We've been back two weeks, and I can see from Twitter that a lot of teachers are remembering why they love their jobs. The initial shock to the system (what? I can't sleep right at this moment? I can't eat right at this moment? I can't pee right at this moment?) has ebbed, we've all realised that we do remember how to plan a lesson, most of our classes have been met, and perhaps they are still in the phase where they want to impress us because it's a new year.
On Thursday I had a year 10 class with a pupil in it I was not looking forward to teaching last year, T. She was hands down my most problematic last year. She barely ever wrote anything in her book and quite often stormed out or was sent out. It was painful. I tried to schedule her for another staff member this year, but it didn't work out. I was dreading it a bit: it's all very well to chuck it away in year 9, but this is a bit more important.
Happily, she has had a strong start. No argument about the seating plan, where she sits next to my desk. Not a peep about how the book should be laid out; copying down everything from the board even when I haven't asked the class to (this is common to some of our more conscientious students). Thursday was the best though, because I gave them an activity I first used with a class as an NQT and she showed me a way of doing it BETTER. I still can't get over it. Fifteen years and she hacked it in about two minutes. I had to resist the urge to jump up and down squealing at this, because she is suspicious of excessive praise, as many difficult students seem to be; but I did ring home on Friday night and leave a nice message about her.
It may not last, so I wanted to record it while it was good. Those teacher training adverts are all over the place again, thanks to the latest iteration of Educating... and even though I really love what I do, they make me roll my eyes. 'The kids teach you to be a better teacher' - ergh gag. Then I get moments like this one and I think, yeah, I could be on one of those adverts, making people want to throw things.
Saturday, 16 September 2017
Tuesday, 12 September 2017
Travel Tuesday: Cu Chi Tunnels
During last year's visit to Vietnam, I went on a day trip to the Cu Chi Tunnels, from Ho Chi Minh City. These are a three-layered maze of tunnels where the Vietcong hid during the Vietnam war.
The whole thing did make me feel slightly sick, it must be said. I have a creeping dread about being stuck in a cave somewhere, which I attribute mainly to my size, so peering down these tunnels made me feel decidedly strange.
Vietnamese people are considerably smaller than fat English history teachers.
I'm not convinced my foot would fit down this one, let alone the rest of me.
We were taken down a set of tunnels, which had been specially widened by 40% to accommodate tourists who like their cake. I decided I would press on and experienced what must be my closest ever brush with a panic attack at the opening to the tunnel. I really, for a moment, thought I would not be able to go in, but there were three people behind me, including a faintly racist NZ tourist who kept whinging about how difficult it all was (there were other things that marked her out as a racist, not this whinging) and my pig headedness would not allow me to go back, so I managed to force myself forwards. At one point my hips were briefly wedged in the tunnel, so I crawled on my hands and knees, seeing stars and sweating, until we were out. I wouldn't repeat. How they all lived down there for months on end, in tunnels even narrower, is beyond me.
They were pretty ingenious with the panji stakes, too.
When I teach about the Vietnam war I always point out that Vietnamese people with sticks beat Americans with state-of-the-art weapons, partly because they were fighting for their home. They set a lot of booby traps like this one, filled with sharpened bamboo stakes. Apparently villages used to make them together in some kind of bonding exercise. This beats any team building event I've ever been to. They indicated to each other where these traps were using leaves with sticks stuck in them. The mind boggles.
They were up against some big old weapons.
But they had AK-47s, which could be stored under water until needed (!) and thus trumped the M16. We were invited to shoot AK-47s for a small fee. I declined. I was pleased to see that it was no longer possible to pay a bit extra and shoot a cow, as it apparently was when my friends visited 10 years ago.
Interesting place. It felt a bit dark and sinister, but I'm not really surprised about that.
I was interested to find out that the tunnels led to the nearby river for ease of escape. The network was extremely substantial, and included schools, hospitals, entertainments - all kinds. They were very ingenious about it.
The whole thing did make me feel slightly sick, it must be said. I have a creeping dread about being stuck in a cave somewhere, which I attribute mainly to my size, so peering down these tunnels made me feel decidedly strange.
Vietnamese people are considerably smaller than fat English history teachers.
I'm not convinced my foot would fit down this one, let alone the rest of me.
We were taken down a set of tunnels, which had been specially widened by 40% to accommodate tourists who like their cake. I decided I would press on and experienced what must be my closest ever brush with a panic attack at the opening to the tunnel. I really, for a moment, thought I would not be able to go in, but there were three people behind me, including a faintly racist NZ tourist who kept whinging about how difficult it all was (there were other things that marked her out as a racist, not this whinging) and my pig headedness would not allow me to go back, so I managed to force myself forwards. At one point my hips were briefly wedged in the tunnel, so I crawled on my hands and knees, seeing stars and sweating, until we were out. I wouldn't repeat. How they all lived down there for months on end, in tunnels even narrower, is beyond me.
They were pretty ingenious with the panji stakes, too.
When I teach about the Vietnam war I always point out that Vietnamese people with sticks beat Americans with state-of-the-art weapons, partly because they were fighting for their home. They set a lot of booby traps like this one, filled with sharpened bamboo stakes. Apparently villages used to make them together in some kind of bonding exercise. This beats any team building event I've ever been to. They indicated to each other where these traps were using leaves with sticks stuck in them. The mind boggles.
They were up against some big old weapons.
But they had AK-47s, which could be stored under water until needed (!) and thus trumped the M16. We were invited to shoot AK-47s for a small fee. I declined. I was pleased to see that it was no longer possible to pay a bit extra and shoot a cow, as it apparently was when my friends visited 10 years ago.
Interesting place. It felt a bit dark and sinister, but I'm not really surprised about that.
Monday, 11 September 2017
Weekend WIP
The blue looks quite green and dark in this picture but it's quite sky-like in real life, and that beige has this amazing purple sheen to it on the second one I made - it was such a surprise to see it that I briefly thought I had accidentally drawn on my yarn with a purple biro (there is biro on a lot of my belongings).
I have two more to make to kill off this skein, then there is only ONE. MORE. SINGLE. SKEIN. left. Remember back in May...that's May 2016, if you're counting...when I said I'd be done with all the single skeins by the end of the year? Yeah well, I would just like to say, I didn't specify which year, so, yknow.
Let's not mention the fact I have found some blue that I missed in Ravelry destash and had two set aside to fetch home when I go to the US in October.
These are quite addictive when you get going. I was in London for the weekend and knocked out two. I would have done a 3rd on the train home but then Jenny, my PT, ended up on the same train as me so we just nattered all the way back.
I think I've found a pattern for the watermelon gradient I bought at Wonderwool, but I don't really know what to start next. I still have knitter's malaise. Sigh.
Blue Monday
Having been on some exciting summer holidays, you'll be happy to know that I have a whole bevvy of new blue-themed photographs to share with you.
I'll begin with a seascape from the Galapagos. This was from a day-trip off San Cristobal, to Isla Lobos. Lobos are sea lions - you can see why.
They were such posers I had to join in.
I'll begin with a seascape from the Galapagos. This was from a day-trip off San Cristobal, to Isla Lobos. Lobos are sea lions - you can see why.
They were such posers I had to join in.
Sunday, 10 September 2017
Selfie Sunday
Another solo ski trip selfie: this was on the funicular to the glacier in Tignes, October 2012. Loving the guy behind me: completely unimpressed by my narcissism.
I think I managed a few more than one run on this trip, but, as you might not from the melting snowflakes on my ski mask, the weather was quite poor.
I think I managed a few more than one run on this trip, but, as you might not from the melting snowflakes on my ski mask, the weather was quite poor.
Tuesday, 5 September 2017
Travel Tuesday: Llanthony Priory
My inspiration for Tuesday Tens has dried up somewhat. I swing between things I'm looking forward to, things I'll do when I'm not at work and things on my to do list. Nobody wants to be reading that every week. They might pop up every now and again (if you're lucky) but I have a new Tuesday trope now: I'm going to share my travel adventures with you. I always have plenty to say about my holidays but I'm usually too busy being on them to say it.
In April, I managed to tear Mr Z away from his office for long enough to go camping in Llanthony Priory, east Wales - and if you just said, 'Camping? In April?' then you are not alone.
(Yes, that's our tent. No, we didn't exactly choose that colour. On the website it was blue and brown. We couldn't send it back because, as usual, we'd left it late to order it and we didn't have time.)
It wasn't exactly a campsite. More of a field with a tap in it. There was a public toilet round the corner, and we witnessed two groups of (presumably) DofErs camping in the corner of the field, rising early and striding off. We nearly ran one group of them over, a couple of hours later, when we'd finished our leisurely breakfast and were driving off to Hay-on-Wye for the day. Imagine a bunch of fed up looking teenagers in anoraks on this road.
This is the view from Gospel Pass which is flipping gorgeous. The pictures aren't enough: please go there. The other side from these is very hilly and it looks like a great place for clamber one day when it's neither too hot nor too cold. The grass had that heathy, springy quality to it and the ground was a myriad of small hillocks, though I have no idea why.
Hay was very nice. Charming. Small. How do they squeeze that whole festival in there?
I only bought two books, though Mr Z's presence was a heavy moderator.
The priory itself was surrounded by these noisy things and their parents. They were spray painted in pairs of symbols so that it was easy to work out which lamb went with which ewe. This was a happy family.
This grassy bank, however, wasn't sure about it.
Mr Z and I did a photo shoot for our first album cover.
It did rain on the first night but Mr Z had invested in a new double sleeping bag and we therefore weren't cold. We may be a little old for sleeping directly on the ground now, though.
This is a good place to visit on
a long bike ride, I'm led to believe. Nephew Z visited a few months back with a friend: they biked there and back from Bristol in three days. He did nearly fall asleep during Sunday dinner, it must be said.
In April, I managed to tear Mr Z away from his office for long enough to go camping in Llanthony Priory, east Wales - and if you just said, 'Camping? In April?' then you are not alone.
(Yes, that's our tent. No, we didn't exactly choose that colour. On the website it was blue and brown. We couldn't send it back because, as usual, we'd left it late to order it and we didn't have time.)
It wasn't exactly a campsite. More of a field with a tap in it. There was a public toilet round the corner, and we witnessed two groups of (presumably) DofErs camping in the corner of the field, rising early and striding off. We nearly ran one group of them over, a couple of hours later, when we'd finished our leisurely breakfast and were driving off to Hay-on-Wye for the day. Imagine a bunch of fed up looking teenagers in anoraks on this road.
This is the view from Gospel Pass which is flipping gorgeous. The pictures aren't enough: please go there. The other side from these is very hilly and it looks like a great place for clamber one day when it's neither too hot nor too cold. The grass had that heathy, springy quality to it and the ground was a myriad of small hillocks, though I have no idea why.
Hay was very nice. Charming. Small. How do they squeeze that whole festival in there?
I only bought two books, though Mr Z's presence was a heavy moderator.
The priory itself was surrounded by these noisy things and their parents. They were spray painted in pairs of symbols so that it was easy to work out which lamb went with which ewe. This was a happy family.
This grassy bank, however, wasn't sure about it.
In truth, the sheep were the noisiest things around. The place is very tranquil and wedged at the bottom of two steep hills, so there's no phone signal or anything. An ideal getaway if you don't mind roughing it or have a better camping set up than we do. There's a pub that does nice dinners and a cafe that looks like it does nice breakfasts, and another pub in the priory ruins, which we didn't visit. There's a B&B there too, if you really can't face camping.
I did enjoy the ruins. I was reading Bring Up The Bodies at the time and Cromwell was just drawing up the plans for dissolution of the smaller houses, so it was very timely. This priory was built next to the church built on the site of St David's 6th century cell, which is still standing, so it is a good historic place to visit. I'll avoid spamming with masses of photos of crumbling arches and pillars. It was very photogenic, though.
Mr Z and I did a photo shoot for our first album cover.
It did rain on the first night but Mr Z had invested in a new double sleeping bag and we therefore weren't cold. We may be a little old for sleeping directly on the ground now, though.
This is a good place to visit on
a long bike ride, I'm led to believe. Nephew Z visited a few months back with a friend: they biked there and back from Bristol in three days. He did nearly fall asleep during Sunday dinner, it must be said.
Monday, 4 September 2017
Blue Monday
Nothing ever seems as blue as underwater, I think.
Although I posted some blue Monday pictures a while back from Lisbon Aquarium, I found some more that I hadn't shared. They're a bit blurry but, meh.
Happy first day of the new school year! I'm so excited to get started! Sorry. Don't hate me. Here's something calming.
Although I posted some blue Monday pictures a while back from Lisbon Aquarium, I found some more that I hadn't shared. They're a bit blurry but, meh.
Happy first day of the new school year! I'm so excited to get started! Sorry. Don't hate me. Here's something calming.
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