On playing God

On Thursday night Paul came up from MK and we went to the Yardbird for a gig. We were standing outside, sipping at our drinks and enjoying the music, the weather was warm – bliss. Just what I needed to forget all the other shit and remember how it feels to just feel plain happy.
At one point, I spotted a guy walking hastily towards the club. He got there and sat at a table where a woman sat with two drinks, waiting for him. As he was sitting down, he took his I-pod out of his pocket and a business card flew out onto the pavement. He didn’t notice.
The natural reaction would have been to pick it up and hand it to him, but I was in the middle of a conversation that I didn’t want to lose anything of.
A little later, I looked back and the business card was still on the ground. I hesitated – at this point, it would have been much less natural to pick it up and hand it to him. Besides, after all it was just a business card, which could not be of importance if he’d put it rather carelessly into his back pocket. But what if it was important? What if, for instance, the details on it was of a person who could change his life? Absorbed as he was in his conversation with the woman, he wasn’t going to check his pocket for it. So if I didn’t say anything, his life could have changed forever. For a brief moment, his destiny was in my hands…
I did pick it up and give it to him. He thanked me but barely acknowledged the card, just shoved it back into his pocket. So maybe it wasn’t important after all. Or maybe the woman sitting in front of him was more important than the person whose details where on the card.

On new arrivals

There's a Polish girl in my school who recently approached me asking for help preparing for her exams. I accepted willingly, cause God knows I needed something good, ie. to work with a kid who actually cares. But this is not good. She is hard working and puts every effort in, but her English is just not good enough. And what I don't understand is how could a child be schooled in the UK for almost two years and still not speak any English? From what I gathered, she had initially refused to learn English, a rebellions teenager angry about having to moved into a foreign country and into a school where her and her brother are constantly bullied. But how come no one ever cared enough to talk her out of it? Why nobody cared to check how long she's really been here before denying her the right to a dictionary and extra time in exams? And actually, how come kids have that right only for two years after their arrival regardless of their level of English?
She has special provision. A translator for two lessons a week. How is she supposed to cope? Why no one asked me earlier if I would be willing to help?
And, in the first place, what is the point in putting new arrivals straight into mainstream schools? I knew a girl who was put straight into year 11 and forced to take her GCSE's while all she could say in English was 'hello'.
From what I've heard, there used to be special centres for new arrivals, where they were schooled for up to a year learning English only. I wonder who decided it was a bad idea. I wonder how the current way of doing things could possibly be seen as better.
It just makes me so angry - all those kids arriving here and so absolutely failed by the education system. What are their chances to succeed? None, unless of course their parents are wealthy enough to provide them with private tutoring.

Taking a cab

Relatively often I take a cab from work. Mostly to New Street when I'm on my way to MK. Sometimes home. There are four gates to the school, in three different roads. I always book it for the main entrance. I once booked it for gate B, when I had a meeting on that side of the school. And ever since, no matter how many times I repeat that I want it from the main entrance my cab gets inevitably sent to gate B. And the scenario's always the same - the poor cab driver calls me cause he can't see me, I can't see him either cause he's in a different parking lot, and he has to drive to where I am or I run like an idiot to where he is. Which bit of 'main gate' is so hard to understand?
And today, while waiting for my cabbie to make his way to where I was once we'd agreed that it wasn't where he'd got sent to, I called the company again and ranted about it. I mean, how many times can you do that? I expected an apology. I got: If the driver didn't listen then it's not my problem! I said: Well, it would be something like 6 different drivers by now that didn't listen. That's not very likely, is it? To which he replied: I said gate C lady, not my problem.
How nice.
And then the driver told me that the guy did not say anything at all. He sent a message through a thingy which, as clear as day, said 'M School, Gate B'.
Idiot.

Another thing: when the cab gets into my street, I invariably say: Anywhere here, on the right will be fine. And the cab driver invariably pulls in on the left.
Maybe they don't listen after all.
Regardless of the thingy.