Once she told me I had the job, my future Head of Department said that what made her mind up about me was how I had handled misbehaviour during my interview lesson.
I wanted to burst out laughing.
One kid turned around to speak to a friend a couple of times and another one wrote a note, then apologetically handed the note over to me. That’s nothing.
Try this: you have two of them punching the crap out of each other, one of them running around the classroom with someone else’s bag, that someone else following them trying to retrieve the said bag, four or five of them just carelessly walking around socialising with their friends, a couple listening to music on their phones/i-pods and a couple more shouting invectives out of the window. And then telling you to get out of their face when you try to get their attention.
That’s misbehaviour.
Even if the behaviour is in general three times worse than it was in my interview lesson, it’s going to be a friggin’ holiday.
Showing posts with label jobs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jobs. Show all posts
Thursday, 28 May 2009
Saturday, 23 May 2009
And now dear children...
There was this TV presenter ages ago in communist Poland who had the misfortune to have said or done something to offend the Party (I’m not quite sure, I only know the story from my parents). The Party decided to punish him by moving him from evening news to a children’s programme where he read stories live on TV. He loathed it absolutely. And one day, once the story was done and he thought the cameras were off, he stood up, pulled his trousers down and said dramatically: ‘And now, dear children, kiss my arse!’. Unfortunately, the cameras were not off just yet…
The reason why I’m telling this story is because it reminds me of how I feel these days in my hectic crazy classroom full of nasty vile children who are betting on who will make me cry first, and all because I finally got a job for September – in a nice school with nice kids who are genuinely happy to be there.
So these dear children can kiss my arse.
The reason why I’m telling this story is because it reminds me of how I feel these days in my hectic crazy classroom full of nasty vile children who are betting on who will make me cry first, and all because I finally got a job for September – in a nice school with nice kids who are genuinely happy to be there.
So these dear children can kiss my arse.
Friday, 13 February 2009
Ray
What do you do at the end of a last week of half-term, a week where you got hurt by your best friend, you got assaulted by your student, had an interview in that perfect school with students who don’t assault you and don’t throw things out of windows but actually let you teach them, in that cute little village where you could have had a little house with a piano in it and maybe even a cat, but didn’t get the job, and you’re just so tired of it all?
You go to see Ray. And Ray’s voice makes you cry like a baby all through the first part of the concert and then lifts you up, soothes you and rocks you into serenity. And then you move on. You forgive your friend, you write and incident report, you fill in another job application. And you hope for the best.
You go to see Ray. And Ray’s voice makes you cry like a baby all through the first part of the concert and then lifts you up, soothes you and rocks you into serenity. And then you move on. You forgive your friend, you write and incident report, you fill in another job application. And you hope for the best.
Tuesday, 18 November 2008
Oh just save it!
For around a week now, I’ve been working at a school that didn’t want me back in May, covering a sick leave. They called me directly cause they had been soooo impressed with me back in May and hoped I was available and they were soooo lucky that I was and that I could come in and work with them and they were sooooo bummed that they couldn’t hire me back in May, and oh just shut up or I’ll smack you. You could have hired me back in May. You chose not to, and that’s that, cut the crap! Last week I was mostly swinging between anger and disappointment. Not a good place to be. By now however I’ve reached the point where it became all about the kids and I’m really enjoying working there (as I knew I would back in May) and to be honest nothing else matters. Well, if you don’t count the fact that I can’t stay there and I’ve already managed to get attached to some of them little buggers.
But good news is that as of January I’ll be on a two terms supply contract with one school, which means stability, two terms of induction out of the way and steady professional development, which seriously makes me happy. I was actually offered two such posts, one of which was in the school where vile children make me swear in the classroom, it goes without saying that I decided against that one. But the other offer was also better, so my decision wasn’t based solely on that though!
Friday, 26 September 2008
Thursday
1.
I got fed up with not knowing when the deadline for submitting my PhD for publication was, nor what other documents I had to provide and fed up with waiting for answers, so I decided to nag. This time the university press did reply (miracle!) and provided all information required, which I read with great care and attention and decided that was that. The deadline was on the 30th (that’s bloody Tuesday!), and yes, my edited text could be ready by then (if I didn’t do anything else until, but that was not going to happen) but they also needed a presentation of its academic values (which also could be done, even if I had no idea what I was supposed to write) and the endorsement of the Head of Faculty on the application letter. And there is no way in the world that one could be done within three working days I had left.
So that was that. I had blown it. I should have worked more. I should have nagged earlier. Now it was too late.
So I went down to the lounge, put the TV on and watched two episodes of Scrubs in total dumbness and resignation.
Then I went back upstairs and managed to get hold of my supervisor… who told me not to worry, she was going to take her copy of my PhD to the publishing committee’s meeting, fill in an application form and get the Head of Faculty to sign it.
“Oh…” I gasped with cautious half-relief “but your copy is not edited!”
“Don’t worry, you’ll do that once they’ve decided to publish.”
WHAT?! All these hours spent trying to make it on time, hard work, stress and all?! WHAT?!
“But, but… it’s more than 300 pages, you said 300…”
“You’ll just have to cut it down slightly to some 350 pages.” she said in the same time.
WHAT?! All those things I have already cut out with bleeding heart to get it under 300 pages, why? It already IS under 350 pages! WHAT?!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. And relieved. Because after all I haven’t blown it. Because it’s still all on. But still. Seriously!
Anyway.
2.
After all that I was relieved but still shaky and there was no way I was getting back to work, not with all that information, and I needed to calm down first anyway, so I started surfing on the Internet, which eventually led me to the Times Educational Supplement website, where they publish all the job ads for teachers. I put in all my criteria without much hope, after all I had checked it the day before, and there it was: “French Teacher, permanent contract, secondary school… Milton Keynes.”
I had always thought that at one point I might have to consider moving to MK, I also said I was going to let life decide – apply for jobs both here and there and see what I get first.
But this made it real. There is a job running, I am of course going to apply, and then I might get it, and then I will have to move, to a place where Paul is the only person I know, and I’m not scared of turning my life upside down for my own fantasy, been there, done that, was fun, but this, this is scary!
At that point I could distinctly feel an impending panic crisis come down on me, so I went out, got a bottle of wine, poured myself a huge glass and just sat there waiting for Susanne to come around so that I could properly vent.
3.
Susanne was coming around cause we were going to the Yardbird for a jazz gig as part of my birthday celebrations. We had some dinner (I had forgotten lunch in all that upheaval), I had another glass of wine and we sat there talking, or rather I was talking, and gradually calming myself down. By 7.30 we were all ready to go and just waiting for a friend of mine who was going to give us a ride, and I had just decreed that if I had not had a heart attack today, I was probably safe for ever after, when the knock on the door came. So I went to open… and there stood Paul.
Apparently, my first reaction to my boyfriend’s surprise appearance was: “Oh fuck!”.
But it really was all about the tone of voice. Really.
4.
At the Yardbird I’ve managed to get drunk on two pints of beer.
After we got home I cried a bit and then had a full blown głupawka (which is that state where you get into fits of uncontrollable laughter over things that really are not that funny at all – no other language has a good word for it).
And then I lay sleepless next to my snoring boyfriend and tried not to start freaking out again.
But all is good.
Life knows what it’s doing.
At least I hope so.
I got fed up with not knowing when the deadline for submitting my PhD for publication was, nor what other documents I had to provide and fed up with waiting for answers, so I decided to nag. This time the university press did reply (miracle!) and provided all information required, which I read with great care and attention and decided that was that. The deadline was on the 30th (that’s bloody Tuesday!), and yes, my edited text could be ready by then (if I didn’t do anything else until, but that was not going to happen) but they also needed a presentation of its academic values (which also could be done, even if I had no idea what I was supposed to write) and the endorsement of the Head of Faculty on the application letter. And there is no way in the world that one could be done within three working days I had left.
So that was that. I had blown it. I should have worked more. I should have nagged earlier. Now it was too late.
So I went down to the lounge, put the TV on and watched two episodes of Scrubs in total dumbness and resignation.
Then I went back upstairs and managed to get hold of my supervisor… who told me not to worry, she was going to take her copy of my PhD to the publishing committee’s meeting, fill in an application form and get the Head of Faculty to sign it.
“Oh…” I gasped with cautious half-relief “but your copy is not edited!”
“Don’t worry, you’ll do that once they’ve decided to publish.”
WHAT?! All these hours spent trying to make it on time, hard work, stress and all?! WHAT?!
“But, but… it’s more than 300 pages, you said 300…”
“You’ll just have to cut it down slightly to some 350 pages.” she said in the same time.
WHAT?! All those things I have already cut out with bleeding heart to get it under 300 pages, why? It already IS under 350 pages! WHAT?!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful. And relieved. Because after all I haven’t blown it. Because it’s still all on. But still. Seriously!
Anyway.
2.
After all that I was relieved but still shaky and there was no way I was getting back to work, not with all that information, and I needed to calm down first anyway, so I started surfing on the Internet, which eventually led me to the Times Educational Supplement website, where they publish all the job ads for teachers. I put in all my criteria without much hope, after all I had checked it the day before, and there it was: “French Teacher, permanent contract, secondary school… Milton Keynes.”
I had always thought that at one point I might have to consider moving to MK, I also said I was going to let life decide – apply for jobs both here and there and see what I get first.
But this made it real. There is a job running, I am of course going to apply, and then I might get it, and then I will have to move, to a place where Paul is the only person I know, and I’m not scared of turning my life upside down for my own fantasy, been there, done that, was fun, but this, this is scary!
At that point I could distinctly feel an impending panic crisis come down on me, so I went out, got a bottle of wine, poured myself a huge glass and just sat there waiting for Susanne to come around so that I could properly vent.
3.
Susanne was coming around cause we were going to the Yardbird for a jazz gig as part of my birthday celebrations. We had some dinner (I had forgotten lunch in all that upheaval), I had another glass of wine and we sat there talking, or rather I was talking, and gradually calming myself down. By 7.30 we were all ready to go and just waiting for a friend of mine who was going to give us a ride, and I had just decreed that if I had not had a heart attack today, I was probably safe for ever after, when the knock on the door came. So I went to open… and there stood Paul.
Apparently, my first reaction to my boyfriend’s surprise appearance was: “Oh fuck!”.
But it really was all about the tone of voice. Really.
4.
At the Yardbird I’ve managed to get drunk on two pints of beer.
After we got home I cried a bit and then had a full blown głupawka (which is that state where you get into fits of uncontrollable laughter over things that really are not that funny at all – no other language has a good word for it).
And then I lay sleepless next to my snoring boyfriend and tried not to start freaking out again.
But all is good.
Life knows what it’s doing.
At least I hope so.
Monday, 15 September 2008
No, I’m not Russian…
Meeting your boyfriend’s former colleagues can prove quite entertaining indeed (if you don’t count having the “And what are you up to? – Oh, I’m in supply for now. – Oh… don’t worry, something will come up.” conversation one time too many).
There was this one girl (that Paul claims having talked to maybe twice in his life) who spent a good moment telling me what a lovely bloke he was, speaking veeeeery sloooowly indeeeeed and checking if I understood her every once in a while. I was a bit puzzled until I spotted a coin on the floor, and she insisted I kept it ‘as a souvenir from England’. Then it dawned on me: she thought I was one of the Russian exchange teachers their school was hosting and well, that I had just pulled Paul at the party!
‘Dear, I’m not Russian’ I chuckled ‘I’m actually Polish’.
‘Oh’ she said, with a puzzled look on her face and the conversation faltered. And then, when she finally figured it out, she told me – with that exalted insistence you only get when someone’s had one drink to many – what a lucky lady I was. How could I disagree?
The girl who got the job we didn’t get was there too, and she was feeling quite insecure around us, poor thing. But, nice people that we are, we were very friendly and all, having agreed behind her back that comparing what she’s got out of that interview with what we’ve got out of it, we’re definitely much better off (as, from what we hear, many people both staff and students regard her as the evil lady who took Paul’s job).
As for the rest of the weekend, here’s one for you:
Although I have to admit that keeping this thing airborne for longer than one minute was beyond our skills and knowledge. But we’re not giving up and one day it shall fly properly, cause we’re smart and it’s not – after all, it’s just a kite!
There was this one girl (that Paul claims having talked to maybe twice in his life) who spent a good moment telling me what a lovely bloke he was, speaking veeeeery sloooowly indeeeeed and checking if I understood her every once in a while. I was a bit puzzled until I spotted a coin on the floor, and she insisted I kept it ‘as a souvenir from England’. Then it dawned on me: she thought I was one of the Russian exchange teachers their school was hosting and well, that I had just pulled Paul at the party!
‘Dear, I’m not Russian’ I chuckled ‘I’m actually Polish’.
‘Oh’ she said, with a puzzled look on her face and the conversation faltered. And then, when she finally figured it out, she told me – with that exalted insistence you only get when someone’s had one drink to many – what a lucky lady I was. How could I disagree?
The girl who got the job we didn’t get was there too, and she was feeling quite insecure around us, poor thing. But, nice people that we are, we were very friendly and all, having agreed behind her back that comparing what she’s got out of that interview with what we’ve got out of it, we’re definitely much better off (as, from what we hear, many people both staff and students regard her as the evil lady who took Paul’s job).
As for the rest of the weekend, here’s one for you:
Although I have to admit that keeping this thing airborne for longer than one minute was beyond our skills and knowledge. But we’re not giving up and one day it shall fly properly, cause we’re smart and it’s not – after all, it’s just a kite!Thursday, 22 May 2008
The Perfect School
I’ve spent so much time around people marvelling at what a wonderful teacher I was that I ended up really believing it. The downside of it was that I also believed when they said any school would be lucky to have me. So I was confident. And apparently my lesson was excellent, my answers perfect, but somehow someone else got the job. I knew that would happen as soon as I saw her name on the candidates list. And I’m happy for her, and all, but it remains that I had time to persuade myself that this was my perfect school and well, I have quite a lot un-persuading to do.
And, quite frankly, I’m just tired. So tired that I’m not sure that I have enough energy for another one. So tired that I’m starting to wonder what the hell I’m doing. Cause maybe I would have been better off if I had put all that stupid curiosity in the bottom drawer, married my first boyfriend and lived dully ever after. My mother for one would have been thrilled.
And, quite frankly, I’m just tired. So tired that I’m not sure that I have enough energy for another one. So tired that I’m starting to wonder what the hell I’m doing. Cause maybe I would have been better off if I had put all that stupid curiosity in the bottom drawer, married my first boyfriend and lived dully ever after. My mother for one would have been thrilled.
Sunday, 4 May 2008
Others would boast about it, I will simply say
My uni tutor came to observe me on Friday and it went great. Apparently ‘I have made extensive progress since I started’, and ‘I’m as good as a PGCE student could possibly get’. I should be proud of myself and quite confident about the future, especially since ‘I’m a very strong candidate’ and ‘a school that gets me will be very lucky’.
Well, the problem is that the application I’ve sent off a week ago didn’t even get me an interview. I sincerely do not understand why, considering the above – I mean, if they didn’t want an NQT (Newly Qualified Teacher) why did they send the advert to my tutor so that she would give it to us? I would understand if they didn’t think I would fit in, but how could they know it before actually meeting me?
Oh well. I’m sending another two applications off on Tuesday and I’m not particularly worried about finding a job, not just yet at least.
I have however realised that if I don’t get employed as of 1st of July, my trips to Poland and France will be a no-no – the summer will be ‘teeth-in-the-wall’ and temping away. Unless a series of miracle translations happens.
Well, what can I say – let us pray.
Well, the problem is that the application I’ve sent off a week ago didn’t even get me an interview. I sincerely do not understand why, considering the above – I mean, if they didn’t want an NQT (Newly Qualified Teacher) why did they send the advert to my tutor so that she would give it to us? I would understand if they didn’t think I would fit in, but how could they know it before actually meeting me?
Oh well. I’m sending another two applications off on Tuesday and I’m not particularly worried about finding a job, not just yet at least.
I have however realised that if I don’t get employed as of 1st of July, my trips to Poland and France will be a no-no – the summer will be ‘teeth-in-the-wall’ and temping away. Unless a series of miracle translations happens.
Well, what can I say – let us pray.
Tuesday, 22 April 2008
Side effects of applying for jobs
The job application is off! Now it’s the ‘keeping-fingers-crossed-and-thumbs-squeezed’ time of waiting for them to call me. At least in theory, cause I don’t know if I actually want that job. I mean, I have tones of sensible reasons to want it, and some very irrational ones not to, so I guess I do want it, but I’m not emotional about it, which is the better.
Anyway.
All my lessons for this week were planned in advance, because I was so reluctant to write that bloody personal statement that I was willing to do no matter what other than writing it. I absolutely and wholeheartedly hate writing personal statements. One should be able to just say: “give me the bloody job”. Cause that’s all that all that waffle about my qualities and beliefs translates as.
Anyway, all lessons planned in advance mean somewhat more relaxing evenings this week and somewhat more sleep. Which, in turn, means that I’m actually capable of getting up half an hour earlier just to play with my contact lens – which is very reluctant to actually go into the eye, mean thing. Thank God I only need one, otherwise I would probably need to get up an hour early for a double session of dabbing at my eye, my eye tearing up, me drying it out, waiting for it to stop hurting and then me dabbing at it again, the cycle to be repeated as many times as it takes until the bloody thing finally is in. Then some more waiting time is needed before the eye is in a state allowing for the application of make up. I just hope that it gets easier with practice!
But the best thing about applying for jobs is that one has to go to a post office to send them off. And next to my local post office, there is a… Polish shop! Which means I’m right now very full on a Polish doughnut, cranberry dumplings (no, they’re not sweet) and halva. For tomorrow’s lunch I’m taking to school a bag of barley soup and I shall treat the staffroom to Hedgehogs (which are a type of biscuits) well, at least that part of the staffroom that deserves it. Cause you’ve got to deserve a Hedgehog.
Yum.
And yum again.
Anyway.
All my lessons for this week were planned in advance, because I was so reluctant to write that bloody personal statement that I was willing to do no matter what other than writing it. I absolutely and wholeheartedly hate writing personal statements. One should be able to just say: “give me the bloody job”. Cause that’s all that all that waffle about my qualities and beliefs translates as.
Anyway, all lessons planned in advance mean somewhat more relaxing evenings this week and somewhat more sleep. Which, in turn, means that I’m actually capable of getting up half an hour earlier just to play with my contact lens – which is very reluctant to actually go into the eye, mean thing. Thank God I only need one, otherwise I would probably need to get up an hour early for a double session of dabbing at my eye, my eye tearing up, me drying it out, waiting for it to stop hurting and then me dabbing at it again, the cycle to be repeated as many times as it takes until the bloody thing finally is in. Then some more waiting time is needed before the eye is in a state allowing for the application of make up. I just hope that it gets easier with practice!
But the best thing about applying for jobs is that one has to go to a post office to send them off. And next to my local post office, there is a… Polish shop! Which means I’m right now very full on a Polish doughnut, cranberry dumplings (no, they’re not sweet) and halva. For tomorrow’s lunch I’m taking to school a bag of barley soup and I shall treat the staffroom to Hedgehogs (which are a type of biscuits) well, at least that part of the staffroom that deserves it. Cause you’ve got to deserve a Hedgehog.
Yum.
And yum again.
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