On being a driver

Some time ago Paul and I decided that one of possible (at least partial) solutions to my moving-to-a-small-town paranoia would be for me to learn to drive.
I was a bit reluctant, as 14 years ago I already tried and failed miserably, and I've never actually felt the need to drive – or maybe I just talked myself into not feeling the need to drive after the aforementioned failure. Nevertheless, with the prospect of moving out of a big city with an excellent bus network I did concede that driving would definitely make me feel much less like if I was giving up my independence and I actually got all excited about the whole project.
So I applied for a provisional license and, since it’s half term and we have more free time, we’ve started driving lessons yesterday. And it’s going really good, but I have to say that I’m a bit worried...
Now, many people had said that him teaching me to drive would definitely be an interesting experience if not a trial to the relationship but I did not think about it twice cause they meant him getting annoyed with me getting things wrong and such. Which he doesn’t cause he’s the most patient and laid back person I know. And I don’t get that many things wrong and such. What I do however is talk.
‘Why are you waving at me stupid bitch, can’t you see I have an ‘L’ so I obviously don’t bloody know what I’m doing?’ The poor woman was actually thanking me for letting her through, happily she was beyond ear shot. Paul wasn’t. But it gets worse:
‘Yes Anna, maybe if you had put the clutch down.’
‘Handbrake you daft cow!’
‘Don’t be a mean gear box and don’t make that noise anymore please’.
‘You’ll be a good car now and you’ll start properly, ok?’.
‘Why, why, why are you doing this to me?’
And so I’m starting to wonder if him teaching me to drive was such a good idea after all…

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.

Snow

Winter is my favourite season, but for winter to be winter, there must be snow. I love snow.
It snowed all Sunday night and all Monday. I got to school snowy cheerful and didn’t understand why people where saying the school should close. After all it was only snow, yes, there was a lot of it, but hell, I’d seen much worse!
Well, I soon realised that the kids were all over the place – probably because snow is such a rarity here. There was no work going on what so ever. Snowballs were flying inside the school as much as outside the school. They all arrived to the lessons late, excited and wet through and through. And as the day went by, as it snowed more and more, my frustration increased with every lesson I didn’t manage to teach, I gave in to the general ‘I don’t want to be here’ mood as well.
Once home, I spent my evening working, cause I didn’t find out that all schools were going to be closed today until everything was done. Well, what’s done is done I thought, at least I’ll get to sleep in.
Think again. The leadership suggested that the staff came to school anyway to catch up on work using the occasion that the kids weren’t there.
So I went. And I think I was probably the only teacher there.
And by the time I left school, the snow had mostly frozen or disappeared.
And yes, I got a lot of work done, and yes, I will have free evenings for the rest of the week. But I can’t help thinking that I’ve missed out.
Cause it seems like I’m the only one who didn’t go mountain biking in the snow, didn’t make a snow man, didn’t make a snow angel, didn’t interact with the snow in any other way and hence doesn’t any have snowy photos to upload to Facebook. Not fair.

On memorable moments

Yesterday, as the first black president of the United States of America was being sworn in, I was sitting in a boring meeting struggling to stay awake. Was I aware that the first black president of the United States of America was being sworn in as I watched the clock hands move painfully forward? No. Big things are happening, people, and all I can do is try not to collapse with exhaustion.
‘You are different today, Miss’ said a year 7 boy to me today. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘Oh, I don’t know, you’re more in control’.
Am I really? No, not really. Which he must have realised as four of his classmates stumbled into the classroom 15 minutes late and suddenly it was all about behaviour control all over again.
I’m starting to wonder if I will ever actually get to dealing with the behaviour as I teach rather than trying to teach while I’m struggling to control the behaviour.

Almost half way through my first month at M. and still alive

It is 9 pm. and I have just finished planning my lessons for tomorrow (yet another 13 hrs long day of work but I’m not going to complain cause last week my days were even longer) and I have finally got around to putting some washing in (didn’t have a choice, ran out of socks…). The consequence is that I can’t go to bed just yet cause I have to wait for it to finish. So I thought I’d share some random thoughts about my hitherto experience of working at the M. school, which I’m really enjoying, I mean it, although I think I might be too exhausted to properly enjoy anything at this point.
I put a boy in detention for spitting on the floor. After that I started noticing spit all over the place and therefore concluded that he wasn’t the only one to do it, he was just the only one to get caught.
I have two Shannons in one class which wouldn’t be surprising at all if I wasn’t working in a school where white children are something like 5%. What are the odds.
To my great delight, I observed three of my year 9 troublemakers spending their lunch break picking up rubbish at the main gate. That’s what happens when you ignore your teacher’s detentions and end up referred to the Head. Subsequently I danced a little dance of victory after they’d come and apologised profusely after school. Oh yeah.
I have my own classroom, which would be even more exciting if I hadn’t inherited it in such a messy state. Cause I really don’t know when I will have time to go through all those piles of worksheets, revision booklets, workbooks and pupils’ work and decide what to chuck and what to keep. Happily, two boys in my year 7 helped by chucking a big part of one of those piles through the window. They were of course duly punished, including calling parents, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit grateful rather than angry. Possibly I’m also too exhausted to feel properly angry about anything…
Today I have finally managed to teach my year 8. It was our 3rd lesson.
I haven’t taught even one lesson to either of my year 9 groups and I’ve seen each of them 3 times already. All I do is shout and try to put them in a sitting plan. And call for SWEEP to take half of them away. Still my Head of Department says I’m doing much better than she’d expected.
So I guess I’ll take the compliment and try again tomorrow.

Piano

‘Can you remember what you were dreaming about just now?’ asks Paul.
‘Yes, why?’
‘Were you playing the piano?’
‘How do you know?!’
‘Cause you were moving your fingers like this’ he demonstrates on my arm.
I laugh and turn onto my other side.
‘So was it at your parents’ place?’
‘No’
‘Where was it then?’
‘I don’t know. In a house. I was playing and you came in and said something about dinner, and I said okay and went back to playing.’
‘Was it our house?’
‘Possibly.’
‘I like that dream’ he says and pulls me closer in.

I think I might see if there’s a piano at school I could play.
I think it’s time.
Cause this time it’s all about me. And the piano, of course.

Update: in brief

I’m back! Sorry for the silence, limited internet access, lots to see and lots to do, catching up with people and places and so on – some stories to tell, I will try to include them as I go, but for now – in brief:
The holiday was amazing, although tiring as lots to see and lots to do etc.
Haven’t unfortunately managed to see everyone and those I did see I did not see enough of, a firm decision has been made that in the summer we’ll plan more than one day in Warsaw – a week preferably.
Paul met Mother and didn’t flee, which does prove something as those who also met Mother will undoubtedly easily understand. Especially since Mother really, really loved Paul. So did everyone actually. There were moments where I was worried that his ego might be slightly too flattered for his own good. But I have to admit that he absolutely deserved each and every one of the compliments bestowed on him.
Some stuff to process for me – after all I’ve spent more than 10 days with Parents – but I have to say that they surprised me in an unexpectedly positive way. To a certain extent at least.
And finally, first day at my new school today. The department seems great, all welcoming and helpful. The kids are kids, some are lovely some are horrid, two groups already are competing for the name of the Vile Year X, one year 11 and one year 9, but the year 9 is leading as for now. I’ve managed to go to a wrong classroom once and forget I had a lesson once, not too bad for the first day, but I was told not to worry about it. Hence so far so good.
So it’s back to sitting plans and lesson planning. Oh well, every holiday has its end!