back in teachers college.
This isn't to say I'm not already that teacher, but I'm not exactly what I had imagined...not quite. I need to have a lot more respect to be the teacher I want to be. Obviously that comes with time, but I'm willing to put it in...so I hope I get it back.
Anyways, thats about all I feel up to writing for now.
My parents are over for a visit, and it's been absolutely lovely to see them. Its so nice to be in the same room with them again, to just chat. Even just watching the television with them is nice, because it takes me back to a simpler time, when I was living at home. I love my parents, and miss them terribly. I dread having them leave to go back to Canada, because it is so comforting to know they're in the same country as me right now. They may not be with me, at the moment, but I feel they are much closer, much more accessible. I feel less detached from home, knowing they are here. It's weird, but true. Seeing them also makes me regret, just a little, my decision to stay here. There are so many reasons for me not to go home, but seeing my parents reminds me of the one reason TO go back; my family. I miss them a lot. The idea of not being near to them for the rest of my life is very intimidating, and its not something that I would do lightly. Obviously, the desire for me to stay in England rests not just in being able to work, but being able to love. I do feel I've met someone who is worth staying here for. He's a really fabulous young man, and right now, the thought of leaving him is out of the question. Which makes things very confusing for me, because I want to stay here and start my future here, but I also have such a strong pull to go home, in my family. They'd be very upset if I chose to stay in England.
It's all so hard to work out, but I know that for the time being I have to focus on the forthcoming year. Whatever happens after that happens. I have to take it one day at a time.
Cheers
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