This weekend we went to see Craig and Ann in their home in the middle of nowhere and it was brilliant – I hadn’t seen them for too long and I’ve missed their faces. We got way too drunk eating a delicious barbecue , playing cards and sharing horror stories (we’re all teachers). The next morning Ann made banana and chocolate chip muffins (that I had too many of) and Craig shared some of his wisdom with me (he used to work at a school that was possibly even worse than mine). And what he said was 10.000 times more useful than all the advice I get at school. Simply because instead of focusing on ‘good practice’ he focused on my sanity and getting my classes to a state where I can actually attempt proper teaching. Here are my two favourite ones:
1. Time out.
Put a chair outside the room. Spot the most disruptive kid and offer him ‘time out’ as in ‘I think you need to chill for 5 minutes, so why don’t you sit outside for a bit.’ If you’re lucky, he will simply bugger off. If not, at least you will have 5 minutes to get the rest of them going. Cover your arse – send a note to behaviour management that the bugger is at large.
2. Note.
Again, spot the most disruptive kid and ask him to take a note to your head of department or anyone else for that matter. The note should say: ‘I’ve sent XY to you because I need him out for 5 minutes so that I can start the others on their work. Thank you!’ It needs to be sealed of course. Again – if you’re lucky, the kid will just bugger off. If not, etc.
I shall put those in practice and we’ll see how it goes!
Monday 27 April 2009
Friday 24 April 2009
On swearing in the classroom yet again
It was a horrid week. Last night I’ve spent an hour sobbing on the phone to Paul about how I didn’t want to go back. And today, which could have potentially been a bit better, given the groups I had, was not. Possibly because some of the kids I have in my Spanish class are the same ones who were so totally horrid yesterday. So just seeing their faces made me want to get out of there as quickly as I could. Or maybe I just didn’t have it in me today.
Anyway, by the time I got to my year 8, I was more than overwhelmed. And they were as horrid as I’ve ever known them to be. So at the end of the lesson, when they were all ready to go, I stood in front of them and told them, in clear loud voice, to ‘f*** the f*** off’.
It was beautiful.
And I won’t even get in trouble for it, cause I said it in Polish and therefore no one understood. But I knew what I was saying and it felt wonderful. I left the classroom with a huge smile on my face.
I'll have to do it more often. I’m just afraid that the effect will wear off rather quickly…
Anyway, by the time I got to my year 8, I was more than overwhelmed. And they were as horrid as I’ve ever known them to be. So at the end of the lesson, when they were all ready to go, I stood in front of them and told them, in clear loud voice, to ‘f*** the f*** off’.
It was beautiful.
And I won’t even get in trouble for it, cause I said it in Polish and therefore no one understood. But I knew what I was saying and it felt wonderful. I left the classroom with a huge smile on my face.
I'll have to do it more often. I’m just afraid that the effect will wear off rather quickly…
Thursday 23 April 2009
Technology
Paul’s got a new phone which is equipped with this fancy technology called ‘face recognition’. It means that when you’re taking a photo with it, it will put squares around up to three people’s faces and focus on them.
A couple of nights ago, Paul tried taking a photo of his friend Matt, the camera has however decided to focus on… the wheel of Matt’s bike.
Paul’s dad says its because Matt’s bike’s wheel looks more human than Matt’s face.
I say: ach, technology!
A couple of nights ago, Paul tried taking a photo of his friend Matt, the camera has however decided to focus on… the wheel of Matt’s bike.
Paul’s dad says its because Matt’s bike’s wheel looks more human than Matt’s face.
I say: ach, technology!
Monday 20 April 2009
Homeless
Last time we went to Aix, in late October, just like any time I had gone back after my move to the UK, it felt like going home and being there was both great and really difficult, cause, of course, I didn’t have a home there anymore.
This time the homey feeling was gone and it was just this place that used to be home and where people-who-know-me are. At least some of them, cause James is gone and Jannick is as good as gone in a way, besides, lets not kid ourselves, it is not the same as it was when I was actually there.
So Birmingham, but how much of a home is it really? I do have some friends, but none of them can be qualified as people-who-know-me just yet. I live in a house share, which is fun, but is by definition as un-homey as it gets, by definition temporary, no potential to settle down what so ever. And my local pub is in… Milton Keynes.
So Milton Keynes then? Well, I don’t even live there. The plan is for me to move there, but as long as I haven’t found a job, it isn’t so much a plan as a wish.
And so the sad truth is that I’m living on the boxes with no end to it in sight for now and, quite frankly, I’m growing more and more tired of it.
This time the homey feeling was gone and it was just this place that used to be home and where people-who-know-me are. At least some of them, cause James is gone and Jannick is as good as gone in a way, besides, lets not kid ourselves, it is not the same as it was when I was actually there.
So Birmingham, but how much of a home is it really? I do have some friends, but none of them can be qualified as people-who-know-me just yet. I live in a house share, which is fun, but is by definition as un-homey as it gets, by definition temporary, no potential to settle down what so ever. And my local pub is in… Milton Keynes.
So Milton Keynes then? Well, I don’t even live there. The plan is for me to move there, but as long as I haven’t found a job, it isn’t so much a plan as a wish.
And so the sad truth is that I’m living on the boxes with no end to it in sight for now and, quite frankly, I’m growing more and more tired of it.
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Flying Ryanair
Marseille Airport, 20:40 – so far so good, the luggage check-in started on time. I’m slightly worried that my suitcase is over 15 kg, in which case I would have to pay £8 or something per each excess kg on top of the £12 that I have already paid so they would let me take a suitcase at all. Luckily it isn't.
22:00 – Waiting Lounge. The screen announces that our flight is now boarding through gate F. The crowds rush forward and so do we (let’s note the abnormality of the situation: for once we’re actually boarding on time, my hitherto experiences show an average delay of at least 20 minutes).
22:15 – All passengers have been neatly crammed into three waiting lines, one Priority Line (for those who were silly enough to spend extra money on priority boarding, which in reality doesn’t give them anything at all or almost), two other lines, we’re waiting. The plane is noticeably not there (although it should have landed at 22:10).
22:25 – The plane is still not there. Everyone’s starting to get annoyed obviously having missed the point of boarding in the absence of a plane.
22.40 – Due take off time, the plane is still not there.
22:50 – The plane is there. We watch people get off it and then we are ushered through the doors and onto the plane. On the plane, the main stewardess, or whatever you call them nowadays, encourages the passengers to ‘move down the aisle and promptly take seats in order to allow for a quick take off’. That would have been ok if the frequency and the tone of these messages did not imply that it would be our fault if we landed late.
23:15 – The plane starts moving, the security briefing begins just to be almost immediately interrupted by the said stewardess in order to tell people off for not paying attention while it is for their safety. I turn my head and I don’t see anyone not paying attention. What I see is a steward rushing down the aisle to take his spot.
23:25 – We are finally airborne. I check that there is a life jacket under my seat and that neither the jacket nor the oxygen mask panel have been equipped with a coin slot. I mean, they were planning to fit those on the loos, so you never know right?
Other travel entertainment consisted in the same stewardess telling several passengers off for trying to use the toilet while the seat-belt sign was on. She had indeed informed us each time that the toilets would not be available, the intercom however was regulated at a volume where no one could have possibly heard it. I mean, I thought being nice was part of her job description… but then again, how long can you keep being nice if all you do all day is deal with frustrated passengers?
22:00 – Waiting Lounge. The screen announces that our flight is now boarding through gate F. The crowds rush forward and so do we (let’s note the abnormality of the situation: for once we’re actually boarding on time, my hitherto experiences show an average delay of at least 20 minutes).
22:15 – All passengers have been neatly crammed into three waiting lines, one Priority Line (for those who were silly enough to spend extra money on priority boarding, which in reality doesn’t give them anything at all or almost), two other lines, we’re waiting. The plane is noticeably not there (although it should have landed at 22:10).
22:25 – The plane is still not there. Everyone’s starting to get annoyed obviously having missed the point of boarding in the absence of a plane.
22.40 – Due take off time, the plane is still not there.
22:50 – The plane is there. We watch people get off it and then we are ushered through the doors and onto the plane. On the plane, the main stewardess, or whatever you call them nowadays, encourages the passengers to ‘move down the aisle and promptly take seats in order to allow for a quick take off’. That would have been ok if the frequency and the tone of these messages did not imply that it would be our fault if we landed late.
23:15 – The plane starts moving, the security briefing begins just to be almost immediately interrupted by the said stewardess in order to tell people off for not paying attention while it is for their safety. I turn my head and I don’t see anyone not paying attention. What I see is a steward rushing down the aisle to take his spot.
23:25 – We are finally airborne. I check that there is a life jacket under my seat and that neither the jacket nor the oxygen mask panel have been equipped with a coin slot. I mean, they were planning to fit those on the loos, so you never know right?
Other travel entertainment consisted in the same stewardess telling several passengers off for trying to use the toilet while the seat-belt sign was on. She had indeed informed us each time that the toilets would not be available, the intercom however was regulated at a volume where no one could have possibly heard it. I mean, I thought being nice was part of her job description… but then again, how long can you keep being nice if all you do all day is deal with frustrated passengers?
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