Just now in a staff meeting:
M: “The settings have to be exactly right. You can’t use a Mac, you can’t use Firefox… whatever that is…”
Me: *audible snort* and immediately thinking “Oops. That was too loud. Awkward.”
Everyone else: *looks at me while suppressing their amusement*
M: “What is it?”
Me: “It’s a browser…”
M: “Okay, now I know. Thanks!” *continues talking*
Everyone else: Pays attention.
Me: *goes to WordPress*
It’s only when your students are absolutely silent during an assessment that you realise how badly your shoes sound like squeaky farts.
Barefoot for the rest of the lesson, it is.
From time to time, teachers are asked to cover lessons for colleagues who are absent for some reason.
Today I had the privelege of covering a Y10 Health and Human Development class.
They could have been discussing exercise, nutrition or health… but, no.
That would have been waaayyy too easy. They had to be learning about male and female body parts and their functions.
While I was busy asking myself why these lessons always seem to be handed to me, I was interrupted by a student asking a question.
Student 1: “What’s the cervix again?”
Student 2: “It’s the trapdoor thing that stops the baby coming out.”
Wait. The what??
Very diplomatically, I suggested he might like to look things up in a dictionary, or at least the printed notes they had been given to read and highlight. I don’t think he did, though.
A little later, Student 1 had another question: “Are the uterus and the urethra the same thing?”
Again, I pointed him to the printed notes and the dictionary.
“How is that going to help me?” he asked.
“How indeed?” I thought to myself.
I’m sorry, Miss K. I tried.
I tend to experience a macabre sense of the perverse when I watch those people who audition for The Voice or American/Australian Idol thinking they’re so much more talented than they really are.
And sometimes, when I post my writing on my blog, I fear that I might be one of those people in the world of poetry. It’s obvious that I like what I have written, or I wouldn’t post it. But does it leave my friends cringing and thinking, “Oh man. She’s at it again!”?
Most of the people I know are nicer than me, and would most likely never admit that to me. So how can I find out if my work is good enough to be published properly – on paper, in ink, rather than just on my own blog, or if that is a completely vain and unrealistic dream?
The only way is to ask someone who knows.
So, tonight I bit the bullet and submitted one of my poems for publication in a quarterly poetry journal.
I’m both excited and terrified.
I hope they like it.
I hope I picked the right one.
Oh Lord, I hope I’m not making an idiot of myself.
But if I don’t try, I’ll never know. Nothing was ever achieved by chickening out.
My students were working on their assignments to create an original interpretation of the story of Beowulf.
All was quiet, until one said, “There’s no more music. Only death.”
I commented on how poetic that was, and asked if she was going to use that for the scene where Grendel attacks the Danes in their mead hall.”
She looked surprised.
“No… I had music notes in the picture and I took them out.”
Sigh.
Today I’ve been given a Year 8 Maths class to cover for a teacher who is away.
Maths. Seriously?
I struggled with Year 8 Maths when I was in Year 8. I have no hope of appearing to master it now, no matter how good an actress or improviser I may be.
So I advised the class: “I expect you to work quietly and stay focused on your work. If you need help, I strongly advise asking one of your classmates, because I am not going to be of any help to you.”
One boy raised his hand and asked incredulously, “Are you saying you can’t do Year 8 Maths?”
“What I’m saying,” I replied, “Is that my career as a teacher should be an encouragement to anyone who struggles in one area or another. You can be successful, even if something like Maths defies you.”
The strugglers in the class smiled, and everyone settled down to their work. They seem to know what they’re doing.
Phew. Dodged a bullet there.
In a hurry to get ready for my next class, I *almost* mistook a glue stick for my lip balm.
Let’s just say it’s a very good thing that I have a keen sense of smell.
As I was walking through the corridor to the library, one of my Y10 students smiled and said, “See you later’ alligator!”
I stopped her and asked if she knew the difference between an alligator and a crocodile.
Three Y3 girls nearby listened with interest.
“Not really,” she said, “What is it?”
I answered with a grin, “One will see you later, and one will see you in a while.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned, and then one of the younger girls said, very loudly, “I don’t get it.”
“Yeah!” said one of her friends. “That’s a dumb joke.”
The third little girl, with a look of grave admonition on her face, said, “Teachers shouldn’t tell jokes when it sounds like they’re going to teach you something good.”
That’s me. Failing since 1.05pm today.
I’m really disappointed in a few particular people at the moment.
All my life, I’ve been taught to be honest, to be kind, to mind my manners, to not cause offence, to be the first to apologise, to be a gracious and forgiving friend, and to overcome hatred with love.
However, I’m seeing more and more of exactly the opposite from people I have always respected. And today, I find myself feeling very hurt over the way some of them have treated me and/or people that I love and value highly.
I’m not even questioning how much I mean to any of those individuals, because it’s glaringly obvious that I don’t mean much to them at all.
That kind of reality check is tough going at the best of times, but when people who position themselves as leaders in a community or social group let you down, and then blame you for it… well, that sets a person to thinking seriously about why one is still part of that group.
It’s not just an issue of being offended or having my feelings deeply hurt. It’s come to the point of really questioning if my values are the same as theirs, and if I can condone their actions when I so strongly disagree with them.
I certainly can’t remain silent and have no intention of doing so, but I am searching to find a way to challenge those negative behaviours and stand up for what I believe in without doing more damage.
I can’t just let it go: if I don’t say anything, they’ll certainly do more damage, and besides that, I’d be that person who didn’t speak out against the things that caused my very close friend and/or myself considerable pain, so that is not an option.
It’s a tricky position to be in.
So, for now, I’m biding my time and trying to deal with my anger. I’m hoping that it will subside enough to be able to say what needs to be said rationally and patiently, without being spiteful or vengeful, but that’s still only an aspiration. I don’t want to hurt them in retaliation – what I’d really like is for them to see that they’ve been doing the wrong thing, and acknowledge that and take responsibility for what they’ve done, even though the consequences of their actions can’t be undone.
WordyNerdBird 