Alternative Curriculum Week is over!

And it was fun, but tiring. I tend to take on a lot, then wonder why I do that . . . getting ready for the macrame was a full day's work in itself -- handouts with the knots/illustrations, then 'knotting stations' around the room with posters and ropes for them to practise their knots before starting projects, then of course helping each of them do whatever project they dreamed up. Very, very busy day. Ditto the jewellery making, except I had fewer girls (it was a more expensive course, so probably to be expected).

So yes, I taught two all-day classes: jewellery making, and macrame. Just finished printing out photos of each one of the girls doing their creations (brought my digital camera, of course, to save the memories), which they can pick up tomorrow in my room. In addition to the bracelets, owls, hat-bands, belts, and what-not, they'll have a glossy photo themselves to keep.

Macrame pics . . .

Update: Less than 24 hours after I hatched the plan and put them together, all 100 bracelets have sold. And we made £30 more than we should have (raised £138.50). I think Mr. O's tutor group is now going to give the same thing a try.

Next day: Made another hundred, purple and green wavy lines this time, and sold 60 already. Mr. O. needed help, so I printed him some polka-dotted paper, and now he has his started, and plans to be ready to sell on Monday, as he is a typical man who needs a woman to get him started (kidding, TJ, if you're reading this!).

Final update: All 200 bracelets sold, made £240 for the charity. I'll repeat this one again -- it really worked well.

Fundraiser . . .

Right now we're raising money as a school to send a Shelterbox wherever it's currently needed. In case you don't know, it's a big box which includes a 10-person tent, water purification system, cooking (stove, cookware) and more. It will support 10 people for 6 months. The cost is £490 for each Shelterbox, and our school would like to raise enough to pay for one.

So, tutor group by tutor group, we all hold fundraisers of various sorts and see what we can contribute. The usual food sales go on (chocolate, crisps, biscuits), but not much else. Today I got the idea to make and sell just 100 bracelets (wristbands) for this, and included in the price is a mufti day for students who buy/wear these (that means they don't have to wear uniform for a day). First-come, first served. I printed them up first hour, laminated and cut them second, punched holes third, and by fourth, I had a few students who had finished their work helping me tie the bracelets together. By the end of the day, we had even sold our first 2 dozen! The bracelets say, "I'm 1 in 100 -- one of just 100 students who are wearing mufti on 27th JUNE, to help buy a Shelterbox for people who have lost their home due to natural disaster. My £1.08 donation will shelter 4 people for a day, and our 'Group-of-100' will shelter 10 people for 40 days. To learn more, go to http://www.shelterbox.org "

I hand-numbered each bracelet, and by having a small(ish) group, it makes it sort of an elite thing, special, something not all of them will have (the mufti especially). And they can (hopefully) see the impact that their pound (and 8 pence) will make in the world, when put together. And it's all profit. (When we sell chocolates, we're lucky to clear 15 or 20 quid.)

One of the kids asked if I arrived at such an odd fee because I teach in room 108. No, the website says that it costs 27 pence per person per day to have a Shelterbox. I figured roughly a quid would be a good donation, hence 1.08 for 4 people for a day.

Gluten-free biscuits from Natalie . . . (Thank you again, Natalie, and no, I won't share them!)

Alternative Curriculum (and the last half-term) in upper schools . . .

I will miss this at middle school. At upper schools, the 11's and 13's are long gone, and that frees up a lot of hours. Today I only had 2 lessons, tomorrow I have just one . . .

So after third lesson today I signed out to get ready for Alternative Curriculum Week for year 9's (it will happen while the 10's are off on their two weeks work experience -- the school will be like a ghost town then).

What's Alternative Curriculum? For a whole week, we discard the regular Year 9 schedule and do other stuff. Fun stuff. Could be something artsy, or sporty, or even mildly academic. For example, some of the English department are working together to produce a newspaper, others have a cycling day, some do scrap-booking, one is leading a group in making their own comic books, another will create board games. And one day that week, when the year 8's come up for Transfer Day (to meet their new teachers and form tutors, but since I'm leaving I don't have to attend that), we take the Year 9's off on trips. I'm signed up to help out on a trip to a nearby amusement park (Wicksteed).

So, back to Alternative Curriculum . . . to lead a project or activity (every teacher is expected to participate for at least one day that week), you make a plan and tell the coordinator (Head of Year 9) what you're going to do and the cost to students. You buy the supplies after money is collected. You decide on group size (I'll do groups of 10), and you generally have them for the whole day (although there are a few half-day activities). We're now at the point of publishing the schedule so students can start signing up, and we need to put up displays (samples, details, etc). So, that's what I came home to do -- get my display and details ready!

This year I'm doing two activities: jewelry making on Monday, and macrame on Thursday. So, my work for today is to do samples and photographs for my activities. I'm off to the hardware store for cord to do a few macrame samples, and then I just have to get out the jewelry-making supplies and photograph a few pieces I've made, including a few teenage-looking things as well.

Saw the Head of Sixth Form in town today . . .

and asked how his car survived yesterday. He had asked us yesterday to keep an ear out and let him know if we heard anything -- everyone just chuckled! This is the best day of the year! Background: The year 13's, who are leaving now, always have some 'fun' with his car. It's their way of showing their love -- how grateful they are for all of his time and effort through their two years of KS5. Obviously it's is all in good fun (although more fun for them than him). Last year's pictures were great. No damage or anything, but lots of 'decoration.' (He even tried leaving the car home one year, but his wife gave the kids the keys when they showed up! They filled the car with balloons.)

So, this year he left it at a colleague's house nearby, on a back street . . . but they still found it. Moreover, they didn't stop there -- back at school, they took all the furniture from the 6th Form common room (sofas, etc) and put it all out in the courtyard, and brought all the picnic tables inside. And they stole the alarm/bell that the Asst Head had put in (the one meant to startle even the most sound sleepers out of the common room and off to classes).

Anyway, sounds like they had a good day . . . as always!

Year 11's last day . . .

Herbs are growing well on kitchen sill. I now have mint, thyme and basil. African violets in the living room are blooming, and I got a small indoor rosebush and a flowering begonia as well, for the living room sill.

Windows open, smells like summer. Morning air is the best, isn't it? Doesn't get any better. It's like when you're camping and you crawl out of the tent and the air is so gorgeous.

Had a relaxing day today . . .

1) Year 9's start their SATS on Tuesday, so we of course had finished up everything they needed for that -- just needed to encourage them, give a few last tips, then we watched the DVD of Much Ado About Nothing one last time specifically the two set-scenes for the exam. Reviewed, discussed.

2) Tens worked on their last piece of CW, then made some photo-copies for a few who have missed school and needed notes to take home and work from this weekend.

3) Didn't see my 12's this week (only have 4 lessons every other week with them).

4) Elevens -- I had just finished their last poem Thursday, which was the last thing for their GCSE exams. We are done. We'll start going over their mocks next week, so today, I decided to put in a video (Shakespeare) and let them relax. They've earned it. A few went into the computer room to revise on Bite-size, but the rest just sat quietly, a few borrowing some of my revision guides to read. I try to have one of each on hand. Smith's or Waterstone's, 'cheap as chips'.

In contrast to talented teachers (which they think I am!), a year 11 of mine called Tom has been after me to bring my Rubik's Cube to school. I finally remembered it today. He and Sean came up at lunch for what Tom has been telling me is his talent -- no matter how mixed up the Cube is, Tom claims he can solve it in 1 minute and 40 seconds. I have never witnessed anything so amazing. Never. That boy's hands fly over the cube, and although it took him a minute and 45 seconds, he did it. Literally a blur. I want to video-record it and put it on youtube, and on my blog.

EDIT: The next day they told me there are people who can do it in 30 seconds, and some who can look at it, blindfold themselves, and then solve it (in 30 seconds!). Well, Tom stil holds my vote for most-talented.

Tart day . . .

Absolutely beautiful -- truly a late spring day, about 70 I'd guess, sunny and breezey . . . out most of the day marketing and doing errands (and enjoyed every second of it).

Late afternoon got some iron-on transfer paper and made little t-shirts for my granddaughters.

Now, nearing 7 p.m., the sun is still high and the windows are open, and I'm making a tart. Something about summer fruits always make me want tarts. This one is a 'shortbread' crust (GF flour, sunflower oil, sugar, one egg yolk, and a few spoonfuls of ice water), smothered with with a custard 'cream' (egg yolks, sugar, soya cream substitute, and a dash of nutmeg), then topped with strawberries (they're so fresh that every time I go into the kitchen I can smell them).

And there are the little t-shirts I made . . .

Sofie (and big sister Maya!)

Spring has sprung!

The last three days, walking home, had my jacket off and enjoyed the sunshine. Probably about 70 degrees. Wonderful.

Took this pic with my camera on the walk home, but it at least shows the tulips and daffs in bloom.

Banned . . .

Talking to my year 9 tutor group the other morning about American sweets, etc, and the topic of CyberCandy came up. I explained that it's a shop in Covent Garden with all the American stuff we can't get here, so when you have a craving for Life Savers, that's the place to head. I told them that they have other American stuff, too, like Lucky Charms, Oreos, and so on.

"Lucky Charms? We used to have those, but they banned them from the UK."

Why? Too high in sugar.

Right. Right. This is the country where it's legal to give kids alcohol from the age of 5, where marijuana is a class-C substance, where some outrageous percentage of kids smoke, where kids from age 13 goes to the pub on Friday nights (and gets served!), where chips (French fries) are the number one after school snack (and supper, for many kids), where they spend more money on chocolate than any other country in the world, where too many young girls have had abortions by the time they're in year 9 or 10, where we have alcohol-awareness programs for some of our pupils who drink too much . . . and Lucky Charms is what they're worried about?

I promise not to turn this into a baby-blog!

But she's too cute not to post a few more pics.

Here's Sofie . . .

Kiki said that the delivery was tough -- Sofie got stuck and they finally made the decision to do a C-section. But in the operating room, Sofie started moving again, and with the help of a vacuum extraction, they pulled her out. Baby has a big bump and bruise on her head from it, but it will disappear.

The most noticeable difference in baby-births in the Netherlands, as opposed to the US, is that it's treated as a non-medical event . . . no real need is seen for all sorts of dramatic intervention and such. And they don't even measure the length of the baby, so Chris will tomorrow.

The funniest, though, is that you don't get a hospital gown there -- you just come in your street clothes, take off your pants/trousers, get on the table, have your baby . . . not even a sheet to cover you! We chuckled quite a bit over that! When you're done, you can have a shower, some lunch, and then go home.

Anyway, they're doing well . . . it was nice to chat tonight. Really hard not being there for the big event, but I was around for Maya's birth, so go to be near for one of them at least. Must be a mother thing, but when your baby has a baby, you just want to close to her.

It's time!

Kiki text messaged me at 3:30 to tell me that her water had broken, and contractions were 3 minutes apart. Mid-wife was called, hospital alerted . . . Sofie will be 15th April, and Maya is just three days later (18th April).

Oh, and today was Maya's first day of school. They start school on their 4th birthday in the Netherlands (which will be Friday), but do a few half-days ahead to settle in more easily).

Anyway, I'll post details and a pic as soon as Sofie arrives!

(Later: I thought she said 10 pounds, but she was in fact 9 pounds and 15 ounces, born at 9:52 a.m. European time, blonde hair . . . not sure on her length yet. Should have pics later this evening, but for now, Chris says she looks a lot like Maya. Will of course post them as soon as I get them.)

How we mark work . . .

Someone asked, so here's an example of the marking criteria in the UK, for marking KS4 work only (KS3 and KS5 are different, of course!).

http://www.haikuwhiz.com/attachments/1033.pdf

I hope one can see how detailed it is. We moderate lots. We all meet, all bring our students' work, and check each others' work, and make sure we're all marking exactly the same . . . since eventually, all this work gets sent to the Powers That Be and they look at a sampling of folders before awarding the students their GCSE(s); they of course need to know that teachers are marking fairly and consistently. We do this with CW, with mock exams . . . with everything! So much fun to be had.

Off to the Netherlands for a week . . .

. . . to welcome the new little one into the world. Looking forward to posting pics of her very soon!

Meantime, here's a gorgeous picture my daughter took of Maya, her almost-four year old, at the beach recently. Maya was watching for whales (reports to me that she saw none, but also has me looking out for them on my trip through the Chunnel tomorrow morning, and take pictures through the train windows. LOL! Ah, innocence).

EDIT: I came, I left, and the baby never showed up! I guess they make their own time-tables, don't they?

KS4 work . . .

In KS4 (year 10 and 11, and you keep the same kids for both years), they do coursework (CW) and study other texts for the exam, all of which are compiled to become their final GCSE grade(s).

Students work to get at least five A* to C grades ("A-star to C"), which is good enough to get them into university. You're goal as an English teacher is to help them get two of them. The work consists of . . .

1) 3 speaking-listening (SL) tasks (you can do a lot more of those, and count the three best ones -- there is specific criteria for what types of tasks: Individual, group, and drama; argue, explore, and explain).

2) 5 pieces of CW (Shakespeare, Media, Prose, Original Writing, and Post-1914 Drama), with specific criteria on each. (We must allow students to redraft CW twice as a minimum, so that they can improve to the best of their ability (therefore, we give specific advice when we mark the first draft). At my school we do all the CW in year 10, then the novels and poems in year 11. We fit the SL tasks in here and there, in both years.

3) 20 poems: 8 from Different Cultures, 4 each from Pre-1914, Duffy, and Armitage (or Pre-1914, Heaney, and Clarke).

4) a novel, which is part of the exam (I'm doing Of Mice and Men with my lower set, and The Catcher in the Rye with my top set).

5) at the end of year 11, they take two exams, and receive two GCSEs for English -- the English Lit GCSE, and the English Language GCSE. Those are as follows:

a) In the Language exam, there are two papers, with two parts to each to them (covering Different Cultures poems, media non-fiction writing, persuasive writing, and informative writing). That exam is 60% of their final English Language GCSE, certain parts from the 5 pieces of the CW equal 20% (Media, Original Writing, and an average of Shakespeare and Prose -- Drama doesn't factor in here); the S/L tasks make up the final 20%.

b) For the English Lit GCSE, 30% of the mark is from their CW (Shakespeare, Prose, and Drama, averaged), and 70% is from the exam, which is one paper, 2 parts to it (the novel, and then the Pre-1914/Duffy/Armitage poems).

Oh, and they'll have various levels for the exam (Entry level, Foundation, Higher) -- you have to figure out which students need which, and get them ready for those. A few may not take a second GCSE in Lit (very low ability students).

My little Maya-papaya (my granddaughter) . . .

Have too much champagne, kiss too many men, love too much, laugh too loud, throw caution to the wind and your inhibitions out the window. Life is happening now, not 10 pounds from now.

My daughter takes some brilliant photos; thought I'd post a few here.

QTS . . .

I am now officially qualified in the UK! It's been a lot of work, a time-consuming process, and I did it in a few short months, but I've done it!

I took literacy, numeracy, and ICT tests at the university (passed them all first try!), I created a portfolio covering 41 standards (and a minimum of 3 pieces of evidence per standard, although in reality, I had twice that), and I endured many observations of lessons and inspections of my marking and planning.

Today was the last observation, and my portfolio was scrutinised . . . and the Cambridge Partnership assessor who was hired to evaluate my work pronounced me a (once again) qualified teacher at 11:11 a.m. today.

Excellent.

I do owe my school a huge thank you, for all their help in this process.

What's on TV?

Oh, The A-Team, Murder She Wrote, Diagnosis Murder, and Walker, Texas Ranger . . . and lots of other oldies but goo- . . . sorry, not goodies . . . stuff that went extinct in the States? Is there a reason it's no longer playing there?? I think so.

Frightful, really.

Slow food, part 2 . . .

Last evening, on the way to a theatre show with a friend (we saw "Potted Potter" -- all 7 books in 60 minutes, and an absolute riot!), my friend/neighbour pal told me (not knowing I had just posted about this) that she . . . has . . . joined . . . the . . . slow . . . food . . . movement.

I about lost it, laughing initially, and then telling her how I had just ranted on my blog a few days before about this very same thing!

She had some story about why she joined (I don't remember what it was), but at least she's a friend and we can differ on opinion and still be friends.

But I still don't 'get' this whole thing. As I said, it's just eating normally, cooking at home, and enjoying good food. What's the freaking need for a Movement all about? Some (lots?) of us never went to fast food in the first place. Nothing to move back to, is there? But you sell the world fast food, then tell them it's rubbish, and then sell them on the idea of normal food again, and it's a Movement.

Months back, I had rant on the subject of food -- it was about all those people who visit my home and stare with jaw dropped at the amount of fresh fruit and veg I buy and eat in a week. It's the bulk of my diet. I eat 10-a-day, most days. One friend even told me how she had told her husband she was going to start eating like me, and on pay-day planned to go shopping in the produce aisle. Oh my.

I go to market every Saturday, and yes, I do often post a pic of all the goodies I buy, just to show what the market is like here. I probably bring in about a bushel of produce (I have one of those rolling trolleys), and it's all gone by the next Saturday. Just one person, by the way.

Well, I'm thrilled that someone has found a new way to make a living (selling the idea of good basic food to the masses). There's one born every minute, as they say.

The storms . . .

Extreme winds are causing blizzards and stranded motorists, some ports had to be shut (pic of Port of Dover, with winds over 80 mph), and we even had hail and sleet here. Crazy stuff!

Seems like it's finally calmed down, and maybe the worst of it is over?

Slow food . . .

How fascinating that we now have something called 'slow food' -- the answer to fast food. Even more fascinating that we had to have someone claim it, name it, and sell the idea to us. Is fast food really that much a part of the world, that we can't even remember how to make food from scratch?

I don't know about you (and surely I've ranted about food before!), but I cook all my meals at home from scratch . . . 21 meals a week. And a bunch of snacks! I will admit I don't bake much, only because I have coeliac and the gluten-free flours and baked goods are absolute rubbish. But I do make some fudge occasionally, and once in a while a tart or torte.

This slow food movement began in 1989. There are now magazines, books, and websites about it. The Movement has its own logo (above right), history, philosophy, and mission statement. Is this for real? We need all this to tell us how to go back to what we did naturally just a few decades ago? We're not talking a lost art from hundreds of years ago -- most of the people cooking in kitchens today are old enough to remember home cooking. But with this new Movement, we can make donations to support it, join in on national and international events, and even (I swear, I'm not making this up) get a degree in this area.

I'm just not going to get over this any time soon. I get up in the morning, make some eggs and fruit for breakfast, fix a roasted salad for a nice winter lunch, and cook a chicken and some side dishes for supper, and I'm in the minority? Or better yet, I should buy a t-shirt telling the world that I' m one of the elite?

Wow. I feel so special.

My daughter visited over the Christmas break and took these pics at the Embankment.

We took her little one there to not feed the ducks and geese and swans (it's illegal). She may have dropped a piece of her lunch bread there . . . okay, perhaps I gave her too big a lunch anyway (is two loaves of bread too much for a 3 years old?).

At any rate, it was a beautiful day, the sun actually made an appearance, and though it was bitterly cold and windy, we enjoyed ourselves.

Forgot to mention . . .

my new little egg cup and spoon!

Market day . . .

Lots of good stuff today. Lychee are still around, also chestnuts (love to roast up a few in the evenings whilst watching a movie), incredible cherries (bought way too many of them, but I do love them), avocados were 8 for £1, fat tangerines, the mega-mangos are back (bigger than a half-dozen eggs), massive bunches of thyme and rosemary for 20 p each (and they're 5 times the size of the bunches you get in the supermarket, for at least £1), tulips arrive this week, so I got three colours of those (literally opening as I watch) . . . all the usual peppers, tomatoes, onions, spuds, cucumbers, some scallops . . .

QTS . . .

Getting there!

My initial evaluation showed that I don't need an additional 'induction' year, but can just do a portfolio of C-standards and finish up in a few months. My portfolio is almost done, I've taken the first TDA online Skills Test (and have the other two scheduled for later this month), my mentor has to pop in for a few more observations, and presto! On 12th March, the professional evaluator will spend the day with me, observing the last few lessons, and then I'll be a qualified teacher in England.

Where is my toast?

I got a toaster, got some gluten-free bread (which is NOT good plain, but okay if it's toasted), and put the toast into the toaster. I set out the raspberry jam, a plate, and a knife. I did a few things in the next room until I heard the toaster pop up, but when I went back for it, it was gone.

Completely gone.

I mean, no toast anywhere.

Really got crazy looking for it, then decided to let it go . . . Who cares? It's just a piece of toast, right? Sat watching the news . . . But who can do that? I mean, do you just pretend it never happened? It isn't the actual piece of bread that's the concern, obviously, but where on Earth it went. Where does missing toast go when you live alone? Toast can't disappear (can it?).

Got back up, went into the kitchen, looked and looked. I'm sort of a neat-freak, so it isn't like I have a really messy kitchen and that's the problem. Oh no. I have clean countertops, which are pretty much bare . . .

Finally found it. It's apparently one of those very forceful toasters, so it ejected really hard and landed behind the microwave (which is right next to it).

Okay, that's solved.

Things I never thought I'd miss . . .

New Mexico . . .

Just a got an email from my daughter, who is visiting Santa Fe this week. The house they're renting sounds incredible -- apple and pear trees in the back, the scent of pines, gorgeous fall colours in the foliage, Spanish tile in the en suite bathrooms, fireplaces in all the rooms, etc. They're also making a trip to the Albuquerque hot-air balloon festival.

This is the table I got this summer, painted ivory, then 'distressed' . . . then painted with flowers to a couple of weeks ago. (Now to find places for all those arrangements . . . )

Flowers . . .

Did my usual Saturday morning town centre 'thing' today, also had the dentist (ugh), and later, strolled back through with a friend who needed to do some errands. Market was tearing down, but there was a big queue at the flower area, people just saying "One," or "Two," and handing over money to the sellers. Didn't quite understand why they weren't specifying what they wanted, until I watched for a bit . . .

. . . and then I joined the queue! They gather up armloads of flowers into massive bunches, wrap them, and sell them for 5 quid a bunch, to get rid of the last of them at the end of the day. I took one bunch, carried them home (some heavy pile of flowers, trust me), spread them out on the kitchen floor . . . and ended up with five arrangements when I was done.

Redecorated my flat . . .

Looks more like a beach cottage at home (Maine) now.

I like it.

It's 'me' now.

Got dental insurance today!

Very reasonably priced, too. Through HSA, £17 a month for the highest level of coverage. It'll cover 100% of annual exams, 75% of work (even the bridge I now need, so it'll pay about £600 of the £800 it will cost), and so on. Waiting period for pre-existing conditions is only 3 months on any work, and no waiting period on annual exam, which I need. They pay within 48 hours of receiving a receipt from a patient, and deposit directly into a bank account. Couldn't be easier.

Things I wonder about . . .

1) When I buy detergent for laundry, the choices are biological or non-biological detergents. What is the difference? What is the good one, and which is bad? Can't tell by the name. Biological could be 'bio-friendly', but it also makes me think of biological weapons (definitely not as friendly). If anyone knows which is earth-friendlier (if either?), let me know? And which is best for the clothes?

2) Are people being rude, or or are they simply ignorant, when they take up every imaginable seat somewhere? It happens all over. 1) On the Tube, parents with little ones will put a toddler in each seat, take a seat each themselves, then park their pram so that it blocks a few other seats . . . while sitting there watching everyone else stand. How about putting the kids on your laps, parking the pram in front of your legs (or in that spot by the doors which is provided for luggage and prams?), and letting a few people sit down? 2) At work, "Bee" sits on one upholstered chair, puts all her bags on another, and then her coat on another . . . Three seats. There are far more of us than there are seats in the staff room, but she takes up three. 3) At the dentist today, a mother with a baby (in an infant car-seat) and the grandmother arrived. They put their stuff on two seats, sat in two more with an empty between them, put the car seat on the floor in front of the seat between them: 5 seats for two adults and a baby. There are only 9 seats in the place, so many of us were standing, glaring at these ignoramuses. 4) On the bus the other day, at the front, where the seats are in an 'L' , this guy was taking up 4 seats. He sat on one in the corner of the L, put his bag on the one next to him, the laid his legs up over the other two seats. He was about 50 or 60 (my age somewhere) and apparently felt he owned the place. Grrr. And those seats are easy for less-mibile people to get into, and are marked as such. Instead they had to find other seatss at the back. It all strikes me as very rude, thoughtless, and inconsiderate. I think the Brits have been resting on their laurels for so many years that they no longer try to think what good manners are really all about. And if you dare say anything (i.e., the girl at work telling us to pull our fingers out), they'll tell you that you're the rude one for pointing it out!

Did a fantastic Thames walk yesterday, from Tower Bridge to Vauxhall, and back. St. George's Wharf, in Vauxhall, is amazing.

For other great pics from the Thames, click here.

Just couldn't take another minute of that article in The Mail on Sunday (newspaper) -- had to write a letter to the editor. (See previous post.)

"Not sure whether to say shame on you for blaming Americans for spreading the thank-you-card 'craze' to this side of the pond . . . or to say 'well done' in recognising that America might actually have better manners than England in this case! Surprising that Brits feel that thanking a teacher for doing the near-impossible every day, under adverse conditions, with an anaemic budget, is unnecessary, extreme, even needless. Unless you've taught, you have no idea what the job is like, end of story. That's a sweet picture (in the article) of 'Miss' holding little Johnny's hand whilst he learns to colour, but the reality is far different. Parents and administrators blame teachers for the children's failures. Parents give little or no support and some curse at teachers more than their children do. Kids come to school unprepared to learn, due to a variety of factors. That's just the tip of the iceberg. And you're trying to convince Joe Public that a thank-you card is ridiculous? At least the kids I work with seem to have more sense than the author of this article; after almost every lesson, school trip, extra activity, etc, they'll say 'Thanks, Miss' as they leave. Better stop that one before it gets out of hand. Another craze from those crazy Americans. What will they think of next?""

Got a dragon fruit and a popo at the market today. No idea what they are like, but I'll find out. The popo doesn't seem ripe yet, but the dragon fruit is soft and the guy at the market thought it was ready to eat. I'll report back later!

Right now, making a tart with a cream filling, and plan on filling it with strawberries and blueberries. It was going to be a raspberry tart, but I ate all the raspberries before I even made the crust.

Edited to add: Already done! Baked a shortbread crust, spooned on a cream-custard filling, topped it with the berries, then whipped up some double cream and loaded that on top of a slice . . . Best lunch all week (beats that crap potato yesterday!).

Getting 'warmed up' for the Fourth . . .

Had watermelon yesterday, and tonight, this for dessert.

Enterprise Day today at school . . .

This involved the school's entire Year 10 population, and and focused on careers and entrepreneurship. They spent the day involved in a teamwork challenge (had to design a business, including logo and a new product, from a bag of odds and ends that they were given to each group). Also involved were local entrepreneurs and businesses.

Spome tutor groups only have 2 or 3 Year 10's, but I have a good-sized group in my tutor group, so they were kept as a team, and their category was 'giftware.' They decided to build a re-gifter -- it was a machine like a hole-in-the-wall (ATM to Americans), but instead of dispensing money, you could put in the hideous pea-green jumper from Auntie Bessy (she sends one every Christmas), press a few buttons, and out would pop the the video game you've been hinting about for weeks! It would magically turn any gift into something you really needed/wanted.

They won the morning competition (the year group was divided into three Halls -- we were in Activities), so in the afternoon that meant that they were in the top three, presenting to local business people. And after a brilliant presentation . . . they won for the whole school! I was so excited, and proud of them -- they really pulled together, used their imaginiations, and worked hard on the project. In addition, there will be an engraved plaque in Piccadilly (lobby in the main school building) with their business name (JANBA, which was made from their initials) telling everyone about their achievement today. Good job, W-10!

The weeks are busy . . .

In addition to the usual, there are so many new things to keep school life busy right now: just met the new Year 8's (and parents) who will be joining our tutor groups in September, taking our Year 10's to see 'Blood Brothers' in London this week (looking forward to that very much!), Enterprise Day for Year 10's this week also, then they head off on two weeks work experience (need to go visit them at their work places during that time), Year 9's will have Alternative Curriculum Week (in addition to the activities planned, I'm helping with the day-trip to France at the end of that week), Year 8's will come along for a Taster Day (to see what upper school will be like next year), also have Higher Education Day that same week (I'm listed to do something that day, but at this point, it's all a blur) . . . in addition to those things, there are a few social events (this Friday is a 'Pimm's 'n' lemonade, and strawberries 'n' cream' staff social, also Year 11 and Sixth form valedictory balls are just around the corner). I've also been getting my room ready for next year: bulletin boards, wall displays, reviewing notes I've kept this year and preparing for changes I want to make next year, etc.

It's all quite positive and enjoyable, just quite a change from the normal schedule I've finally gotten used to.

Ah, only four more weeks, and it's summer break! (Am I saying that too often?)

Fourth of July is coming . . .

And for some reason, this one is harder for me than Christmas was. It's a Wednesday, I'll be at school, working (read: not having a cook-out or picnic, not watching fireworks with family and friends, not lazing on Sebago, not camping, not eating watermelon, or potato salad, or lobsters, or steamers).

I'm not a hugely patriotic person, but the 4th is more than a celebration of Declaration of Independence -- it's family and friends, it's a spirit, and it's summer.

Talked to my expatriate colleague the other day, and she agreed that we need to do something that day -- perhaps a mini-4th at lunch? Have to see what red, white, and blue things I can find in my closet. And I'll make a GF cake, decorate it with strawberries and blueberries (oh, I eat so well! LOL!).

Looking at Sainsbury's magazine, and they have a flag-cake on the cover -- guess it's a universal thing to make flag-cakes in summer, decorated with berries? (Not sure why they have a round cake, though -- wouldn't rectangular look more flag-like?)

When is this rain ever going to stop?!?!?

I don't mind it during the week -- I'm inside at work anyway, but the weekends? Could we not just have a little bit of sun?? Please, oh please?

Ten-day forecast . . .

"Oh my goodness, you eat so well!"

If I never hear that phrase again, it'll be fine with me. It's not just a British thing -- it used to happen in the U.S., too.

I open my lunch (or a friend drops by my house), and they burst out with, "Oh, look at you - you eat so well! Such good foods! Healthy [sic] stuff!" (It's healthful, not healthy.)

I want to reply with,"No, it's that you eat so poorly; I just eat the stuff that was put here on this earth for us to eat." Specifically, it's the fresh fruits and veggies that attract all the attention. Yes, getting my 5-a-day (okay, more like 10) makes me a hero.

I had a friend in the U.S. who always used to comment similarly when she was at my house. I had two massive bowls on the sideboard, which I filled at market each Saturday morning, to be used up over the week (some bits required refrigeration, so I can just imagine her reaction had she seen all that too). Anyway, she even commented to her husband once or twice that she wanted to 'start eating like Pat.' Start eating like Pat? Start eating fruit? And vegetables? Wow. Quite a concept.

Then I go to Sainsbury's for a few things, and notice other people's trolleys, and suddenly I 'get it.' Some have not a single fresh item in them. Or you see a family of 4 or 5 hanging around a cart, and Mum puts in a little tub of strawberries, and they get so excited! "Strawberries!" they chorus.

I really don't care what others eat, except when people start that whole commenting-on-what-I-eat thing. Annoys me for whatever reason, right along with their comments on my hour-long evening walks. Probably because they whinge about how tired and lousy they feel, and then proclaim that I'm some genius for eating real food and getting some exercise. I just take care of myself and reap the benefits.

You are what you eat.

Rant over.

Three massive mangos, three little melons, a seedless watermelon, a cantaloupe (or is it a honeydew?), leeks, a bag of spuds, tomatoes-on-the-vine, 4 boxes of raspberries, green peppers, cauliflower, a dozen eggs . . .

At least every week someone says to me, "No, I don't go to the market on Saturdays. I should, but I just never get there."

How can you not? All this was £6.50 . . . Just the 4 boxes of raspberries would cost that in the supermarket.

Kite festival this weekend -- I'll be there, with camera!

EDITED: Waiting for the weather to clear (looks like the clouds/haze might burn off) so I did my cooking for the week. Made a gorgeous soup with the leeks. It's a recipe I got out of my Jamie Oliver 'Naked Chef' book: cook leeks and garlic in butter and olive oil 'til sweet and tender, then add chicken broth, chick peas, simmer a bit, then puree about half of the veg/beans (to make a thicker stock). Serve with a handful of parmigiano reggiano on top. Perfect. After that, I cooked up a big bag of GF pasta; tossed half of it with leftover caponata for a cold pasta salad, and the other half with a red sauce and another handful of parm - can heat it up for a quick lunch or supper. I'll roast up a chicken later, and those should get me through the week's suppers.

My lovely year 10's did some amazing work this week!

They'd just finished reading/analysing three 19th century ghost stories, and we were beginning to do our writing about them. But quite a few students were away this week, on a geography trip to Wales, so I decided to pause from the writing so those who are away wouldn't miss anything.

So, while we waited for the travellers to return, the rest did artwork depicting the stories (The Red Room, The Old Nurse's Story, and The Judge's House). The result was fantastic! We put them up today on the display boards upstairs in the English corridor. I'll get pics up soon. I also intend to ask the other English teachers to judge them (contest), and the winners will get a box of Milk Tray or something.

They're a wonderful class, truly. Lots of talent, energy (a bit chatty some days!), and just all around good kids. Was remembering back, the other day, to the first few weeks of school with them. I wasn't so sure about them, to be honest. Large class, and too often, a bit out of hand. One day I'd had it, and scolded them, ending up with something like, "You can either make this a good year, or the worst year of your life! It's up to you!" I can still see one boy who put his hand up and asked, "Miss, aren't you going to be here next year?" "Sure I am -- why?" "Well, Miss, you keep your Year 10's through Year 11 as well." I'm sure my jaw dropped several inches -- likely looked like a deer caught in front of the headlights. "Huh? I have you all again next year?" "Yes, Miss." I tried to cover it up with, "I knew that -- I was only kidding," but for the rest of the day, I just kept thinking of another whole year with these people! And now they've turned into such a very special class. I look forward to my lessons with them (don't let it go to your heads, 10-M's who are reading this!)

Anyway, my dears, you did lovely, lovely work this week! Thank you.

Beautiful day . . .

No, not the weather or anything (although we did get some sun!), but just one of those magical days you wish would never end. Sitting her now at 6 p.m., Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli on the stereo, having a glass of merlot, beautiful breeze coming through the open windows, getting ready to call my daughter and granddaughter.

Puttered about the flat for a while, then decided what I wanted to eat for the week and set about making my list and heading off to the shops.

Started off with putting some chicken in the oven (I tuck rosemary sprigs under the skin, also a few cloves of garlic, drizzle it with olive oil, add some sea last and a grind of pepper, and roast it. There's no better smell in the house.

Next, wanted a childhood favourite called "Whoopie Pies" (a New England treat -- the rest of the U.S. hasn't heard of them). Basically chocolate cake, baked in little mounds, filled with buttercream. I think they're named that because kids always yell, "Whoopie!" when they know mum is making them.















From there, I moved on to another pot of caponata (still simmering as I type), and the final piece will be pork steaks marinaded with onions and spices to make that favourite for the grill in summer, schwenkbraten. Might even make German potato salad to go with it. Will definitely get a mini-disposable grill to cook them on.

Went into London today . . .

Weather wasn't bad at all, compared to the rain they've had here all day -- pouring, according to a friend who opted out of the trip, then sat here complaining (via text-messages) about the rain! As I type this, it's like the heavens opened up -- torrential downpour out there.

Anyway, I started off today at Covent Garden, where I got some beads for earrings. Two colleagues were over the other night for pizza-and-jewelry-making, and it got me in the mood for beading again (pics above).

From there, took a nice walk through SoHo . . . then caught the tube to Portobello Road Market, where I saw everything from hand-painted kimono from the 1940's to what had to be the largest button stall/booth on record, and in-between, some amazing jewelry called vegetable ivory (you can read all about it, and see pics, with this link).

After that, I went to Abbey Road and (yes, I'll admit to it) and did what dozens of others were doing (and tens of thousands do each year): had my picture taken crossing the famous crosswalk where the Beatles were featured on the album cover. And I took it a step further -- also stood on the steps of Abbey Road Studios and had my pic taken there as well (there might be more -- I'll stop there, though!). Hey, the emabrrassment has already faded, but I'll have the pic forever. I'll post it soon (used film, not digital).

Okay, after that, I spent a little time in the V & A, and then got some supper and came home. Just put together all the earrings (what can I say -- they're easy and quick).

It was a good day, all in all. The Tube and streets were packed because London is so full of tourists right now. Yes, I can hear you saying "You're one, too." Well, possibly, although now that I live here, maybe not, but either way, yes, I've been a tourist at times, and recognise everyone's right to be one. But why must they drag luggage everywhere, even into Starbucks? You cannot move anywhere without having your toes run over by rolling luggage! They of course have to drag all that luggage into the Tube, too, and take up three times the space, so that very few actual people can then fit into a train. It's difficult.

And I'm the one counting down to the Olympics in 2012? (Five years, 1 month, 10 days, 19 hours, and 57 minutes, as of this post.) Even thinking I'd like to volunteer during it . . . Ha!

Mangos

In season now at the market place, and 3/£1. Can you believe the size of these things? (Anyone who knows me knows I live for my fresh fruits and veggies -- I go well beyond the recommended 5-a-day!)

On a side note, another entry into "The Things They Say:"

Friday afternoon, last hour, and the Citizenship class was working on posters. Nice activity for a Friday afternoon. I decided that before I left for the weekend, the plants needed water (small jungle in there). Thinking back, I hadn't fed them in a while either, so I decided to sprinkle some bright blue Miracle-Gro crystals into each pot, then add water (my usual method).

MK (Year 9) looked up from her poster to see what I was doing. I told her I was just feeding the plants. "What does it taste like, Miss?" I don't know M; people can't eat it." "Yeah, but is it good or bad tasting?" "M, it's not for people to eat." "Yeah, but how does it taste, Miss?" "How would I know, M? People can't eat it?!?!" "Yeah, but Miss, does it taste bad?" Fortunately, it was time to put away markers and pencils, and put work into folders.

In case you didn't get it, all answers are "C."

QUIZ

Okay, I'm still trying to get the "is it?" and "innit?" figured out . . . I've posted about this in the past. 'Innit?' ('isn't it?') is something that can be thrown onto the end of seemingly any statement (younger people especially). Now I'm hearing the 'is it?' as well! For purposes of understanding others, as well as properly indoctrinating newcomers, the important question becomes, when do you use which?

I actually think I've nailed it. As near as I can tell, "is it?" is for a positive statement (sort of like "Oh really?") and "innit?" is for something negative (see previous post for examples; link above). As noted on previous post on this subject, I never hear what would appear to be correct uses of these ("It's really cold, innit?").

To test yourself on the proper use of innit and is it, the following are transcripts of actual utterances; let's see if you can figure out the appropritate response to each statement. The correct/actual replies are one of the four choices.

1) "What are you doing this weekend?" "Oh, I'm going to London." "________"

a) Innit?

b) Sounds like fun.

c) Is it?

d) Do you? We'll have to meet some time.

2) "I was so angry at my sister for ruining my new shoes, _______ ?"

a) you know

b) or should I just ignore it

c) innit

d) is it

3) "How do you like teaching there?" "I like it very much." "Oh, _________?"

a) do you

b) is that a fact

c) is it

d) innit

4) "She was talking the entire time I was trying to watch EastEnders, __________."

a) which really annoyed me

b) is it

c) innit

d) the silly chatterbox

5) "What would you like to drink?" "I'll have a glass of white wine." "_______________?"

a) So you're a wine drinker?

b) Is Pino Grigio okay?

c) Is it?

d) Innit?

Answers tomorrow . . . First one to post with all correct answers (give letters) wins a Kool-Aid singles packet!

Made a peach tart today . . .

I never bake, but I had those peaches from the market, and a bag of GF flour sitting in the cupboard since Christmas. So, I combined 8 oz. flour, 4 oz. butter, an egg yolk, a 3 T. sugar and 3 T. ice water, made a shortbread-type crust. Smushed it into a pan, then added 2 t. of sugar to the peeled/sliced peaches, dumped them on top of the crust, and baked it for about 40 minutes at 175.

Caponata time!

I first had this at my Godfather's home. It was a recipe his family (from Sicily) had passed along. Have it as a relish, or on bruschetta; warm, cold, or room temp.

Peel/chunk 3 medium size eggplants (aubergines); sprinkle with 2 t. salt, then let drain for an hour. Meantime, chop 3 sweet onions, 4 stalks of celery, 1 lb. of fresh tomatoes (and set to drain), 1 c. cured green olives; mince 3 cloves garlic; measure out 3 T. capers; combine 2 T. sugar with 1/4 c. red wine vinegar and let stand; grind up a t. of black pepper. You'll also need a couple of sprigs of fresh basil and up to 1/2 c. olive oil.

After eggplant is drained, saute it in a heavy kettle (use as much oil as necessary -- it sticks easily) until soft and browned on all sides (10-15 minutes).

Remove eggplant from pan, and using same oil, saute onions, garlic and celery until all are soft.

Return eggplant to pot with onion mixture, and add all remaining ingredients (except basil), and simmer about 30 minutes.

Remove from heat, add a dozen torn basil leaves, stir. Add salt to taste. Refrigerate.

More sun today . . .

The sun came out today . . .

Having a fantastic break as well. Catching up on things, around the house, marking year 10 exams, relaxing, reading, watching movies, had a long wander today . . . all the fun stuff.

Oh, and I've got everything booked for my summer holiday. Going to the US and take my granddaughter to Disneyland (yes, the one who was cooking me in a frying pan -- see previous post). Got my plane tickets, hotel in California, also Amtrak (train) tickets for Maya and me when we go to Disneyland (a fun adventure for her on the way). And our hotel will be right across the street from Disneyland! We'll also spend a day at Seal Beach (Disneyland is only about 10 miles from the coast) before I take her back to the desert -- she keeps talking about swimming in the ocean, and what would be nicer than California beaches?

Then, after my time in the Southwest, I'll fly to Maine and see family there for a couple of weeks before returning to England. My sister and I are going to park her camper somewhere in the mountains and just do nothing for a few days!

Should be a really good summer!

My granddaughter . . .

On the weekends, we always chat on the phone. It's different with a 3 year old, but still fun, and keeps us connected despite the distance.

This weekend, she was crazier than ever. All the usual . . . putting 'me' (the portable phone) into her bed . . . covering me up with blankets (I can just hear her through the blankets, telling me to take a nap) . . . putting me into her toy train for a ride . . . leaving me to talk to a teddy called Furry for who knows how long . . . hiding with me in the closet when her mum comes looking for her and the phone, whispering, "Ssssh. Don't talk. She's looking for us."

But the funniest bit today was when I asked her to give her mum the phone, so we could chat a bit. "No!" We talked for a few more minutes, then I told her again that I wanted to talk to her mum now. "NO! You're going to have to get hot now!" She put 'me' (the phone) into one of her toy frying pans, and put me on her little toy kitchen stove to cook. It has sound effects, so when she turned on the burner, I could hear the bubbling, boiling sound! Finally it stopped. "Are you hot, Nonni?" "Yes, Maya, take me off the stove." "NO! You're going to get HOTTER!" Boiling sound effects once again . . . (I could hear my daughter in the background: "Stop cooking Nonni!") Finally Maya decided I'd had enough. "Okay, now I'll rescue you, Nonni." She took me off the stove and I got to talk to my daughter.

Strange child.

Testimonials . . .

Not sure how long this one has been going on, but it's here and in the U.S. I've been asked too many times, 'Would you mind writing a testimonial about your satisfaction with my business?'

A testimonial is a new name for a compliment that you gave someone's business. Yes, I've written to a restaurant after a manager figured out which menu choices were gluten-free, then oversaw the preparation of my meal as to avoid cross-contaminiation. I've also written to a particularly good B&B. Either could use my words for whatever purpose they chose. That's a testimonial.

But the new thing that keeps cropping up is to ask a customer to write one! Beyond the obvious (manners), is it really an authentic testimonial if you have to ask for it? And furthermore, I'm the customer, and you're asking me to go home, fire up the computer, ponder over what I liked about your business, turn those thoughts into a piece of writing, and either e-mail it to you, or print, then get out an envelope, address it, stamp it, and post it. Why?? Again, I'm the customer. I paid you for a service. If you want me to advertise for you, pay me.

I even saw it on a TV show the other day -- the tennis pro was moving away, and said, 'I'm asking all my students for testimonials, to help me get started in my new location. Could you do one please?'

Anyone else experiencing this one? Maybe it's just me who finds this odd (and annoying!) . . . Feedback, please?

Really warm here yesterday . . .

Day before, too, and I think today is supposed to be quite nice! Must be global warming, right?

Argh.

Don't get me going.

Oh, I'm going anyway . . . so here I go.

I have learnt from reliable sources (professors in university, and read published journals articles on it during said studies) that global-warming is an increase in the average daily temperature of . . . (drum roll, please) . . . one degree Fahrenheit per century. Go look it up. And immediately you're saying, "Are you joking? Yesterday was the hottest (whatever date) on record!" Yup, I'm sure it was. But no one calls attention to the coldest dates, since we're just looking for global warming. Average it all out, and it's still one degree warmer every hundred years.

Used to be that when we had a freakishly hot day in January, people said, "Wow. What a freakishly hot day in January." Now they all shout, "Aaack! Global warming!" The temperature is not consistent, and never will be. It dips and spikes.

No, I don't dispute that we should do something about the environment. I use public transportation, recycle fanatically, and reuse and reduce whatever and wherever I can. But if it's hot today, it's just hot. The world isn't going to melt tomrrow.

Tomorrow . . .

Tomorrow is the day we will hit 16 hours (and 42 seconds) of sunlight!

In contrast, my family in the Northeastern US will get 14 hours and 50-odd minutes, and my daughter, in the Southwest, will have only 14 hours and 2 minutes.

(How many posts have been about light, dark, sunrise, and sunset? I know, I know . . . The very short days this past winter were really hard for me. I'm an outdoor person, through and through, and my focus will always be on the length of the days.)

(Next day, HM is reading this, and asks where specifically in the US my daughter is. "The Southwest, on the Mexican border." "Oh, I don't quite know where that is -- I'm rubbish at knowing the states in America!" OK . . . so Mexico isn't a state, but hey, she's trying! And later, attempting to recover from that gaff, she has just asked if Mexicans speak Spanish. "Yes," I replied with the tinest of grins. She smiles at her friends: "See, I do know something!")

Requirements to teach in the UK . . .

There was a comment (question) about this in the last post, so I decided it was time to re-do my links (at right) and clarify things. Hope this helps??

I think BW should put me on salary soon! (Kidding, BW!)

Carlos Castaneda said . . .

"Live every moment as if it was your last dance on earth."

No more wasting time on foolishness. I have a real life and need to remind myself of that when I forget! :-D

Bananas ready to go into oven . . .

Making dried bananas today. Spent £2 on 30 at the market, and could not possibly eat them before they go bad, but drying will let them keep in the fridge for a couple of weeks. Have to see what temp 175 F converts to (100 C?). If I remember right, they take about two hours in the oven.

Oooh, they're so sweet and chewy! Completely different flavour from regular bananas.

Good Saturday (as usual) . . .

Off to market early -- got so much good stuff: four pounds of green grapes, 3 of black; 15 bananas (I'll dry them); 4 big peppers; 2 bunches of asparagus; a massive bowl of cherry tomatoes . . . all for about £8. I'll never understand why more people don't go there. I mean, you have to go get food somewhere.

Dropped stuff at home, then got the train to London and met up with friends to hit the Bead Shop in Covent Garden, then off to bead together for the afternoon. Very nice day. Did a nice long walk through Kensington Garden and Hyde Park going back, then a bit of shopping in Harvey Nichols before arriving at St. Pancras only to sit for and hour, watching train after train get cancelled. No idea why. Finally home at 10 p.m.

Planning to sleep in tomorrow, ten 'relax' all day with a stack Year 10 exams . . .

Adding to my list of things students say . . .

MK (a year 9) today was in a hot debate with her group-mates in English. She became quite frustrated with them, and finally shouted, "I'll bet anyone here, anything they want, that turkey comes from a pig! Ask Miss!" ('Miss' could not hold back the laughter!)

And LD (also a year 9), always with his head in the clouds, was his usual self today. I told the class that they could borrow my year 10's anthologies just for the lesson, but to remember that they mustn't make a single mark in them. "These belong to the students whose name is on the cover, and they will not want random notes, etc, in their books." I reiterated the warning about not marking in them, not even a pencil underline, and then asked Luke, "And how will we mark the anthologies as we work on our similes and metaphors?" He snapped back to life for a second and replied, "Yellow highlighter, Miss?"

Emma, year 10, stood up at the end of the lesson and in that innocent voice of hers, with that even more innocent face, exclaimed, "Oh! I think I've grown taller just now! Look at me! Do I look taller? I feel taller!"

My year in numbers . . .

It's mid-May, one more week until half-term break, then when we come back it's all downhill; the year is rapidly coming to an end. Year 10's will head off on work-experience soon, year 11's will only pop in for exams here and there . . . just us and the darling year 9's left.

So, looking back (and why is an English teacher using numbers? I'm really a closet maths-wannabe), here it is:

8: the number of days before I left the U.S. that reality hit me hard – what on Earth had I done?!?

2: number of flights it took to get here

3: number of suitcases I brought

0: amount of stuff left in U.S.

16: number of hours traveling from U.S. to U.K.

0: number of minutes I slept on the plane coming here

17: number of hours I slept, straight through, upon arrival

10: the number of times the first month I wanted to quit

1: weeks I waited after school began, before even buying furniture (testing the waters!)

215: the number of students I see for all my various classes (our schedule repeats every 2 weeks)

100: approximate the number of students from my classes I wished (in the first week) went to other schools

1: the number of students I still wish went to another school

6: the number of half-terms that make up a school year here

6: the number of mini-flights of stairs that spiral up to my apartment (and don’t think I’ve missed a day of realizing that metaphor as I make the climb the steps to my flat each evening)

10: the number of minutes it takes to walk from my flat to the bus station

20-25: the number of minutes on the bus

5: the number of minutes walking from the bus stop to the school

8: the number of times I've taken a taxi to work because I could not get out of bed early enough for the 40-minute bus commute

30: best guess on the number of times going home, that I arrived at the bus-stop after school, only to see the bus just pulling away

1: number of busses I’ve experienced with the heaters turned on in winter

108: my classroom number, which is on the 1st floor, which is called the 2nd floor in the U.S.

1: the number of times I’ve told a head-teacher that there’s a problem he needs to attend to in the English corridor, first floor, when I meant ground floor

15: the number of different classes I see each fortnight

1: the fewest number of times I see a class per fortnight

7: the most times I see any given class per fortnight

31: the number of students in my largest class

1: total students in my smallest class (General Studies)

2: the number of times I've raised my voice in anger (aka, really yelled at students

2: the number of times LJ has taken her Year 11's from me to save me from tearing out my hair

11: the rating (from 1-10) that I place on LJ for her taking her 11's from me

100: approximate number or pounds I've spent on school supplies, clock, etc.

300: best guess on the number of pounds spent on chocolate/sweets

36: the number of cement blocks it will take to fill in the wall, between my room and the media room (where there is now a very thin door and usually a small riot on the other side)

200: best guess on the number of times I've thought, 'But in American schools, we do it this way’ (my only frame of reference)

30: best guess on the number of times I've voiced the above sentiment to someone

30: best guess on the number of times they’ve thought, ‘But you’re not in America!’

90: percentage of people who, after I speak to them/ask for service/explain something/help them with directions/etc, reply with a blank stare as they say, “Are you American?”

1: number of people who have asked if I’m Australian

3: the number of get-togethers I've had at my flat for my colleagues

11: the rating (from 1-10) that I'd give my colleagues, both at parties and at work

1000: best guess on the number of sweets, chocolate bars, etc I've given out during various contests and competitions in the classroom

5: the number of students in my tutor group winning prizes at the Awards Ceremony last night

4: the number of chocolate bars I brought to Award Ceremony for my tutees

1: the number of jars of jam given to a certain student (also at Award Ceremony) who, if she were homeless, would walk around with a sign reading 'Will work for jam'

3.6 (three-point-six): the number of days I've missed being sick this year (3 for chest infection, .6 for 2 broken ribs)

2: the number of times in and out of England this year (once to see my daughter and granddaughter in Feb, and next week to see the rest of my family)

18: number of photos on my desk (in a book-style frame) of my granddaughter

102: miles on my pedometer after hiking the Isle of Wight over Easter break

1: number of fantastic Christmas celebrations with AB and her family (thank you! It was a great first-Christmas-in-England!)

9,360: approximate number of minutes per year spent on the telephone talking to family in the U.S.

2: how many pence per minute I spend on calls to the U.S., day or night, weekday or weekend

1: number of times I’ve gone to a chip shop and bought chips ('fries' in America)

80: best guess at the number of flavours of crisps they have here (unbelievable!)

10: approximate number of boxes of Cadbury Milk Tray I’ve eaten

15: number of minutes each way to grocery store

15: number of minutes each way to freshies-market every Sat and Wed

Dozens: number of specialty GF foods they have here that they don’t have in the U.S.

Tens of thousands: number of calories consumed, eating all these spectacular new GF goodies

90: percentage of British people who apparently feel that holding conversations in doorways (work, bus stations, etc) is the perfect place

600: best guess on the total number of shoes piled up under my classroom table this year, which is what I use for collateral when the kids need to borrow a pen

1: the number of times this month I've wanted to quit

1: the number of times I shut the door to my room and let the tears flow (with two other new teachers also doing the same)

1: the number of my students I still wish went to another school

Infinite: the number of times I've enjoyed and laughed with my students this year

Update on the email at work now . . .

It's going well, and is so convenient, but there are only a few problems which hopefully will be taken care of soon.

1) Lots of us don't have printers in our classrooms, and aren't wired/connected to any, so we can't even print and pick-up the sheets from another office. So that means that someone emails us these lovely attachments, such as a list of student exam options and where they all should be at what times, but we can't print it and hang it up for the kids to see. These lists and attachments are useless right now. Need a printer.

2) the other difficulty is that some people don't respond to emails as necessary. Yes, I had a post about this recently regarding email outside of school . . . I do understand that lots of stuff doesn't require a response, but some does. So you have no idea if someone is helping you out with your request, etc. I tried to explain it to someone like this -- if you walked into someone's office and asked them, for example, to type up a letter you needed to go home to parents, they wouldn't just sit there staring at you and leave you wondering if that's something they normally do, if they have time, if they understand what you want, when you might expect it, etc . . . would they? They'd reply to you. So just as you'd reply in face-to-face communications, you need to reply via email.

There are others, but those are the most difficult right now. But all in all it's still fantastic to have. I'll be glad when all the wrinkles are ironed out and things are running like a well-oiled machine (oh, how we English teachers love our similes and metaphors!).

Magazine freebies . . .

If only the magazine and newspapers in the U.S. would catch on to this. The magazines here come in a clear plastic bag, and there's always a gift in the bag: a paperbook novel, a chocolate bar, and tote bag, an umbrella, even the kids magazines come with a toy or puzzle (I've sent several to my granddaughter). I guess the only thing about is maybe it works against them? Initially it's fun, but now it's gotten so that all I see is a chocolate bar I can't eat (gluten), or another umbrella, another tote bag, another cheap romance novel, another 2007 day-planner. So I pick through the magazines based on the 'priizes' and too often walk away with nothing. (If my mother is reading this, yes, I do remember that we weren't allowed to pick our breakfast cereal based on the prize in the box, because we wouldn't eat the cereal afterward.)

Now the newspapers, that's another story . . . I like Mail on Sundays, with it's glossy magazines inside. And this week the Daily Mail is doing DVDs of 'The Darling Buds of May' all week -- one every day.

Drag queens . . .

Saw a few yesterday in London (nothing new in that), and got to wondering why it's always men dressing up as women.

The more I thought about it, the more I think I understood it. I mean, women already go in drag, often. I mean, we wear 'girl-clothes' (as originally designed for women) or . . . clothes originally created for men (jeans and t-shirts); wear long elaborately styled hair . . . or cut our hair like men if we want (short, or even shaved); wear make-up to look feminine . . . or go without; wear pretty jewellery or go without. Men don't get to do that, at least, not without excessive attention being called to them. Odd, isn't it? I never thought about this before today, the double standard. So why is it so strange to us when they occasionally dress in 'our' clothes, do their hair like us girls, put on some make-up and jewellery . . ? They're just doing what we've been doing for decades (women started wearing trousers in public in what, the fifties?). And we laugh and say it's freakish.

Is it a cultural difference . . . ?

Maybe. In America, we don't leave our kids -- there are tens of thousands of abductions each year. Most are non-custodial parents, grandparents, child-care providers, etc, but several hundred are stranger abductions. It's also a crime, and they'll take your kids away if you are caught leaving toddlers home alone.

Of course I'm referring to the ongoing story of Madeline McCann -- a British girl, 4 years old today, who was snatched from her family's unlocked ground-floor holiday-apartment in Portugal 9 days ago. She, her parents (both doctors), and her 2-year-old twin siblings were on holiday at a resort. The parents put the kids to bed and then went off to have dinner (as they did every evening), still within the resort area but in a different building some 200 yards away. I'm shocked that two well-educated and well-to-do parents of such young kids, in a resort that offered babysitting services, declined those services and left the kids alone for the evening (they said that they did this every evening). Even if you don't think about kidnapping, it's dangerous to leave toddlers alone. Lots could happen. Choking, falls, fire, even a burglar . . .

I've read some online discussions of this case, and many say that we shouldn't be blaming the parents, that we should only be concerned for the child . . . Can we not feel two things at once? Above all is concern for Madeleine; second, the horror that this family must be experiencing; but at the same time, you just cannot ignore the fact that they left three little toddlers home alone. Did they do that in England, too? It's illegal in England, just as it is in most of the world. Why would any parent do that?

This picture of the resort shows the locations of the family apartment, and the restaurant where they went to eat. In an interview, they defended their actions by saying that what they did was no different than eating in your own garden at home ('backyard' to my US friends reading this). Well one, they must have one heck of a house/grounds if this is the same thing as eating in their own backyard (distance-wise).

EDITED on June 21st to add that the McCanns certainly have a lot of criticisms about the police, the media, etc. First, there was a letter received by Dutch police, and published in their papers, believed to be from a credible psychic --a person claimed to know where Madeleine's body was buried. It proved to be a dead-end. The McCanns criticised the papers for being so irresponsible (for publishing the lead before police had time to investigate. Any idea how many such things are published every day, including arrests of innocent people? That's what news is. Publish first, then investigate. That's life. That's news.) A few days later, the police said that the evidence in the apartment may be completely contaminated by the 20 or so people who were in the apartment the evening Madeleine was discovered missing. The parents condemned that statement as well, saying it was 'insensitive' and 'unhelpful.' It was just a fact. I'm just surprised to hear so many criticisms from a couple who left their children home alone and one is missing, but insist they are blameless. Oh, one more yesterday . . . the father returned to England to hire a 'campaign manager' (their words, not mine), and lost his wallet, including pics of Madaleine. His mother-in-law went on record to talk about the 'dirty animal' who would rob a man of his favourite pics of his child. McCann himself says he is 'unclear' about what happened to his wallet, but his M-I-L decided it was a cruel pick-pocket who apparently knew who he was and was out to hurt him further, by taking the wallet with the pics of his kid. Maybe it's time for a reality check?

My own feelings about the case are that it's quite likely that the little girl woke up and went to look for Mummy and Daddy. Reasons? Well, so far there is no real proof of an abduction (no idea why it's described as such). The closest thing is a friend of the family who claims she saw a man in the area, at about the time they think the child went missing, holding something that 'may or may not' have been a child in a blanket. Would a kidnapper leave the door wide open? Why? To call attention more quickly to the crime scene (someone walking by would notice an open door immediately, whereas a closed door would not attract attention). Or, if it were a pedophile who 'snatched Madaleine, why not take all the kids? Or a different one? Why is the missing one the one who was not in a cot (crib') and therefore the only one able to walk out of the apartment? A child could be likely to just wander off and leave the door open. Or a burglar could have come in, the commotion woken the kdis, run out, and the little one, awake, walked outside.

I suppose it's easier for the parents to use the abduction theory, because then it's not their stupidity, but some evil person instead. (They've een said that the kidnapper must have been watching them for a logn time, and planned this all, tnd therefore would have gotten Maddy no matter what they did to prevent it. Huh? We can't protect out kids by making sure they're supervised at all times? Wow, that's news to most parents, I'm sure.) I suppose it's easier to blame others than yourself. But there's no evidence of abduction, only evidence of parents going out for the evening and leaving toddlers home alone . . .

I'm sure some people will think I'm harsh, and that's their prerogative. Leaving little toddlers alone is neglect, plain and simple, and just a step above abuse. If your social life is so freaking important, pay a child-minder. This little child could be enduring God-only-knows what horrors, or may be dead. Either way, there are just two people responsible for that: her parents.

I really just have to say . . .

I've had it with people using stative verbs in the present tense incorrectly. It's reached epidemic proportions. You don't say, "I'm wanting a new bike . . . " or "I'm needing a haircut" -- you say "I want" or "I need" and that's it. (You can say "I have been wanting a new bike" -- but that's not the present, is it?)

The other thing, also going on for years, also all over the planet, is problems involving pronouns. 'Myself' is the most commonly misused pronoun today. "Any questions, contact Bob or myself." "Myself and Jayne are heading the committee; see us if you can help." And so it goes.

Just like with drugs, just say no. Run away when others are saying these things. Tell a trusted friend, your parents, a teacher (oh, especially an English teacher!), find a policeman . . . It's a crazy world out there, and if this message saves even one person from having to listen to these again, it will have been worth the time it took me to write this. Life is too short, too precious . . .

Reinvention . . .

I think it's ridiculous when someone says Madonna (or some other superstar) is the "Queen of Reinvention." I mean, the rest of us evolve as the decades pass, both personally and professionally. Aren't we all continuously reinventing ourselves throughout the lifespan?

Tea and Conversation . . .

A little book I picked up yesterday in a gift shop . . . I just love it. Quaint and funny, all done in a ye olde theme (illustrations, text, etc).

It makes a good point, though; it seems like the art of conversation is dying rapidly. Most people would rather talk than listen, will quickly interrupt anything that doesn't interest them or focus on themselves, and seem to have very little clue about appropriate topics. In addition to the advice about recipes, how to set the perfect table, and extending invitations, a few excerpts on conversation which I found note-worthy are below.

Atwell: "The art of conversation consists as much in listening politely as in talking agreeably."

Plato: "An empty vessel makes the loudest sound, so they who have least wit are the greatest babblers."

Samuel Johnson: " . . . the happiest conversation . . . where there is no competition, no vanity, but a calm quiet interchange of ideas."

Jean-Jacques Rousseau: "The tone of good conversation is brilliant and natural. It is neither tedious nor frivolous."

John Locke: "There cannot be a greater rudeness than to interrupt another in the current of his discourse."

Ralph Waldo Emerson: "You may talk of all subjects but one -- namely, your maladies."

W. G. Benham: "Speaking without thinking is shooting without aiming."

Etiquette: "What should one do with a guest who is a bore? Everyone knows from painful experience what is meant by a bore! A bore is a heavy pompous meddling person who harps on one string, occupies an undue share of conversation, and says things in ten words which required only two. Do not repeat the invitation!"

And finally, advice for young men's conversation at tea parties: "Young men should try to engage the conversation of those women who are not the most lavishly supplied with personal beauty. Such persons have cultivated their manners and conversation more than those who can rely on their natural endowments."

The link at the right, Funny Cat Photos, is hilarious. You just keep clicking, and get the most insane pictures of what people do to their cats, or catch them doing. Here's a sampling of the thousands they have stored on the site.

Have fun.

What are the schools like in the U.K.?

It's always the question, and one I never know how to answer, mainly because I only have one year's experience in one school. Got an email today from a friend who teaches in England (also her first year here, also a 'mature' U.S. teacher with lots of experience).

"My contract is up in August as I am filling in for a woman on maternity leave. I might just go back to the States. I'm not sure. I love to teach, but this isn't teaching. There is just too much distraction and misbehavior. It is really quite unbelievable. I like the kids on an individual basis (most of them, anyway) but it is just too chaotic. I like feeling that I am accomplishing something, but here, I rarely feel that way. I talked with one of the heads of year, and he acknowledged how bad it has gotten, and that England is at the very bottom of the list for education! He, and all the other teachers, say it was not like this 10 years ago. He blames government for closing down the Special Schools (for behaviour-problem kids) and putting those students in regular schools. They brought the bad behavior with them. It has infected everyone. He also acknowledged that all the schools and staff let it (the problems) happen. So, now I have an explanation, but it certainly is not going to get better, so I am looking at independent schools, private schools or just going home."

The two things I can see clearly here are . . .

1) Behaviour issues: The way laws/schools/rules are set up, there is very little they can 'do' to these kids, and the kids know it. It takes mountains of paperwork, and months and years of problems before you can expel ('exclude') a kid. In America, it's easy to be expelled, so that serves as a deterrent. Kids know what they'll face at home if they get suspended (3-10 days, depending on the violation) or expelled (permanent), and therefore, problems are fewer. (As far as social issues which lead to these behaviours, I'm not touching that. Haven't been here long enough to begin to know why it's cool/acceptable to throw food and smash sandwiches into the floor, spit indoors on floors [in classroom or on other people's heads as they walk up the stairs], and just humiliate and disgrace yourself in general. In America you'd be the laughing stock of the school with that type of behaviour. You'd never want to show your face again -- it would completely humiliating and embarrassing. Not here. I guess if everyone else acts like that, it's acceptable? Normal?)

2) No daily grades. Oh, you can assign work, collect it, mark it, and you can even put the marks into your grade book, but it means nothing. There's a test every few years (not a pass/fail test -- just a test. Results don't get you anything), and that's it. In the U.S., if you consistently do poor work (below 70% accuracy/achievement), you repeat the year, so while your classmates move on to year 10, for example, you remain in year 9 for another year. So kids do their work and do it reasonably well. They pay attention and work in class. Sure, some will try to goof off for a few weeks, but when mid-term marks go home and they see they're failing, they change their ways. They need good marks to get into a decent university or to just get a job. Even employers look at school transcripts -- if you can't show up to school and do a good job, you'll likely not do that at work either. Transcripts are great predictors of future behaviour/success.

I don't for a minute think that the U.S. education system is perfect. I do, however, think that each system could take from the other and do well. The teaching here, the content, the curriculum, is so much better, so superior to the U.S curriculum. But too often you can't do what you want to, due to wasting your days on foolishness. I was told that a teacher from my school here, after an exchange year in the U.S., came back seriously wanting to quit, after seeing what she could be working in, and facing the reality of English schools once again. I can believe that.

So I guess that answers why the shortage of teachers in this country, but also begs a new question: When will it end? How will it change?

What does Thomas Hardy's parson say in 'Channel Firing'? "Instead of preaching forty year, I wish I'd stuck with pipes and beer."

Notes from home . . .

I miss darling-daughter and her family so much. I sent a new pool for a combination birthday present for them all (April/May/June birthdays), and got an email today about it. Always so nice to hear what's going on -- almost feel I can 'see' them all there, happy and enjoying life. No, that's not them or their house -- just a 'package-picture.' But I sure do hope I get pics soon (hint, hint).

"The pool came yesterday and I set it up and filled it this afternoon before R and M got home. It was easy, but took a few hours to fill. It's huge! Even had time to float in peace in the sun before the splashy craziness started (M). This morning I got a cover, floating-lounge, and new pair of water wings for M (pink, of course, because it's her favorite freaking colour and no one else is allowed to like it). M can touch bottom and still keep her head and shoulders out of the water, she's that tall now! She had way more fun tonight than I ever saw her have last year, and she practised floating and kicking, learned how to hang on to her pink inner-tube and propel herself along by kicking, and gave me rides in my floating 'chair.' Haven't done the chemicals yet, and am debating a saltwater pool instead - there was info in the box about it. It says it has 1/10 the salt concentration that the ocean has but stays sparkling clean, is less drying for skin, doesn't fade swimsuits, is safer, easier to maintain, etc. Going to read online about it and see what I think. Anyway, love the pool, big thanks from all of us (R says it's the best birthday present ever, even if his is a still not here yet, and I think it's pretty fantastic too). Anyway, talk to you this weekend if you stick around, or later (if you go off on holiday, in which case, have fun!). C."

Stay safe in the pool ("remember, a person can drown in a bath-tub"), have fun, and yes, I think the salt-water pool sounds brilliant. Natural/safe/easy/better environmentally I suspect . . . ? Have a fun summer in it. Love you all, xxx, Mum (and hope to see you in August -- want to take M off to Disneyland!).

An old pic of M last year . . . in last year's pool. Yes, there was a pool last year. Yes, I took care of it up until the day I left. Yes, they let it fill with leaves and bugs and turn to scum, then actually let hundreds of gallons of water evaporate, then let it dry rot . . . well, no wonder it doesn't hold water the next year.

My lovely year 10's were last lesson today, so that was a fine way to end the week.

Bothersome year 9's earlier . . . Detentions for not doing homework, foolishness, etc. I get so tired of dealing with such time-wasters. It's easy to see why some teachers just don't bother (except that the problems will escalate if you don't get them sorted).

The bank holiday is upon us (for those in the U.S., that's what they call a Monday holiday). It's for May Day, so we have a three-day weekend! Now the only question is, what to do with the long weekend?? My broken ribs are healing, and I think I'm feeling well enough to go do something, but I can't decide what (I'm Googling various ideas while checking the weather forecast).

You know when you hear something for so long, and then you leave the environment and still hear it? I keep hearing "Miss?" in my brain for at least an hour on Friday evenings . . . oh, let the little voices go away! (At least they're not telling me scary things to do.)

We have lift-off, Houston!

Okay, we have email at school, but it's almost as good as going to the moon. Each and every person can reach each and every (other) person, at the touch of a button. In addition to emails, I get the daily calendar, notes on student problems (or is it problem students?), exam schedules, and more, right at my desk! No stacks of paper floating around, things to be misplaced, etc. People I was supposed to see weeks ago about something have now been contacted! (The 'old' way was that on your free period, you'd roam the school, hoping to find them . . . maybe you did, maybe you didn't. You gave up after wasting half your prep time searching for them, and moved on to the next stop on your list, and waited until the person was free, and finally got to talk to them -- although no guarantees that you wouldn't be interrupted by the phone, or someone with a higher-priority crisis occurring -- and might or might not get things taken care of. Very efficient, wasn't it? Ha!)

But, oh, it's heaven now. I sign on, I click, I read, I reply, I write messages, I check back later and get answers . . . and I am able to do things I couldn't do before. Today I got some kids scheduled into the Gateway to get extra help with coursework, tracked 2 truanting students immediately (without leaving my room or my students), scheduled detentions with the year 9 office (and followed up on 2 who didn't show), and so on.

Hard to believe that there are teachers not interested in e-life at school. Hard to believe they'd rather check umpteen pigeonholes, e-pigeonholes, message boards, bulletin boards, the cover board, notice boards, call and leave messages (if you're lucky enough to have a phone in your room -- I don't), run around looking for people and only finding them half the time, etc. Yeah, that's a system we need to hang on to, isn't it?? Not!

The day they blow 30 quid on each of us and put a little ink-jet printer in our classrooms will be a fine day indeed (I'm hoping they're reading this)! I'd even be able to print out notices I need to hang, and copies of lesson plans I make. Oh, the possibilities are endless!

Oh, happy day! This is better than the day I got knobs for my desk drawer!

Imagine this: There are 5-10 students outside your classroom door, blasting music, shouting, etc. You stop your teaching several times, to speak to the students about this, only to be met with the usual rudeness and student-denial ("we haven't even said one word, Miss") and to be told by their teacher that that's where they're supposed to be (unsupervised).

Why are they on the other side of my door? Because it's not the corridor door, but the room next door (media room), which has a thin, hollow wooden door adjoining the two rooms, and students are sent there to work on their own on various prjects. I've fought (in vain) over this issue all year, trying to quiet kids who are unruly, and having to put up with the yelling and music and even obscene language . . .

Yesterday I asked a head if I can have the door taken out, and new wall built there (it's a concrete-block wall).

The answer? "Yes."

People not in this room don't understand how disruptive it is, but it truly is no different from kids standing outside the hallway door yelling and blasting music, etc. That would not be allowed because it would disrupt classes, but why is this not seen as disruptive? Is it because it's on a different wall that people don't get it? It's the same thing.

Well, someone gets it at least, and that's why I'm getting a wall built there this summer!

Weird day.

Lots of odd stuff, but one bit was a bee/wasp/hornet in my room during a cover lesson. Another teacher was covering with another class, but my room was free, so they were scheduled to use it . . . Anyway, the kids were yelling that there was something massive buzzing their heads, about to sting them, I was yelling to kill it, and the cover teacher was yelling not to kill a living thing of any sort . . . in the end it was killed, and the lesson went on.

I stayed in the room for the remainder of the lesson since one, the cover teacher thought the things in my desk were to be given to kids (my pens, etc), and two, the kids were a little out of hand, so I sat in the back and marked papers. (I think they should tell cover teachers not to take/give away anything in the rooms, particularly our desks, and to respect our space/possessions. We buy our own supplies, and I for one don't like someone going through my desk and handing things out to kids. Kids are supposed to bring their own stuff, and if they don't have it, well, you don't take things from a teacher's desk and give them to the kids.)

Waspy-thing came back to life in a later class, and had to be completely squashed -- didn't realise it was just mostly dead. There are no screens on the windows in England -- did I ever mention that?? Very funny thing to me as an American. Everything has screens there, even our porches.

More entries for Mrs. G's Book of Classroom Records

Specifically, things overheard in the classroom . . .

First, a sentence you'd never think you'd hear: "Yeah, I got sacked for hitting a guy with a bag of carrots."

Same girl, months later, very exasperated with peers who apparently have no idea how difficult her life is because of her perceived weaknesses: "Do you know how hard it is to be this dumb?!?"

For some reason, I always remember first-sentences from students (and people in general) . . . a lovely year-10 girl in my tutor group, on first day of school, said to me, "Do you like jams, Miss? I could just get a spoon and eat jams all day long. Do you ever want to do that, Miss?"

Hmmmm. Maybe.

A year-9 boy . . . one day we were laughing at his latest wise-crack, and I said jokingly, "One more cheeky comment out of you, and I'm going to stab this pen through your eye and into your brain!" His only response was a very dry, "I'll sue, Miss." For whatever reasons, the image of a kid with a pen sticking out of his brain and standing in a court-room struck us all as ridiculous, and since then, whenever he gets going, and I threaten him with the pen, he always smiles and says calmly, "I'll sue, Miss."

First entry . . .

I've come to the conclusion that I need a Mrs. G's Book of Classroom Records.

I saw a boy writing with what had to be the tiniest pencil (or shall we say, a piece of a pencil?). Yes, I brought it home and took a pic, and yes, that's it.

I don't blog enough . . .

I've had 70 posts in what, almost a year?? It's a maths thing, but something like . . . hmmm . . . where's the calculator . . . oop, there it is, under the list of things to do this weekend (wondered where that list disappeared to. Well, next weekend is always coming) . . . Okay, if I'm doing this correctly, I think I've done a post every 4.5 days or something.

Doesn't matter. What does matter is that I will post more often. People at home are asking, begging, pleading to know the minutiae of my life (not really).

Okay, I'm sitting here having lunch (Amato's salad, minus cheese), listening to Andrea Bocelli. Does it get any better??

Cool and grey today.

Down to my last bites of salad -- the question is, when you make an Amato's salad, what do you leave as the last bite? Me? I've saved 2 kalamata olives for the end . . . The thought of a world without kalamata olives is not pretty.

Does anything beat market-day??

I don't think so. I get up early on a Saturday morning, I make my way into the town centre about 7:30a.m., and there it is . . . booth after booth of freshies, various clothing and flower stalls, refrigerated carts with fresh fish and meats, stands with olives of all varieties, nuts, unusual sweets, exotic spices . . .

I have to drag my 'little-old-lady' shopping trolley along, to hold everything -- could not manage it while still shopping, as well as the amount I'd be trying to carry home would be insane.

Today I got three boxes of strawberries, 2 half-dozen cartons of eggs, 3 flats of raspberries, 2 big bunches of asparagus (which I'll probably saute with garlic in olive oil), jumbo prawns and a piece of ginger (for my ginger-shrimp recipe), a few bulbs of garlic, bananas, tomatoes, and about 5 pounds of green grapes. The prices are just unbelievable, and everything is perfectly fresh and lovely.

Stopped for a latte at Crema (they see me coming in the door, and have my decaf latte ready by the time I reach the counter), then came home and toasted up some pine nuts, dumped them over a bowl of raspberries (toasted pine nuts taste just like pie crust) so in essence I had a raspberry pie for breakfast!

Ah, Saturdays. Best part of the week.

(Just reading online that they actually have competitions for barristas who do the fancy lattes. Nothing so elaborate here -- just excellent coffee with a nice skim froth on top. Perfection.)

I didn't want Google ads!

I clicked on the Adsense from my Dashboard, just to see what it was . . . Now the ad is up there. Now I have to find out how to make it go away! Argh! (Note to self: Do not just click on things. Curiosity killed the cat.)

Went to work today -- it wasn't too bad actually. A bit tiring, ribs still sore, but just avoided the usual running around, and definitely didn't venture out into the corridors between classes when the kids were about (I can just imagine one accidental bump -- could be in agony). Had no students 5th lesson, so I skipped out early and came home to rest. Pain pills the hospital gave me don't eliminate the pain, but do take the edge off it.

Broke two ribs . . .

Fell last night. Was cleaning out closets and packing up winter stuff, digging out summer clothes . . . had piled some coats on the floor, then with a large box in my arms, turned, tripped over coats, fell onto computer chair and slammed my ribs over the armrest as the chair and I crashed over. Yow!

Tried to 'sleep it off' and by morning I actually thought it was nothing . . . 'til I got out of bed and tried to actually move. ARRGGGHHHH!!!

Went to A & E, was seen promptly, and out of their in less than an hour. All they can do is let it heal, painfully for the first week or two, and it will be 4-6 weeks total until it's healed . . . They did give me painkillers.

Oh, the agony! Really hurts to breathe, move my arm, and so on.

The moral of this story is, don't do anything resembling spring cleaning. You could fall down and break bones. Sit with your feet up instead, playing backgammon online whilst eating Cadbury, or maybe having margaritas and tortilla chips with friends . . . but skip the real labour.

Went to St. Albans . . .

. . . to visit a teacher-friend. Town is lovely, very historical. Saw the cathedral and abbey, then on to the park and Roman wall, then the Roman museum. Amazing artifacts. Bought my usual tea-towels (souvenirs), then we decided it was lunch time, so off we drove toward a pub (the Brocket Arms) in nearby Ayot.

Right.

There was a detour on the main road, due to some sort of road-paving project, so we followed the 'diversion' signs onto a very narrow, unpaved, one-lane road, where if you meet another car someone reverses until there's a wide spot and you can get past each other. Well, it was not that simple today. Two lines of cars came upon each other, and since the queue coming towards us had a lorry pulling a horse trailer behind it, the plan was for our line to reverse. I went back through our queue and told everyone what was going on, and then I walked further to ensure no more cars piled in behind us. The last ones back were two little old ladies, who looked quite worried and said, "But we're no good at reversing!" Looking around, it seemed nothing could go terribly wrong. Farm fields each side, a high thick hedge between us and the fields, and yes, the road was in a sort of ditch (built up a couple of feet each side), but nothing too perilous. "Oh, you'll be okay," I reassured them. "If I had a proper driving licence I'd do it for you, but sorry to say I don't." Well, it was not okay. They hit the gas, and were gone in a cloud of dust, only to flip their car 15 seconds later. They were going too fast, then veered a bit, which jacked one side of the car up the side of the embankment, and then it rolled over. Poor dears were just fine (they were strapped in with their seatbelts), but terribly shaken up. Emergency response vehicles arrived promptly, so as we were all trapped three for a couple of hours, we decided to walk to a nearby pub where we had cold drinks sitting on picnic tables in the afternoon sun. (See what Americans are missing with their big wide roads? They never get to know their road-mates like this!)

Finally made it to the Brocket Arms about 2:30, but of course lunch was over, so had a sparkling water while Lisa caught up with the locals and I warmed up by the fire (it was one of those massive "walk-in" inglenooks with tables and benches in it).

Interesting day, to say the least.

Business email?

I recently corresponded with someone via email, regarding a business matter. She (like most of the rest of the world) conducts her business using both telephone and email (setting up appointments, etc). I was initially surprised that she used no caps or punctuation, but even more shocked that she let things 'drop' as we were finalising plans for my appointments/classes.

It began with me responding to an ad (she was recommended), telling her what I needed, and suggesting a few times/dates for meetings, asking her if any of those were open. She then replied listing two of the days that would be good for her, and asked me to pick one. I chose one, and also gave her a time that would work for me, and asking if that was possible. And then . . . nothing. After a few days I wrote back saying that I'd received a failure notice on the email delivery (I didn't, but didn't want to be so blunt as to say 'you dropped the ball') . . . She replied that she couldn't understand why I got a failed-delivery email, since she had received the message and recorded the dates in her calendar. Okay, do you not reply back and say, "great then ill see you at 330 on tuesday" (remember, no caps or punctuation).

Is it because I'm an English teacher that I think a person in business, a supposed professional, might use standard English? Does anyone else think it reflects poorly on the 'professional' and their business to do otherwise? I've met her once, and she's at least 40, so not part of the young crowd with their new e-language. Would you even consider this when choosing a business professional to work with on a project? (I'm not talking about finding a typo; I'm talking no caps at ALL, and no punctuation at ALL, etc). And was I expecting too much in thinking I would receive a final email back, confirming the time/dates?

Responses . . . ?

Saving the planet . . .

Cleaning off the desk, and found this article I'd cut out of a magazine before my hike. Thought I'd post a few things that I found interesting.

1) The new CFL light-bulbs (those funny looking swirly things?) use one-fourth the electricity as regular bulbs, and last several years longer than regular bulbs.

2) Pay your bills online. If every household in the US viewed and paid their bills online, it would cut solid waste by 1.45 billion tons a year, and greenhouse-gas emissions by 1.9 million tons a year.

3) Right now over 500 million plastic bags are distributed each year, and only 3% of those are recycled. They can take up to 1,000 years to biodrgrade in landfills that produce harmful greenhouse gases.

4) Buy local meats, dairy, and produce to reduce the miles that food is transported to get to you. Go to localharvest.org and farmersmarket.net to find nearby farmers markets, greengrocers, and food co-ops.

5) Shut off electronics when not in use. Screensavers are not electricty savers, and appliances in 'idle' mode are still using up electricity. You can pull the plug in the US, or shut the outlet switch in the UK.

6) Buy recycled paper products. It requires 60% less energy to create recycled paper than new paper. A ton of recycled paper saves 30,000 liters of water, 4,400 kwh of energy, and 19 trees.

7) Cut consumption. Live in a smaller house; share, borrow and lend; live more simply.

8) Move to London. Huh? Well, in the right neighbourhood, that is. Homes in London typically account for 44% of all CO2 emissions, but docklands planners will soon be opening the city's first zero-carbon housing development. All 233 homes will be hooked up to a heat and power plant that turn create electricity and hot water from wood chips, solar panels, and wind power. And the whole project will only cost 5% more than traditional housing developments.

(From TIME magazine)

Oh, and an advert we have on telly here says that recycling just one glass bottle will save enough electricity to power you tell for almost 15 minutes, or your computer for 20. I like anything with concrete examples.

Walking the coastal path of the Isle of Wight . . .

Monday, 2 April:

Left home at 8, took the train to St. Pancras, the Tube to Waterloo, another train to Southampton, a City-link bus to the ferry, and the Red Jet over to Cowes (pronounced 'cows').

Bag is heavier than I thought it would be, so I ate the chocolate bars I'd packed. Didn't seem much lighter, but I felt better for having made the effort.

Sat with a woman on the train and ferry who was returning from her holiday in Florida. We chatted and swapped mobile numbers -- will hopefully meet up for a celebratory supper when I finish. Cowes is lovely -- had a cup of coffee at an outdoor table while listening to a singing guitar player doing Beatles stuff. Got grapes, tinned mackeral, and crisps from a shop, then sat on a bench in the harbour eating supper. Went to the B&B at dusk -- it's extremely small, and the bathroom (not en-suite) gives new meaning to the term 'water closet'. But it's fine. Made a couple cups of tea before bed while watching the weather (predicted to be quite cold again tomorrow).


Tuesday, 3 April:

Up early . . . quick breakfast of tea, eggs, and fruit, out the door by 7:30. What will the week bring?

Trail is poorly marked in some spots, then suddenly two hours on, it's completely closed due to cliff erosion. My map doesn't show most roads (it's a trail map), so I have no idea what to do. Eventually figure out where I am, and am about to be back on the trail after this massive detour (miles and miles out of my way), but a wild dog is chasing me back the other way . . . I flag a motorist who kindly gives me a lift to the trail, and sets me off into beautiful forests on the NW shore. Tall pines, rocky coast. Gorgeous day's walk, although a bit mucky.

At the end of the day I'm in Yarmouth, in a gorgeous B&B. Big bedroom filled with antiques (mine is the second picture down, on the website), twin beds with white eyelet coverlets, ensuite bathroom with separate tub and shower, curtains too(!) . . . There was even Cadbury hot cocoa mix on the tea tray in the room! Drank both packets -- 2 very nice mugs!



Wednesday, 4 April:

The day's walk is great -- The Needles is an incredible sight. I took the chairlift down to the shore - frightful! I did not want to go, but asked myself "If not now, when?" (Never, obviously!) So I then gave myself my usual line when I think I'm too scared to do something ("Then do it scared!"). So I did go down, but what a fright!


Then it was over Tennyson Down, and I saw the memorial, and just a few more miles into Freshwater Bay, where the Apple Tree Cafe is located within Afton Park Nurseries. This truly was the place to eat GF -- almost everything they make is coeliac-friendly. I had cheese scones, coq au vin, carrot cake with cream cheese frosting . . . and went back on a bus two more times before I left the island (including for Easter lunch). I even bought their GF cookbook before I left! Their gardens and nurseries are extensive and worth the walk.


The beach here in Freshwater Bay is a 'trip' -- no sand, but just golf-ball sized rocks. But people are lying on it like that's normal, so I do the same. It's not bad, actually. There's a little shop with second-hand books, so I buy a paperback for 25 p, and some choccie and water.

Thursday, 5 April:

Up early for eggs and fruit and tea. Owners are charming, and sit and gab with me through my breakfast. They say they just do the B&B as a hobby of sorts in their retirement years. All but one of the B&Bs on my trip turns out to be run by retired couples.

Hurt toe quite badly yesterday, but it looks like it'll be okay to walk on today. No details, and will not post pic I took of it, but yes, I did take pics, in case I died from tetanus, since it was a piece of metal that jabbed in through to my big toe. Also wore out a pair of socks.

Before I left the town of Freshwater Bay, I did two things: got two sandwiches to go from the cafe (salt-beef and pickle, and hummous and red onion), and took a pic of Jimi Hendrix (well, the life-sized bronze statue on him in the town centre, which was put in last year). Most of the townspeople don't like the statue very much, but as the hipper ones told me, "This is where it all began, man!"

Lovely walking today -- spring lambs everywhere! Brand new little things, just out there trying out their legs, wobbling about, other stretched in the sunshine on the green grass.


Walked through to Ventnor (past where I planned to get to), so cancelled the B&B in Chale, and got a posh hotel room in Ventnor. What a treat to find something available (otherwise I would have taken a bus back to Chale, slept there, then bussed back to Ventnor in the morning to pick up where I left the trail). That's my hotel, in the right of the picture.

Friday, 6 April:

Had my 2 eggs and tea, and a bowl of fresh fruit, and headed off. Stopped at a lobster shack on the way out of town and got a steamed one (chilled), and will have it later for lunch. Also picked up yogurt and fresh raspberries from a shop . . . Walked with a guy called Julian for a few hours, through the very hardest bits of the trail. Was so glad of the company during this part (downs coming into Shanklin). Grueling. But he knew of a pond and suggested we stop there for a break, and there was also a tea room (and a polite dog who was quite intent on getting the lobster out of my backpack, much to his owner's embarrassment!). Then back to the trail, and the climb just kept going. This was when I saw the large rocks with the plaque which read 'Wishing Seat.' So I sat down and wished, but opened my eyes and I was still there. Doesn't work, apparently.

Finally, the climb ended, and then it was a drop to the beaches of Shanklin (where Julian left the trail -- he was just a day hiker), and then into Sandown, where I rented a chair for the rest of the day. Remembered my lobster at this point and found a rock to smash it up with, and it was wonderful. Bought Cadbury Creme Eggs later, for Easter (well, early Easter, specifically right then).

Saturday, 7 April:

Just did not want to walk. This is what I mean about needing days off in between walking days. Rented a chair and sat on the beach for hours, then finally got motivated to move on to Ryde, where I was meeting Barbara for supper (the woman I met on the train). Picked up an Easter egg (Cadbury Buttons) for her. Had a great feast of seafood and wine, and lots of good chat and laughs. She dropped me at my B&B, and I was almost asleep when I suddenly realised that the next day would take me back into Cowes and the end of the walk Where did the days go?? I don't want it to end.

Easter Sunday, 8 April:

Fine B&B, but skipped breakfast, although the woman was very insistent that I eat something, preferably bread. I kept telling her I couldn't eat bread of all things, but she said that was nonsense, I just needed bread. I finally settled for a glass of milk and headed down to the beach. Got a pot of tea there, and sat watching the day begin across the water.

The walk was short today, so after I got to East Cowes, I took a bus to Afton and made one last trip to the Apple Tree Cafe for Easter lunch. Got carrot cake and a cheese scone to go (for tonight), and then took the bus back to East Cowes (which is separated from Cowes by the inlet, which is about 4 miles long) and rode the floating bridge back across into Cowes.

Just kept hanging around the shore all evening, not wanting to go into the B&B. I guess I knew that once I got in there, the trip was over. Finally went in at dusk.

Monday, 9 April:

Got up extra early, just to get what time I could in on the island before leaving. Walked around the town, had a pot tea in the Octopus's Garden (Beatles-themed cafe), then picked up a visitor's guide and began ticking off the things to do next time I visit. How hard it is to go back today. I don't want to leave this island. It took a couple days to settle into the rhythm of life on the trail, and the easiness of no choices beyond what I carried in my bag, but once I settled in, it was so peaceful and I was so content.

Took the ferry/bus/train/tube/train back to my flat and each part of that trip seemed to be more torturous than the last. The first realisation I had upon walking into my flat is that it feels so dull, quiet, and lifeless, compared to the trail.

Oh, just found an amazing website of old picture postcards of the Isle of Wight -- not to be missed!

Break is here . . .

. . . and I'm going to walk all the way 'round the Isle of Wight. It's around 70 miles, so about 6 days is an easy pace. I've booked B&Bs along the way, and will just carry a lightweight pack.

The plan is spending my first and last nights in Cowes. From Cowes, off to Yarmouth the first day (Tuesday, 3 April -- 16 miles), Yarmouth to Freshwater Bay the next day (8 miles), Chale after that (11 miles), then on to Sandown (another 11 mile hike), then Ryde (once again, 11 miles), and finally, the home stretch, the last 8 miles back to Cowes, where I'll spend a night and then take the ferry and train back home.

I've packed a couple of disposable cameras (more lightweight than my digital, and I won't stress over losing it), and will post pics once I return. Should be spectacular along the coastal path.

The Beatles song "When I'm Sixty-Four" keeps running through my head: 'Every summer we can rent a cottage in the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear . . . ' (Maybe because it's on the CD player, on repeat for the past 3 hours?) Definitely 'not too dear' at all. Beyond the low B&B rates, the one thing that surprised me each time I called a B&B and asked what credit card they'd like to hold the reservation on, was their reply: "Credit card? We don't take credit cards here. No cheques either. Just cash. Give me your mobile number -- that's all I need. Call us if you get lost -- we'll come find you." It's going to be lovely. Cross your fingers for sunshine for me . . .

While Googling for the lyrics to "When I'm Sixty-Four" I found this site . . . someone else with the same thoughts -- do it now, not at 64! Scroll down through and look at the gorgeous pics -- I'm really psyched to go!

(Just found a website done by a guy who did the Coastal path, and his pics are amazing . . . Be sure to click on each of the segments of his walk, to see the postcard-perfect scenery.)

Tiem display of three and a half word . Adjustment/open/close of range customer can select bi-bi or cock cry alamn bell for reporting tounded hour. set up press key on normal wo rhing ,otherwise it close. Time adjuwstmnt and set up of time bell ,press mode key once When report has not yet finished more ,AL appear and flash the hromal reporting hour .Press talking key any time to accwratly report Dresent time . . .

No, those aren't typos . . . they are the instruction that came with a litle battery-powered alarm clock I'm trying to re-set. We change the clocks tonight, and I'm really having trouble with one. I prefer two alarms, in case one fails to go off (or I fail to get up), so I got this one at Poundland in November. I did set it initially, but it took a lot of time and luck -- I was not about to admit defeat to this clock (actually, the instructions) which were made/printed in China. I was determined to make it work. And it has worked fine, but I no longer have the interest in winning against this clock. I think it's time for another clock, but not from Poundland.

Otherwise . . . we're back to cold weather. Spring was here two weeks ago, the daffodils blooming everywhere (the town is gorgeous), I was even wearing a spring jacket (and occasionally, no jacket at all!), and now for the past week it's been nothing but snow, hail, and freezing temps. Just came in from the market, and as I came in the door, saw a few snowflakes and raindrops beginning. Going to hunker down with a pot of tea and watch Sopranos DVDs all afternoon . . .

Easter break is just a week away.

BUSH-isms . . .

Just a few taken from the most complete list of Bush-isms on the "Internets" . . .



He married a Texas girl, I want you to know. Karyn is . . . a West Texas girl, just like me.

I'm the commander - see, I don't need to explain - I do not need to explain why I say things. That's the interesting thing about being president.

Look up the word. I don't know, maybe I made it up. Anyway, it's an arbo-tree-ist, somebody who knows about trees.

Border relations between Canada and Mexico have never been better.

Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we, they never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we.

I know how hard it is for you to put food on your family.

Natural gas is hemispheric. I like to call it hemispheric in nature because it is a product that we can find in our neighborhoods.

As you know, these are open forums, you're able to come and listen to what I have to say.

I couldn't imagine somebody like Osama bin Laden understanding the joy of Hanukkah.

Too many good docs are getting out of the business. Too many OB-GYNs aren't able to practice their love with women all across this country.

They misunderestimated me.

The problem with the French is that they don't have a word for entrepreneur.

Rarely is the questioned asked: Is our children learning?

I know the human being and fish can coexist peacefully.

Do you have blacks, too? (To Brazilian President Fernando Cardoso, Nov. 8, 2001)

You work three jobs? Uniquely American, isn't it? I mean, that is fantastic that you're doing that. (To a divorced mother of three, Omaha, Nebraska, Feb. 4, 2005)

Will the highways on the Internet become more few?

For NASA, space is still a high priority.

For every fatal shooting, there were roughly three non-fatal shootings. And, folks, this is unacceptable in America. It's just unacceptable. And we're going to do something about it.

It's amazing with the software that has been developed these days that enable a camera to distinguish the difference between a squirrel and a bomb.

And there is distrust in Washington. I am surprised, frankly, at the amount of distrust that exists in this town. And I'm sorry it's the case, and I'll work hard to try to elevate it.

I think — tide turning — see, as I remember — I was raised in the desert, but tides kind of — it's easy to see a tide turn — did I say those words?

Someone on the Bluewave board asked about English curriculum.

The question was, "Do they mostly do British Lit? Do they read a lot of novels? I remember you saying in one of your blog posts that you were surprised at how well the students analyzed poetry so I'm guessing there is a fair amount of that. At my high school I had a good amount of freedom to do what I liked as did the regular teachers and a lot of them barely touch poetry. How do you think this compares to what you are doing there?"

Where to start . . . Because 'graduation' (their 'certificate') is based a folder of essays, and on exams taken at the end of their last year of required-schooling (year 11), the upper school curriculum is very prescriptive in KS4 (years 10 and 11). You do have a bit of leeway in choosing the pieces to teach, though.

It can be done in any sequence, but here we have them write five papers and do their three speaking/listening tasks (speeches/debates) in year 10, and then in year 11 we study the poetry and a novel, in preparation for the exam. Their final 'grade' in English is based on the evidence in their folders (essays, and results of speaking/listening tasks) and the exams on poetry and the novel.

For the 5 papers, they are told exactly what criteria they must meet (the teachers mark/grade all the folder work), and we choose the pieces of literature that they write about. The five essays are:
1) an original writing piece (we read most of the Prize of Peril, then wrote their own endings),
2) analysis of a post-1914 play (I did 'A View From the Bridge' this year, but will choose something different next year),
3) analysis of Shakespeare play (most do Romeo and Juliet, but I chose 'Much Ado About Nothing,' since my KS3 are doing it this year, so it saved me some work),
4) a media essay (I had them write a video review of Shrek -- again, you have some choice), and
5) essay about prose (we're doing some ghost stories next half-term).

For year 11, there are a few choices for the novel (I'm going to do 'Catcher in the Rye'), and in the poetry, you can only choose between two clusters of 'Poems from Other Cultures' (there are two sets of 8, and they need to know every poem in either cluster for the exam). For the English Literature poems, you have a choice of two sets of poets (we do Duffy and Armitage, but Heaney and Clarke are also an option -- scroll down a bit on that link to see all four poets and the poems), and they need to know just two of those poems thoroughly. Oh, and they have three 'Speaking/Listening' tasks to be graded on in KS4 (speeches/debates, a bit of criteria to follow on the types of tasks, but from there, the field is wide open.

Ah, just found a site that explains it all in a nutshell! It's a school's website, but they have it all outlined for their students. Nice site! (When they say 'coursework' they mean the folder of essays.)

To me, it doesn't seem like much (compared to the amount we pound through in a year in America) . . . ten poems, a novel, 3 speeches/debates, and five essays to write, all in two years. Of course you create assignments within all of these, to work on other things (pre-writing, sentence variety, grammar, whatever you deem your students need), but there's nothing like the 'anthologies' we used in America, with all the tasks set up for the year, and we just follow the sections our state has set.

Just one more example of how when people say it's very different here, it truly is. I'm off to start planning a speech unit plan -- that'll kill the 2 weeks 'til the break (first two weeks of April!), and then I just have the prose (ghost stories) to teach, then the year 10's will be off on work experience for a few weeks, the 11's will be taking exams, the year 13's will be buggering off soon after that, and it'll be a quite empty school -- just 9's and 12's! They say it's all down-hill after the April break. Here's hoping. I'm ready for some 'downhill.'

Oh, Happy (U.K.) Mother's Day (well, if you're a mother, as I am. I told my daughter I expect double the cards this year! One on U.K. Mother's Day, one on U.S. Mother's Day (kidding). But I did remember to buy a card and stash it away from my own mum in May -- otherwise, there'll be no way to get one to send to her). Father's Day is the same in both -- third Sunday in June.

Daylight hours . . .

I know, I'm often fixated on the sun -- when it comes up, when it goes down, comparing the hours of daylight here to what I used to get in other places I've lived. I suppose it's because the long dark winter days are horrid for me. I'm an outdoor person, always have been . . .

And the days are very short here in winter: sun comes up after 8 a.m., goes down long before 4. In the dark months (November, December, January), I went to work in the dark, and came home in the dark. On the weekends I tried to get in some time outdoors in the light, but never got enough.

But now, seemingly miraculously, the days are rapidly getting longer (by 4 minutes a day!), and I'm quite happy! Already (still February), the sun is up before 7, and going down close to 6 p.m. now.

The website I like to look at is TimeAndDate. You can select a different month, and get all the upcoming (or previous) stats; I was just looking ahead to the longest days coming up (June), and found that the sun will be up at 4:43 a.m., and not disappear until 9:21! (Any clue how happy the prospect of 16 hours, 38 minutes, and 24 seconds of sunlight makes me??? Especially compared with the 7 hours, 49 minutes, and 40 seconds we were getting just before Christmas.

The shape on the SunClock is definitely squaring up already!

It's the end of the beginning, innit?

Okay, this 'word' is driving me nuts. Yes, I understand that it's slang for "isn't it," and I accept my own American slang (gotta go, I'm outta here, gonna, etc). The problem is, some people use it right, and some don't. Yes, I've spent too many semesters studying linguistics, but this does not require a Ph.D. to spot the problem.

Correct uses: "Cold tonight, innit?" "This bus is sure slow, innit?"

Incorrect uses (e.g., girl on bus tonight, chatting endlessly on mobile 'phone): "If she does that again, she's gonna be sorry, innit?" "I already told you that, innit?" "I really don't care, innit?"

ARGH! I just wanted to turn around and teach this girl on the bus to say, "Ya know?" That would have fit the end of each of those sentences quite nicely, innit? It would not have been so annoying if she hadn't sat directly behind me, and been so loud, innit? Well, the weekend is here, and I don't have to listen to that phrase for two whole days, innit? Trying to decide where to go for the weekend, innit? Bought a lottery ticket, and maybe it's a winner, and then I could go jetting off somewhere warm, innit? OK, I'll quit . . .

Just realising I hadn't blogged in a couple of weeks, innit? (Sorry -- had to throw in one more.) Time is really flying, innit (correct use). Went to the U.S. for the February break, to see my daughter and granddaughter. Stocked up on things I miss and can't get here, and had a good time with Maya!

It was actually spitting snow when I came in tonight (from work, at 5:15 p.m.). Not much, but enough to be seen. On the plus side of things related to weather, the sun is up before 7 now, and down well past half five! Oh, the longer days are wonderful -- I think the short, dark, dreary winter days are really going to be the toughest part of it all here for me.

And speaking of tough parts and not-so-tough parts of life, school is going well. I said to a friend the other day that a quote from Churchill has come to mind: I feel like I'm at the "end of the beginning" (not to be confused with the beginning of the end!). The toughest part is behind me, finally, and I'm coming out of that early, very difficult initial bit. Feels good to finally be able to focus much more on teaching, as the other tasks/routines are on fairly solid ground.

OK, outta here -- going to look through my UK travel books and see what I can find to do this weekend. Saving the shore trips (Brighton, Isle of Wight) for milder weather, so I'll maybe choose something with shopping in mind for this weekend. Hmmm . . .

Snow day today . . .

Went in for a few hours and got some work done. I also had a flash of realisation regarding how good this job can be without the kids. Okay, seriously, even when the kids are there, this half-term really has gone so much better than the first two. I feel like I'm finally settling in, getting some solid footing underneath me so to speak . . . As 'all the rest' comes easier, I can devote more energy and focus to teaching, rather than feeling so scattered in trying to figure out everything at once. The learning curve is no longer straight up, but tapering a bit, and I can actually believe that I may be able to make it here. It's what I truly want, obviously (this was no hasty decision, so I'm hoping to succeed). Anyway, the first two half terms there were lots of days and weeks when it just didn't seem possible -- to survive and thrive here. For so long I was just so overwhelmed with all of it . . . It's certainly not easy at this point, but easier, and manageable, finally. And as I can focus on the necessary things more efficiently (routines and procedures for lateness, homework, and behaviour are now in stone), the kids seem to realise they can't get much past me any longer, so they've been much better on all fronts. In general, they also seem to be showing decency and respect, too, and we have a much better working relationship. Even the wretched one-off class I had yesterday was reasonable (but that might have been because there were 6 or 8 absences -- don't want to get too hopeful there!).

Sitting here listening to Nancy Sinatra, a CD of an album I had as a teenager. It's always funny when you listen to something 30-odd years later, and the brain still remembers, when a song is ending, which song is next. Brain stuff is all quite fascinating anyway -- how we file things, different connections with memories (e.g., when exposed to a scent, in a fraction of a second we think of a person or place). And everyone files things in memory differently. When I'm having a TOT (tip of tongue) moment, searching for a word or name, I can tell you how many letters, the vowel-consonant pattern, how many syllables, which syllable is stressed, and so on . . . Others will find a word that's close, same initial letter, etc. Fascinating stuff.

Oh, the rubbish I write here. Anne told me that Dave has actually been reading this thing. All I can say is, Dave, if this is capturing your interest, you need a life!

My Year 10's missed me?

Who would have guessed? I was only out three days, but they are telling me the 'horror stories' of the "outside-cover" they had (not one of our full-timers), and how horribly cruel she was(!), didn't like them, unfair, etc, etc, etc . . . "Miss, we were afraid you'd gone back to America!" "No, I was just sick." "Are you going back at the end of the year, Miss? Oh, please don't -- we really like you! We don't want another teacher!" "No, I have no plans to leave." Guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder? Made me think of the kid on Home Alone, who wishes his family would disappear, but when they do, he wants them back. LOL!

I did get some bad notes about one class -- three boys in particular who were naughty. The rest of the class was just starting to follow the ring-leader, but our regular (full-time) cover said that if the misbehaviour went any further, she would write names on a note for me. She said they looked at each other, straightened up in their seats, and behaved well for the rest of the lesson. Oh, the little darlings . . . what's not to love, eh?

I'm not up to par yet, so I'm giving them next week's end-of-half-term-video-reward-days this week; by Monday, hopefully I'll be up to teaching again. Legs sort of felt like rubber today (or is it jelly?). A bit weak, anyway. Just Friday to go, then the weekend to recuperate further.

Sunshine today! It was fantastic! And the days are rapidly getting longer, which is fine by me. I do not do well with these long dark days. Nine hours and nine minutes of sunlight . . . sun didn't set 'til just before 5.

Where do I go for 3 hours?

Apparently I missed a package delivery today (although since I haven't left the house for literally a second, I think they just didn't ring my buzzer). Anyway, the card says . . .

"Your parcel has been returned to the Royal Mail Delivery Office at [address is given here]. Please leave __3__ hours before collecting the item. You will need to bring proof of identity such as a passport . . . "

Very puzzling. I mean, it's only a fifteen minute walk to the pick-up place. Why do I have to leave my flat a full three hours before picking it up? Where should I go for those 3 hours? Just go sit in a coffee shop? If I go shopping, does it count if I return home with my packages? How do they know if I really leave three hours before, of if I just wait a few hours and then go straight there? Are people watching me? Big Brother? Orwell was right in his warnings in 1984. Yikes. But he didn't predict they would infiltrate the postal service.

Then it hit me -- they mean allow 3 hours before collecting the item (obviously so that the postman has time to return to the post office with the parcel).

It might be the cold medicine -- I'm a bit foggy today. Well, I'll get it tomorrow after work . . . and the good thing is, I'll have been out for about 9 hours, so that should be fine.

Woke up hungry today . . .

. . . and I can taste and smell a bit . . . Going to go back to work tomorrow, but will take it easy. This 'bug' has really zapped me of energy, appetite, all of it. Just been staring at the telly ("Cash in the Attic" in a really good show), doing jigsaw puzzles, and knitting a hat for Maya. Otherwise, lots of sleep, lots of tea . . .

People at work have been so nice about not making me feel bad for being out for three days with this. After my last high school principal ("Mr. I-never-took-a-sick-day-in-17-years!"), it'a a relief to be able to be at home when I'm this sick, and not be worried about the crap I'll have to take when I return. Going to walk to Sainsbury's this evening and get a box of Milk Tray for my co-workers -- I know they've been busy helping the covers, setting up some lessons, etc. I'm lucky to work with such a great bunch of people -- doesn't always happen that way.

Sick again . . .

I'm getting sick of this. All new viruses -- reminds me of my first year teaching; I caught everything there was to catch.

Anyway, I had my first real experience with the NHS tonight, and after all I'd heard, I really was not prepared for it to be such a positive experience.

I've had a bad cold, and had been getting worse this weekend. Called a colleague/friend to tell her I wouldn't be in, and let her know what my students could do tomorrow. I had planned on going to the doctor tomorrow morning (Monday), but she said I sounded bad and should call tonight. Huh? On a Sunday evening? Sure enough, I called my doctor's after-hours number, and after a brief discussion, they sent paramedics to my flat to run a few tests. They showed up in minutes (along with a nurse), assessed me, and then called the hospital to get me started on antibiotics tonight (bronchial infection). Fast and easy, and an hour or so later I was taking my first dose of antibiotics. Excellent and speedy care!

Guess the only improvement could have been if the doctor could have been this guy, from "ER" (which is making me think of all my favourite NBC shoes that I miss).

(I must remember, though, that this is the same place where I had to get my CBC [FBC here], and had to beg and plead for 10 minutes to get the technician to wear gloves. Hmmm.)

100 g. (or ml) . . .

Nutritional info on packages makes me chuckle. Everything is listed in 100 grams, or 100 milli-liters. Doesn't matter what you're eating; 100 g (or ml) is the amount for which nutritional information is given.

Olive oil? Sure. I always pour 1/7 of the bottle over my salad (100 ml). Ditto the balsamic vinegar. (More of a soup, isn't it?)Unsweetened cocoa -- the kind you mix a tbsp of with a couple spoons of sugar, and a cup of milk, and heat it to make a nice 'mugga'? Apparently a tablespoon is all wrong. Apparently 100 g (nearly the entire tin) is the amount to use. Hey, it's nice and chocolatey that way, right? Yellow mustard? Sure, pile it on -- I really need a quarter of the big bottle on my burger patty. Yummy. Don't forget butter -- a massive 100 g. glob of that makes toast makes it slide down easier, no matter how dry it is. Chocolate? Yup, 100 g. is the perfect bar.

And so it goes . . . everything you want to know about the food you're about to eat is in 100 g increments, regardless of what it is. For Brits reading this and missing the point, in the U.S. we are given actual serving sizes, e.g., a tsp of olive oil, half a cup of veggies, an ounce of chocolate, one sausage link, etc. At a glance, we then know exactly how much sodium, cholesterol, fat, calories, etc we're consuming. Here, every time I take a look at a package to see how many grams of fat or calories in something, I have to do all sorts of maths to figure it out.

My 15 hours and 42 minutes of fame . . .



There's a webcam on top of our county hall, and it takes a picture every five minutes during daylight hours. But, at sunset, it holds the last picture until the next morning, hence my 8 hours and 18 minutes on the webcam. See that little tiny dark blip, between those two trees? That's me! All night long, there I stand . . .

Just home from parents' evening . . .

It was very nice to meet all my Year 9 students' parents. I have 2 lovely classes of students, and the families (of course) proved to be equally nice. It also helps one to put the very few difficult students we all have into perspective -- why is it that the few difficult ones we encounter are the ones that we can't get off our minds . . . ? (It takes visiting my uber-successful colleagues [who also have a few problem students] to help me realise that it's not me. I'm doing fine with the vast majority of my students.)

Otherwise, dreaming of summer . . .

Teaching: the toughest job . . .

Teachers who have not succeeded here in England believe that I am just plain lucky to succeed here, that I am still surviving "but for the grace of God." (They'll be the same parents who tell other parents how lucky they are to have good kids. I used to just laugh so hard at that one!) Like parenting, teaching is also a ton of hard work, perseverence, and long hours. My first year here is very reminiscent of my first year teaching, when I often wondered why I had chosen teaching as a career, and frequently wanted to chuck it all.

As my head of department reminded me of the other day: "The difference between a successful teacher and an unsuccessful one is self-reflection. You self-reflect, which is why you're successful." Well, my self-reflection drives me insane some days (or rather, nights, when I can't sleep due to all this marvelous self-reflection), but she's completely right: if you just go home, forget it all, and then come back the next day expecting different results . . . well, nothing's going to change there, is it?

The other thing I always look at is whether other teachers are succeeding with these kids. My first week here, I walked around the school during a planning period and observed other teachers working successfully with these kids, which meant that obviously the situation was not impossible. However, it does take more than I realised when I took the position, and inexperienced teachers may not be equipped to handle such a position as their first. I've taught secondary, and also at a college of education in a large university (preparing pre-service teachers for the adventures of the profession), but even with all my experience and 'maturity' (read: age), I put in about 60-70 hours a week, and work through the breaks as well. It's far more than I would have expected, but I'm not a quitter -- I will persevere! I must say that while there are bad days occasionally, the feeling of accomplishment is phenomenol.

Other teacher blogs . . .

A reader asked me (in a 'Comment' on the last post) for the URL of a blog I mentioned in that post.

These are public blogs, so I'm sure they don't mind people reading them (if they did, they would't have published them, right?)

Here's the Canadian teacher of English who was in Norfolk who left in December. Here's another one I found, a young woman named Julie (like the one above, also a first-year teacher). She came in August, and has also left (in October).

Hope it provides what you were looking for, which is, I'm guessing, all the information possible about what you might expect here in terms of teaching?

I'm sick, and Happy Christmas . . .

First off, happy holidays to everyone! The longest/darkest day has just left us, fortunately. Coming from the desert Southwest of the U.S. (32° latitude), I'm now living at a whopping 52° latitude! The sun is very low on the horizon, even at noon. But very quickly it will all change, and the days will start lengthening. By the end of January, the sun won't set until almost 5 p.m. (yay!).

In other news, I'm sick with a horrid cold/strep throat/bronchitis. I suppose if there is anything good about not going to see my daughter this Christmas (I sent her to visit her dad), it's that I'd likely be stuck at the airport with tens of thousands of other travellers who are stranded due to heavy fog. Hundreds of flights are being cancelled each day. What I don't understand, though, is the irate passengers. And lest you say I have no idea what it's like to be stranded in an airport, I have sat in an airport for 7 days and 6 nights, eating from vending machines and sleeping in chairs. But the airlines do not have control of the weather -- they just work to keep passengers safe.

OK, I'm going back to my sofa, my duvet, and my pot of tea. I do need to go out for milk and tissues, but then again, maybe this is what I need?

Love and hugs to all, and Happy Christmas!

Platform what?

Went into London today just to get out for the day . . . and it was fun. It was also as you might expect in a city of seven million people roughly two weeks or so before Christmas -- insane! "Meli" and I were fighting the crowds everywhere, literally every step of the way - complete struggle just to walk down the pavement, or through a shop, or into the underground . . . Also delays in tube due to 'passenger incident' (person under subway-train). As of 8:30 p.m., the realtime Tube update still shows Central line severely delayed. Lots of other closings due to that one being stopped, too, and also due to construction, etc.

But, that situation aside, there was one really funny episode I have to post. (Yes, still trying to get out of my grump about the stresses at work lately . . . )

My daughter being the Harry Potter fan that she is, I've made a mental note to take a picture of myself at several local places that were used in the filming of the movies. One I've kept in mind is at King's Cross -- 'Platform 9 ¾' from the Harry Potter movies is actually platform 4 at King's Cross. So tonight my seven o'clock train going home was cancelled, and since I had arrived at St Pancras at 6:45, I had til 7:30 with nothing to do, I figured I'd go do this picture thing. Now St. Pancras and King's Cross stations are right next to each other, just minutes apart. Going out the door from from St. Pancras, you either go left to King's Cross Mainline, or right to the King's Cross Thameslink -- platform 4 is at one of those, but I didn't know which one. So I asked the information clerk which station had platform 4. She asked what train I wanted. I told her I was actually going out of St. Pancras, but had time to kill and wanted to go take a picture at platform 4, which was platform 9¾ in the Harry Potter movies. She told me that there is no platform 4. "Really?" "No." I explained that I had read in several places that platform 4 is what was used in the Harry Potter movies as platform 9¾. "Right -- there is a platform 9¾, but no platform 4," she explained. Okay, fine, she has it backwards. I'll just find out where platform 4 is, though (which station), and go there anyway. She tells me again that there really is no platform 4. Have to try a different approach. "Okay, can you tell me the platform numbers at each station? What are the numbers at Thameslink, and what are they at Mainline? "Oh, 1 through 8 are at Mainline, and 9 through 11 are at Thameslink." OK, then there is a four." "No, there's no four." "There's no four between one and eight?" (I'm really starting to feel like one of us might be drunk, but I know it isn't me.) She's getting emphatic: "You want to go to platform 9¾! There IS NO FOUR!" I finally just smile and leave. I'll do this another time.

Right now, I think I'm going to look it up online . . .

Okay, reporting back . . . they have hung two decorative signs that read 'Platform 9¾' in two different areas near the real platforms 9 and 10 (which of course look nothing like the platform in the movie, since it isn't even the same place!), and even stuck half a trolley into the wall by one of them, to look like the movie scene . . . perhaps that's what's confusing this woman? But the scene really was filmed at platform 4, and platform 4 really does exist, and it does look like the movie set, and that's where I'll go take the picture next time I'm at King's Cross/St. Pancras!

O' Christmas tree . . .

Couldn't wait for friends to arrive on Sunday -- decorated tree already. I can always un-decorate it just before they arrive . . .

Anyone who knows me understands this. I love, love, love Christmas. Already bought a box of GF mince pies, ate them, bought another box, ate those, bought a third, ate those, decided not to buy anymore lest I don't fit down the chimney (or into my clothes) by Christmas. And truth be told, I am getting sick of mince pies. Also steamed up a Christmas pudding, had a Christmas cake, and have most of the shopping done already. This GF Christmas food is great!

The kids are teasing me at school when I flip on my mini-stereo and play some Christmas music between classes: "Miss! It's still November!" "Oh, barely!" I must say, though, it's sometimes nothing very classy: Grandma Got Run-over By A Reindeer was playing at one point today.

Ho, ho, ho . . .

Dragged home my tree today . . .











Well, get rid of that Christmas-y image . . . and replace it with this tired teacher lugging a shiny red pasteboard box with a plastic handle down the sidewalks through crowds of people eating chips on the sidewalks, jostling into me and my box, and when I got too tired of lugging it, I jumped into a mini-cab at the taxi-stand and was home in a jiffy.

But I have my tree! Tradition is to decorate it after Thanksgiving dinner, so I have to have it ready when my friends arrive for dinner on Sunday.

Thanksgiving dinner . . . and feeling too at home here!

Yup, an interesting phenomenon has occurred. I no longer feel new here (in unfamiliar territory, like a foreigner, constantly aware of the differences), and so because of it, my brain has shifted out of 'I'm-in-a-foreign-country-and have-to-think-first-about-my-communication' to not thinking consciously about what I say. I'm suddenly back to saying dollars instead of pounds (confusing the bank teller, who pulled out a form to order foreign currency), or saying first-floor when I mean ground floor (thus sending a Head upstairs today to help a teacher who was actually downstairs -- wonder how long she waited for him to show up?), etc. I'm sure that there'll be another shift, in time, when I'm getting better at thinking in British terms and words. (For the sake of others, hopefully sooner than later!)

Now, the important business . . . where to find pumpkin for a Thanksgiving pie? I'm celebrating on Sunday, and having my work friends over for a late afternoon turkey dinner, traditional American style with all the trimmings. But pumpkin is not on the shelves here, nor is tinned squash. . . Do I do sweet potato pie? It's not that different. Hmmm. Otherwise, I'm doing two large chickens (unless I suddenly find a turkey with legs), stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce (whole berry and jellied kinds), the usual olives and pickles, rolls (the gluten-free food in this country is amazing!), possibly some peas and pearl onions (what am I forgetting?) . . . should I make gravy? Not a big fan, so probably not. I'll use the turkey juices and butter in the mashed potatoes when I beat them (and skip the milk), so therefore there will be gravy already in them, right? Easier.

Funny Saturday . . .

Up early, lounging in PJs, having coffee and watching Saturday Kitchen on BBC1. It's not one of those cooking shows like in America, all sophisticated and posh. Instead, they keep joining various segments going on all over, lots of fun and humour . . . My fave is The Hairy Bikers who were in Vietnam at a place which makes noodles from a 900-year-old recipe. Hilarious. They could not script something funnier.

Next, I needed yarn to knit a winter hat. Already quite cold here. No yarn shops in my town, but there's one nearby. I took thebus, which was an experience in itself because the drivers were 'substitutes' who did not know the route (one drove, and the other read the map: 'Left here! Okay, now right! Nope, sorry mate, I meant left! Ack! We're heading into the woods! Reverse, reverse!'). The half-dozen or so passengers on our mini-bus were singing the Beatles song, "The magical mystery tour" (FYI: at the time that song was written, mystery bus tours were very popular in England -- you just got on for an overnight trip to some mystery destination, and returned the next day).

Anyway, I finally got to Olney (very quaint little Victorian town), and found the yarn shop . . . and I kept thinking there was something familiar about the town's name and the church steeple. Finally realised it when I saw a sign: "Home of the International Pancake Day Race with Liberal, Kansas, USA." Of course! Liberal was the town next to us when I taught in Kansas, and they have an annual race (since 1950) with Olney. Small world. By the time I went home, the 'mystery tour' drivers had it all sorted, but I did make a note to return to Olney on December 10th for the 'Dickens of a Christmas' festival. The entire town goes into costume, shops are transformed, etc -- supposed to be truly wonderful.

And tomorrow (5 November) is Guy Fawkes, or Bonfire Night. Already had fireworks last night in our town, and see more starting as I write this, and of course tomorrow will be lots more stuff.

Teaching poetry to the little darlings . . .

These kids astound me in terms of capability, specifically in the poetry studies we have just begun. There skills are somewhat limited in other areas (i.e., they don't even understand how to break a word at the end of a line when writing, meaning beween syllables, and they put the hyphen on the next line!), but now that we have begun Poetry From Other Cultures, they've taken off. They will find the details to support their interpretation, argue over meaning, bring in specifics regarding language; they just take of and run with a new idea. It's hard to stop them at the end of the hour -- we're always amazed at where the time has gone, and I'm amazed at them.

I would never in a million years have heard such brilliant stuff from my American students.

Theatre trip to Canterbury Tales . . .

Last night three of us (English teachers) took a group of Year 13's to London to see a performance of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. The play was brilliant -- fantastic evening, right down to the strawberry Haagen Dazs ice cream at intermission.

Picked up another new class today. Went downstairs to meet them for Citizenship (the schedule listed the wrong room number), and they're a group that I also have for English (my subject area). Here it was last hour on a Friday, so I wasn't sure what kind of a reception would await me . . . and they had no idea who the teacher would be, due to the wrong-room-number situation. But when they saw me, they actually jumped up and down, beaming and clapping: "Oh, Miss, we're so glad it's you!" Needless to say my week ended on a very positive note. They're a lovely class. (I'm trying to convince them that making tea for middle-aged English teachers and cleaning out said teacher's classroom cupboards would be an act of good citizenship. I'll post how that goes.)

So, here it is Friday, with just one week 'til the break . . .

Boy-girl-boy-girl . . .

Chuckling today . . . a chatty class (year 10, so 14-year-olds) were threatened with a new seating plan if they didn't settle down to work more quickly when they arrive at their lesson. Their immediate response? "Oh, Miss, you're not going to do one of those boy-girl-boy-girl seating plans, are you?" "Well, I might have to . . . " "No, Miss, we'll get to work, really! Please don't make us sit that way!"

Now that I think about it, I've not seen much of the girlfriend-boyfriend thing going on around school. In American schools, kids are always all over each other.

Radio 1 . . .

FLIRT DIVERT Scott Mills on Radio 1 -- my favourite bit of the week. You memorize the number to a mobile 'phone (which is actually owned by the radio station), and when some creep asks for your number, you give the Flirt Divert number. Every Tuesday they pick the best messages and play them on the air. Makes you realise how many nuts there really are out there!

Half-term break . . .

Only two weeks til half-term break! Hard to believe it's here already . . . Time flies here -- just so incredibly busy. I'm sure that the entire year will be this way . . .

So, for half-term break I intend to go to the Isle of Wight for a few days, walk the beach, stay in a little thatched roof B & B, and just forget about everything else. It's quite close -- about three hours by train to Southampton, then a quick ferry ride across to the island.



Edited: Never did go to I of W. Instead, stayed in for the first few days to do all my lesson planning for the next 7 weeks (and today, 17 November, I am still so glad I did that!). When I finished that stuff, I made some day-trips, and just enjoyed the time relaxing . . . This year, until I have all my basic lesson plans developed and know the routine (what to teach each year-group each half-term), I think that's the plan -- spend a couple of days each break working round the clock to get things ready for the next half-term. It really takes a lot of pressure off during the term itself.

Housewarming . . .

Lovely evening last night. Had a housewarming party with the English department, and it was a brilliant evening. I had no lessons the last two hours of the day, so I left at 12:15 and headed to the shops and then home to start cooking. I made antipasto platters; asparagus/parm/prosciutto appetizers (you roll the prosciutto around parm and asparagus, then bake); GF pepperoni pizzas; GF pasta salad with roasted red peppers, olives, basil, orange cherry tomatoes; lots of wine; and chocolate-mints and candy-coated almonds for 'afters.' Everyone arrived at 7 bearing gifts (including flowering plants and several bottles of champagne and wine) . . . and one was kind enough to tote plastic garden chairs (still not much furniture!)

Today (Saturday) I went shopping in Milton Keynes with one of the English department; bought a couple of new outfits, and a sofa at IKEA (to be delivered tomorrow). I'll have to start taking pics of the flat and posting them here; the sofa was the last step, so now it's fully furnished.

Fantastic, great, wonderful, lovely . . .

Bluewave called to see how things were going. I felt like a broken record: "How's the teaching going?" "Fantastic." "How's the department?" "Great." "How's the school?" "Wonderful." "How's the town?" "Love it." "How's your flat?" "Lovely -- you should all come visit!" Had a great chat with Vicky, who was in my 'neck-of-the-woods' on her honeymoon a few weeks ago (they drove the 'Route 66' -- cool plan, huh?), and loved it all.

My life is good right now . . . I'm content, at peace, and settling in well.

(Watch me get hit by a bus tomorrow.)

The school schedule . . . quite definitely different here!

Here in England, we're on a schedule which repeats every two weeks, and their are five one-hour lessons each day -- and that's about as 'scheduled' as it gets!

To begin with, the first twenty-five minutes each day (8:30 to 8:55) is an extra 'class' called tutor time. We meet with a group, about 5 from each year group, and we take attendance ('registration'), check uniforms, do slips to sign them out later in the day if they have to go anywhere, check their homework planners, and just in general help them with anything they need -- just getting their day off on the right foot. We also do a short activity, game, word puzzle, something.

For the rest of the school day, a typical class sees their teacher six or seven times in every two-week period (a 'fortnight'), but at varying times on varying days. And sometimes, due to the scheduling conflicts, you don't even teach all seven of their classes, but only five or six -- another teacher takes over the extra class (or two) that doesn't fit into your schedule (and as you'd guess, you also take over odd classes for other teachers). When you share a class, you don't follow along with their unit of work -- you start something entirely different. Perhaps you pick up some poems that need to be studied . . . Back to the schedule, at present my total teaching time is 21 of the 25 lesson periods each week -- not too bad, really. The remaining time is used for lesson planning, marking, etc. Classes range in size from 25-31 students to a class (although I do have one class of 22 struggling learners).

For those who know the American education system, it's quite a difference, isn't it?

Finances -- a top concern for all of us . . .

Airfare: One-way ticket from America: $700 . . . Extra piece of luggage: $110 . . . One overweight piece of luggage: $25 . . . Hired car (through Bluewave) taking exhausted me from Gatwick to my flat: priceless.

Accommodations: First month's rent, £550; deposit, £550 -- so just over $2000 to get in the door). More on utilities below . . .

If you don't have a flat before arriving, some B&B's or hotels offer monthly contracts. Unless you're in London, you can get a cheap hotel for about £40 per night, so if there's any way you can arrange a flat before arriving, do so. If it's not perfect, you can move later.

Food: I spend about £15-20 a week on groceries. The farmers' market is great -- I loaded up bags of fresh fruits and veggies last weekend for a total of about £5, then got the remaining items at the supermarket.

Getting-settled: I brought a few things from home (my good flatware set, a few kitchen towels, potholders, a large bath towel, a sheet, pillowcases, and my goose-down duvet). Upon arrival, I went to Sainsbury's for a skillet, a pot, a teakettle, a large oven pan, a pillow, an iron and ironing board, alarm clock, a hair dryer (about £100 for all that).

For the rest, the local charity shops are fantastic -- gorgeous antique dining room set for £40, desk for £25, small stand for £10, and a (complete) like-new bed for £70 (if it bothers you to buy a slightly used bed, do as I did and bring one of those anti-allergy mattress-covers in your luggage -- the ones that are created to keep even microscopic dustmites and the like in their place? You then have a fresh, clean bed at a low price.)

Laundry: A friend told me recently it's £3 to wash, and £3 more to dry. My flat has a brand-new washer, and I bought a huge 'aluminium' (and they pronounce is 'al-yoo-MIN-ee-um') drying rack for £10. Since my water is set at a fixed rate (no meter), it really doesn't cost me extra to do the laundry there, with the exception of a small amoun t of electricity.

Utilities: You hook these up with just a phone call. My water account is set at £30. Gas will vary, as will my electric, and all three are billed quarterly. Nice to not see any bills for the first few months, whilst I recover from the moving expenses. None of those pesky connection fees we are always charged in the U.S. (Updated later: First quarter of electric was £55, and first three months of gas was £79.)

Internet/cable/telephone: I have a 4 MB Internet connection for £15 a month, and the phone plan I chose is £17 a month (which gives me calls to America on weekends at just 2 p. per minute). Again, no connection fees -- they'll just do direct debit and begin billing one month after connection. I used NTL (tel: 0800 052 0665). They have various packages -- some as low as £30 a month for Internet, cable, and phone. (I didn't bother with cable -- not that big a fan of telly.)

Council tax: Make a call to your local council within 21 days of moving into your new home, or face a fine. Council tax is based on two adults per household, so get the 25% discount if you live alone. You can pay council tax monthly through direct debit -- mine is £65 a month for a 2-BR flat.

TV licence: If there's a television in your home, you need a licence. It's £131 a year for colour TV, and £45 for black and white. The fine for owning a TV without a licence is £1,000, and don't try to convince them that you aren't watching it, cable isn't connected yet, etc -- they don't care (on their web page, they do have a riotous list of excuses they've heard!). Call 0870 850 1202, or go to their website and purchase your licence online.

Bus fare: I buy the monthly pass for £36, unlimited use. (You can go online to find the right company, the routes and schedules, and even buy the pass online before you arrive.)

Bank account: This was simple as well. Bring your letter of introduction from Bluewave, your passport/visa, work permit, contract, lease . . . whatever you've got with your address on it, and presto -- you have a bank account! Ask for a line of overdraft protection -- at HSBC, I got £800 initially (interest on overdraft amount is 1.67%). Also, you don't have to make a deposit initially when you set-up the account (unlike America).

NIN: The one we were all stressing over. Pick up that mobile phone that Bluewave has put into your welcome packet, and order the NIN form the first day (it tells you how in your packet). When it arrives, fill it out and take it to your school on the very first day. They only have to fill in 4 little boxes on part D, stamp it, make some photo copies of your passport, visa, etc., and send it off to the proper authorities (the address is included, so post it yourself if you want -- I did). And why is NIN is listed in this finance-related post? "Because . . . (all together now, boys and girls) . . . without that, you'll be taxed at a very high rate and end up living in a van, down by the river" (for all the S.N.L. and Chris Farley fans reading this).

What have I left out?? Just leave a comment and I'll answer it . . .

I have arrived . . .

I'm here -- had half-empty flights (and bulkhead seats on both!), perfect gluten-free meals, customs was very fast, and the driver was waiting right on time.

Flat is lovely, but there must be about 40 switches/cords/knobs/buttons to be used in various combinations to get heat and hot water to work in various parts of the flat (not to mention remembering to flip the switch on each outlet before using it).

People I rent from are so kind. They even had tea, coffee, and some gluten-free goodies in the cupboards for me, milk in the fridge, etc. The landlady has been taking me out and about today to buy essentials, and we've also stopped by the school (she's also a teacher). I'm at their home right now (just had tea, and they offered me use of their computer).

Going to catch up on emails now . . .

It's so hard to face leaving today . . .

But I know that if my daughter and granddaughter were getting on that plane with me, I'd be fine, so it isn't that I don't want to go to England, it's that I don't want to go alone. Those two have been such a huge part of my life for so long, and although I knew it would be tough, I didn't know how hard until it's actually upon me. But my heart will heal, and I'll adjust to a fantastic new life. And they'll visit, and we'll call, and I'll check into getting a webcam . . .

Meantime, Maya-papaya, your mum will have to pick up where I've left off in keeping McD's in business (due to your afternoon French-fry demands). Oh, that's right -- we didn't tell her about that, did we? Nope. I always cleaned all the ketchup and chocolate milkshake off your face thoroughly before we got home. (And when you started talking, trying to tell mum you ate 'kup-up on dyes' (ketchup on fries), I just pretended I had no idea what on earth you could be saying. LOL! Do you think we fooled your mum? Nah -- unfortunately, you never ate much dinner on those days. I think she was on to us from the very start, but just letting us think we had a secret so we could have some special fun together.

See you at Christmas, Maya, XOXO,

Nonni

Packing, re-packing, packing, re-packing . . .

What a day.

The airline's limit for baggage is 2 pieces, up to 50 pounds each (unless you want to pay another $25 a bag). I'm already paying $80 for an extra bag, and today I decided to weigh them -- withough bags, all the 'stuff' came to 160 pounds. And since each suitcase weighs 10 lbs. empty, that means I can only take 120 pounds (40 per bag). More sorting, and more stuff piled up for the Great Yard Sale on Saturday morning.

Also, you can't have one bag at 52 and another at 48 -- you have to have all of them under 50 lbs. Finally managed that, too.

The final step -- since the 'no-liquids-in-carry-on' rule, I figure people will now be shoving all that stuff into their checked luggage. I don't want to arrive and find all my clothes soaked in mouthwash or whatever, so I got those massive Ziploc storage bags (20-gallon size), and using two per suitcase, put everything into those. (The worst soaking my luggage ever got -- I flew out of Boston, and some seafood that was being shipped apparently had a leak. My luggage was soaked with fishy-smelling water. Horrid mess.)

Feeling good after an email from my future landlady/co-worker. The flat is almost ready -- carpeting is being laid today, plumber is finishing up, mattress will be there . . . and she (co-worker) has offered to spend the day with me on Wednesday, shopping and running errands, seeing the school, finding my way around town, that sort of thing. I feel less alone, and she seems so nice (she's also one of those who sent me the reassuring email about the school situation).

Six days to go.

Queuing for this ride for months, but now . . .

Yikes -- how did two weeks turn into eight days (as of tomorrow morning, which is really only an hour away), practically overnight???

Talk about jitters . . . what am I doing? Whose idea was this? Mine? Really?

Planning to have a yard sale the Saturday before I leave -- get rid of the last of all this junk (or is it junque now?).

The lists . . .

Just had a realisation -- here I am getting so excited that my list is dwindling . . . but I'll have another whole list to start when I arrive! Argh!

Buy pots, dishes, food, hair-dryer, alarm clock, iron and ironing board, pillow . . .

Go to the 'cashpoint' (ATM) for the rent . . .

Buy a monthly bus pass, and try out the route to school . . .

Get my NIN (national insurance number -- like SSN) . . .

Open a bank account . . .

Switch utilities over to my name (fortunately, they're turned on already) . . .

Buy a bed (the landlord has a spare twin mattress I can use until I get around to buying furniture) . . .

Buy other furniture eventually.

Biggest thing -- the new job (new curriculum, etc. Their schools are very different from ours, so there's a great deal to learn) . . .

Oh, just when I thought I was making some headway . . .

Have my ticket . . .


Things are moving along fairly well.

Got my ticket (flying out the 28th, arriving the morning of the 29th), paid the deposit on my flat, the agency has arranged a chauffeur to pick me up and take me from Gatwick to my flat . . . My mobile will be waiting for me there, along with a packet regarding getting my insurance number and letter so I can open a bank account.

Now it's just the remaining packing and selling.

Three weeks and two days until I leave!

The packing . . . the choices and decisions with something seemingly so simple, but it's not, really.

How do you take an entire household, an entire lifetime, and condense it down to a few suitcases? The considerations are things that are sentimentally special, things that I will need which would cost more to replace (i.e., down comforter, winter coat), and just the basic things I need as soon as I arrive (clothing, cosmetics, toiletries, shoes, a towel). I feel like I'm taking so little, and throwing out so much, but I'm still having trouble making it all fit into three large suitcases.

It's official!

Can you guess???

Yup, just got the email -- the visa is approved!

Now I can make plane reservations,
and then . . . up, up, and away!

Oh, and somewhere in between those two, I have to hold the 'Greatest Yard Sale on Earth' now. I have so much cleaning and sorting to do.

Wow. This is really it. I'm moving to England.

Gotta love the IRS . . .

Just reading the IRS website. The IRS considers all worldwide income taxable for U.S. citizens, regardless of where they live. Yes, they do consider Physical Presence or Bona Fide Residence (if you live abroad for an entire year, and make under $80K for a single person, you can be exempt), but I still have to file a U.S. tax return each year. Oh, my . . . the work/hassle/forms/etc.

Why can't they just leave us alone if we have moved to another country, are earning all our income there, spending all our money there, and never setting a foot in the U.S. each year? Why, oh why, must they get their little paws into everything, no matter how far away we go?

Well, at least they give U.S. citizens living abroad two extra months to file . . . I'll need that long just to sift through the IRS site, all those links and forms and booklets of advice. Gosh, I can't wait!

Some day . . .

Still
waiting
for
entry
clearance . . .

Banking . . .

Called Bank of America today just to double check -- they can't help with a UK account. They are, however, affiliated with Barclays, so when I need to use my current ATM card in the UK, I can use Barclays cash machines without fees (good to know). Also, in light of needing rent and furniture upon arrival, they increased my ATM limits for my first two weeks in the UK -- I'll certainly need to go above the daily limits for cash and purchases.

Visa . . .

Well, this is it -- I mailed the visa application today. Wish me luck, and I'll post when I hear . . .

Work permit, and offer of a flat for rent . . .

The work permit arrived, so I can send in the visa application (!).

Just got an email from a teacher at the school I'll be heading to -- she and her husband have a 2-BR flat for rent, opening up in August. Very quiet building, kitchen and bath just renovated, new carpet throughout, a four-minute walk to the train station, eight minutes to the bus station (and a 15-minute ride to work) . . .

Now the list is down to the visa (although all the steps and forms and photocopies involved in that are insane), plane ticket, packing, moving sale, selling my car, closing out accounts, getting a UK mobile phone and bank account (the agency helps with those), and finally, buying furniture when I arrive . . .

FBI clearance approved, work permit on its way form England . . .

I got my FBI background check back in the post yesterday. I mailed it on the 8th, and it was returned on the 23rd. Excellent turn-around time for a government agency!

Also, the employment agency emailed yesterday to say that they have sent the work permit to me, and it should arrive here by the middle of next week. That means that by the first of July I'll be able to submit my visa application. I can do the application online, and then mail in the supporting documents. The advantage of that is a faster response time (91% are done within 24 hours of receiving the supporting documents).

Otherwise, a beautiful day -- working in the garden mostly, and enjoying time with Maya.

Submitted my FBI fingerprints today (yup, those are really mine) . . .

I put my FBI background check application into the mail yesterday. Sent the request and fingerprint card to the FBI, and they'll verify that I have no record. I then bring that with me to the UK -- can't begin teaching without it. It normally takes 8-10 weeks, but I marked that I need it by August 1st, for school employment (they'll try to expedite it if you ask). Now I just have to wait . . . Right now the plan is to leave somewhere around the 25th of August (teachers start work September 4th).

I also need a work permit (sponsored by my employer) -- once I receive that, I add it to my visa application, and FedEx it to the British Consulate in Los Angeles, then wait for it to be approved and returned to me. Then, after those things are completed, I'm really, really, really going to England!

My UK school schedule:

- School starts September 4th (students begin the 6th)
- 1 week off in October (midway point in first term)
- 2 weeks off at end-of-first-term (Christmas)
- 1 week off in Feb (midway point in second-term)
- 2 weeks off (end-of-second-term, in April)
- 1 week off in May (midway point in third-term)
- 6 weeks off at starting July 23rd (end of third-term and the year!)

My brother Peter, 2002.

Fantastic! I'd better have lots of visitors! This the official "come-visit-and-come-often" post. Come alone, come with others, send people, bring people, come for a long weekend or a month . . . just get here!

My granddaughter Maya, age 2, with that beautiful smile!

So, today . . . the reality of it all is something I have to think about.

Did some checking on the social security system there -- all of my U.S. social security credits will transfer to the UK system, and vice-versa.

Rather than private insurance here, there's the National Health System in the UK -- they deduct the insurance cost from your paycheck, and then everything you need is at no additional cost (doctors, lab tests, surgery, etc). No co-pay, no out-of-pocket amounts, no deductibles, no 'nothing' (except for some prescriptions, which are £6).

Taxes aren't much different from here -- once the taxes and insurance are taken out of my pay, I'll take home about 75% of my gross, which is about what I end up with here in the U.S. There's a link above to a take-home-pay calculator.

The Wanderer . . .

About a year ago, I was thinking that if I could go anywhere in the world to live and work, it would be England, without a doubt. The more I thought about it, the more I came to realise that there is nothing holding me back, so I started looking into teaching in the UK. I signed up with an agency, but it was mid-summer ('05), and most of the hiring had already been done for September. They told me to be patient and wait for the next school year, but in all honesty, I almost forgot about it.

So, in spring, I started looking at positions here, and got a couple of offers just about the time that the agency emailed to tell me that a school near London had seen my profile and wanted to do a telephone interview (a couple of weeks ago). As they say, the rest is history. I got a good offer (£28,740), and I'm now preparing for the move from the US to the UK.