44°C

Flaked out due to the heat.

It’s the first weekend after term has started. I’m resting. And really cross with myself. I broke both of my rules yesterday. Rule 1 is don’t do any work on the weekend. Rule 2 is don’t do any work at home.

I was going to break rule 1 because I needed to send a new teacher some information but I had a plan to avoid breaking rule 2. I was going to the Tavern. I was going to buy a cuppa and if I got hungry I could buy some snacks.

As I wrote my email, the colleague I was writing to emailed me! So, breaking rule 1 again, I read her email. I decided not to reply to her, but instead chat with her on Monday.

So far so good. I’ve only broken rule 1. BUT another colleague messaged me later in the afternoon, after I’d gone home, about the email we’d both recieved from the new teacher. A lengthy conversation ensued and we either solved the issue OR made things worse, Monday will give us the answer.

But, while chatting with the second colleague I broke rule 2! Since these are just my rules I was just cross with myself and that’s all. That is until I woke up this morning. My body didn’t like me breaking the rules and I have a skin rash.

I’m usually so strict with the 2 rules that it’s been so long I forgot how my body responds. Now, I will have to return to my two rules and be strict with myself. I didn’t plan on having a message in this post but it seems that the message is listen to your body.

#myfavouriteclass

I’m just a teacher, sitting in my class, asking my students to write. Needing to convince them so I decided to update my blog.

I used to have a t-shirt that said “Too much Monday, not enough coffee” and one of my students was talking about his t-shirt that has the same words on it.

I asked him if he’d found my blog and then I found myself talking about my blog and these students saying that they wanted to read it. Sadly(!) my blog site is blocked by our school network so they can’t read it right now. Maybe they will remember when they go home.

Year 8’s that I don’t teach, call me their favourite teacher. I’m not really sure what they are basing this on. One friend has started calling me this every time he sees me.

I managed to convince a ‘sometimes’ student to write something and print it out for marking. Just need to see if I can convince everyone else.

I told yr 10’s I might mention them. They are my favourite yr 10 class. I told them about the ‘trading’ days we have at the beginning of the year.

We say some kids, sorry I mean students, are worth more than others. I have said, if you take these two I’ll have that one! Some students everyone wants and some teachers have to be persuaded to have others. We persuade those teachers with wine and chocolates.

One year I didn’t buy any wine or chocolates for the whole year.

FB posts And Stuff

Recently our Yr 12 students found out their results, as did their teachers! I did Schrodinger’s Cat with my email. As long as I didn’t open it, all my students had passed! But when I opened it, after about 3 days, all my students had passed. So, very proud of them and myself…

8 years ago

In Pacific harbour today working on my tan . . . or I would be if it wasn’t raining . . . and I wasn’t so fair!

I was going to cut’n’paste my FB posts that related to teaching. There were lots. I’ve changed my mind.

My stats for this blog are booming…whatever that means. I’ve told my current students I write a blog. I didn’t tell them anything else. Maybe they’ve found it? I’m sure if they have they will tell me.

I’ve been helping my family sort througb a lifetime of stuff. Actually, its probably 4 lifetimes of stuff. Things from my grandparents, late uncle and parents and me and my siblings. Why do people keep empty boxes? Is it something like cats getting into any box they find? And broken things. Why do I have that broken jewellery box? I can’t fix it.

I’ve moved twice in the last 2 years. Last year as I packed, I sorted and deleted stuff. I don’t really need 3 black cardigans. Then I moved. I thought I would only take things I absolutely needed. My sister-in- law said I needed to take things so I was comfortable so I also packed things to hang on my walls. And I was comfortable.

Then, sadly, I had to pack again. I again sorted and deleted. When I unpacked, I brought things out of storage, like shelving and wardrobes but there is still stuff in storage and I’ve been back 10 months! Maybe I don’t need whats in storage? I will need to do another delete I think.

My culture is a consumerist culture. The economy needs me to keep buying stuff. But I want to be counter-culture. I’m trying but I still buy stuff.

Bought a ‘new’ teapot from my favourite secondhand shop

I love visiting op shops so I feel a bit better about the stuff I’m buying.

So I must close, because I’m going straight to my storage and sorting whatever’s there that I haven’t needed in the past 10 months.

Reset

Christmas time and then New Year are a re-occurring annual event on the Christian calendar that have been happening for millennia.

In Biblical time, at the time of Jesus birth, everyone had to return to their village to be counted in the census. In our times, at Christmas, people return to their families to celebrate.

This makes me think we are still doing the same thing as those long ago peoples. But I think of it also as a reset, a control, alt, delete. In an ideal world we gather together and reconnect, rebuild and restore our relationships. But it can also be a very dangerous time. Lives and relationships can be shattered.

Someone once told me that if Christmas didn’t exist it would have been invented so that our consumeristic society could continue. This made me feel really sad.

The Christian churches keep sending out their messages about love and faith and how important relationships are and this message is essential. Sometimes in the cacophony of our modern lives this message can be drowned out. Sometimes it’s just a little whisper.

I started writing this a few months ago and now I have time to come back to it and its the time of Lent. Ash Wednesday was two days ago and the six week period of reflection and internal development has begun. Fasting and abstinence are some of the key ideas we hear at this time and atoning for our sins.

How do we atone for our sins? Do we apologise to those we have hurt with our harsh words? Do we pay reparations? Dig deep into our finances and pay something? Perhaps almsgiving will assuage our guilt? Regular Mass attendance and reconnecting with our faith community?

I don’t know the answer. I do know that those things I have always done, don’t seem to have the same impact on me. Sometimes I feel like a cold hard shell. Sometimes I feel like a black hole, sucking everything in and expanding and consuming all the light.

But when everything seems to be too cold and empty or too black and expanding, I go back to the simple thing of thinking about those who love me and the relationships I have with people. At Christmas time, we were re-connecting with our families, going back to where our lives began and, hopefully, meeting again with those who love us the most and have loved us from the beginning. So I ‘go back’. I make a phone call for a chat. I invite them over for a cuppa. We meet up for after work drinks and connect our lives back to what matters the most. And what matters the most is our connections and being with people.

#next

I am in the village of my childhood but living and working here.

I have come for a 12 month contract. I feel a bit like I walked into a story where I know some of the players, but not all, some of the plot, but not all and its my job to find all the story lines and tie them together so I can work out what comes next in the story.

As per usual, some people want to tell me bits of the story that I already know. I asked about a bit of the story I didn’t know and someone had the audacity to tell me I didn’t need to know that. FS I did need to know or I wouldn’t have asked.

And, I have been teaching for a long time, so I do know what I need to know and what I don’t need to know.

On bus duty after school I decided to chat with all the bus drivers, sitting waiting for kids to come out to go home. I walked down the footpath, saying hi and introducing myself. Some I knew, some had heard I was back. Some were new to the district, only been here 3 years. One bloke with a huge bushy grey beard was chatting with me. Neither of us recognised each other but suddenly we said our names and realised we used to be neighbours out on our family farms. He’s got grandkids now.

I blew one of my students minds when I said I knew his aunties and mother. And as we kept chatting we realised we knew other people in common. He’s 400km from home and didn’t expect that!

I’m also having the usual students testing me. The other day I had students working inside and outside. I stepped out to check those outside. When I came back in, the remote sensor for my mouse had disappeared from my laptop. The ‘culprit’ was very helpful pointing out that it was just there, under those papers. I told him to come out and show me. He came and couldn’t find it. He fiddled around, found it and had the audacity to tell me it fell out. Fell out all the way across the table on the opposite side?

My Geography Gems class love me. They are both year 9 and year 10. Usually I would call, “Year 9’s” or whichever year level when I wanted their attention. Can’t do this with them. They asked why gems and I said short for gemstones. I suggested that I could call them Pumice Stones and they thought Geography Gems was better!

I’m missing having faculty colleagues to run ideas past but I’m lucky to have colleagues on other worksites who have agreed to help. They have already answered questions, ranging like where my superannuation is going to, or how do I find the subject due dates?

#love #is #all #you #need #weareallconnected

Long time ago, Dad said to watch what I did and said because someone would always see and people would always find out.

This if course is absolutely true. One of my aunts, whom I loved very much, recently died. At her funeral were all my cousins, their families and friends and neighbours.

We were chatting. One of my students, who is a boarder from there, is well known in her old school and we swapped notes. Another boarder used to governess for a cousin. And he shared a story about her.

Mosaics in Wallaroo

Then in another conversation we were discussing a cousin who works in Kadina and Wallaroo and, I hope, is the creator of these mosaics. We reckon they are anyway. They are beautiful so I’m claiming them as MY cousin.

It was an emotional time. My dad was saying goodbye to his much loved sister. He struggles to walk but was determined to be there.

But along with the sacrifices people made to be there, the readings and prayers and songs and hugs and stories were all about a deep abiding love. A recording of a grandson’s interview with my aunt was played and I could hear her voice, one last time, sharing her love for this grandson.

I think about all the manifestations of love we see everyday and how it connects us.

My uncle, my aunt’s brother, was standing near the aisle of the church, greeting everyone. Hugging and sharing both his love and his sorrow. This was either the best place to stand to greet everyone, or the worst to show his sorrow. That is for him to decide.

My cousins chose a beautiful image of their mum to have on display. And I kept expecting her to speak and tell us to get on with it. I remember her sitting at the table, telling a story and being so full of laughter that she couldn’t speak, rocking back and forth, and tears of laughter streaming down her face. And I remember going to her, absolutely heartbroken, and she took the pieces of my broken heart and put them back together.

I must stop because I can’t see through my tears. Thank you for loving us.

#everythingchanges

Sometimes I have premonitions. Usually about something bad going to happen.

One New Years Day, about two and a half years ago, maybe a bit longer, I woke up a knew sonething bad was going to happen to me. A feeling like I was going to die.

So, everytime I left my house I had to clean it. The clothes had to be put away. Dishes washed and benches wiped. I couldn’t leave anything out of place because when I died and people came to my house I didn’t want the first thing they had to do to be clean my house.

If I was going to work I had to clean first. Going quickly to the shop to buy groceries? Clean first. Going away for the weekend was almost impossible because this trip might be when I died.

I never mentioned this to anyone because, where would I start? Logically I knew that it wasn’t necessary. I knew that no one would worry about having to clean my house. I knew that when I died, whether my house was clean or not wouldn’t matter.

I couldn’t stop myself. I tried to but the dread was do heavy I had to clean.

This lasted until 24th of March of the year.

I was riding my beloved scooter home from work about 16.30 pm on a Monday. I’d just been shopping for my tea, and I had my shopping tucked neatly under my scooter seat in the luggage compartment.

I approached a roundabout which is always a high risk road spot. I entered the roundabout but so too did a driver of a Mitsubisi Triton. I realised that the driver hadn’t seen me so I started to try and brake. The driver kept coming and hit me.

I was spun around and ended up, still holding fast to my handlebars, in the middle of the roundabout. I remember swinging my legs down and sitting up against my scooter and I was raging mad. I was so angry with her. She had stopped right next to me and was out of her car crying. She asked me if I was ok.

Not ok, obviously. She said she thought she should call the police. I agreed with her. Some Good Samaritan type came and sat down next to me. She told me her name and that she was a trained First Aider and asked if she could put her arm around me. I said, “I don’t think we need to bother with that.” No way was I going to let anyone touch me.

I could hear the driver on her phone attempting to give the address. While she was doing that a police car appeared. I was quite surprised because she was still giving the address.

He breathalised her and began asking witnesses for information. He asked me my name and address.

Next thing an ambulance was arriving. I could walk and had no broken bones. My poor scooter however didn’t fare so well. Someone asked me what I wanted them to do with the scooter. I asked them to stash it behind the nearby tyre shop.

The ambulance staff loaded me into the ambulance and delivered me to the hospital. I had started to calm down a little but all my evening plans were disrupted.

I was lying on the gurney in the hospital, trying to work out how to make a few phone calls as possible because of the other patients. I rang my line manager. Then tried my family. Everyone was too busy to pick my call. Eventually I connected with my brother and asked him to let others know.

Then I had to let my mum know. She was never a fan of my riding the scooter, even though she herself used to ride one. She wanted to come over but since I didn’t have any major injuries I said no.

Then I rang a mate to see if he could collect my scooter. He said to leave it with him and he would sort something out.

Then I ran my manager back to see if he could pick me up. He had already offered when I rang to explain.

Things I found out later

• Many of my students saw the accident or heard about it before I could even tell people
• The policeman was finishing his shift and decided to have KFC for dinner instead of MacDonalds and that is why he was there so quick. Maccas is right next to the police station and KFC is a bit further away
• The vehicle that hit me was a Mitsubishi Triton and I was driving a Honda Today scooter. So a David and Goliath situation
• The driver tried to say it was my fault
• My brother has really cool computer software that he used to help me make a diagram to send to the insurance company
• It takes a really loooooonnng time to get over an accident
• About 3 weeks later a driver on a scooter was hit by a tractor and didn’t survive the accident
• People will help you with anything, you only have to ask

#lockdown #southaustralia

It’s day 6 of a 7 day lockdown, stay at home orders. Last year teachers in my state had an urgent and rapid transition to online learning. Our workload went up enourmously and so too did our stress. I know that what I write about is nothing new. We were suddenly classed as essential workers, but not provided with any personal protective equipment (PPE). We were expected to suddenly know how to teach online and in person to students who chose to come to school. Sometimes I had 2 or 3 students in my class and the rest, presumably, tuning in from home. We were constantly assured by experts that our students couldn’t catch the COVID 19 virus. So in my classroom, I made the students sit in single desk rows. They acted as if I had asked them to cut off their arm. I had a nasty conversation every lesson with each class where they challenged me on my request to sit in single desk rows. I assured them every lesson that my sister was wearing gloves, gown, goggles, face-shield and a mask every day for 12 hour shifts when she was administering COVID 19 tests.

Then a few of my colleagues pronounced that COVID was over. I don’t know why. So I asked them if my sister could go home and stop with the testing? I asked if my friend, who had lost his job because his school had closed, could go back to work? He had also lost his home and his relationship broke down but now that COVID was over all this could go back to normal? I continued to have the nasty conversation every lesson with my students who I had simply asked to sit in single desk rows. Their comfortable lives hadn’t changed much at all.

I know that one of my students disappeared for 2 months and I know that I am not alone in this happening. To this day I have no idea what that student was doing for two months but I’m pretty sure that learning from home was not happening.

This lockdown is different. The experts are now saying that children can catch the virus (well duh) and that this variant is much more dangerous than the previous strain. So schools in my state have been closed for 3 days, this is the fourth day. There are other states also in lockdown and possibly for longer than the seven days that South Australia is planning.

My teaching workload this year has been the hardest I’ve ever had. There have been days when I thought I couldn’t do it. I crawl home exhausted and climb into bed to rest before I even begin to think about what to do about my evening meal. I have had time off work simply because I am so exhausted.

And I spent Wednesday, Thursday and Friday messaging, emailing and in phone conversations with anxious students and colleagues, often long into the evening. My admin team seem completely disconnected from what is really going on. Many of them have very light to non-existent teaching loads. So I think they expected the same thing to be happening to us. I was getting emails with instructions about all the things I should do in this lockdown period, and the assumption was that I was sitting at home doing nothing, like they were. I would have all this free time to do planning, set up programs, do some online training, read articles that they thought were interesting, and set up online lessons for students who face academic challenges.

For some of my students who face academic challenges turning on the computer is difficult. Accessing emails is hard. Some students do not have devices or the internet at home. And then it all got too much for me and I hit back.

I told admin to back off. Settle down and think about what is really happening.

We are not sitting at home doing nothing. We are reassuring our students that they are doing a good job. I am remotely showing my colleagues how to improve their online presence with their classes. I am trying to work out how to turn a lesson that I expected to see my students face-to-face for into an online experience.

I am also trying to stay connected to my family who all live in different regions to me. My sister continues to be involved in COVID 19 testing everyday and I’m sure she is taking every possible precaution but her work is on the ‘frontline’ and I worry about her. My parents are in the older vulnerable age group. You know, we all have lives outside of our work and no, I am not sitting at home doing nothing. No I do not have time to do that online training. No I can’t help that child that struggles academically because they haven’t been online so I don’t even know where they are. And no, I do not have time to set up that program or read that interesting article. But, when I can, when things get a bit easier, I will. So until then let me get on with what I am trying to do and that is simply stay connected to my students, continue to build my relationship with them and to take care of myself.

#schoolreunions

A few days ago the school where I work invited me to attend the upcoming school reunions. This year it is all the years that ended in a 1 as far back as 1981 apparently. I dont know why 1971 isnt coming but I cant be bothered trying to find out why.

The year I turned 40, my class held a class reunion. We organised it, not a contrived event the school dreamed up. It was over a long weekend in October.

The first event was a school tour, followed that evening by a dinner to which spouses were invited. The next day was a family BBQ.

I was horrified to get the invitation. I was bullied by these people. Firstly it was because I wore glasses and then I think it was because I think differently to others. Maybe I was a bit smarter than them but as we know bullies dont even know why they pick on someone.

They invented a horrible name which they called me. I ignored it and only answered if they used my name.

School was a nightmare. One reason I am a teacher is to try to make sure that its not a nightmare for my students.

I told my husband about the reunion. I asked him if he would come with me. He wasnt interested. I checked that Mum and Dad were going to be home and then I was just sitting still and remembering.

Over and over, the taunting, being terrified to speak to them, the shoving and on and on. I was not afriad to ask my teachers questions but I was terrified to speak to my classmates.

My question became will I go or not? I planned as if I was going. My husband planned to go to Sydney so I knew he wasn’t coming with me.

I packed the car, and travelled to my home village. I dressed and I was standing in the bedroom, ready to go and still not sure I was going.

I made a small plan. If I went and it was horrible, I could leave. I would still have a lovely weekend with my parents.

So, I went. There they all were. The bitchy girls and the bully boys…but different. They were fat and bald. They turned out to not be very successful. Some of them have never moved away from the village. Many of them married other people from the village.

Several had new babies. One had just buried a parent. A few had buried siblings.A few were divorced. Some had never married. Some had many children, some had none.

But the most important thing was that I slayed the dragon. They were just ordinary people living ordinary lives. Some of them were really boring but they were no longer the bullies of my school days.

Some of you reading this might recognise yourselves and I dont apologise for that. My life at school was awful so maybe you can be uncomfortable for a few minutes

I know some of you are currently school students and I just want you to know that there is life after school and the crucible that is school will change you in ways that you wont be able to measure until long after you’ve forgotten that unreasonable teacher or that mean person’s name.

Its a good time to be alive and work out how to find your path.

#kids #makemelaugh

Yesterday I was playing my Spotify playlist. I can’t actually remember which one it was. One of my students, probably less than 4 foot tall, decided to tel me that they’d all voted and decided and I had to change to only ABBA songs. Any ABBA songs but only ABBA. Another student said no, it wasn’t a dictatorship and you had to be taller than 4 foot to be a dictator anyway.

Today a student approached me and said, “You’re getting some trees taken out! It’s a bit loud. Interrupting my sleep.” He lives 2 doors down.

I said, “Oh, that’s surprising. They didn’t start until 8 am. Why weren’t you getting ready for school by then?”

His mate, standing nearby, smirking, joined in by also asking him why he wasn’t getting ready. That’s probably why he was late to school.

Another student was suddenly back at school instead of being off site on a retreat activity.

I spoke to him about the cast on his hand, asking how he injured it. He told me that sad story.

Then I asked him about how was retreat? He said, “What’s that?” He’d just come from there. So I asked him if he’d just got to school. He said he had. Which was true, but he had been on retreat!