Well, I can officially say that the students have eaten my soul. Presently, I think they are digesting it, and are soon to pass it through their intestinal tract. Yes. I am going to be crapped out by my students, in due course.
That's how I feel, anyways; like absolute crap. I honestly have never, in my rather short teaching career (and this is factoring in all my practicum junk, and volunteer work I've done), experienced MULTIPLE classes of lazy, unimaginative, uninventive, uncaring students. I'm really doubting that this is JUST a coincidence either. I can't possibly have the only four classes of apathetic students. From what I've heard from other teachers, its a British phenomenon. It is appalling. I think I've explained before, briefly, about "coursework" over here. In case I haven't, I will give you a briefing; students are graded (in Years 10 and 11) based solely on coursework that they submit to an examination board, as well as a few written exams (the GCSEs). Teachers can assign the coursework, and mark drafts of it, but ultimately the final grades are not in their hands. I guess they think that students will be marked on more of a national scale if it's done by an "arbitrary" board of people, instead of "biased" teachers. There is, perhaps, SOME validity in this. However, I still remain skeptical. Anyways, Key Stage 4 (KS4) students are WELL aware of the fact that only the coursework and the exams matter. As such, any homework you assign in class is deemed as "useless", since it's not marked for anything that "matters". This is highly annoying, because I don't assign things unless they matter. Everything serves a greater purpose! I only assign work as a way to BUILD skills that they will need for the coursework or exam. When I try to explain this to the students, they shrug their shoulders, and tell me they'd rather take their chances, and not complete the homework. Of all the assignments I've given, only a select few have completed it all. These students are wonderful; I know they UNDERSTAND that it only aids them in the end. I wish them nothing but success, because they're well rounded, intelligent individuals. The majority of their classmates, however, are rude, ignorant wankers. It frustrates me to no end, that no matter HOW hard I try, they simply do not care.
While I take their indifference personally, I also think they're doing a HUGE disservice to THEMSELVES. I could honestly care less about their lack of respect for ME...it's the lack of respect that they are showing themselves and each other that REALLY gets to me. It's as if their greatest ambition in life is to get through doing the bare minimum; as if they aspire to go nowhere. Their lack of ambition is so frustrating. If I have ever spoken badly about children in Ontario, and their lack of commitment to education, I take it all back. Ontario has it right, in so many ways. Our children aren't nearly has apathetic as British children. I don't know if it's a cultural thing, or what. Frankly, I am very very surprised that more British people my age and older aren't complete assholes. The way their children act, you'd think they'd have learnt it from SOMEONE. Is laziness going to be the next big problem over here? With the current credit crunch, and layoffs, I wouldn't be surprised. At a time when people SHOULD be taking their education seriously, in order to avoid the financial pitfalls that seem apparent, it's even more heartbreaking to see the stance these children take to their education.
I've always said I've believed in lifelong learning. I fail to see how these students will ever catch the lifelong learning "bug". They can't even be bothered to learn NOW, let along on their own in the future.
It's literally crushing my desire to teach. I know. How bad is that?! Back home I had such passion for what I did. I LOVED teaching....here, I find that no matter HOW I try to switch up my lessons, they fall across closed minds. Nothing works. At least, not with my KS4 set. They stare at me with scorn in their eyes, and chatter away as if I wasn't even there. No matter how I try to pull them into the lessons, they constantly ignore me, or disrespect me. At the end of ever lesson with them, I feel drained of all my energy. They make me feel about as big as a flea, and just as effective. It's very depressing. I don't think there's been a day this week that I haven't had to fight back tears, after dealing with my 9s, 10s, and 11s. It takes everything in me to suck it up, and try again with the next class. I do it, but it's very very hard.
That said, my year 8s are everything I could have ever asked for. They get excited with my lessons, they produce excellent results, they partake in discussion.....I can only HOPE and PRAY that when they go into Year 9 they don't instantly change into the unmotivated 9s, 10s, and 11s that I have now. That would be enough to make me cry.
It helps that weekends I can unwind, and get drunk. I know that sounds really really bad, but honestly if I didn't have that vice, that break, that release, I would go insane. I'm not even ashamed to admit that every weekend I feel a VERY strong desire to get lost in the bubbly, happy feeling that accompanies booze. Don't get me wrong though. I don't drink to the point of stupidity. I just drink until everything is funny. Until I can forget how miserable my teaching life can be. I hope it gets better, because honestly, it's starting to really break me down. Maybe I need another release. Who the hell knows. Half term is coming up, that may help. A week to just unwind, in Scotland (or so goes the plan). A hug would also help. I think I've gone pretty much a full month, plus some, without any solid human contact. We could all use some affection, now and again! Just makes you feel nice!
What I wouldn't give to pick up my Gaber-baber (my kitty, Gabriel), and bury my nose in the soft fuzziness on the top of his head. Even just THAT would make me feel a million times better. Amazing how the littlest things can bring you comfort...
But anyways...I didn't really intend for this to be a bitch-fest, though that's clearly what it has become. I'm not absolutely miserable here. Please don't misinterpret what I'm saying. There are many moments, even during teaching (though mostly with my year 8s), that I truly consider myself lucky. Walking to the bank this afternoon, I was struck with the most profound sense of happiness, it it was solely because I realised I was a) in bloody England and b) I feel at home. So....things aren't all bad. I finally feel comfortable in England. I'm not as horribly home sick as I initially was (though I do miss a lot of people...some in particular more than I thought that I would....there are some I think about daily, which surprises me a LOT). Time is also flying by, which is nice...and also scary.
I should get back to work though, I've spent far too much time on this tonight.
Cheers.
A moderatly well-written account of a 20-something Canadian woman's experiences in the world. Be warned...this could get personal.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
On The Monday Blahs
I've got what appears to be a cold. I woke up with a sore throat and sniffles Saturday morning. At first I thought the sore throat was from....don't kill me, parents....having a few cigs Friday night, but as the day wore on, I realized it was a tad too persistent to be my body punishing me for a drunken decision. I also started to get a little sniffly. Sunday it only got worse. It felt like I'd been awake all night, when really I went to bed at a decent hour. I was so exhausted, visions of having mono all those moons ago (so many moons, BAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA) came rushing back to me. It was, and is, terribly unpleasant. I woke up this morning feeling totally knackered, and wanted desperately to go back to bed. However, I forced myself to get up, telling myself it would get better as the day wore on.
Luckily for me, it did get better. I only had to blow my nose a few times during the day. It's always rough when you're teaching, and all you want to do is blow your nose every five seconds. Despite not feeling as bad as I thought I could, I still hated the day. I was in a grumpy mood, for no particular reason, and the kids were being royal pains in the asses. Usually they're pretty subdued on Mondays, because they've just got done with the weekend, and they're all partied out, or whatever else it is they do in England.
Not today though, they couldn't stop talking. I had to use my "stern voice" in all four of my classes today. I knew it was going to be a bad day, when I had to lecture my year 10s on not talking while I was talking...I had to raise my voice within the first ten minutes of the day, and that's never a good thing. I instantly felt drained. I am not good at projecting my voice at pitches higher than a moderate talk. This doesn't fly in the classroom, when you're competing with 30 other voices, most of which have way more energy than you do. I told them that it was "far too early" for me to have to raise my voice, which only got a few snickers. Eventually I got them to settle down, but when I distributed the task, no one seemed interested in doing it. They just continued shooting the shit with each other.
Frustrated, I told them that it was a shame they weren't taking the work seriously, since the play (Twelfth Night) going to require some coursework from them later. This caught their attention slightly, so they worked for about 5 minutes, and then started chattering away again. Inside I wanted to scream at them, but outwardly I just composed myself, and hammered away at the lesson. Eventually people started to notice me talking, and they shushed each other.
Regardless, it was a rough start, and I wasn't too keen on continuing the day in the same fashion.
My lower ability 11s weren't much better. It's hard to get work out of them on a good day, and today was definitely not a good day. One of the girls started to cry while working on a handout on similes. I went over, to see what was wrong, but she wouldn't talk to me, and asked to use the toilet. I let her go, because sometimes we just like to be alone...and besides, why would a 15 year old girl want to talk to ME about her problems? When she was gone, one of the boys told me that she was "hungover". I told him I didn't want to know these things.
"It's true though," one of the other girls said.
"Regardless, that's none of my concern, and it's not yours either. Stay on task," I said.
They worked for awhile, and then the boys at the back of the room started on me again about Canada. It's endlessly amusing to them, to grill me about the differences between Canada and England. No matter how much I try to ignore them, and keep them on task, they always succeed in pulling me into the conversation. Lucky for them, I find most of them to be pleasant individuals, so I really only half-try to ignore their inquisitiveness. They asked me if I knew any British swears. I told them that was inappropriate....but added that I actually had learned about an unintentional swear this weekend....the whole "two fingers" thing, that's the equivalent of giving people the middle finger. It's just the peace sign in Canada. I've made that mistake many a time....and I'm sure offended many people in the process. I just really had no idea.
Then they tried to ask me about "American football". Unfortunately, I'm not a fan of either form of football, so they didn't get much out of me in that regard. I told them I enjoyed hockey, but they didn't seem to care about that. They don't know much about "ice" hockey here. Ugh. I hate calling it that. It seems redundant.
Anyways, they tried to ask me a few other stupid things, but I wouldn't answer them. Then they tried to get personal with me, and ask me if I had a boyfriend.
"Okay, honestly! Do you REALLY care? I mean REALLY!? Let's not talk about this!" I said, trying not to laugh.
In high school, I couldn't have cared LESS what my teachers did in their private time. I certainly never asked them if they had a boyfriend/girlfriend. That wasn't my business, and I was more concerned with getting one for MYSELF. Sooo bizarre.
Eventually, that class ended, and I had my wonderfully angelic year 8s. They're just the cutest, sweetest kids in the world. They do whatever I ask them to do, and they put soooo much effort into it! It really boggles my mind, to think about how my current year 9s could have EVER been like that. I honestly wonder if they were...I can't really make the connection. I just hope that my year 8s will go into year 9 and remain as committed and polite as they are now. Somehow I have my doubts about this though. It seems to me that something "clicks" when kids go into year 9....regardless of where in the world they are. Year 9s, the world around, are hormonal, crazy, rebellious monkeys.
I ended with my higher level 11s. They're usually a pretty good bunch, but today they were a bit off the wall. I also got a LOT of attitude from a pair of them (one student who is supposed to be a Sports Captain dealy....he wears a prestigious 'black shirt'). He was so snarly to me, I thought he'd bite. The girl he was sitting beside was also quite vicious today. I assigned some group work, and split them up, and they tried to fight me on it. They questioned where I had moved them, and feigned ignorance when I confronted them on their failure to follow direction. It was a bit amusing, because the girls around them were listening, and when the snarky girl tried to question what I was asking of her they giggled and said "What's NOT to understand about what she's telling you!? Are you not LISTENING?!"
I had wanted to say the same thing to the girl, but felt it would have been slightly unprofessional for me to do so. But honestly, I wasn't really sure what she didn't understand. I had asked her to move, so she could join a different group, and she kept questioning what I expected of her.
After the other girls chastised her, she rolled her eyes and moved. The guy stalled a bit, but finally went and joined a group of guys.
The whole rest of the class, the girl and the guy averted their eyes every time I joined their group to facilitate their discussion. It was so annoying! Ah well, they're still growing young people, who have a bunch of crazy emotions rolling around in their over-stimulated hormonal heads. I don't envy them at all.
I also think one of the boys in that class got dumped, because he was sulky all class. I also found a note, at the end of the day, that said "Dear ____, You're awesome, don't be sad!"
Seems like something you'd say to someone who got dumped. Or perhaps not. Regardless, I'll keep an eye on him next lesson, just to see.
Anyways, the day's over, and I am quite happy. This week should be an easy one for me. I don't have to teach Wednesday afternoon, because I have a workshop to attend in St. Ives for new teachers. Friday is the Sponsored Walk (kind of like Canada's Terry Fox fun. The kids raise funds for charity/the school though, instead of for Cancer research). It's an all day event, so that should be pretty great! I am just happy that it's an easy day before my BIRTHDAY WEEKEND! Plans are still in the making for that, but I certainly hope it's a fun time. I bought a wicked new Ted Baker dress, and I plan to dress to impress. Who knows, maybe I'll get my flirt on. See what I have time for, ha ha ha! Jokes, jokes.
On that note, I should add that I DID get e-mailed from J today. I definitely think he's interested. If he's not, then he's overly friendly. That could be the case too. I am often wrong at these sorts of things. Who the heck knows...guess I will just have to wait and find out.
Well, I should be off now. I am deathly tired (it's 9:30), and should hit the sheets.
Cheers, darlings.
Luckily for me, it did get better. I only had to blow my nose a few times during the day. It's always rough when you're teaching, and all you want to do is blow your nose every five seconds. Despite not feeling as bad as I thought I could, I still hated the day. I was in a grumpy mood, for no particular reason, and the kids were being royal pains in the asses. Usually they're pretty subdued on Mondays, because they've just got done with the weekend, and they're all partied out, or whatever else it is they do in England.
Not today though, they couldn't stop talking. I had to use my "stern voice" in all four of my classes today. I knew it was going to be a bad day, when I had to lecture my year 10s on not talking while I was talking...I had to raise my voice within the first ten minutes of the day, and that's never a good thing. I instantly felt drained. I am not good at projecting my voice at pitches higher than a moderate talk. This doesn't fly in the classroom, when you're competing with 30 other voices, most of which have way more energy than you do. I told them that it was "far too early" for me to have to raise my voice, which only got a few snickers. Eventually I got them to settle down, but when I distributed the task, no one seemed interested in doing it. They just continued shooting the shit with each other.
Frustrated, I told them that it was a shame they weren't taking the work seriously, since the play (Twelfth Night) going to require some coursework from them later. This caught their attention slightly, so they worked for about 5 minutes, and then started chattering away again. Inside I wanted to scream at them, but outwardly I just composed myself, and hammered away at the lesson. Eventually people started to notice me talking, and they shushed each other.
Regardless, it was a rough start, and I wasn't too keen on continuing the day in the same fashion.
My lower ability 11s weren't much better. It's hard to get work out of them on a good day, and today was definitely not a good day. One of the girls started to cry while working on a handout on similes. I went over, to see what was wrong, but she wouldn't talk to me, and asked to use the toilet. I let her go, because sometimes we just like to be alone...and besides, why would a 15 year old girl want to talk to ME about her problems? When she was gone, one of the boys told me that she was "hungover". I told him I didn't want to know these things.
"It's true though," one of the other girls said.
"Regardless, that's none of my concern, and it's not yours either. Stay on task," I said.
They worked for awhile, and then the boys at the back of the room started on me again about Canada. It's endlessly amusing to them, to grill me about the differences between Canada and England. No matter how much I try to ignore them, and keep them on task, they always succeed in pulling me into the conversation. Lucky for them, I find most of them to be pleasant individuals, so I really only half-try to ignore their inquisitiveness. They asked me if I knew any British swears. I told them that was inappropriate....but added that I actually had learned about an unintentional swear this weekend....the whole "two fingers" thing, that's the equivalent of giving people the middle finger. It's just the peace sign in Canada. I've made that mistake many a time....and I'm sure offended many people in the process. I just really had no idea.
Then they tried to ask me about "American football". Unfortunately, I'm not a fan of either form of football, so they didn't get much out of me in that regard. I told them I enjoyed hockey, but they didn't seem to care about that. They don't know much about "ice" hockey here. Ugh. I hate calling it that. It seems redundant.
Anyways, they tried to ask me a few other stupid things, but I wouldn't answer them. Then they tried to get personal with me, and ask me if I had a boyfriend.
"Okay, honestly! Do you REALLY care? I mean REALLY!? Let's not talk about this!" I said, trying not to laugh.
In high school, I couldn't have cared LESS what my teachers did in their private time. I certainly never asked them if they had a boyfriend/girlfriend. That wasn't my business, and I was more concerned with getting one for MYSELF. Sooo bizarre.
Eventually, that class ended, and I had my wonderfully angelic year 8s. They're just the cutest, sweetest kids in the world. They do whatever I ask them to do, and they put soooo much effort into it! It really boggles my mind, to think about how my current year 9s could have EVER been like that. I honestly wonder if they were...I can't really make the connection. I just hope that my year 8s will go into year 9 and remain as committed and polite as they are now. Somehow I have my doubts about this though. It seems to me that something "clicks" when kids go into year 9....regardless of where in the world they are. Year 9s, the world around, are hormonal, crazy, rebellious monkeys.
I ended with my higher level 11s. They're usually a pretty good bunch, but today they were a bit off the wall. I also got a LOT of attitude from a pair of them (one student who is supposed to be a Sports Captain dealy....he wears a prestigious 'black shirt'). He was so snarly to me, I thought he'd bite. The girl he was sitting beside was also quite vicious today. I assigned some group work, and split them up, and they tried to fight me on it. They questioned where I had moved them, and feigned ignorance when I confronted them on their failure to follow direction. It was a bit amusing, because the girls around them were listening, and when the snarky girl tried to question what I was asking of her they giggled and said "What's NOT to understand about what she's telling you!? Are you not LISTENING?!"
I had wanted to say the same thing to the girl, but felt it would have been slightly unprofessional for me to do so. But honestly, I wasn't really sure what she didn't understand. I had asked her to move, so she could join a different group, and she kept questioning what I expected of her.
After the other girls chastised her, she rolled her eyes and moved. The guy stalled a bit, but finally went and joined a group of guys.
The whole rest of the class, the girl and the guy averted their eyes every time I joined their group to facilitate their discussion. It was so annoying! Ah well, they're still growing young people, who have a bunch of crazy emotions rolling around in their over-stimulated hormonal heads. I don't envy them at all.
I also think one of the boys in that class got dumped, because he was sulky all class. I also found a note, at the end of the day, that said "Dear ____, You're awesome, don't be sad!"
Seems like something you'd say to someone who got dumped. Or perhaps not. Regardless, I'll keep an eye on him next lesson, just to see.
Anyways, the day's over, and I am quite happy. This week should be an easy one for me. I don't have to teach Wednesday afternoon, because I have a workshop to attend in St. Ives for new teachers. Friday is the Sponsored Walk (kind of like Canada's Terry Fox fun. The kids raise funds for charity/the school though, instead of for Cancer research). It's an all day event, so that should be pretty great! I am just happy that it's an easy day before my BIRTHDAY WEEKEND! Plans are still in the making for that, but I certainly hope it's a fun time. I bought a wicked new Ted Baker dress, and I plan to dress to impress. Who knows, maybe I'll get my flirt on. See what I have time for, ha ha ha! Jokes, jokes.
On that note, I should add that I DID get e-mailed from J today. I definitely think he's interested. If he's not, then he's overly friendly. That could be the case too. I am often wrong at these sorts of things. Who the heck knows...guess I will just have to wait and find out.
Well, I should be off now. I am deathly tired (it's 9:30), and should hit the sheets.
Cheers, darlings.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
On Finally Getting a Social Life!
Well, it's finally, after a month in this country, happened for me! I finally have the beginnings of a social life! I am overjoyed at the prospect of not spending ever weekend alone now! Hurray! Friday morning I got an e-mail from the only other Canadian on staff at the school, welcoming me and hastily inviting me to join a few staff members for a drink in Cambridge that night. I welcomed the idea, and so arrangements were discussed. I ended up catching a bus into Cambridge at 8pm. I had my iPod with me, so I jammed to some tunes while on the bus, and tried to take in the nighttime scenery.
As we got closer to City Centre, I had my eyes peeled for the pub we were supposed to meet at. It was called the Baron of Beef. Sounds classy, right? Eventually I spotted it coming up on the right. Not wanting to have to try to navigate myself back to the pub, I hastily made my way to the front of the bus, and asked the driver if I could possibly get out at the next corner. He gladly stopped the bus, and let me off. Overjoyed at my luck, I walked over to the door to the bar. Before opening the door, I was hit with a few nervous flutters, but I brushed them aside, and opened the door.
Immediately to the right, filling the whole front section of the pub, was a lively group of staff members. Introductions were made, as I wasn't acquainted with many of them, and then I grabbed a pint and settled in for the evening.
I must admit, it was a very very fun evening! I had a total blast, getting to know some of the other staff members. They're all such friendly people, and we had a really good time just chatting, joking, and laughing. Hopefully I make some lasting friendships out of the bunch! I certainly had fun, and I hope more outings occur in the near future!
A few notable things happened in the evening, the funniest being when an unfortunate British fellow puked EVERYWHERE, both inside and outside the bar. I was outside with two of the lovely female teachers, when suddenly a young man stumbled out of the bar, doubled over, and vomited on the pavement. Disgusted, the three of us instantly stepped back. A little of his sick splattered on my shoe.
"SICK!" we shouted, collectively.
"Time to go home, mate," I said to the back of his head.
People walking by heckled him as well, pointing to his vomit and commenting on how gross it was. It was really quite chunky. Looked like Pad Thai, or something.
He stayed hunkered down, with his head between his legs, for a good five minutes not doing anything. I could hear our group inside laughing at the bloke. It was rather funny, I suppose. It's not often you see someone stumble out of the bar at 12:30 in Canada, retching everywhere. The British are absolute lushes. Finally, the guy righted himself, and tried to take a few steps. He was clearly hammered, and couldn't even stand straight without wobbling around, this way and that. He made to go back in the front door, but found it was locked against him.
"Guess we gotta go around the side. Do you have any mates in there?!" one of my colleagues asked him. He mumbled something, with a stupid drunken grin on his face. The three of us headed back inside, and the drunk guy stumbled after us.
We were greeted at the door by the owner, a woman in her late 40s, at least.
"Did you get sick on my floor!?" she demanded of us.
"No, it was that guy," I said, pointing to the guy who was following us in.
"You couldn't make it to the bathroom?! You had to be sick all over my pub?!" she said, angrily.
Giggling, the three of us hurried back to our seats. I had to sidestep a pile of puke on the floor. Apparently he had stumbled to the door, threw up in front of it, opened the door, threw up in the breezeway, and THEN had stumbled outside. That's when we'd seen him puke on the pavement.
Everyone at the table laughed at us, saying it had been hilarious to watch us all jump back instantly when he'd come out. I drunkenly grumbled about my shoes, though lucky for me not a lot had gotten on me.
The owner made the guy help her clean up his mess though, which was poetic justice. You rarely see that in Canada. Unless, of course, you're Mike Holcolm, and you've puked down the stairs at the Mug. Ha ha ha! Oh that story never fails to crack me up.
I also should mention that this week, during staff meetings, I'd started to kind of notice one of the other staff memebers; a younger guy, who was, I later found out, from New Zealand. I kind of developed a teeny crush on him, just talking to him briefly at the meetings.
I also found out that he was the tutor (newly appointed) of one of my "bad" students, Jimmy. I didn't have to make up an reason to e-mail him about Jimmy, since he has a serious problem NOT making fart noises with his mouth. I shot off a quick e-mail, just asking him to speak to Jimmy about proper vs. improper behaviour in class. He e-mailed me back, saying he'd talk to him for me, and then wished me a good weekend, complete with a smilie face emoticon. Solid. Good sign.
Then, when I got invited out, I secretly hoped he'd be in attendance. I was quite pleased when he WAS out, and I secretly endevoured to have a solid conversation with him. The only problem was, that as the night progressed, I got the impression that another of the young ladies on staff (she's the same age as me, actually) also had a crush on him. You know how you can read people's body language? Well, I noticed them up at the bar, ordering drinks, and she was very clearly attempting to lean into him. She was doing all the usual things, that signal to me that a woman is interested in a man. I wasn't sure how to read his response to her, but I knew this could get messy. She is SUPER nice, and we had chatted a lot earlier in the evening. I definitely think we could become pretty good friends, as we're the same age and seem to have a similar personality. I like her a lot, so I really hoped that perhaps I was misreading her interest in J.
Eventually, I did get to have a few decent conversations with him. I tried my best to show a little bit of interest in him, but not too much. I was flirty, but not over the top. I don't want to come across as THAT girl, to anyone on the staff. Slowly, as the night progressed, people started to trickle out. Eventually it was just the three of us, Laura, J and myself.
I ended up missing the bus back, because I just didn't keep track of the time well enough. I was a bit inebriated, and was going to call a cab back to St. Ives. I was convinced this wasn't a good idea though, and a place to crash for the night was offered to me. I gladly accepted. On the way back I also requested, as per usual, some food. They asked me what I wanted, and I drunkenly shouted "poutine!"
Of course, you can't get that in England, so instead I said I would settle for some chips, and perhaps a burger. We caught a cab, went to a little takeaway place, and I ordered a cheeseburger and fries. It was bloody brilliant. Really hit the spot! I can honestly say it was the best burger I've had yet in England. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was something else, but it was freaking great. I scarfed it down super fast, hardly pausing to breath. Food comes first! The three of us headed to Js, were he popped in a movie and we kind of vegged. Laura was sitting next to him on the couch, and was leaning on his arm, with her head on his shoulder. I decided that my initial hunch had been correct. She was very much trying to show that she was interested in him, so I decided to back off. I don't want to burn bridges.
I was pretty hammered, so I started to fall asleep on the couch. At this point, J asked me if I wanted to sleep on the couch or on a blow up mattress. I gladly opted for the blow up.
"Okay, its in my room," he said.
Ooooooo! I thought.
We headed upstairs, leaving Laura passed out on the couch, bless her. I pumped up the mattress with my foot, J got me a sleeping bag, and I settled in for the duration. It was really cold though (this is the honest truth, I was FREEZING), so J told me to bring the sleepingbag onto his bed, and then I could share his blanket. It was totally PG. I really did stay in my sleeping bag, and he just tossed his blanket over me as well. We joked around a bit, had a pillow fight, and then went to sleep. Nothing happened at all, honest. I wouldnt have let it, regardless. When people you work with are involved, you have to be SUPER careful. I don't want to have stories about me started ALREADY! I am just hoping that Laura dosen't get mad, or think something happened between us. Nothing happened, it was legit, 100%.
I don't think she's mad though, as she texted me this afternoon, and seemed fine!
Anyways, when I drink I always find I sleep terribly, so I didn't have the best sleep, but ah well! It woulda been the same regardless of where I was in the world! In the morning, I had to leave super early, as I wanted to make it to the post office in St. Ives before it closed at 11:30. I caught a bus home, and made it to the post office at around 10. I was thinking it was going to be one of the packages from my Mum, but it was the one Meaghan sent me! I was super excited to see what she'd sent, so I didn't waste time opening it. I started walking down the street, ripping the envelope open. Inside was a really adorable card, a very handy book on British slang (I will def. use it against the students, mwha) and a hilarious game called Nun Bowling. It's exactly as it sounds....its a bowling game where you have to knock down little nuns. I laughed so hard, I almost peed my pants. I'm not even joking, I thought it was so cute! People probably thought I was nuts.
Since I was downtown St. Ives, I decided to check out some of the local shops. I went into a shoe store, as I am lacking shoes, and ended up buying a cute pair of mary janes, with a bit of a heel. I figured I could wear them mostly for teaching, but they have the ability to be dressed up. I then went into a clothing store, and bought a dress to wear for next weekend (which just happens to be my BIRTHDAY). A few of the staff members had agreed to come out with me, so I want to make sure I'm dressed to kill for my special day!
It was a GORGEOUSLY sunny day, so I took my time walking home. Once there, I decided to do my laundry, since I could hang it out on the line. It was so warm! I was wearing short shorts and a tank top all day, and was perfectly comfortable. I then decided to relax and watch Hot Rod, have a nap, and mostly just enjoy not having to do anything. Like I mentioned, Laura texted me today, and might come into St. Ives tonight. I'm not sure. I am not super keen on going out, but I will! J also texted me, being very friendly, and possibly a little flirty. Yet another good sign, as it shows he had to ask SOMEONE for my number; I didn't give it to him!
All in all, it was a glorious Friday night, and a wonderful Saturday afternoon.
I am looking forward to next weekend. I hope that it's as fun, if not more fun, than last night.
Cheers!!
As we got closer to City Centre, I had my eyes peeled for the pub we were supposed to meet at. It was called the Baron of Beef. Sounds classy, right? Eventually I spotted it coming up on the right. Not wanting to have to try to navigate myself back to the pub, I hastily made my way to the front of the bus, and asked the driver if I could possibly get out at the next corner. He gladly stopped the bus, and let me off. Overjoyed at my luck, I walked over to the door to the bar. Before opening the door, I was hit with a few nervous flutters, but I brushed them aside, and opened the door.
Immediately to the right, filling the whole front section of the pub, was a lively group of staff members. Introductions were made, as I wasn't acquainted with many of them, and then I grabbed a pint and settled in for the evening.
I must admit, it was a very very fun evening! I had a total blast, getting to know some of the other staff members. They're all such friendly people, and we had a really good time just chatting, joking, and laughing. Hopefully I make some lasting friendships out of the bunch! I certainly had fun, and I hope more outings occur in the near future!
A few notable things happened in the evening, the funniest being when an unfortunate British fellow puked EVERYWHERE, both inside and outside the bar. I was outside with two of the lovely female teachers, when suddenly a young man stumbled out of the bar, doubled over, and vomited on the pavement. Disgusted, the three of us instantly stepped back. A little of his sick splattered on my shoe.
"SICK!" we shouted, collectively.
"Time to go home, mate," I said to the back of his head.
People walking by heckled him as well, pointing to his vomit and commenting on how gross it was. It was really quite chunky. Looked like Pad Thai, or something.
He stayed hunkered down, with his head between his legs, for a good five minutes not doing anything. I could hear our group inside laughing at the bloke. It was rather funny, I suppose. It's not often you see someone stumble out of the bar at 12:30 in Canada, retching everywhere. The British are absolute lushes. Finally, the guy righted himself, and tried to take a few steps. He was clearly hammered, and couldn't even stand straight without wobbling around, this way and that. He made to go back in the front door, but found it was locked against him.
"Guess we gotta go around the side. Do you have any mates in there?!" one of my colleagues asked him. He mumbled something, with a stupid drunken grin on his face. The three of us headed back inside, and the drunk guy stumbled after us.
We were greeted at the door by the owner, a woman in her late 40s, at least.
"Did you get sick on my floor!?" she demanded of us.
"No, it was that guy," I said, pointing to the guy who was following us in.
"You couldn't make it to the bathroom?! You had to be sick all over my pub?!" she said, angrily.
Giggling, the three of us hurried back to our seats. I had to sidestep a pile of puke on the floor. Apparently he had stumbled to the door, threw up in front of it, opened the door, threw up in the breezeway, and THEN had stumbled outside. That's when we'd seen him puke on the pavement.
Everyone at the table laughed at us, saying it had been hilarious to watch us all jump back instantly when he'd come out. I drunkenly grumbled about my shoes, though lucky for me not a lot had gotten on me.
The owner made the guy help her clean up his mess though, which was poetic justice. You rarely see that in Canada. Unless, of course, you're Mike Holcolm, and you've puked down the stairs at the Mug. Ha ha ha! Oh that story never fails to crack me up.
I also should mention that this week, during staff meetings, I'd started to kind of notice one of the other staff memebers; a younger guy, who was, I later found out, from New Zealand. I kind of developed a teeny crush on him, just talking to him briefly at the meetings.
I also found out that he was the tutor (newly appointed) of one of my "bad" students, Jimmy. I didn't have to make up an reason to e-mail him about Jimmy, since he has a serious problem NOT making fart noises with his mouth. I shot off a quick e-mail, just asking him to speak to Jimmy about proper vs. improper behaviour in class. He e-mailed me back, saying he'd talk to him for me, and then wished me a good weekend, complete with a smilie face emoticon. Solid. Good sign.
Then, when I got invited out, I secretly hoped he'd be in attendance. I was quite pleased when he WAS out, and I secretly endevoured to have a solid conversation with him. The only problem was, that as the night progressed, I got the impression that another of the young ladies on staff (she's the same age as me, actually) also had a crush on him. You know how you can read people's body language? Well, I noticed them up at the bar, ordering drinks, and she was very clearly attempting to lean into him. She was doing all the usual things, that signal to me that a woman is interested in a man. I wasn't sure how to read his response to her, but I knew this could get messy. She is SUPER nice, and we had chatted a lot earlier in the evening. I definitely think we could become pretty good friends, as we're the same age and seem to have a similar personality. I like her a lot, so I really hoped that perhaps I was misreading her interest in J.
Eventually, I did get to have a few decent conversations with him. I tried my best to show a little bit of interest in him, but not too much. I was flirty, but not over the top. I don't want to come across as THAT girl, to anyone on the staff. Slowly, as the night progressed, people started to trickle out. Eventually it was just the three of us, Laura, J and myself.
I ended up missing the bus back, because I just didn't keep track of the time well enough. I was a bit inebriated, and was going to call a cab back to St. Ives. I was convinced this wasn't a good idea though, and a place to crash for the night was offered to me. I gladly accepted. On the way back I also requested, as per usual, some food. They asked me what I wanted, and I drunkenly shouted "poutine!"
Of course, you can't get that in England, so instead I said I would settle for some chips, and perhaps a burger. We caught a cab, went to a little takeaway place, and I ordered a cheeseburger and fries. It was bloody brilliant. Really hit the spot! I can honestly say it was the best burger I've had yet in England. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was something else, but it was freaking great. I scarfed it down super fast, hardly pausing to breath. Food comes first! The three of us headed to Js, were he popped in a movie and we kind of vegged. Laura was sitting next to him on the couch, and was leaning on his arm, with her head on his shoulder. I decided that my initial hunch had been correct. She was very much trying to show that she was interested in him, so I decided to back off. I don't want to burn bridges.
I was pretty hammered, so I started to fall asleep on the couch. At this point, J asked me if I wanted to sleep on the couch or on a blow up mattress. I gladly opted for the blow up.
"Okay, its in my room," he said.
Ooooooo! I thought.
We headed upstairs, leaving Laura passed out on the couch, bless her. I pumped up the mattress with my foot, J got me a sleeping bag, and I settled in for the duration. It was really cold though (this is the honest truth, I was FREEZING), so J told me to bring the sleepingbag onto his bed, and then I could share his blanket. It was totally PG. I really did stay in my sleeping bag, and he just tossed his blanket over me as well. We joked around a bit, had a pillow fight, and then went to sleep. Nothing happened at all, honest. I wouldnt have let it, regardless. When people you work with are involved, you have to be SUPER careful. I don't want to have stories about me started ALREADY! I am just hoping that Laura dosen't get mad, or think something happened between us. Nothing happened, it was legit, 100%.
I don't think she's mad though, as she texted me this afternoon, and seemed fine!
Anyways, when I drink I always find I sleep terribly, so I didn't have the best sleep, but ah well! It woulda been the same regardless of where I was in the world! In the morning, I had to leave super early, as I wanted to make it to the post office in St. Ives before it closed at 11:30. I caught a bus home, and made it to the post office at around 10. I was thinking it was going to be one of the packages from my Mum, but it was the one Meaghan sent me! I was super excited to see what she'd sent, so I didn't waste time opening it. I started walking down the street, ripping the envelope open. Inside was a really adorable card, a very handy book on British slang (I will def. use it against the students, mwha) and a hilarious game called Nun Bowling. It's exactly as it sounds....its a bowling game where you have to knock down little nuns. I laughed so hard, I almost peed my pants. I'm not even joking, I thought it was so cute! People probably thought I was nuts.
Since I was downtown St. Ives, I decided to check out some of the local shops. I went into a shoe store, as I am lacking shoes, and ended up buying a cute pair of mary janes, with a bit of a heel. I figured I could wear them mostly for teaching, but they have the ability to be dressed up. I then went into a clothing store, and bought a dress to wear for next weekend (which just happens to be my BIRTHDAY). A few of the staff members had agreed to come out with me, so I want to make sure I'm dressed to kill for my special day!
It was a GORGEOUSLY sunny day, so I took my time walking home. Once there, I decided to do my laundry, since I could hang it out on the line. It was so warm! I was wearing short shorts and a tank top all day, and was perfectly comfortable. I then decided to relax and watch Hot Rod, have a nap, and mostly just enjoy not having to do anything. Like I mentioned, Laura texted me today, and might come into St. Ives tonight. I'm not sure. I am not super keen on going out, but I will! J also texted me, being very friendly, and possibly a little flirty. Yet another good sign, as it shows he had to ask SOMEONE for my number; I didn't give it to him!
All in all, it was a glorious Friday night, and a wonderful Saturday afternoon.
I am looking forward to next weekend. I hope that it's as fun, if not more fun, than last night.
Cheers!!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
On Getting Out Of A Slump
If you've talked to me at all this week, prior to this exact moment, then you're likely to agree that I've been a bit of a Debbie Downer lately. I feel I must apologize for this behaviour. I really was in a sour mood, and it wasn't really over anything rational. I was just hating life in general, and blaming it entirely on the country of England. If I try to think rationally about it now, the only excuse I can come up with is that it had rained for about a week and a half straight, with little (if any) sign of the sun. I honestly am not sure if this is the sole factor behind my unseasonably terrible mood, but I have a pretty good feeling it plays a large part in it. Being from Southwestern Ontario, I've grown up in a relatively sunny environment. We do get rain, of course. Everyone needs rain to survive. The farmers are certainly hurting when we have dry summers. That said, we don't have nearly as much rain as I've seen here lately. Although, we DID have a rather wet June, didn't we!? I'm trying to remember back that far, but it's proving quite difficult. I don't think I was moody in June, but then again I can't be certain.
I do know, however, that the rain I am experiencing now is definitely having an effect on me. Not seeing the sun for days on end is probably one of the most subtly depressing things in the world. I don't think we really realize how dependent are moods are on the weather until we move somewhere where the weather is drastically different. I firmly believe that part of my problem with England, at the moment, lies simply in my needing to "acclimatize" to the weather here.
Today was the first sunny day in weeks, and I found I was immensely happy for the majority of the day. It also seemed as if things were looking up for me, on a business level as well. I've been having payroll issues since Friday (my payroll fax never made it through, despite REPEATED attempts to send it). Finally it went through yesterday, but unfortunately it was a day too late. Now I won't get paid this week. I'll have to wait until next week to get my first paycheck. The fact that I was going to miss a week of pay was really stressful to me, and definitely added to my sour mood. I am running low on cash, considering I only brought over a small wad of money to sustain myself until my first pay cheque (which was SUPPOSED to be this Friday). I'm not entirely sure if this means I will get paid twice next week, but for some reason I highly doubt it. I think it just means I will be on a two week delay now, instead of one. Bummer. The only plus side is that it will be good for me when I'm done in June, or when I am holiday (I technically don't get paid for the holidays).
Ah well. I also go things sorted with the bank. I had a prep period last today, and the department meeting was cancelled, so I skipped out of the building about ten minutes early ( I didn't tell anyone, so I hope I don't get in trouble). I felt justified though, since I've had such a rough time getting into the bank this week. If I hadn't made it today, I am pretty sure I would have started crying hysterically outside the bank, while banging my fist on the glass, totally frustrated with the world. Luckily, I made it with a half hour to spare.
I went in to the customer service rep immediately, and explained my situation. She pulled up my file, and said that I had been misinformed, and that everything was nearly complete. I had been told my Visa and Passport still needed to be verified, but bank lady told that wasn't true. She turned the screen towards me, so that I could see. Sure enough, there was a very bold "VERIFIED" next to the question about my Passport. Puzzled, I asked her what the hold up was on my bank card then.
"Ah...we just need a proof of address...for Canada," she said.
"For Canada?! But I'm not living there right now..." I said, even more puzzled.
She then explained that because I was signed up for a temporary "Passport" account, that they wanted my home information. They could get my St. Ives address for my temporary address, but it wasn't my permanent one, so they didn't need verification of it.
I pulled out my drivers licence and asked if that was sufficient.
She smiled, and told me it was perfect.
A few moments later, we had everything sorted. She helped me sign up for Internet banking, told me my debit card was in the mail, and sent me on my way.
I was immensely happy to have solved the problem so easily. Two days of frustration behind me, I walked home in much higher spirits.
Right now, I am currently in possession of two whole hours to myself. I have planned ahead enough to take some time to myself. I am quite glad to be feeling so happy now, as I really was starting to detest the grump that I had become. I still am not 100% happy with life right now, but it's a start. I think the best thing for me to do is make some more friends. That area of my life is certainly laking, and I feel I am missing companionship. I also find myself missing Gabriel a lot, and am really wishing I could get a kitten, or a rat, or mouse, or SOMETHING fluffy to love. The only problem with doing that is that I am leaving in June, and would effectively have to leave the poor animal behind. As such, getting a pet is out of the question. I still hate not having one though...I am a bit of a loser, in that I need to have something to mother in my life. It was Gabriel for two years, and now to not have him, well I definitely feel a bit of a void. I miss his grumpy bum so much! Heh heh.
School is going much better. I still am not sure if I am following the British curriculum very well, but as long as I hit the required coursework that's all that matters. Frankly, I am QUITE surprised that they've stuck me with two year 11 classes. From my limited knowledge of the system, year 11 is a very important year. If I fuck this up, I could potentially fuck up the future of 50 some-odd kids. Oye. That's a load to carry. I don't think I am doing them a disservice right now though...but we shall see. I have been trying to find the course objectives (the end products they want them to be able to produce), and have found them in bits and pieces on the shared drive on the school network. I'm slowly starting to grasp this.
I also have to have some "target grades" put in for my year 10s by next Wednesday. I have to fill a grade quota, which I find really stupid, but I think I've got it done. I will just have the head of English look it over, and then go from there.
I answered my first parent e-mails today. It was quite thrilling, to be honest. It made me feel like a real teacher, for maybe the first time since the very first day. I felt so authoritative!! I also gave my first detentions the other day, to my wild bunch of year 9s. They still are not responding to my attempts to tame them. They did, however, calm down considerably after they saw that I WOULD give detentions. Tomorrow I have them last period (and on my FULL day...5 courses in a row, with only 15 minutes for lunch). I pray I make it through the day! I hate ending the day with the 9s though, because they leave me feeling physically empty. It's amazing what an unruly class will do to you. It's like nothing I've experienced before; you're just frazzled. That's the only word I can use to describe it. Frazzled. Completely spent. Used up.
I may have to issue double digit detentions tomorrow. I need to really crack down on this class. Iknow they are testing me, and I cannot let them win. I have to appear strong. I can't worry about them liking me. At this point, I know they don't. But that's fine. They will learn to respect me. Respect means more, at this level.
I also had a horrible incident with Bobby today. The kid does not belong in my class. I have the two top set year 8 English classes. They're both absolutely lovely, with very very able kids. Bobby is such a drain on the one class though, he brings everyone else down. Today he refused to listen to me, in any capacity. I had assigned him a new seat, which he refused to sit in. When I gave the kids a task to do (silent reading, while working on their task for a Literature Circle) he refused to read, write, or do anything even remotely productive. He simply sat like a bump on a log and sang stupid, childish tunes out loud. At one point, he was singing about how Barney (the purple dinosaur) have him HIV...it was ridiculous. I kicked him out at one point, and told him to stand in the hall until I came to talk to him. He refused to leave. I was not going to argue with him, as that was clearly what he wanted. Instead, I started at him, with the door open, and my finger pointed, until he sauntered out. He didn't do this quietly though, but I didn't respond. I simply shut the door behind him, and then stood facing the class, with one eye out the window in door.
I addressed the class first, asking them to please (again) ignore Bobby's behaviour. Instantly I was met with a wave of complaining and griping. The kids all expressed severe concerns over Bobby being in the class. They felt it was unfair to them, as they could never get any work done due to his constant misbehaviour and distractions. I told them I would try to work on a solution (my solution would be to get him out. He refused to learn, and is taking away from other children's right to learn. He needs to leave. There is no helping this kid. I'm sorry, but there truly is not!). I then went out and tried to reason with Bobby. He walked away from me, turning back every few steps. It was clear he wanted me to chase him. I refused, so I simply walked back into the classroom, not finishing what I was saying to him.
It worked, and he followed me in, chattering incessantly at my backside the entire way in. Once inside, I turned on him, and in my meanest voice (I was surprised I had it in me) told him to SIT down and get to work. He sat, but he didn't work. He started singing again.
"Give me your diary," I said firmly. Their diary is their planner, in which teachers can communicate with parents.
"No," he said. He started me right in the eyes, grinning this ridiculously cocky grin.
"Give me your diary," I repeated, my hand out.
"No. You can't get it either, if you go into my bag that's invasion of privacy!"
"I've no desire to go into your bag. You either give me your diary or you get out of my classroom," I said.
He reached into his bag and handed me his diary.
"You can't give me any more detentions this week, I've got one every day," he said, almost proudly.
"I'm not going to give you a detention. I'm writing a note to your parents," I said.
A look that was almost concern came over his face.
"Fine," he said, trying to sound tough. I could tell he was a bit scared though. Clearly he gets in SOME sort of trouble for his behaviour at home. I certainly hope so, anyways.
I quickly penned a note in his diary, stating that his inappropriate behaviour and unwillingness to take any direction was going to result from his not attending my class anymore. I can only HOPE that could come true. The day he leaves my classroom, the happier I (and ALL my students) will be.
After I had written in his diary, he was silent for maybe a minute, and then he started to berate other students again, picking on anyone and everyone near him.
Fed up, I yelled at him to get out of my classroom.
"No," he said again.
"Get. Out." I said, emphasizing both words. "If you refuse to work, I CANNOT allow you to continue to distract other people from THEIR work. Get out of my classroom, NOW"
He grabbed his bag and stood.
"Fine, I'm out of here," he said.
"Wait outside the door until I can come talk to you," I said.
"Nope, I'm leaving. I'm leaving," he said.
He walked to the door, his mouth never shutting, as he lipped off every kid he saw. He went and stood by the window outside my classroom. I started to walk over, and as he saw me approach, he took off down the hall.
I hesitated a moment, debating what to do, but then decided it would be an error in judgement if I went chasing after him. For the good of my class, I had to remain with the majority. If the school had a PA system, I would have paged someone, but seeing as they don't I told no one. Not right away, anyways.
On my break, I sent a number of e-mails about the days events with Bobby. I can only hope that a meeting will result, in which we will discuss Bobby's future in my classroom. He does not belong. In fact, the situation is so bad, that I had at least 10 students in the class ask me if they could switch classes, because they could not work in a room where Bobby was present. He was too much of a deterrent to their learning. I assured them that I would find a way to fix the problem. I wanted to tell them that I was going to lobby to have him removed from my class, but I didn't think that would be professional.
At lunch, I heard Bobby on the playground brag about having "walked out" of my lesson. One of the students in the class interjected though, saying "Um, no Bobby. You were asked to leave, and then you took off. You didn't walk out of anywhere. She didn't want you there, and neither did anyone else". I couldn't help but grin.
But...that's really just one student in a sea of many. He's really the only student I can honestly say I DO NOT like. While the others are not all angels, they at least are not socially awkward, totally disruptive, and extremely unlikable people. They all have their redeeming qualities, and while they do have faults, they aren't always that bad. Everyone has a weakness, and everyone is not perfect. I know that more than anyone. I can deal with my other students, because I know that at heart they're decent people. Bobby is not a decent person. He's an extremely angry, extremely confrontational person...he's very hard to deal with.
Anyways....I don't really relish the idea of ending this on a negative note. Rest assured, my mindset right now is not at all negative. I am feeling quite well right now. For the first time, I am feeling a few seeds of contentment growing. Perhaps soon this feeling will predominate, and my days of being a Debbie Downer will be at their end. Hopefully the sun stays around long enough for this to happen. No flower can grow without the sun, and neither can my happiness in this strange and foreign country.
Another thing that is causing me "happiness conflict" has to do with Trevor. I've talked to him pretty much every day since I've gotten the internet (he doesn't have it now, but I can text his phone with MSN, so we've chatted briefly that way). I thorougly enjoy even brief snippits of conversation with him, because it just makes me feel more secure in the fact that I can go back and woo him. However, it's also a bad thing, because if really keeps me attached to him. This is bad, because it makes it hard for me to rationalize meeting men here. Like I said last post, any men I meet here will be "distractions". That is to say, I won't take them very seriously. I may consider taking them seriously for a few months (dating until I leave, as a maximum), but I don't think any man could win me over enough to make me want to stay past my year. However, because I am so hung up on Trevor, I am seriously doubting even my ability to have casual-ish relationships here! This is an entirely new thing for me, I assure you. If you know me at all, I think you will agree that usually I am kind of a bad girl, when it comes to relationships. I've made a lot of mistakes, gone for a lot of the wrong types of guys...but right now, I'm not interested in making mistakes. This makes me sound like I was a huge whore, which isn't the case at all. I just couldn't really make it past two months with someone. Suddenly, it seems that each week that I spend away from Canada, I grow more and more determined to make some serious moves on Trevor when I return....and not make any mistakes in the meantime. What is this? Is this maturity? Is this growing up? Does this suck? YAH IT DOES!
Ha ha ha! I have needs, dammit! The only problem is, my newly mature mind is fighting my body, in allowing me to fulfill those needs. Oh brain, why must you torture me so.
I'm conflicted on whether or not I will see Jake this weekend. A part of me is saying I should give him a chance. His extreme hotness definitely is swaying me towards letting a meeting take place. Whether or not my brain allows my body to take over, once said meeting happens, is unknown to me. If my friend booze is involved, then the body will almost certainly win. It's a tough situation. Tough indeed. Should anything actually happen, it would have to remain totally secret though...if stupid flings resulted in my never getting a solid chance with Trevor, I'd be thoroughly devestated.
But anyways, I've rambled on enough.
Cheers!!
I do know, however, that the rain I am experiencing now is definitely having an effect on me. Not seeing the sun for days on end is probably one of the most subtly depressing things in the world. I don't think we really realize how dependent are moods are on the weather until we move somewhere where the weather is drastically different. I firmly believe that part of my problem with England, at the moment, lies simply in my needing to "acclimatize" to the weather here.
Today was the first sunny day in weeks, and I found I was immensely happy for the majority of the day. It also seemed as if things were looking up for me, on a business level as well. I've been having payroll issues since Friday (my payroll fax never made it through, despite REPEATED attempts to send it). Finally it went through yesterday, but unfortunately it was a day too late. Now I won't get paid this week. I'll have to wait until next week to get my first paycheck. The fact that I was going to miss a week of pay was really stressful to me, and definitely added to my sour mood. I am running low on cash, considering I only brought over a small wad of money to sustain myself until my first pay cheque (which was SUPPOSED to be this Friday). I'm not entirely sure if this means I will get paid twice next week, but for some reason I highly doubt it. I think it just means I will be on a two week delay now, instead of one. Bummer. The only plus side is that it will be good for me when I'm done in June, or when I am holiday (I technically don't get paid for the holidays).
Ah well. I also go things sorted with the bank. I had a prep period last today, and the department meeting was cancelled, so I skipped out of the building about ten minutes early ( I didn't tell anyone, so I hope I don't get in trouble). I felt justified though, since I've had such a rough time getting into the bank this week. If I hadn't made it today, I am pretty sure I would have started crying hysterically outside the bank, while banging my fist on the glass, totally frustrated with the world. Luckily, I made it with a half hour to spare.
I went in to the customer service rep immediately, and explained my situation. She pulled up my file, and said that I had been misinformed, and that everything was nearly complete. I had been told my Visa and Passport still needed to be verified, but bank lady told that wasn't true. She turned the screen towards me, so that I could see. Sure enough, there was a very bold "VERIFIED" next to the question about my Passport. Puzzled, I asked her what the hold up was on my bank card then.
"Ah...we just need a proof of address...for Canada," she said.
"For Canada?! But I'm not living there right now..." I said, even more puzzled.
She then explained that because I was signed up for a temporary "Passport" account, that they wanted my home information. They could get my St. Ives address for my temporary address, but it wasn't my permanent one, so they didn't need verification of it.
I pulled out my drivers licence and asked if that was sufficient.
She smiled, and told me it was perfect.
A few moments later, we had everything sorted. She helped me sign up for Internet banking, told me my debit card was in the mail, and sent me on my way.
I was immensely happy to have solved the problem so easily. Two days of frustration behind me, I walked home in much higher spirits.
Right now, I am currently in possession of two whole hours to myself. I have planned ahead enough to take some time to myself. I am quite glad to be feeling so happy now, as I really was starting to detest the grump that I had become. I still am not 100% happy with life right now, but it's a start. I think the best thing for me to do is make some more friends. That area of my life is certainly laking, and I feel I am missing companionship. I also find myself missing Gabriel a lot, and am really wishing I could get a kitten, or a rat, or mouse, or SOMETHING fluffy to love. The only problem with doing that is that I am leaving in June, and would effectively have to leave the poor animal behind. As such, getting a pet is out of the question. I still hate not having one though...I am a bit of a loser, in that I need to have something to mother in my life. It was Gabriel for two years, and now to not have him, well I definitely feel a bit of a void. I miss his grumpy bum so much! Heh heh.
School is going much better. I still am not sure if I am following the British curriculum very well, but as long as I hit the required coursework that's all that matters. Frankly, I am QUITE surprised that they've stuck me with two year 11 classes. From my limited knowledge of the system, year 11 is a very important year. If I fuck this up, I could potentially fuck up the future of 50 some-odd kids. Oye. That's a load to carry. I don't think I am doing them a disservice right now though...but we shall see. I have been trying to find the course objectives (the end products they want them to be able to produce), and have found them in bits and pieces on the shared drive on the school network. I'm slowly starting to grasp this.
I also have to have some "target grades" put in for my year 10s by next Wednesday. I have to fill a grade quota, which I find really stupid, but I think I've got it done. I will just have the head of English look it over, and then go from there.
I answered my first parent e-mails today. It was quite thrilling, to be honest. It made me feel like a real teacher, for maybe the first time since the very first day. I felt so authoritative!! I also gave my first detentions the other day, to my wild bunch of year 9s. They still are not responding to my attempts to tame them. They did, however, calm down considerably after they saw that I WOULD give detentions. Tomorrow I have them last period (and on my FULL day...5 courses in a row, with only 15 minutes for lunch). I pray I make it through the day! I hate ending the day with the 9s though, because they leave me feeling physically empty. It's amazing what an unruly class will do to you. It's like nothing I've experienced before; you're just frazzled. That's the only word I can use to describe it. Frazzled. Completely spent. Used up.
I may have to issue double digit detentions tomorrow. I need to really crack down on this class. Iknow they are testing me, and I cannot let them win. I have to appear strong. I can't worry about them liking me. At this point, I know they don't. But that's fine. They will learn to respect me. Respect means more, at this level.
I also had a horrible incident with Bobby today. The kid does not belong in my class. I have the two top set year 8 English classes. They're both absolutely lovely, with very very able kids. Bobby is such a drain on the one class though, he brings everyone else down. Today he refused to listen to me, in any capacity. I had assigned him a new seat, which he refused to sit in. When I gave the kids a task to do (silent reading, while working on their task for a Literature Circle) he refused to read, write, or do anything even remotely productive. He simply sat like a bump on a log and sang stupid, childish tunes out loud. At one point, he was singing about how Barney (the purple dinosaur) have him HIV...it was ridiculous. I kicked him out at one point, and told him to stand in the hall until I came to talk to him. He refused to leave. I was not going to argue with him, as that was clearly what he wanted. Instead, I started at him, with the door open, and my finger pointed, until he sauntered out. He didn't do this quietly though, but I didn't respond. I simply shut the door behind him, and then stood facing the class, with one eye out the window in door.
I addressed the class first, asking them to please (again) ignore Bobby's behaviour. Instantly I was met with a wave of complaining and griping. The kids all expressed severe concerns over Bobby being in the class. They felt it was unfair to them, as they could never get any work done due to his constant misbehaviour and distractions. I told them I would try to work on a solution (my solution would be to get him out. He refused to learn, and is taking away from other children's right to learn. He needs to leave. There is no helping this kid. I'm sorry, but there truly is not!). I then went out and tried to reason with Bobby. He walked away from me, turning back every few steps. It was clear he wanted me to chase him. I refused, so I simply walked back into the classroom, not finishing what I was saying to him.
It worked, and he followed me in, chattering incessantly at my backside the entire way in. Once inside, I turned on him, and in my meanest voice (I was surprised I had it in me) told him to SIT down and get to work. He sat, but he didn't work. He started singing again.
"Give me your diary," I said firmly. Their diary is their planner, in which teachers can communicate with parents.
"No," he said. He started me right in the eyes, grinning this ridiculously cocky grin.
"Give me your diary," I repeated, my hand out.
"No. You can't get it either, if you go into my bag that's invasion of privacy!"
"I've no desire to go into your bag. You either give me your diary or you get out of my classroom," I said.
He reached into his bag and handed me his diary.
"You can't give me any more detentions this week, I've got one every day," he said, almost proudly.
"I'm not going to give you a detention. I'm writing a note to your parents," I said.
A look that was almost concern came over his face.
"Fine," he said, trying to sound tough. I could tell he was a bit scared though. Clearly he gets in SOME sort of trouble for his behaviour at home. I certainly hope so, anyways.
I quickly penned a note in his diary, stating that his inappropriate behaviour and unwillingness to take any direction was going to result from his not attending my class anymore. I can only HOPE that could come true. The day he leaves my classroom, the happier I (and ALL my students) will be.
After I had written in his diary, he was silent for maybe a minute, and then he started to berate other students again, picking on anyone and everyone near him.
Fed up, I yelled at him to get out of my classroom.
"No," he said again.
"Get. Out." I said, emphasizing both words. "If you refuse to work, I CANNOT allow you to continue to distract other people from THEIR work. Get out of my classroom, NOW"
He grabbed his bag and stood.
"Fine, I'm out of here," he said.
"Wait outside the door until I can come talk to you," I said.
"Nope, I'm leaving. I'm leaving," he said.
He walked to the door, his mouth never shutting, as he lipped off every kid he saw. He went and stood by the window outside my classroom. I started to walk over, and as he saw me approach, he took off down the hall.
I hesitated a moment, debating what to do, but then decided it would be an error in judgement if I went chasing after him. For the good of my class, I had to remain with the majority. If the school had a PA system, I would have paged someone, but seeing as they don't I told no one. Not right away, anyways.
On my break, I sent a number of e-mails about the days events with Bobby. I can only hope that a meeting will result, in which we will discuss Bobby's future in my classroom. He does not belong. In fact, the situation is so bad, that I had at least 10 students in the class ask me if they could switch classes, because they could not work in a room where Bobby was present. He was too much of a deterrent to their learning. I assured them that I would find a way to fix the problem. I wanted to tell them that I was going to lobby to have him removed from my class, but I didn't think that would be professional.
At lunch, I heard Bobby on the playground brag about having "walked out" of my lesson. One of the students in the class interjected though, saying "Um, no Bobby. You were asked to leave, and then you took off. You didn't walk out of anywhere. She didn't want you there, and neither did anyone else". I couldn't help but grin.
But...that's really just one student in a sea of many. He's really the only student I can honestly say I DO NOT like. While the others are not all angels, they at least are not socially awkward, totally disruptive, and extremely unlikable people. They all have their redeeming qualities, and while they do have faults, they aren't always that bad. Everyone has a weakness, and everyone is not perfect. I know that more than anyone. I can deal with my other students, because I know that at heart they're decent people. Bobby is not a decent person. He's an extremely angry, extremely confrontational person...he's very hard to deal with.
Anyways....I don't really relish the idea of ending this on a negative note. Rest assured, my mindset right now is not at all negative. I am feeling quite well right now. For the first time, I am feeling a few seeds of contentment growing. Perhaps soon this feeling will predominate, and my days of being a Debbie Downer will be at their end. Hopefully the sun stays around long enough for this to happen. No flower can grow without the sun, and neither can my happiness in this strange and foreign country.
Another thing that is causing me "happiness conflict" has to do with Trevor. I've talked to him pretty much every day since I've gotten the internet (he doesn't have it now, but I can text his phone with MSN, so we've chatted briefly that way). I thorougly enjoy even brief snippits of conversation with him, because it just makes me feel more secure in the fact that I can go back and woo him. However, it's also a bad thing, because if really keeps me attached to him. This is bad, because it makes it hard for me to rationalize meeting men here. Like I said last post, any men I meet here will be "distractions". That is to say, I won't take them very seriously. I may consider taking them seriously for a few months (dating until I leave, as a maximum), but I don't think any man could win me over enough to make me want to stay past my year. However, because I am so hung up on Trevor, I am seriously doubting even my ability to have casual-ish relationships here! This is an entirely new thing for me, I assure you. If you know me at all, I think you will agree that usually I am kind of a bad girl, when it comes to relationships. I've made a lot of mistakes, gone for a lot of the wrong types of guys...but right now, I'm not interested in making mistakes. This makes me sound like I was a huge whore, which isn't the case at all. I just couldn't really make it past two months with someone. Suddenly, it seems that each week that I spend away from Canada, I grow more and more determined to make some serious moves on Trevor when I return....and not make any mistakes in the meantime. What is this? Is this maturity? Is this growing up? Does this suck? YAH IT DOES!
Ha ha ha! I have needs, dammit! The only problem is, my newly mature mind is fighting my body, in allowing me to fulfill those needs. Oh brain, why must you torture me so.
I'm conflicted on whether or not I will see Jake this weekend. A part of me is saying I should give him a chance. His extreme hotness definitely is swaying me towards letting a meeting take place. Whether or not my brain allows my body to take over, once said meeting happens, is unknown to me. If my friend booze is involved, then the body will almost certainly win. It's a tough situation. Tough indeed. Should anything actually happen, it would have to remain totally secret though...if stupid flings resulted in my never getting a solid chance with Trevor, I'd be thoroughly devestated.
But anyways, I've rambled on enough.
Cheers!!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
On My Second Weekend In St. Ives
This weekend I had a pretty decent time! Friday night I wanted to go out, because I felt I needed to celebrate making it through my first week as a teacher. However, it was raining pretty hard, and my roomies were apphrensive about going out in the bad weather. We shared a glass of wine, and then decided that it would be a better idea to stay in, and go out Saturday night instead. I wasn't horribly upset at the idea, since it would allow me the opportunity to stay in and chat up my friends on MSN. Usually I don't get to talk to too many of them, because of the time difference. I go to bed at 10 here, which is only 5 back home. Most people are just not online at 5 o'clock at night; they're usually eating, or working, or doing something altogether much more interesting.
I managed to somehow stay up until 3am Friday night, just talking to people and catching up. It was really nice! I especially enjoyed talking to Christine, since I've honestly felt like I hadn't talked to her since I left Canada! It was craziness, considering we used to chat on MSN on almost a nightly basis. It was nice to be able to talk to her again, and just get that goofy banter going again. Made me feel more at home with myself, despite the fact that I am many miles away. I really do miss everyone very much...to a disgusting degree. I worry constantly that people will move on with their lives, and forget that I'm a part of it. My biggest fear is to come home and have my friends change. I know this is a tad irrational, but I can't really escape the feeling. I don't think I will come back from this experience changed. I might be slightly more worldly, but nothing drastic. I'll be the same old me! Besides, anything that I gain here, any relationships that I may have with people, will be effectively ended once I return. Obviously I won't end all communication with the people I befriend here, but it won't be the same. I won't have as strong a desire to return, as I do to go home. The problem with me returning home though, is that in my absence life DOES go on. People WILL make new friends, lovers, enemies. When I come back, none of that will change, I'll just be a new addition. A complication, maybe, or worse yet, someone to be brushed aside as a nuicance.
Like I said, it's troubling to me. This is what I fear more than anything.
But let's get off this depressing and irrational line of thought, and move on to something more lighthearted.
Saturday I slept in until around 9:30. When I woke up, I decided to try to go to Tesco, to buy some teaching supplies, bits of technology, and food. I walked to the city centre, and caught a bus to the Tesco in Bar Hill. I spent way more time in the store than I had hoped. At almost two hours, it was one of the longest single store shopping sprees I've ever taken part in! I started by going into the clothing department. I wanted to try and find a fairly cheap rain jacket, and umbrella. I found the umbrella straight away, and added it to my cart. The rain jacket, however, was elusive. They didn't have a single one in the store. I was baffelled, but didn't let it get me down.
Next, I wandered into home electronics. I looked at the laptops, and picked the one I want to buy when I save up some money (a Sony Vaio). It wasn't even that expensive! WOO! The only thing nagging at me about buying a laptop is that a) their keyboard is slightly different (the @ symble isn't with the two, but instead is swapped with the " symbol. It's annoying, trust me) and b) I'm not sure if I want to get one that has a British style electrical adaptor. I can only hope they will see me a North American one once I get home. I'll have to check and see if that is possible, before I take the plunge. After looking at the laptops, I picked out a speaker for my iPod (I need my music!) and a webcam. They cost 20 quid each, which I felt was decent enough. Next I went downstairs, and grabbed some white board markers, a hole puncher (they punch their holes different here...binders all have two rings, in the middle, so your paper has to have holes in the middle too. It's strange), some markers, and folders. I wanted to buy some whiteboards, but they were sold out. Hugely annoying! I really needed those more than anything!
Once I got my supplies, I wandered around grocery. While down the ketchup aisle, I scanned the shelves looking for Franks Red Hot Sauce. Much to my excitement, I spotted two tiny bottles squeezed into the shelf. Unable to contain my delight, I reached up, grabbed a bottle, and squeeled with delight.
"Franks!!!!" I said, embracing the tiny bottle to my face.
The lady next to me stared at me as if I was insane, but my happiness was uncontainable. I smiled at her, my eyes brimming with tears, and continued on down the aisle. The happiness I felt from finding the Franks was with me for the rest of the trip. I felt euphoric. I realize you may think this is a bit insane, considering it's only a bottle of hot sauce. However, if you've ever been away from home, you will understand the simple pleasures that come from finding something that you take for granted back home. Franks is that thing for me. I can't survive without it. It makes my food experience complete. I will often pour some in a bowl, just to have the flavour in my mouth now and again. I love the stuff, with all my heart. Oh Franks Red Hots....how you make me happy is inexplainable.
I grabbed as much food as I thought I could carry home, and headed to the checkout. Packing my bags proved to be a challenge, as I had clearly bought more than I had expected. My two bags were bulging and heavy. I put them in the cart, and wheeled myself out of the store towards the bus stop. Once I saw the bus coming, I had to discard the cart, and carry the burden of my bags alone. It was not pleasant. The walk from the station in St. Ives to my house was horrendous. I was cursing the entire time, and vowing never to do this again. My shoulders ached from the weight of the bag, and I felt very much like an ox, struggling under the yoke of an overzealous master.
I finally managed to make it hope. I dropped my bags with relief, and set about putting things away. Once I was in the safety of my room, a knock came to my door.
"Come in!" I said cheerfully.
Roland poked his head in.
"Sheet Kreesta, you shoulda aasked me for a ride to da Tesco. I would have dri-ven you, no problem. You stop being the polite, ookay? Sheet! Seriously!"
I laughed at him, and promised him that next time I would ask him for a ride. I told him I just didn't want to bother him.
He waved me off, saying that it "Is not a problem! Just ask the next time, ookay?"
I assured him that I would, and he left.
My roomies really are quite nice. He actually got MAD at me for NOT asking for a ride! What a super guy! They really do go out of their way to make me feel at home here, which is all I could ask for. Great people, really great.
Saturday night we all decided to go out in St. Ives. It was raining yet again, but we found that my new umbrella fit into Victoria's purse, so we popped it in there, and headed out. Frank joined us this time, which was alright. He was drunk before we left the house, having drank quite a bit of wine. I was tipsy, and feeling quite good.
We went to a nicer place called The Lounge first. It was kind of like a martini bar, decorated very modernly, with white leather couches nestled among chic black coffee tables. The music was really loud, with a DJ upstairs spinning some great tunes. We went and grabbed a seat at the bottom of the stairs on the basement level of the club. As people walked down the stairs, I checked them all out. Roland laughed at me, after awhile, saying "Kreesta, you have hungry eyes!"
I laughed, and assured him that I had eyes for no one here. I still found it funny that he thought I was on the prowl though.
We had two drinks there, then decided to go to the Ice Box, where we could dance. The bouncer at the door checked my passport, and laughed when he realized I was Canadian.
"Why the hell come here, darling?!" he asked me.
"Why the hell NOT!" I said, laughing.
The bar was decent enough. Reminded me, yet again, of the Palace. Same kind of music, same kind of crowd. However, taking after it's namesake as an Ice Box, the place was constantly being pumped full of that smoky foggy stuff that so many clubs use. There was a constant haze in the place, and it made my contacts itch a little. I got used to it after while though, as the drinks started flowing. Victoria and I danced the night away, while Paulo had a dance off with some British guy who kept trying to put the moves on me.
I wasn't interested in the guy though, because he looked to be about 30. Gross. I like them younger, not older. Ha ha ha. Jokes, jokes. But seriously, yuck. To get him to leave me alone, I started to try to catch the attention of a tall, handsome fellow. Every time he caught be looking at him, he looked bewildered, like he wasn't sure I was looking at HIM. However, he eventually got it, and came up and danced with me. I was glad for it, because the unwanted attention of Paulo's dancing mate was getting to be too much for me. I was pretty drunk at this point, and started to dance very seductively with the tall boy. He was loving every minute of it, and kept inching towards my neck, nuzzling me softly. Victoria was dancing with Paulo at this point, and was giggling at me. I winked at her, and she gave me the thumbs up. Eventually, she decided to go sit with Roland, so she waved at me, pointed to our table and then looked at me expectantly. I smiled at her, nodding my head, and she smiled back, walking away. I love unspoken girl talk. I continued dancing with my sexy British man, much to my delight. He was quite strong, and he manipulated my body a few times, spinning me around, and then pulling me in tight. It was great fun! Eventually, he spun me so I faced him, and then he moved his head down as if to kiss me. The booze, at this point, had filled me with unwanton desire, as it is want to do, and I hungrily kissed him. You know how drunk dancefloor making out can be...it was thrilling stuff. I giggled in his ear after, and he laughed back.
"You're absolutley beautiful..." he said.
I giggled more, and shook my head.
"I'm alright..."
"No. You're the most beautiful girl in here...but then again, British women are always at a disadvantage to Canadians," he said.
I laughed again, and asked how he knew I was Canadian, since I hadn't told him that yet.
"I have cousins that live in Canada. You sound like them," he replied.
We danced for while more, and then I felt myself getting too sweaty, and decided to get off the dancefloor. I told him I was tired of dancing, so he took my hand and lead me off the floor. No sooner had we appeared in the bar area, than his friends appeared, saying that it was time for them to leave. They looked at me, approvingly, winking at Jake (I had found out his name during a break in our making out). He asked me for my number, and I drunkenly put it into his phone. I was worried that I had gotten it wrong though...you know how it is when you drink. After he left, I went and sat with Victoria and Roland. We decided to leave shortly, and went to fetch Paulo and Frank.
It was a this point that we all realized we hadn't seen Frank in quite some time. He was completely gone. We looked around the bar, which was not big, and he was not there. Perplexed, I texted his phone, but got no reply. Roland told me not to worry, that Frank often disappeared like that, and that he'd turn up in the morning. Feeding off his lack of concern, I let the matter drop. On the walk back to the car, I heard my phone beep, which signalled a text message. Checking it, I was overjoyed to see it was Jake. He said he was sorry for leaving, but his buddies had been keen to go. He then repeated that I was way to beautiful, and that he hoped to see me again soon. I texted him back, and we exchanged MSN addresses that way. I was squeeling with delight the entire ride home, gushing about how I had gotten the number of a super sexy British bloke. Victoria just grinned at me, listening to me rant.
We headed home, and I decided it was the perfect opportunity to call Trevor and wish him a Happy Birthday. Don't think that all this making out with a hot British guy was throwing me off my main goal at the moment; to ensure that I remain in Trevor's head, if not a little in his heart. Obviously I'm a woman with needs, so I'm not going to live in England and become a nun, while I pin away for someone who lives miles away (and who may not even be interested in me!) I certainly don't expect him to be chaste while I am away, so I feel that the same goes for me. Anything that does happen over here is temporary, but my feelings for Trevor are not. At least, I don't think they are. I still feel pretty strongly about him...I just think we clicked so well, on a level that I haven't felt in ages. Even while kissing Jake, I had Trevor in the back of my mind. I'll admit I worried about how my actions would be interpreted, if he ever found out...but I think he's an outstanding fellow, and I think he is realistic enough to know that a year is a long time to remain totally committed to the IDEA of something (we weren't anything when I left, and we're not anything now, but I hope that we are something some day. That's the idea).
Anyways....It took me TEN attempts to get through to Trevor's cell phone, because I kept drunkenly dialing the wrong number, but eventually I got through. I could tell he didn't know who I was right away.
"HEY!" I said when he picked up
"Hi..." he said, in that tentative way that we all have.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" I said.
"Thanks...who is this?!" he asked.
"It's Krista, silly!"
"OH MY GOD! HEY! WOW! Thanks for calling! WOW!"
I talked to him for awhile, with a few brief interruptions(welcome ones) from Holly and Matty. It was so nice to hear familiar voices, and it really made me feel as if I were there. I could picture exactly the scene, in my head, of people sitting around on the back deck, while Trevor spoke with me while inside the family room. I could almost feel the atmosphere, and smell the smells of home. It made me horribly homesick, but at the same time it was just so nice to talk to him, and everyone else! I was pretty hammered, so I'm sure I said some stupid things, but luckily for me I didn't say what I COULD have said...really awful, terrible, embarrassing things....things that I won't even bother to discuss here, as the chance of it getting out is high enough, and I'd rather not be "that girl". I did, however, work on tryin to convince him to come to England. I think he may actually come when Ethan comes, in March...that would be amazing. I would love to have him here, especially after Christmas, because that is going to be the long haul. Anyways, we talked for an hour if not more, and then I decided to let him get back to his birthday celebration. I hung up with reluctance.
When I got upstairs, I noticed I had a new add on MSN. It was Jake! He was still up, so we chatted for ahwile. He eventually called my phone as well, and we talked for a good 45 minutes.
"Hey. We've been talking for 45 minutes!" he said, sounding surprised.
"Yah, I guess so!" I said.
"That's crazy, it hasn't felt that long!!"
"Guess I'm just a good talker..." I said.
"I guess so!" he replied.
We talked for a little while more, and then his phone ran out of time. He messaged me on MSN, embarrassed, but I assured him it was fine. I went to bed around 5, and woke up this morning exhausted. I was slightly mad at myself, for wasting the weekend getting more tired, instead of getting the sleep I so desperately wanted. I am sad that I have to go back to work tomorrow. I wish the weekends were longer...I am almost dreading the week. I think I am starting to get worried about my teaching. I am worried I'm not cutting it as a teacher in England. How we teach at home is completely different, and while I know I am a good teacher at home, I have doubts about my abilities here. Oh well. I can only do my best, and take from the experience whatever I can. I know it will make me a better teacher in the end, even though I absolutely hate a great deal of it (not all of it though. My year 8s make it all worth it, they are so delightful [Bobby aside]).
Anyways, I should probably end here....
Don't expect a lot of updating during the week. We all know how busy I am with school. I will try my best though.
Love and miss you all!
I managed to somehow stay up until 3am Friday night, just talking to people and catching up. It was really nice! I especially enjoyed talking to Christine, since I've honestly felt like I hadn't talked to her since I left Canada! It was craziness, considering we used to chat on MSN on almost a nightly basis. It was nice to be able to talk to her again, and just get that goofy banter going again. Made me feel more at home with myself, despite the fact that I am many miles away. I really do miss everyone very much...to a disgusting degree. I worry constantly that people will move on with their lives, and forget that I'm a part of it. My biggest fear is to come home and have my friends change. I know this is a tad irrational, but I can't really escape the feeling. I don't think I will come back from this experience changed. I might be slightly more worldly, but nothing drastic. I'll be the same old me! Besides, anything that I gain here, any relationships that I may have with people, will be effectively ended once I return. Obviously I won't end all communication with the people I befriend here, but it won't be the same. I won't have as strong a desire to return, as I do to go home. The problem with me returning home though, is that in my absence life DOES go on. People WILL make new friends, lovers, enemies. When I come back, none of that will change, I'll just be a new addition. A complication, maybe, or worse yet, someone to be brushed aside as a nuicance.
Like I said, it's troubling to me. This is what I fear more than anything.
But let's get off this depressing and irrational line of thought, and move on to something more lighthearted.
Saturday I slept in until around 9:30. When I woke up, I decided to try to go to Tesco, to buy some teaching supplies, bits of technology, and food. I walked to the city centre, and caught a bus to the Tesco in Bar Hill. I spent way more time in the store than I had hoped. At almost two hours, it was one of the longest single store shopping sprees I've ever taken part in! I started by going into the clothing department. I wanted to try and find a fairly cheap rain jacket, and umbrella. I found the umbrella straight away, and added it to my cart. The rain jacket, however, was elusive. They didn't have a single one in the store. I was baffelled, but didn't let it get me down.
Next, I wandered into home electronics. I looked at the laptops, and picked the one I want to buy when I save up some money (a Sony Vaio). It wasn't even that expensive! WOO! The only thing nagging at me about buying a laptop is that a) their keyboard is slightly different (the @ symble isn't with the two, but instead is swapped with the " symbol. It's annoying, trust me) and b) I'm not sure if I want to get one that has a British style electrical adaptor. I can only hope they will see me a North American one once I get home. I'll have to check and see if that is possible, before I take the plunge. After looking at the laptops, I picked out a speaker for my iPod (I need my music!) and a webcam. They cost 20 quid each, which I felt was decent enough. Next I went downstairs, and grabbed some white board markers, a hole puncher (they punch their holes different here...binders all have two rings, in the middle, so your paper has to have holes in the middle too. It's strange), some markers, and folders. I wanted to buy some whiteboards, but they were sold out. Hugely annoying! I really needed those more than anything!
Once I got my supplies, I wandered around grocery. While down the ketchup aisle, I scanned the shelves looking for Franks Red Hot Sauce. Much to my excitement, I spotted two tiny bottles squeezed into the shelf. Unable to contain my delight, I reached up, grabbed a bottle, and squeeled with delight.
"Franks!!!!" I said, embracing the tiny bottle to my face.
The lady next to me stared at me as if I was insane, but my happiness was uncontainable. I smiled at her, my eyes brimming with tears, and continued on down the aisle. The happiness I felt from finding the Franks was with me for the rest of the trip. I felt euphoric. I realize you may think this is a bit insane, considering it's only a bottle of hot sauce. However, if you've ever been away from home, you will understand the simple pleasures that come from finding something that you take for granted back home. Franks is that thing for me. I can't survive without it. It makes my food experience complete. I will often pour some in a bowl, just to have the flavour in my mouth now and again. I love the stuff, with all my heart. Oh Franks Red Hots....how you make me happy is inexplainable.
I grabbed as much food as I thought I could carry home, and headed to the checkout. Packing my bags proved to be a challenge, as I had clearly bought more than I had expected. My two bags were bulging and heavy. I put them in the cart, and wheeled myself out of the store towards the bus stop. Once I saw the bus coming, I had to discard the cart, and carry the burden of my bags alone. It was not pleasant. The walk from the station in St. Ives to my house was horrendous. I was cursing the entire time, and vowing never to do this again. My shoulders ached from the weight of the bag, and I felt very much like an ox, struggling under the yoke of an overzealous master.
I finally managed to make it hope. I dropped my bags with relief, and set about putting things away. Once I was in the safety of my room, a knock came to my door.
"Come in!" I said cheerfully.
Roland poked his head in.
"Sheet Kreesta, you shoulda aasked me for a ride to da Tesco. I would have dri-ven you, no problem. You stop being the polite, ookay? Sheet! Seriously!"
I laughed at him, and promised him that next time I would ask him for a ride. I told him I just didn't want to bother him.
He waved me off, saying that it "Is not a problem! Just ask the next time, ookay?"
I assured him that I would, and he left.
My roomies really are quite nice. He actually got MAD at me for NOT asking for a ride! What a super guy! They really do go out of their way to make me feel at home here, which is all I could ask for. Great people, really great.
Saturday night we all decided to go out in St. Ives. It was raining yet again, but we found that my new umbrella fit into Victoria's purse, so we popped it in there, and headed out. Frank joined us this time, which was alright. He was drunk before we left the house, having drank quite a bit of wine. I was tipsy, and feeling quite good.
We went to a nicer place called The Lounge first. It was kind of like a martini bar, decorated very modernly, with white leather couches nestled among chic black coffee tables. The music was really loud, with a DJ upstairs spinning some great tunes. We went and grabbed a seat at the bottom of the stairs on the basement level of the club. As people walked down the stairs, I checked them all out. Roland laughed at me, after awhile, saying "Kreesta, you have hungry eyes!"
I laughed, and assured him that I had eyes for no one here. I still found it funny that he thought I was on the prowl though.
We had two drinks there, then decided to go to the Ice Box, where we could dance. The bouncer at the door checked my passport, and laughed when he realized I was Canadian.
"Why the hell come here, darling?!" he asked me.
"Why the hell NOT!" I said, laughing.
The bar was decent enough. Reminded me, yet again, of the Palace. Same kind of music, same kind of crowd. However, taking after it's namesake as an Ice Box, the place was constantly being pumped full of that smoky foggy stuff that so many clubs use. There was a constant haze in the place, and it made my contacts itch a little. I got used to it after while though, as the drinks started flowing. Victoria and I danced the night away, while Paulo had a dance off with some British guy who kept trying to put the moves on me.
I wasn't interested in the guy though, because he looked to be about 30. Gross. I like them younger, not older. Ha ha ha. Jokes, jokes. But seriously, yuck. To get him to leave me alone, I started to try to catch the attention of a tall, handsome fellow. Every time he caught be looking at him, he looked bewildered, like he wasn't sure I was looking at HIM. However, he eventually got it, and came up and danced with me. I was glad for it, because the unwanted attention of Paulo's dancing mate was getting to be too much for me. I was pretty drunk at this point, and started to dance very seductively with the tall boy. He was loving every minute of it, and kept inching towards my neck, nuzzling me softly. Victoria was dancing with Paulo at this point, and was giggling at me. I winked at her, and she gave me the thumbs up. Eventually, she decided to go sit with Roland, so she waved at me, pointed to our table and then looked at me expectantly. I smiled at her, nodding my head, and she smiled back, walking away. I love unspoken girl talk. I continued dancing with my sexy British man, much to my delight. He was quite strong, and he manipulated my body a few times, spinning me around, and then pulling me in tight. It was great fun! Eventually, he spun me so I faced him, and then he moved his head down as if to kiss me. The booze, at this point, had filled me with unwanton desire, as it is want to do, and I hungrily kissed him. You know how drunk dancefloor making out can be...it was thrilling stuff. I giggled in his ear after, and he laughed back.
"You're absolutley beautiful..." he said.
I giggled more, and shook my head.
"I'm alright..."
"No. You're the most beautiful girl in here...but then again, British women are always at a disadvantage to Canadians," he said.
I laughed again, and asked how he knew I was Canadian, since I hadn't told him that yet.
"I have cousins that live in Canada. You sound like them," he replied.
We danced for while more, and then I felt myself getting too sweaty, and decided to get off the dancefloor. I told him I was tired of dancing, so he took my hand and lead me off the floor. No sooner had we appeared in the bar area, than his friends appeared, saying that it was time for them to leave. They looked at me, approvingly, winking at Jake (I had found out his name during a break in our making out). He asked me for my number, and I drunkenly put it into his phone. I was worried that I had gotten it wrong though...you know how it is when you drink. After he left, I went and sat with Victoria and Roland. We decided to leave shortly, and went to fetch Paulo and Frank.
It was a this point that we all realized we hadn't seen Frank in quite some time. He was completely gone. We looked around the bar, which was not big, and he was not there. Perplexed, I texted his phone, but got no reply. Roland told me not to worry, that Frank often disappeared like that, and that he'd turn up in the morning. Feeding off his lack of concern, I let the matter drop. On the walk back to the car, I heard my phone beep, which signalled a text message. Checking it, I was overjoyed to see it was Jake. He said he was sorry for leaving, but his buddies had been keen to go. He then repeated that I was way to beautiful, and that he hoped to see me again soon. I texted him back, and we exchanged MSN addresses that way. I was squeeling with delight the entire ride home, gushing about how I had gotten the number of a super sexy British bloke. Victoria just grinned at me, listening to me rant.
We headed home, and I decided it was the perfect opportunity to call Trevor and wish him a Happy Birthday. Don't think that all this making out with a hot British guy was throwing me off my main goal at the moment; to ensure that I remain in Trevor's head, if not a little in his heart. Obviously I'm a woman with needs, so I'm not going to live in England and become a nun, while I pin away for someone who lives miles away (and who may not even be interested in me!) I certainly don't expect him to be chaste while I am away, so I feel that the same goes for me. Anything that does happen over here is temporary, but my feelings for Trevor are not. At least, I don't think they are. I still feel pretty strongly about him...I just think we clicked so well, on a level that I haven't felt in ages. Even while kissing Jake, I had Trevor in the back of my mind. I'll admit I worried about how my actions would be interpreted, if he ever found out...but I think he's an outstanding fellow, and I think he is realistic enough to know that a year is a long time to remain totally committed to the IDEA of something (we weren't anything when I left, and we're not anything now, but I hope that we are something some day. That's the idea).
Anyways....It took me TEN attempts to get through to Trevor's cell phone, because I kept drunkenly dialing the wrong number, but eventually I got through. I could tell he didn't know who I was right away.
"HEY!" I said when he picked up
"Hi..." he said, in that tentative way that we all have.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" I said.
"Thanks...who is this?!" he asked.
"It's Krista, silly!"
"OH MY GOD! HEY! WOW! Thanks for calling! WOW!"
I talked to him for awhile, with a few brief interruptions(welcome ones) from Holly and Matty. It was so nice to hear familiar voices, and it really made me feel as if I were there. I could picture exactly the scene, in my head, of people sitting around on the back deck, while Trevor spoke with me while inside the family room. I could almost feel the atmosphere, and smell the smells of home. It made me horribly homesick, but at the same time it was just so nice to talk to him, and everyone else! I was pretty hammered, so I'm sure I said some stupid things, but luckily for me I didn't say what I COULD have said...really awful, terrible, embarrassing things....things that I won't even bother to discuss here, as the chance of it getting out is high enough, and I'd rather not be "that girl". I did, however, work on tryin to convince him to come to England. I think he may actually come when Ethan comes, in March...that would be amazing. I would love to have him here, especially after Christmas, because that is going to be the long haul. Anyways, we talked for an hour if not more, and then I decided to let him get back to his birthday celebration. I hung up with reluctance.
When I got upstairs, I noticed I had a new add on MSN. It was Jake! He was still up, so we chatted for ahwile. He eventually called my phone as well, and we talked for a good 45 minutes.
"Hey. We've been talking for 45 minutes!" he said, sounding surprised.
"Yah, I guess so!" I said.
"That's crazy, it hasn't felt that long!!"
"Guess I'm just a good talker..." I said.
"I guess so!" he replied.
We talked for a little while more, and then his phone ran out of time. He messaged me on MSN, embarrassed, but I assured him it was fine. I went to bed around 5, and woke up this morning exhausted. I was slightly mad at myself, for wasting the weekend getting more tired, instead of getting the sleep I so desperately wanted. I am sad that I have to go back to work tomorrow. I wish the weekends were longer...I am almost dreading the week. I think I am starting to get worried about my teaching. I am worried I'm not cutting it as a teacher in England. How we teach at home is completely different, and while I know I am a good teacher at home, I have doubts about my abilities here. Oh well. I can only do my best, and take from the experience whatever I can. I know it will make me a better teacher in the end, even though I absolutely hate a great deal of it (not all of it though. My year 8s make it all worth it, they are so delightful [Bobby aside]).
Anyways, I should probably end here....
Don't expect a lot of updating during the week. We all know how busy I am with school. I will try my best though.
Love and miss you all!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
On Filling The Void
Well, I've been planning and planning and week, and suddenly I find myself with an hour to kill before I go to bed. What a perfect opportunity for me to get a solid blog in! I know Andie specifically requested that I do an update, so here it is, lovey!
I guess I should go more in depth into my week so far. It's been one hell of a week, that's for sure! I'm definitely still trying to find my teaching feet, for lack of a better term. I'm still stuck in the Ontario curriculum mentality, so I make a lot of comparisons, and I find myself thinking in terms of how we teach in Ontario. How we teach in Ontario is better than how they teach here, and I really think they should all sit in on some of my lessons and learn a thing or two about REAL teaching. From what I've seen so far of the British education system, it's totally backwards. They place all their emphasis on getting good test results from their students. I'm not entirely up to par on how the system works, so I may be slightly wrong here, but let me try to explain....
Basically, how their system works is that they test their students, nation wide, using a few (a SELECT few) different exam boards. They test them in Year 7, Year 9, and finally in Year 11. The last exam, in Year 11, is one that they take almost TWO YEARS preparing for. I was given two classes of Year 11s this year, and told that most of their "coursework" for Year 11 was completed in Year 10, so that all I have to do is reinforce what they already know. Looking at the objectives of what they want me to teach, it is all geared towards SPECIFIC types of questions on the final exam (the GCSE). The GCSE is kind of like the SATs in the United States, in that students are rated on their score, and can decide from these scores what they want to take in their "A-Levels". You see, High School in the UK only goes to Year 11, or to the age of 15. That is the HIGHEST age people in this country MUST attend school to. Therefore, you can stop at 15, and start working in the real world. In fact, they have students in the lower performing classes go to co-ops (workplace) classes more than they're in the real classroom setting, working on getting a job. From my understanding, most of these students will simply make the transition from their co-op into the working world. At 15 years of age. Something is wrong with that pictures.
If students get good grades on the GCSE, they can then go on to do their A-Levels, which means they essentially will start to attend a community college, of sorts, which will prepare them to enter a University in two years time. After that, I am fairly certain most people complete a three year University degree. That means that the majority of people MY age have been done university for a year or two, at least, and are working in the real world. It almost seems as if they push people into adulthood, in this country. It's just so mind boggling. I can't wrap my head around it.
Anyways, back to the GCSEs... I really dislike the system, because the school is OBSESSED with getting good results. As it turns out, the school is in the top 20% of schools in the country, with 91% of Year 11 students that wrote the GCSE in July passing in the A* (A star) to C level. The numbers correspond to the same percentages over in Ontario (i.e. an A* is 90% and up and a C is 50 and up). The average in the country is something like 73% (of students achieving an A* to C). The test, from my understanding, is written in a number of different sittings, and has different exams for different classes. Therefore, Math has its own, English has its own, Technology has its own, and so on and so forth. They then add all the scores, and find out the average of the top 8. That's what gets you your final mark. Something like that. It's confusing. Anyways, there are books written every year for teachers to use, and they contain LAST years GCSE test questions. I've been given one of the books, and told to use it as a base to teach my Year 11s. They want me to hammer into their heads what types of questions will be on the test, and how they should answer the quests ions to get the best result.
In my mind, that is not how you effectively teach. That is how you teach children to memorize, and perform based on specific goals and outcomes. That's not learning. That's rote memorization. I fail to see how that leads to successful individuals, who are committed to being lifelong learners. They're simply pumping out students that know how to perform well on specific kinds of tests. I think that the system here really fails the creative kids, because it doesn't allow for individuality, it wants uniformity among people. It's bloody awful.
I also hate the schedule the school runs on. In Ontario, we work on a semester ed system, so every teach teaches 6 classes throughout the course of the year, but they only teach 3 at a time. They also get a really sweet 70 minute prep period EVERY DAY. In England, we have to teach the 6 classes all year, 5 periods a day, in 60 minute classes. You also are not guaranteed a prep period every day. Today, for example, I had 4 classes in a row, with absolutely NO break in between. I didn't get a break until 1:10, at which point I was not only starving, but had to pee like a race horse. I was severely unimpressed. The only plus side was that it made the day seem to go by really fast, which meant that Friday was that much closer.
I also found, in talking to other teachers, that they don't really play very far in advance. When I was told of a "Sponsored Walk" day on September 26th (in which the entire school spends the day hiking around the country), I looked in my planner and said "Oh! I've got to change some lesson dates then!".
The teachers around me started at me, their jaws literally dropped.
"That's impressive you've got planned that far in advance!" one of them said.
I gave a puzzled look, "Yah....it works better for me that way..."
They just nervously laughed at me. Clearly they don't plan a month in advance. Clearly I'M the crazy one....... *rolls eyes*
They also don't make very thorough lesson plans. Whenever I've asked to see what other teachers in the department have done with a unit that I am now teaching, they hand me a file folder that is randomly full of various different handouts and other crap. I can't find a single lesson plan in the bunch, and am starting to wonder how they teach over here. If they don't have formal lesson plans, do they just wing it?! I NEED to have a lesson plan for every lesson that I teach, otherwise I feel hopelessly lost. Maybe that's just me though. I AM a tad over-organized. But it's how I work, and it's proven effective. All I know is that once I become a teaching veteran, should anyone ever ask to see MY units of study, they will be delighted to find that I've got EVERYTHING included; I've got all the lesson plans, the handouts that go with the lessons, samples of coursework, the whole gamut.
Anyways, for you non-teachers reading this (practically all of you), I am sorry if this bores you. However since this is my CAREER, it is very important to me, and I felt the need to really explain my problems with the system. Teaching in England has really shown me how GREAT teaching in Ontario is. Our Unions have fought hard (think back to the strikes of your childhood) to get everything that we have now, and we really do deserve it. We've also go a good curriculum going on, and good teaching practices in effect. I can only hope that some day the teachers in England will clue in to what a horrible system of education they have, in comparison to the rest of the world (or Canada in particular). I may be biased, but I really do think Ontario has a great program in place. People there may complain, but they need only experience education in England for a WEEK to understand just how good it really is.
Anyways, enough of that. Sorry to bore you!
Tonight my roommate Frank made dinner for the rest of the housemates. It was some kind of baked chicken breast, with dijon mustard on top, and melted cheese. He served it with steamed broccoli and cauliflower. It was actually really delicious. I also really appreciated it, because it meant that I didn't have to come home and cook, after my ridiculously long day today.
Ah, I feel I should mention a little more about my classes, specifically. Some of it is entertaining.
My two Year 8 classes are, for the most part, absolutely delightful. They're still young enough that they respect me instantly as a teacher, but old enough to do a bit harder work. The boys especially are sweet, very cute! I adore teaching them, because they work hard, and get excited about my lessons. There is, however, one boy in one of the classes that drives me insane. We'll call him "Bobby". On the very first day, Bobby walks into class and booms at me "Where do I sit, Miss?"
I direct him to the seating plan on the board, and he searches for half a second then declares, "I can't find myself Miss. I'm not on the list!"
I ask him his name, and when he tells me I find him, and point him in the right direction. He takes his sweet time walking to the seat, pausing to smack every kid lightly on the head as he goes.
They all groan at him, and look at me with pleading eyes.
"Bobby! That is totally inappropriate, and I won't stand for that. That's your FIRST warning"
He scowls at me as he sits down, plopping his bag on the desktop.
"You know the school rules, Bobby. All bags under the desk," I say sternly.
"Rules don't apply for me, Miss"
"They apply for everyone..."
He tries to argue with me over anything and everything, but I resolve to try ignoring him. It works for awhile, but he starts to turn from getting my attention to getting the attention of the entire class. He does everything from bang on the desk, to calling people random horrid names, to sticking his head in his backpack and screaming.
Eventually, no one can ignore him, despite my signals to everyone to do so. They look at me with utter annoyance in their eyes, so I decide enough is enough.
He also decides, at this point, to call a passing girl a slut. This puts me over the edge.
"Bobby, you can go into the sin bin now" I said.
"No, I can't" he says.
I walk over, and stand beside him.
"You can go in the sin bin now" I repeat.
He stands up, and walks into the room. I point to the chair, and tell him to sit quietly until I decide to let him back in.
I close the door, and give the students a pep talk on ignoring his behaviour, and perhaps it will stop.
I finish this quick rant, only to hear Bobby SINGING at the top of his lungs in the sin bin. Now, the sin bin is located between my classroom and that of the Department Head, Lesley. There is a window looking into her classroom from the sin bin, so she can see in. She has a class in session, and I see the door open from her side. Nervous, I tell the class to work on a question, and I too enter the sin bin.
"Bobby couldn't make it one class, eh?" she asks me, smiling.
"Afraid not..." I said.
"I'll take care of it," she says.
I turn and leave, grateful for her help.
At the end of the day, I apologize for putting Bobby in the room. She tells me I did the right thing, and that it's not a problem at all.
"Putting Bobby in your set of upper level students is a test...we're trying to see if they can keep him from acting up...we'll see how long he lasts"
I pray that he won't last long, and that they will deem the experiment a failure. I don't want him in my class, and neither do the students.
At the end of that class, one of the girls comes up and timidly asks me if she's in the right set. I know instantly that she thinks Bobby's presence means she's been put in a lower learning level class. I assure her that's not the case.
Today, I also got an e-mail concerning Bobby and another student. Turns out the student I have sitting next to Bobby has gone to his councillor "concerned and upset" about the seating arrangement, asking that it be changed. I'm really at a loss of what to do! That class has 32 students, and I have used up all the available seating. There is also literally no room for me to add a desk, for Bobby to sit in my himself. It's so frustrating! I may try moving him on a class by class basis, but I don't think that's very fair to HIM....so we shall see what I do on that front.
I also have two Year 11 groups, one that is higher level and one lower. They are both absolutely delightful, and I have very few problems with them. The lower level class is full of students mostly with IEPs, but they can still perform, when given he right amount of help and attention. There is on TA (English EAs) in the class. After today's lesson, she gave me a real boost, when she told me that she'd NEVER seen one of the boys participate as much as he did today with me. I beamed, from ear to ear, happy to hear that I was successful with SOMEONE at least.
My Year 10s are also quite good, they listen well, and are hard workers. No complaints there.
My Year 9s I had for the first time today. They proved to be a challenge, with one kid having ADHD, and other being borderline ADHD. They're both really nice boys though, and I think I can handle them fine. They're very vocal, but they do pay attention and give good answers. The only problem with the class is that they're all so eager to talk, that they talk at once. Mind you, they were all trying to talk about the task at hand, which is good. The only problem is, when you've got everyone shouting answers at the same time, you can't hear anything at all! It was total chaos! I'm going to try to fix the problem tomorrow, but sitting down and getting the class to help me write some classroom rules. If I make them think raising their hand to speak is THEIR idea, maybe they'll actually do it.
Anyways, I've rambled on enough for tonight. I will likely add more on Saturday, when I've got the day off.
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY to my Mom and Dad, by the way. Tomorrow, September 5th, is their 27th Anniversary. I LOVE YOU GUYS!!
Cheers!
I guess I should go more in depth into my week so far. It's been one hell of a week, that's for sure! I'm definitely still trying to find my teaching feet, for lack of a better term. I'm still stuck in the Ontario curriculum mentality, so I make a lot of comparisons, and I find myself thinking in terms of how we teach in Ontario. How we teach in Ontario is better than how they teach here, and I really think they should all sit in on some of my lessons and learn a thing or two about REAL teaching. From what I've seen so far of the British education system, it's totally backwards. They place all their emphasis on getting good test results from their students. I'm not entirely up to par on how the system works, so I may be slightly wrong here, but let me try to explain....
Basically, how their system works is that they test their students, nation wide, using a few (a SELECT few) different exam boards. They test them in Year 7, Year 9, and finally in Year 11. The last exam, in Year 11, is one that they take almost TWO YEARS preparing for. I was given two classes of Year 11s this year, and told that most of their "coursework" for Year 11 was completed in Year 10, so that all I have to do is reinforce what they already know. Looking at the objectives of what they want me to teach, it is all geared towards SPECIFIC types of questions on the final exam (the GCSE). The GCSE is kind of like the SATs in the United States, in that students are rated on their score, and can decide from these scores what they want to take in their "A-Levels". You see, High School in the UK only goes to Year 11, or to the age of 15. That is the HIGHEST age people in this country MUST attend school to. Therefore, you can stop at 15, and start working in the real world. In fact, they have students in the lower performing classes go to co-ops (workplace) classes more than they're in the real classroom setting, working on getting a job. From my understanding, most of these students will simply make the transition from their co-op into the working world. At 15 years of age. Something is wrong with that pictures.
If students get good grades on the GCSE, they can then go on to do their A-Levels, which means they essentially will start to attend a community college, of sorts, which will prepare them to enter a University in two years time. After that, I am fairly certain most people complete a three year University degree. That means that the majority of people MY age have been done university for a year or two, at least, and are working in the real world. It almost seems as if they push people into adulthood, in this country. It's just so mind boggling. I can't wrap my head around it.
Anyways, back to the GCSEs... I really dislike the system, because the school is OBSESSED with getting good results. As it turns out, the school is in the top 20% of schools in the country, with 91% of Year 11 students that wrote the GCSE in July passing in the A* (A star) to C level. The numbers correspond to the same percentages over in Ontario (i.e. an A* is 90% and up and a C is 50 and up). The average in the country is something like 73% (of students achieving an A* to C). The test, from my understanding, is written in a number of different sittings, and has different exams for different classes. Therefore, Math has its own, English has its own, Technology has its own, and so on and so forth. They then add all the scores, and find out the average of the top 8. That's what gets you your final mark. Something like that. It's confusing. Anyways, there are books written every year for teachers to use, and they contain LAST years GCSE test questions. I've been given one of the books, and told to use it as a base to teach my Year 11s. They want me to hammer into their heads what types of questions will be on the test, and how they should answer the quests ions to get the best result.
In my mind, that is not how you effectively teach. That is how you teach children to memorize, and perform based on specific goals and outcomes. That's not learning. That's rote memorization. I fail to see how that leads to successful individuals, who are committed to being lifelong learners. They're simply pumping out students that know how to perform well on specific kinds of tests. I think that the system here really fails the creative kids, because it doesn't allow for individuality, it wants uniformity among people. It's bloody awful.
I also hate the schedule the school runs on. In Ontario, we work on a semester ed system, so every teach teaches 6 classes throughout the course of the year, but they only teach 3 at a time. They also get a really sweet 70 minute prep period EVERY DAY. In England, we have to teach the 6 classes all year, 5 periods a day, in 60 minute classes. You also are not guaranteed a prep period every day. Today, for example, I had 4 classes in a row, with absolutely NO break in between. I didn't get a break until 1:10, at which point I was not only starving, but had to pee like a race horse. I was severely unimpressed. The only plus side was that it made the day seem to go by really fast, which meant that Friday was that much closer.
I also found, in talking to other teachers, that they don't really play very far in advance. When I was told of a "Sponsored Walk" day on September 26th (in which the entire school spends the day hiking around the country), I looked in my planner and said "Oh! I've got to change some lesson dates then!".
The teachers around me started at me, their jaws literally dropped.
"That's impressive you've got planned that far in advance!" one of them said.
I gave a puzzled look, "Yah....it works better for me that way..."
They just nervously laughed at me. Clearly they don't plan a month in advance. Clearly I'M the crazy one....... *rolls eyes*
They also don't make very thorough lesson plans. Whenever I've asked to see what other teachers in the department have done with a unit that I am now teaching, they hand me a file folder that is randomly full of various different handouts and other crap. I can't find a single lesson plan in the bunch, and am starting to wonder how they teach over here. If they don't have formal lesson plans, do they just wing it?! I NEED to have a lesson plan for every lesson that I teach, otherwise I feel hopelessly lost. Maybe that's just me though. I AM a tad over-organized. But it's how I work, and it's proven effective. All I know is that once I become a teaching veteran, should anyone ever ask to see MY units of study, they will be delighted to find that I've got EVERYTHING included; I've got all the lesson plans, the handouts that go with the lessons, samples of coursework, the whole gamut.
Anyways, for you non-teachers reading this (practically all of you), I am sorry if this bores you. However since this is my CAREER, it is very important to me, and I felt the need to really explain my problems with the system. Teaching in England has really shown me how GREAT teaching in Ontario is. Our Unions have fought hard (think back to the strikes of your childhood) to get everything that we have now, and we really do deserve it. We've also go a good curriculum going on, and good teaching practices in effect. I can only hope that some day the teachers in England will clue in to what a horrible system of education they have, in comparison to the rest of the world (or Canada in particular). I may be biased, but I really do think Ontario has a great program in place. People there may complain, but they need only experience education in England for a WEEK to understand just how good it really is.
Anyways, enough of that. Sorry to bore you!
Tonight my roommate Frank made dinner for the rest of the housemates. It was some kind of baked chicken breast, with dijon mustard on top, and melted cheese. He served it with steamed broccoli and cauliflower. It was actually really delicious. I also really appreciated it, because it meant that I didn't have to come home and cook, after my ridiculously long day today.
Ah, I feel I should mention a little more about my classes, specifically. Some of it is entertaining.
My two Year 8 classes are, for the most part, absolutely delightful. They're still young enough that they respect me instantly as a teacher, but old enough to do a bit harder work. The boys especially are sweet, very cute! I adore teaching them, because they work hard, and get excited about my lessons. There is, however, one boy in one of the classes that drives me insane. We'll call him "Bobby". On the very first day, Bobby walks into class and booms at me "Where do I sit, Miss?"
I direct him to the seating plan on the board, and he searches for half a second then declares, "I can't find myself Miss. I'm not on the list!"
I ask him his name, and when he tells me I find him, and point him in the right direction. He takes his sweet time walking to the seat, pausing to smack every kid lightly on the head as he goes.
They all groan at him, and look at me with pleading eyes.
"Bobby! That is totally inappropriate, and I won't stand for that. That's your FIRST warning"
He scowls at me as he sits down, plopping his bag on the desktop.
"You know the school rules, Bobby. All bags under the desk," I say sternly.
"Rules don't apply for me, Miss"
"They apply for everyone..."
He tries to argue with me over anything and everything, but I resolve to try ignoring him. It works for awhile, but he starts to turn from getting my attention to getting the attention of the entire class. He does everything from bang on the desk, to calling people random horrid names, to sticking his head in his backpack and screaming.
Eventually, no one can ignore him, despite my signals to everyone to do so. They look at me with utter annoyance in their eyes, so I decide enough is enough.
He also decides, at this point, to call a passing girl a slut. This puts me over the edge.
"Bobby, you can go into the sin bin now" I said.
"No, I can't" he says.
I walk over, and stand beside him.
"You can go in the sin bin now" I repeat.
He stands up, and walks into the room. I point to the chair, and tell him to sit quietly until I decide to let him back in.
I close the door, and give the students a pep talk on ignoring his behaviour, and perhaps it will stop.
I finish this quick rant, only to hear Bobby SINGING at the top of his lungs in the sin bin. Now, the sin bin is located between my classroom and that of the Department Head, Lesley. There is a window looking into her classroom from the sin bin, so she can see in. She has a class in session, and I see the door open from her side. Nervous, I tell the class to work on a question, and I too enter the sin bin.
"Bobby couldn't make it one class, eh?" she asks me, smiling.
"Afraid not..." I said.
"I'll take care of it," she says.
I turn and leave, grateful for her help.
At the end of the day, I apologize for putting Bobby in the room. She tells me I did the right thing, and that it's not a problem at all.
"Putting Bobby in your set of upper level students is a test...we're trying to see if they can keep him from acting up...we'll see how long he lasts"
I pray that he won't last long, and that they will deem the experiment a failure. I don't want him in my class, and neither do the students.
At the end of that class, one of the girls comes up and timidly asks me if she's in the right set. I know instantly that she thinks Bobby's presence means she's been put in a lower learning level class. I assure her that's not the case.
Today, I also got an e-mail concerning Bobby and another student. Turns out the student I have sitting next to Bobby has gone to his councillor "concerned and upset" about the seating arrangement, asking that it be changed. I'm really at a loss of what to do! That class has 32 students, and I have used up all the available seating. There is also literally no room for me to add a desk, for Bobby to sit in my himself. It's so frustrating! I may try moving him on a class by class basis, but I don't think that's very fair to HIM....so we shall see what I do on that front.
I also have two Year 11 groups, one that is higher level and one lower. They are both absolutely delightful, and I have very few problems with them. The lower level class is full of students mostly with IEPs, but they can still perform, when given he right amount of help and attention. There is on TA (English EAs) in the class. After today's lesson, she gave me a real boost, when she told me that she'd NEVER seen one of the boys participate as much as he did today with me. I beamed, from ear to ear, happy to hear that I was successful with SOMEONE at least.
My Year 10s are also quite good, they listen well, and are hard workers. No complaints there.
My Year 9s I had for the first time today. They proved to be a challenge, with one kid having ADHD, and other being borderline ADHD. They're both really nice boys though, and I think I can handle them fine. They're very vocal, but they do pay attention and give good answers. The only problem with the class is that they're all so eager to talk, that they talk at once. Mind you, they were all trying to talk about the task at hand, which is good. The only problem is, when you've got everyone shouting answers at the same time, you can't hear anything at all! It was total chaos! I'm going to try to fix the problem tomorrow, but sitting down and getting the class to help me write some classroom rules. If I make them think raising their hand to speak is THEIR idea, maybe they'll actually do it.
Anyways, I've rambled on enough for tonight. I will likely add more on Saturday, when I've got the day off.
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY to my Mom and Dad, by the way. Tomorrow, September 5th, is their 27th Anniversary. I LOVE YOU GUYS!!
Cheers!
Monday, September 1, 2008
On My First Day At SVC
I can't type much right now, as I am rather strapped for time. Today was my first day as an official teacher at SVC, though it wasn't a class day. Instead, it was a staff meeting day, where we talked over where we want to go in the coming year. To sum up my day, I felt overwhelmed for the majority of the day. Everyone around me was British, and it was clear they all had a thorough grasp of the education system here. Me, on the other hand, sat listening with growing concern over my prepardness. With everything they said, I felt myself growing smaller and smaller. I honestly was on the verge of tears at one point, totally scared shitless about what I had gotten myself into. It must have been fairly obvious that I was in distress, because Lesley (the head) quickly stopped to ask me if I was alright.
I gulped out that I was "okay", and that I was merely "trying to absorb all the information". Inside I felt like I was overflowing with a jumble of words, all of which made little sense to me. Towards the end of the afternoon, we were allowed to go to our classrooms and get settled.
I had gotten my laptop previously, and wandered into my room. It needs decorating (Mom, send me those things ASAP!). I turned on the laptop, and played around with the projector. After about 5 mintutes, and error message popped up. I clicked "Yes" on it, to make it go away...and it popped up again. And again. And again. I felt my eyes tingle, as I felt the tears start to well up again. However, determined not to cry, I packed it up and took it down to IT.
The school employs two full time IT people, whose job it is to look after all the computers in the school. Clearly they were busy, with many other laptops sitting on a table. I walked in, handed the fellow mine, and explained my problem.
"You've got a virus, love" he told me, matter of factly. "I'll add it to the pile and get to it when I can..."
I thanked him, and assured him I had my own laptop to use, so he could prioritize mine accordingly.
He nodded briskly at me, and I scurried out of the room.
Just another blip in my horrid day, I thought.
I headed back upstairs, and was met by Louise, whose classes I am taking over (she's heavily pregnant). She took me into her room, and walked through some of the year 11 coursework with me. This eased my fears a little, since I had NOTHING prepared for that class yet. I'm feeling slightly better, and hope to have it sorted out soon enough. She was also very friendly, offereing me her schemes of work, and told me to pester her as much as I wanted. Everyone in the department was equally nice, offering to share their resources, and telling me to come to them at any time for help. It's a huge relief to know I have such good support. They clearly want me to succeed, which is nice.
I also met the other new English staff member, a girl my age named Rachel. It is her second year teaching, her first at the school. WE also found out she just moved to St. Ives with her boyfriend, so we're going to carpool together! YAY! A ride!
Anyways, I would love to add more, but I have so much work to do! I will write brief little bits throughout the week!
Cheers
I gulped out that I was "okay", and that I was merely "trying to absorb all the information". Inside I felt like I was overflowing with a jumble of words, all of which made little sense to me. Towards the end of the afternoon, we were allowed to go to our classrooms and get settled.
I had gotten my laptop previously, and wandered into my room. It needs decorating (Mom, send me those things ASAP!). I turned on the laptop, and played around with the projector. After about 5 mintutes, and error message popped up. I clicked "Yes" on it, to make it go away...and it popped up again. And again. And again. I felt my eyes tingle, as I felt the tears start to well up again. However, determined not to cry, I packed it up and took it down to IT.
The school employs two full time IT people, whose job it is to look after all the computers in the school. Clearly they were busy, with many other laptops sitting on a table. I walked in, handed the fellow mine, and explained my problem.
"You've got a virus, love" he told me, matter of factly. "I'll add it to the pile and get to it when I can..."
I thanked him, and assured him I had my own laptop to use, so he could prioritize mine accordingly.
He nodded briskly at me, and I scurried out of the room.
Just another blip in my horrid day, I thought.
I headed back upstairs, and was met by Louise, whose classes I am taking over (she's heavily pregnant). She took me into her room, and walked through some of the year 11 coursework with me. This eased my fears a little, since I had NOTHING prepared for that class yet. I'm feeling slightly better, and hope to have it sorted out soon enough. She was also very friendly, offereing me her schemes of work, and told me to pester her as much as I wanted. Everyone in the department was equally nice, offering to share their resources, and telling me to come to them at any time for help. It's a huge relief to know I have such good support. They clearly want me to succeed, which is nice.
I also met the other new English staff member, a girl my age named Rachel. It is her second year teaching, her first at the school. WE also found out she just moved to St. Ives with her boyfriend, so we're going to carpool together! YAY! A ride!
Anyways, I would love to add more, but I have so much work to do! I will write brief little bits throughout the week!
Cheers
On My First Days In St. Ives
August 29, 2008
I’ve successfully moved into St. Ives! I spent the morning at the Bed and Breakfast just packing the last of my things up, and then lounged around. Karen’s daughter, who is just starting at SVC this year, came and served me my breakfast this morning. I think she must have asked her mother if she could do it, because she was clearly trying to see who I was, so that she would be able to recognize me once school starts. She was a cute little thing! I’ll try to remember her face, and smile and wave at her if I should see her around campus.
I scarfed down the breakfast, since I hadn’t ate dinner the night before. I couldn’t eat all of it though, so I ate what I could. I was very tired still, from staying up late talking to my friends and family. It was worth it though! In fact, I was pleasantly surprised to find I could steal an internet signal when I got home from London. It was such a relief, because I do miss talking to my loved ones on a daily basis. I spent most of Thursday afternoon and evening chatting on MSN, and watching the television. After breakfast this morning, since I was still tired, I decided to lay down for a bit of a “morning siesta”. I slept from 10 until 12, which was a little longer than I had expected! I woke up, went on the internet for about half an hour, and then gathered all my stuff to leave. Karen and I had discussed what I owed her that morning, so I opened my purse to get the money out for her. Unable to find my bundle of cash, I soon came to realize that I had left it in my suitcase, which Frank had taken with him to the house in St. Ives the night before. Cursing myself, I debated what to do. Karen had told me after breakfast that she and a friend were going on a daytrip, and that she wouldn’t be back before I left. I searched my brain, trying to think of the best thing for me to do, then decided to give her whatever cash I had in my wallet, and write her a note. I had only 60 pounds in my wallet, which is just less than half of what I owe her. I searched high and low for a piece of paper, and finding one penned her a little note:
“Karen, I didn’t realize it last night, but I accidentally sent along all my money in my suitcase, to my place in St. Ives last night. I don’t have all my money with me, and therefore can only pay you 60 pounds. I will stop by on Monday after work to pay the rest of what I owe you. I feel like a sodding idiot. So sorry! Krista”
Hopefully she isn’t too mad! It was not my intention at all to not immediately pay her! I truly do feel like a retard for forgetting my money. Had I been in a real hotel, I doubt I would have gotten away with it. I also provided her with my cell number, so that she can call me if she wants to. Bah!
I took the 1:12pm bus from Swavesey to St. Ives, and upon arrival called Frank to see if he could pick me up. He was free, so he swung around to fetch me. I was glad of it, because while the walk to the house is not far, it was not something I relished having to do with my luggage, even in its reduced form. Once we arrived at the house, he gave me my key, told me that my rent would be due every month on the 29th, and then let me go and get myself sorted. I quickly went to work on unpacking my things, and setting up shop. I quickly started to devise a list of things that I needed to buy for the room; little items that would make it more “mine”. After getting the majority of it out, I decided to put unpacking on hold for awhile, and head to the city center to work out my bank stuff and get some groceries. The walk to city center wasn’t long at all, about 15 minutes maximum (if that).
I went to the bank first, just in case they had wonky hours and closed really early. I went up to the tellers first, since I wasn’t entirely sure who I had to see. I explained what I had to do, and they told me I should go to customer services, which was to my left. I thanked the ladies, and headed to the sign that read “Customer Services”. There was a small desk beside the wall under the sign, with a computer on it. I figured I just had to wait there, and someone would come take care of me. I stood there for about 10 minutes, and no one showed up. I started to feel a bit foolish, so I went back to the tellers and asked if there was someone specific I had to see. They laughed at me, and told me to walk around the corner into one of the offices, if the man was not with a customer. I thanked them again, feeling like a total dumbass. This time I walked around the corner, and a young man, probably around my age, popped his head out of one of the offices.
“I’m sorry, do you need some help?” he asked.
“Oh, yes please…” I said. I went into his office, and had a seat opposite him at this desk. I handed him the form from Dream and HSBC that I had received at training, and explained that an account was already open for me. All I needed him to do was fax a copy of my passport to the HSBC office in Halifax, and the whole thing would be settled. He read the form, then took my passport and copied it, signed it, and then faxed it off. He was very friendly, talking to me about where I was from, why I had come, and a few other things. We sorted out my new address, so that they wouldn’t send my new bank card to Canada (because that was the address currently in the system!), and then we were finished! I shook his hand, and told him I would see him again soon.
My next stop was the “Warehouse Clearance Store”, which Frank had told me previously was where I could find “cheap” stuff. I walked in, and instantly recognized myself as being in what we would call a dollar store in Canada. I wandered around, picking up a mirror for over my makeup desk in my room, and some hangers. Since we only have one bathroom in the house, I figured I wouldn’t tie it up doing my hair and makeup; that I could do in my room, with the help of a mirror. Obviously it being from the dollar store makes it cheap and plastic-y, but it does the job just fine!
The final stop was the grocery store. I was a bit annoyed to find that the store didn’t have any carts. All they had was the hand basket. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fit all my stuff in the basket, so I hoped and prayed they wouldn’t mind if I had to stick a few items in the bags I had brought with me. I knew it would look like I was stealing, but obviously I wasn’t. Anyways, it was a small shop, so it didn’t take me long. I picked up a pack of tomatoes, which were VERY tiny compared to the tomatoes back home. All they had were the tiny vine ripened tomatoes, no hot houses etc. It definitely made me miss home a little, especially considering I had planted some tomatoes in the summer, and never got to eat them. BOO! I also bought a pack of peppers, three pieces of chicken breast, some hummus, a small loaf of bread, a pack of buns, some sandwich meat, yogurt, cheesestrings (so glad they have these too!), curry and madras paste, basmati rice, ravioli, a can of Ragu (they didn’t have a lot of selection for sauce, which made me miss Presidents Choice very much. I love their Spicy Red Pepper sauce), a bottle of Tabasco (the Habanera one, extra hot. No Franks Red Hot to be found, sadly. If you want to send me a bottle, I’d be thrilled!), a box of Orange Juice (“with fruit bits”, which I can only assume refers to the pulp), some “chips”, “crisps”, two boxes of battered fish (they were on sale), chicken nuggets, a pizza, and a bottle of wine (for 4 pounds….ridiculously cheap!!!). All in all it came to 50 pounds total. I don’t like to think in terms of converting anymore, because then my modest groceries amounted to $100 Canadian. If had spent that much at Zehrs I would have came home with a bigger haul….but that’s neither here nor there.
I fit the groceries into the two bags I had brought, and headed out. Using re-useable bags is very common over here, much more so than in Canada, where it is just catching on. No one uses the plastic bags anymore, and if you do get them, they encourage you to re-use THOSE as well.
The walk home was pretty rough, because my two bags were quite heavy. I was relieved when I finally made it home. I was also starving, and decided to cook up the pizza straight away. Tackling the oven was something else… It was very tiny, and it did not have a degree gauge. It just had numbers. When I checked the pizza box for instructions I found that this is pretty standard, because it told me to “pre-heat the oven to dial 7/345 degrees”. So I started the oven, which is gas, and put it on dial 7. I could actually SEE the flames shooting up the back of the oven, which was a tad odd. We have a gas range at home, and I’ve never been able to see the flames in the oven. It worried me slightly; I didn’t want my pizza to cook unevenly as a result. However, I decided not to worry about it, and popped the pizza in. I pulled it out when it was done, ravishingly hungry. It was decent enough, though not what my craving had wanted. I ate most of it, leaving three pieces for the fridge. Breakfast, mmmmm.
At around 6pm, my roommate Victoria came home. She is beautiful! She’s tall, I’d say about Sheena’s height, very thin, with long legs! She’s also blonde (though not naturally), with beautiful big eyes, and a pleasant happy looking face. She’s Ukrainian, and she doesn’t think her English is very good. I thought she spoke quite well though! However, I worry that I talk to fast, and sometimes she can’t understand me, so I will make an effort to talk slowly to her. She seemed really happy to have a girl roommate, since I think she’s been living with her boyfriend Roland and Frank for awhile now. She asked me if I liked to shop, and I told her I did. She smiled, clapped her hands, and said that we would have to go to Cambridge soon, to do some shopping. I was fine with that, as I do need to pick up some new clothes and shoes. She also told me that she didn’t like fashion in England, as it’s too casual for her. I laughed a bit, as I find it is very similar to Canadian fashion. I’m not finding that we’re seasons behind in Canada, it’s mostly very similar. We chatted for awhile, and then I went upstairs to finish my unpacking, and to decorate my room.
At about 8, my other roommate and Victoria’s boyfriend, Roland (I believe that’s what it is), came home. He is Russian, and also speaks with a heavy accent; however his English is much better than Victoria’s. He reminds me a lot of Tony, in that he’s built much the same way; he’s a buff fellow, but with a teddy bear mentality. He was also very very friendly, and went out of his way to try and make me feel at home. He told me that he was having two friends over, and that they were going to go out drinking, and asked me to come along. Eager to see what the night life in St. Ives was like, and wanting to make friends with my roomies and possibly their friends, I agreed. I quickly got myself ready, and then joined Roland downstairs to sip on some wine, while we chatted. It was a very nice night! I think that I will get along just fine with the two of them; they are very friendly and warm! Roland also asked me to try and help Victoria with her English, which I said I would do. She really is quite good already. She just needs to speak it more often! Their friend Paulo came over at about 10:30, and at 11 we hopped in Roland’s car and drove downtown. They didn’t know what club they wanted to take me to, but finally decided upon going to one called Music (I think, I can’t really remember that well now ha ha). It reminded me a lot of the Palace/Trappers. It had the same kind of atmosphere and music. The bar was two floors, with a long bar at the front both upstairs and downstairs. Upstairs had places to sit and drink, while downstairs was generally a large dance floor. The top floor was open in the middle, so that you could stand around the railing and look down on the people dancing in the middle. We went upstairs first, and watched people dance. Soon we decided to sit and chat, which we did for awhile. However, Victoria and I soon got the itch to dance, so we went down to the dance floor. The boys came down, but did not dance. They stood off to the side, watching us to make sure none of the men tried any funny business.
While dancing, I noticed a super hot fellow. He had longer hair, kind of like Ethan’s, cut and styled very nicely. You can really only pull of that look if you have fine hair, and he definitely did. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I have a weakness for guys with a stylish shaggy doo. He was also dressed in a very trendy looking pair of jeans (nice jeans on a man is so hot), and a white graphic T that hugged him in all the right places. He completed the look with a leather belt. His ass looked fabulous. In my less-than-shy state I shot him many seductive looks (or at least what I felt were seductive looks). I held his attention a couple of times, and he smiled at me. I smiled back. However, dancing doesn’t allow you much time to flirt, as you’re constantly warding off gross losers who try to grab your body. Victoria and I spent much of the time doing “the lesbian tango”, spinning each other around and away from creepers who came up behind us. A couple of times Roland came down to the dance floor to shoo the unwanted men away. It was nice, because most of the daring boys were way out of our league! A lot of guys also came up to tell us that we were “beautiful girls”, which was a nice ego boost. Towards the end of the night, right before 2am when they shut the club down, I spotted my sexy fellow again. I made eye contact and smiled, and this time he came over! AH! He asked me my name, and when he heard my accent he asked where I was from. I told him I was from Canada. His next question was one I have been getting a lot…
“Why are you in St. Ives?!” he asked.
I explained that I had just moved to St. Ives that afternoon, and that I was a teacher in Swavesey. He laughed, and then asked how long I was going to be in St. Ives for.
I told him I was going to be around for at least a year, which seemed to make him happy.
The lights came on at this point though, and suddenly everyone pushed for the door. Victoria came up behind me, and we left the bar in our group of four. I lost sight of my sexy man, unfortunately. BOO!
Once outside, we stood around in the alley with a bunch of other bar goers, talking and figuring out what we wanted to do next. There are clubs in the area that open from 2 – 6, however I think both Victoria and Roland were tired, so we decided to grab some food and then head home. I spotted the sexy man again, as they were discussing where to eat. He was standing on the opposite side of the alley, and he smiled at me. I winked at him, and he beckoned for me to come over to him. I walked over, and we chatted a bit. He asked me how old I was, so I told him I was 23. I went to ask him in return, but one of his friends came up and told me I was “hot”. Then the friend asked if I was into “threeways”. I was offended, and shouted “NO! What kind of girl do you think I am?”
I turned to walk away, totally disgusted. However, Tom (as I had found out his name by this point) touched my arm and told me not to judge him on his friends’ behaviour. I laughed, and told him we couldn’t be responsible for our friends’ drunken behaviour, so of course I wasn’t judging him.
Then he asked if he could get my phone number, because he’d like to call me some time.
“Really?!” I asked.
“Yah, for sure!” he said. “I’d like to ring you next weekend, if you’d give me your number!”
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, handing it to me. It was an Ericsson similar to mine, but an older model, so I knew how to use it. I added myself as a contact, and told him that in case I put the number in wrong, I had put my full name down so that he could search and add me on Facebook to get my number again. I think I put the right number though, so I hope he does call. He asked for my phone, and entered his number as well; If I don’t hear from him in a weeks time, I might be ballsy enough to text his phone. We’ll see! I hope he makes the first move though, as I definitely hate doing that. It’s so awkward! But he’s so HOT…and it was SUCH an ego boost to have been able to get the ONE guy I’d found attractive at the bar to ask for my number! Score one for Krista!!!! Once we’d exchanged numbers, and chatted a bit more, both my new friends and his friends were eager to be off, so we parted ways.
We went to a place that was full of other drunken people, which was serving American food. I was desperate for a poutine, but since those are unheard of hear I ordered a burger and fries, as well as a can of diet Coke. The fries (oops, chips) were decent enough, as was the burger. The whole thing cost me only 3 pounds, so I was pretty pleased with that. I shoveled it all down quite quickly, to the amazement of Roland and Paulo. Then I gulped down the pop, which lead to a rather loud burp. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth, saying I was sorry. The boys laughed and laughed, saying that Canadian girls were such “ladies”. Seems I’ve given Canada a good name already….not!
Walking back to the car, Victoria took me aside and told me that Paulo had been sad when he’d seen me talking to Tom; apparently he had a bit of a crush on me. I cursed to myself, unsure of what it was about me that endeared me to nearly EVERYONE! Paulo was nice enough, and certainly good looking, but he doesn’t do it for me. He reminds me a lot of that one guy Caily dated…the guy she brought to Lindsey’s reception. Jay? I believe that was his name. He’s Polish, and his English isn’t great either. Often while talking to me he asked me for the words he was searching for, to finish his sentences. Again, this is not a big deal, and really doesn’t factor into my not liking him. I’m not into him because he seems like he’d be one of those guys that falls hard for you, and then becomes a bit of a jealous rage-a-holic. I don’t like to make snap judgments of people, but that’s definitely the vibe I get from him. I will try to keep that on the friend level. It was hard though, as he also tried to get into bed with me. However, I snuggled under my covers, and feigned passing out. Eventually he stopped trying to talk to me, and fell asleep himself. I’m a bit worried at what Victoria and Roland will think, since he did sleep in my bed…however, I know that nothing happened, nor ever would, and will easily explain that to them, should they ask. However, I think Paulo is enough of a gentleman that he’ll just tell them the truth.
So now it is Saturday morning, and I’m writing this as I wait to have a shower. I had a lot of fun last night, and am glad I live where I do. I think we will get along well, all of us. Tonight we might go into Cambridge for a night on the town; we shall see!
Cheers!
I’ve successfully moved into St. Ives! I spent the morning at the Bed and Breakfast just packing the last of my things up, and then lounged around. Karen’s daughter, who is just starting at SVC this year, came and served me my breakfast this morning. I think she must have asked her mother if she could do it, because she was clearly trying to see who I was, so that she would be able to recognize me once school starts. She was a cute little thing! I’ll try to remember her face, and smile and wave at her if I should see her around campus.
I scarfed down the breakfast, since I hadn’t ate dinner the night before. I couldn’t eat all of it though, so I ate what I could. I was very tired still, from staying up late talking to my friends and family. It was worth it though! In fact, I was pleasantly surprised to find I could steal an internet signal when I got home from London. It was such a relief, because I do miss talking to my loved ones on a daily basis. I spent most of Thursday afternoon and evening chatting on MSN, and watching the television. After breakfast this morning, since I was still tired, I decided to lay down for a bit of a “morning siesta”. I slept from 10 until 12, which was a little longer than I had expected! I woke up, went on the internet for about half an hour, and then gathered all my stuff to leave. Karen and I had discussed what I owed her that morning, so I opened my purse to get the money out for her. Unable to find my bundle of cash, I soon came to realize that I had left it in my suitcase, which Frank had taken with him to the house in St. Ives the night before. Cursing myself, I debated what to do. Karen had told me after breakfast that she and a friend were going on a daytrip, and that she wouldn’t be back before I left. I searched my brain, trying to think of the best thing for me to do, then decided to give her whatever cash I had in my wallet, and write her a note. I had only 60 pounds in my wallet, which is just less than half of what I owe her. I searched high and low for a piece of paper, and finding one penned her a little note:
“Karen, I didn’t realize it last night, but I accidentally sent along all my money in my suitcase, to my place in St. Ives last night. I don’t have all my money with me, and therefore can only pay you 60 pounds. I will stop by on Monday after work to pay the rest of what I owe you. I feel like a sodding idiot. So sorry! Krista”
Hopefully she isn’t too mad! It was not my intention at all to not immediately pay her! I truly do feel like a retard for forgetting my money. Had I been in a real hotel, I doubt I would have gotten away with it. I also provided her with my cell number, so that she can call me if she wants to. Bah!
I took the 1:12pm bus from Swavesey to St. Ives, and upon arrival called Frank to see if he could pick me up. He was free, so he swung around to fetch me. I was glad of it, because while the walk to the house is not far, it was not something I relished having to do with my luggage, even in its reduced form. Once we arrived at the house, he gave me my key, told me that my rent would be due every month on the 29th, and then let me go and get myself sorted. I quickly went to work on unpacking my things, and setting up shop. I quickly started to devise a list of things that I needed to buy for the room; little items that would make it more “mine”. After getting the majority of it out, I decided to put unpacking on hold for awhile, and head to the city center to work out my bank stuff and get some groceries. The walk to city center wasn’t long at all, about 15 minutes maximum (if that).
I went to the bank first, just in case they had wonky hours and closed really early. I went up to the tellers first, since I wasn’t entirely sure who I had to see. I explained what I had to do, and they told me I should go to customer services, which was to my left. I thanked the ladies, and headed to the sign that read “Customer Services”. There was a small desk beside the wall under the sign, with a computer on it. I figured I just had to wait there, and someone would come take care of me. I stood there for about 10 minutes, and no one showed up. I started to feel a bit foolish, so I went back to the tellers and asked if there was someone specific I had to see. They laughed at me, and told me to walk around the corner into one of the offices, if the man was not with a customer. I thanked them again, feeling like a total dumbass. This time I walked around the corner, and a young man, probably around my age, popped his head out of one of the offices.
“I’m sorry, do you need some help?” he asked.
“Oh, yes please…” I said. I went into his office, and had a seat opposite him at this desk. I handed him the form from Dream and HSBC that I had received at training, and explained that an account was already open for me. All I needed him to do was fax a copy of my passport to the HSBC office in Halifax, and the whole thing would be settled. He read the form, then took my passport and copied it, signed it, and then faxed it off. He was very friendly, talking to me about where I was from, why I had come, and a few other things. We sorted out my new address, so that they wouldn’t send my new bank card to Canada (because that was the address currently in the system!), and then we were finished! I shook his hand, and told him I would see him again soon.
My next stop was the “Warehouse Clearance Store”, which Frank had told me previously was where I could find “cheap” stuff. I walked in, and instantly recognized myself as being in what we would call a dollar store in Canada. I wandered around, picking up a mirror for over my makeup desk in my room, and some hangers. Since we only have one bathroom in the house, I figured I wouldn’t tie it up doing my hair and makeup; that I could do in my room, with the help of a mirror. Obviously it being from the dollar store makes it cheap and plastic-y, but it does the job just fine!
The final stop was the grocery store. I was a bit annoyed to find that the store didn’t have any carts. All they had was the hand basket. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fit all my stuff in the basket, so I hoped and prayed they wouldn’t mind if I had to stick a few items in the bags I had brought with me. I knew it would look like I was stealing, but obviously I wasn’t. Anyways, it was a small shop, so it didn’t take me long. I picked up a pack of tomatoes, which were VERY tiny compared to the tomatoes back home. All they had were the tiny vine ripened tomatoes, no hot houses etc. It definitely made me miss home a little, especially considering I had planted some tomatoes in the summer, and never got to eat them. BOO! I also bought a pack of peppers, three pieces of chicken breast, some hummus, a small loaf of bread, a pack of buns, some sandwich meat, yogurt, cheesestrings (so glad they have these too!), curry and madras paste, basmati rice, ravioli, a can of Ragu (they didn’t have a lot of selection for sauce, which made me miss Presidents Choice very much. I love their Spicy Red Pepper sauce), a bottle of Tabasco (the Habanera one, extra hot. No Franks Red Hot to be found, sadly. If you want to send me a bottle, I’d be thrilled!), a box of Orange Juice (“with fruit bits”, which I can only assume refers to the pulp), some “chips”, “crisps”, two boxes of battered fish (they were on sale), chicken nuggets, a pizza, and a bottle of wine (for 4 pounds….ridiculously cheap!!!). All in all it came to 50 pounds total. I don’t like to think in terms of converting anymore, because then my modest groceries amounted to $100 Canadian. If had spent that much at Zehrs I would have came home with a bigger haul….but that’s neither here nor there.
I fit the groceries into the two bags I had brought, and headed out. Using re-useable bags is very common over here, much more so than in Canada, where it is just catching on. No one uses the plastic bags anymore, and if you do get them, they encourage you to re-use THOSE as well.
The walk home was pretty rough, because my two bags were quite heavy. I was relieved when I finally made it home. I was also starving, and decided to cook up the pizza straight away. Tackling the oven was something else… It was very tiny, and it did not have a degree gauge. It just had numbers. When I checked the pizza box for instructions I found that this is pretty standard, because it told me to “pre-heat the oven to dial 7/345 degrees”. So I started the oven, which is gas, and put it on dial 7. I could actually SEE the flames shooting up the back of the oven, which was a tad odd. We have a gas range at home, and I’ve never been able to see the flames in the oven. It worried me slightly; I didn’t want my pizza to cook unevenly as a result. However, I decided not to worry about it, and popped the pizza in. I pulled it out when it was done, ravishingly hungry. It was decent enough, though not what my craving had wanted. I ate most of it, leaving three pieces for the fridge. Breakfast, mmmmm.
At around 6pm, my roommate Victoria came home. She is beautiful! She’s tall, I’d say about Sheena’s height, very thin, with long legs! She’s also blonde (though not naturally), with beautiful big eyes, and a pleasant happy looking face. She’s Ukrainian, and she doesn’t think her English is very good. I thought she spoke quite well though! However, I worry that I talk to fast, and sometimes she can’t understand me, so I will make an effort to talk slowly to her. She seemed really happy to have a girl roommate, since I think she’s been living with her boyfriend Roland and Frank for awhile now. She asked me if I liked to shop, and I told her I did. She smiled, clapped her hands, and said that we would have to go to Cambridge soon, to do some shopping. I was fine with that, as I do need to pick up some new clothes and shoes. She also told me that she didn’t like fashion in England, as it’s too casual for her. I laughed a bit, as I find it is very similar to Canadian fashion. I’m not finding that we’re seasons behind in Canada, it’s mostly very similar. We chatted for awhile, and then I went upstairs to finish my unpacking, and to decorate my room.
At about 8, my other roommate and Victoria’s boyfriend, Roland (I believe that’s what it is), came home. He is Russian, and also speaks with a heavy accent; however his English is much better than Victoria’s. He reminds me a lot of Tony, in that he’s built much the same way; he’s a buff fellow, but with a teddy bear mentality. He was also very very friendly, and went out of his way to try and make me feel at home. He told me that he was having two friends over, and that they were going to go out drinking, and asked me to come along. Eager to see what the night life in St. Ives was like, and wanting to make friends with my roomies and possibly their friends, I agreed. I quickly got myself ready, and then joined Roland downstairs to sip on some wine, while we chatted. It was a very nice night! I think that I will get along just fine with the two of them; they are very friendly and warm! Roland also asked me to try and help Victoria with her English, which I said I would do. She really is quite good already. She just needs to speak it more often! Their friend Paulo came over at about 10:30, and at 11 we hopped in Roland’s car and drove downtown. They didn’t know what club they wanted to take me to, but finally decided upon going to one called Music (I think, I can’t really remember that well now ha ha). It reminded me a lot of the Palace/Trappers. It had the same kind of atmosphere and music. The bar was two floors, with a long bar at the front both upstairs and downstairs. Upstairs had places to sit and drink, while downstairs was generally a large dance floor. The top floor was open in the middle, so that you could stand around the railing and look down on the people dancing in the middle. We went upstairs first, and watched people dance. Soon we decided to sit and chat, which we did for awhile. However, Victoria and I soon got the itch to dance, so we went down to the dance floor. The boys came down, but did not dance. They stood off to the side, watching us to make sure none of the men tried any funny business.
While dancing, I noticed a super hot fellow. He had longer hair, kind of like Ethan’s, cut and styled very nicely. You can really only pull of that look if you have fine hair, and he definitely did. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I have a weakness for guys with a stylish shaggy doo. He was also dressed in a very trendy looking pair of jeans (nice jeans on a man is so hot), and a white graphic T that hugged him in all the right places. He completed the look with a leather belt. His ass looked fabulous. In my less-than-shy state I shot him many seductive looks (or at least what I felt were seductive looks). I held his attention a couple of times, and he smiled at me. I smiled back. However, dancing doesn’t allow you much time to flirt, as you’re constantly warding off gross losers who try to grab your body. Victoria and I spent much of the time doing “the lesbian tango”, spinning each other around and away from creepers who came up behind us. A couple of times Roland came down to the dance floor to shoo the unwanted men away. It was nice, because most of the daring boys were way out of our league! A lot of guys also came up to tell us that we were “beautiful girls”, which was a nice ego boost. Towards the end of the night, right before 2am when they shut the club down, I spotted my sexy fellow again. I made eye contact and smiled, and this time he came over! AH! He asked me my name, and when he heard my accent he asked where I was from. I told him I was from Canada. His next question was one I have been getting a lot…
“Why are you in St. Ives?!” he asked.
I explained that I had just moved to St. Ives that afternoon, and that I was a teacher in Swavesey. He laughed, and then asked how long I was going to be in St. Ives for.
I told him I was going to be around for at least a year, which seemed to make him happy.
The lights came on at this point though, and suddenly everyone pushed for the door. Victoria came up behind me, and we left the bar in our group of four. I lost sight of my sexy man, unfortunately. BOO!
Once outside, we stood around in the alley with a bunch of other bar goers, talking and figuring out what we wanted to do next. There are clubs in the area that open from 2 – 6, however I think both Victoria and Roland were tired, so we decided to grab some food and then head home. I spotted the sexy man again, as they were discussing where to eat. He was standing on the opposite side of the alley, and he smiled at me. I winked at him, and he beckoned for me to come over to him. I walked over, and we chatted a bit. He asked me how old I was, so I told him I was 23. I went to ask him in return, but one of his friends came up and told me I was “hot”. Then the friend asked if I was into “threeways”. I was offended, and shouted “NO! What kind of girl do you think I am?”
I turned to walk away, totally disgusted. However, Tom (as I had found out his name by this point) touched my arm and told me not to judge him on his friends’ behaviour. I laughed, and told him we couldn’t be responsible for our friends’ drunken behaviour, so of course I wasn’t judging him.
Then he asked if he could get my phone number, because he’d like to call me some time.
“Really?!” I asked.
“Yah, for sure!” he said. “I’d like to ring you next weekend, if you’d give me your number!”
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, handing it to me. It was an Ericsson similar to mine, but an older model, so I knew how to use it. I added myself as a contact, and told him that in case I put the number in wrong, I had put my full name down so that he could search and add me on Facebook to get my number again. I think I put the right number though, so I hope he does call. He asked for my phone, and entered his number as well; If I don’t hear from him in a weeks time, I might be ballsy enough to text his phone. We’ll see! I hope he makes the first move though, as I definitely hate doing that. It’s so awkward! But he’s so HOT…and it was SUCH an ego boost to have been able to get the ONE guy I’d found attractive at the bar to ask for my number! Score one for Krista!!!! Once we’d exchanged numbers, and chatted a bit more, both my new friends and his friends were eager to be off, so we parted ways.
We went to a place that was full of other drunken people, which was serving American food. I was desperate for a poutine, but since those are unheard of hear I ordered a burger and fries, as well as a can of diet Coke. The fries (oops, chips) were decent enough, as was the burger. The whole thing cost me only 3 pounds, so I was pretty pleased with that. I shoveled it all down quite quickly, to the amazement of Roland and Paulo. Then I gulped down the pop, which lead to a rather loud burp. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth, saying I was sorry. The boys laughed and laughed, saying that Canadian girls were such “ladies”. Seems I’ve given Canada a good name already….not!
Walking back to the car, Victoria took me aside and told me that Paulo had been sad when he’d seen me talking to Tom; apparently he had a bit of a crush on me. I cursed to myself, unsure of what it was about me that endeared me to nearly EVERYONE! Paulo was nice enough, and certainly good looking, but he doesn’t do it for me. He reminds me a lot of that one guy Caily dated…the guy she brought to Lindsey’s reception. Jay? I believe that was his name. He’s Polish, and his English isn’t great either. Often while talking to me he asked me for the words he was searching for, to finish his sentences. Again, this is not a big deal, and really doesn’t factor into my not liking him. I’m not into him because he seems like he’d be one of those guys that falls hard for you, and then becomes a bit of a jealous rage-a-holic. I don’t like to make snap judgments of people, but that’s definitely the vibe I get from him. I will try to keep that on the friend level. It was hard though, as he also tried to get into bed with me. However, I snuggled under my covers, and feigned passing out. Eventually he stopped trying to talk to me, and fell asleep himself. I’m a bit worried at what Victoria and Roland will think, since he did sleep in my bed…however, I know that nothing happened, nor ever would, and will easily explain that to them, should they ask. However, I think Paulo is enough of a gentleman that he’ll just tell them the truth.
So now it is Saturday morning, and I’m writing this as I wait to have a shower. I had a lot of fun last night, and am glad I live where I do. I think we will get along well, all of us. Tonight we might go into Cambridge for a night on the town; we shall see!
Cheers!
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