Tempus non fugit

27 03 2020

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“And everyone around me says my time is running out
I refuse to surrender, I refuse to surrender”

Papa Roach

I just had the most bizarre moment ….

Over the last few days, I’ve discovered that I don’t really have the personality or skills to deal with working at home; I haven’t actually achieved a great deal …. apart from stress baking, book reading and catching up on the TV I never normally have quite enough time to watch. Work? Not so much. The piles of marking are still sitting there, in their boxes, looking at me in a slightly accusatory, sullen manner. My mock papers are still in the bag they came home in. I haven’t looked at the online work I need to do. I’m not completely ignoring work; I’ve set and marked work for my Year 10 set and responded to numerous student emails, but it hasn’t quite felt like I was doing enough.

This morning, I decided that enough was enough and I needed to just get on with things, for my own sanity as much as anything else. This morning, I got out of bed, made coffee and breakfast and sat down to work. The sun was shining, birds were tweeting and my brain was in gear. I answered all my emails, marked various student’s work and returned it with helpful suggestions, I set a writing challenge for both my English sets and my form and I started on those pesky mock papers. In between these tasks, I still got a little bit distracted by an online Harry Potter themed escape room (thanks to the Peters Township Public Library in McMurray, PA for that one) and the constant burbling of my Whatsapp notifications. Oh, and Twitter (the endless source of fun distractions). But mostly I was on track. Honest.

Then I decided I needed a quick break, maybe elevenses, maybe just a cup of tea (I’ve had so much coffee at this point that I might ping off the ceiling at any moment!) so I downed tools and walked away from the computer ….

…. only to discover that it’s barely nine thirty. In the morning.

Time, it seems, is certainly not flying today.

 

 





Teaching in my pyjamas

24 03 2020

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“It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.”

Macbeth Act 5, Scene 5

Well, this is weird … it’s Tuesday, it’s a work week, it’s after nine o’clock and I’m still in my pyjamas. Not really my style. Not that I’m even trying to pretend that I have any form of sartorial elegance, but still … teaching in my pyjamas is casual, even by my standards!

Yesterday was the first day of the school ‘closures’ and having been really panicky about what the expectations might be, I discovered that actually knowing what I was supposed to be doing made me feel a whole lot calmer. I am only expected to go in and ‘teach’ once a fortnight although I am also on call, just in case, on a second day. Due to the fact that I was feeling much calmer and that I live a grand total of two minutes down the road from school, I also volunteered to do emergency cover should it be needed (although I am reserving the right to still be in my pyjamas if it should come to this!) The number of students in school yesterday was much, much lower than anyone expected; we only had nine students in where we were half expecting about a hundred, so things were pretty easy to regulate.

Having picked up what felt like a million boxes of marking (I’m looking at the opportunity to catch up as an unexpected silver lining) and a copy of the work rota, I headed home … and that’s where it got weird:

This year, I have the absolute pleasure of teaching a fantastic Year 10 class. I taught them last year as well and it seems likely that I will be taking them through to their GCSEs. As the top set, they were the ones who were most concerned about the school closing and the effect it would have on their education and they are the ones I am concentrating on most during this lockdown. They have always been a joy; when I taught them History in Year 7, a simple lesson on the Black Death turned into a discussion on virology and the vectors that enable viruses to travel around the world. Little did we know then that we’d see this in action within a few years!! Their understanding and analysis of texts has also been an eye-opener for me as they’ve previously offered interpretations that I hadn’t considered. They are still teenagers and their behaviour (and idiocy) occasionally drives me to the brink of insanity, but I look forward to their lessons much more than I think they’d credit.

Yesterday morning, I set them an exam-style question on Macbeth: I’d agreed with them that I would email regular work out, in addition to the more generalised work set by the department, so that they could stay more or less on track. I sent their first email at about half past eight in the morning; it gave me something productive to do as we sat around waiting to find out how many students would attend. I assumed it would take them a while to get bored and a couple of days to return the work …

… Nope! By the time I was heading home, I’d already had my first piece of work back and they continued to trickle in throughout the day. Turns out, they actually meant it when they said they wanted to keep on top of things. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a complete miracle and there are still some of them that haven’t returned anything, but I’m taking it as an absolute win (and we all need those at the moment!). I’m using the ‘track comments’ feature in Word to give them feedback and so far it seems to be working. I’m also discovering that I look forward to their emails, each one of which has included a comment about staying safe, or hoping I’m OK.

Maybe this ‘teaching in my pyjamas’ thing won’t be so bad after all ….





Order from chaos

22 03 2020

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“I’m so scared of you my spine has turned to jelly, it’s just that I’m suffering from an overdose of terror right now. I mean, when I’ve got over that then I’ll have time to be decently frightened of you.” 

Terry Pratchett (The Colour of Magic)

This must be what it feels like to walk a tightrope; the tense, nervous anticipation, the uncertainty and anxiety about forthcoming events. Tomorrow is the first day of the school being closed to all students except those who have ‘key worker’ parents and no other safe haven. The first day of the brave new world that has appeared, seemingly overnight. I’m really not sure what’s going to happen. I have no real idea how many students will be in; maybe the Powers That Be are working with a better set of numbers, but honestly, I don’t really think they are. I guess we’ll find out in the morning.

All I know is that I am ‘teaching’ a group of KS4 students at 9.00am. I’m using the inverted commas because we’ve been told that this is not going to be teaching as we know it, in fact, it’s going to be more like childcare. We are breaking free from the national curriculum; we are going ‘off piste’ ….

.… oddly, this part isn’t worrying me as much as I thought it would. In fact, in a weird kind of way, I’m actually looking forward to it. For months, I’ve been toying with the idea of getting students to complete some creative writing which we could then self-publish as a charity fundraiser. Creativity and compassion, all wrapped up in one neat little package; what could be better? The thing that has pushed it onto the backburner is having no time to do it justice. This seems like the perfect time to put the plan in motion, so starting tomorrow we (whoever ‘we’ might be) will be honing our writing skills by exploring the idea of adversity.

I want to start off by looking at some of those famous explorers who risked everything, challenged the planet and overcame their own limitations, simply ‘because it [was] there’.  We can then look at the way some of the most well-known global personalities have overcome mental, physical and financial adversity to achieve their dreams. We can bring in examples of adversity from literature (both classic and modern, prose and poetry). From there we can explore the characteristics of resilience. Maybe it will even help students think their way through the current situation … who knows?

Slightly more selfishly, maybe helping them produce something positive will help calm my own fears and insecurities when it comes to the surreal, uncertain world I’ve found myself inhabiting. And, if all else fails, it will at least give me something to take my mind off it … kids, under any circumstances, take every scrap of my attention and any failure to concentrate will no doubt result in utter chaos.

Wish me luck!





Interesting times

19 03 2020

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There’s an old Chinese curse …. or at least there’s a well-known English saying that purports to be an old Chinese curse, that says “May you live in interesting times”. Well, it seems that the interesting times have caught up with us again. The only word that can really explain this week is ‘surreal’ and in the interests of trying to preserve my own sanity, I’m going to have a go at writing things down; not so much for posterity, but as a sort of light-hearted record of the fact that the world really did, seemingly overnight, turn upside down.

We knew it was coming. We knew it was just a matter of time. But at that moment – when the announcement was made – the world seemed to stop. Just for a second. Not for long. Just long enough for us all to catch a breath. And then the wave of questions broke over our heads; What do you mean when you say the schools are closing?  What does that involve? For everyone? Who are the ‘key workers’ you keep mentioning? Through Easter? What are we teaching? To whom? How?

I’m pretty sure that everyone working in a UK school had that moment. The relief of a decision finally made, followed immediately by escalating uncertainty. I’m also fairly sure that I’m not the only one who had a bit of a wobble this morning when the complete lack of answers became abundantly clear.  It’s no secret, to anyone who knows me, that I don’t deal well with uncertainty. Once I have a framework to operate within, I can deal with most things, but not knowing will always tip me over the edge.

This morning, it wasn’t the support from friends and co-workers that got me back on track (although it was hugely appreciated), but the need to be positive for the kids. If the decision to cancel exams is confusing for us, it is devastating for the young people who were due to sit them. Especially as they have no idea what the replacement will be and how this might impact their futures. From the moment I entered the building this morning, I was faced with a barrage of enquiries about what was happening, what they should do … and of course the inevitable dismay about the leaving days and prom they’ll miss out on (they have, after all, got their priorities firmly in place!).

It’s not just the Year 11s though; all the students that entered my room today seemed a little ‘off’. A little subdued in places. A little more focused in others. I had two visits from Year 10 students; one who wanted to collect his annotated copy of Macbeth to keep reading, another who came to ask what text we were going to be looking at next so he could start reading.  This led to a long (and very lovely) conversation about how we were going to ensure that his group of very able students wouldn’t lose ground and how I was planning to communicate about work. Following this, my particularly chatty Year 9 class, despite working alongside an entire extra class full of students, even worked on a piece of creative writing in a manner that almost approached quietly for an hour! It never ceases to amaze me that just when you think you know them, they manage to pull something out of the bag and surprise you.

The staff though, have been no surprise at all. I’m really lucky to work in a school where the staff are, to coin a phrase, a ‘family’. I mean, yes, we have the occasional weird uncle that no one wants to sit next to and a couple of wicked stepmothers, but on the whole everyone is firmly on the same team. A bit blunt and sweary in places, but isn’t that part of being a family? So when, half way through one of my lessons this morning, I was summoned out of my room by two very serious-faced colleagues, I was slightly worried about what fresh disaster had arisen. Turned out though, that the aforementioned colleagues had decided to place an order from our local sandwich shop and were roaming the corridors collecting orders. Needless to say, the staffroom was remarkably peaceful at lunchtime as we all happily stuffed our faces with carvery rolls! Sometimes it’s the little things that keep us smiling.

Onwards and upwards … let’s see what tomorrow brings.

 

 





An unexpected revelation

23 01 2016

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Last night, I was attending a launch meeting for a Heritage Lottery Fund project that my Construction students are going to be involved in.  It was a village meeting and it was a shining example of village politics in action.  Various individuals were exercising their right to free speech, to the exclusion of all others, opposing factions were rapidly forming ranks and old grievances were being publicly, and extensively, aired to anyone who’d listen.  The Village Hall Committee seemed to be on the verge of declaring all out war against the local Diocese over some disputed land and the PCC was under siege by a self-identified group of ‘interlopers’ to the village.

As an outsider, and one who was there to support the proposed project, this was both absolutely hilarious and intensely frustrating (it was Friday night and what I really wanted was to be curled up in front of the telly with a large glass of wine).

Against the backdrop of all this drama and bickering, the last thing I expected was to have one of those conversations that reaffirms your beliefs and reminds you of why you do what you do.  Somehow though, that’s what happened.  Coincidentally, I had arrived at the same time as the architect for the project and as two ‘outsiders’ we had ended up sitting together.  As neither of us really wanted to be involved in the incipient World War Three, we used the time to start talking through the different elements of the project that my students could get involved with.  In the process of describing my students, what we teach them and how they learn, I found myself remembering more and more of our success stories.

Some of these stories are about students who have gone on to achieve great things, but some of our successes are on a slightly smaller scale.  I remembered the look of absolute fascination on one student’s face when he was telling me about the bones he’d sifted out of a spoil heap on another, very similar, restoration project.  I talked about our surprise (and glee) when we handed one very lively student a paint brush and a can of gloss and watched him concentrate (tongue poking out and everything) in almost complete silence for a good five hours.  I shared stories about students who were incredibly challenging when they came to us but who are now gainfully employed and loving what they do.

I think the thing I like most about what we do, about offering construction courses to KS4 students, is the process of giving them the confidence to succeed across the board.  Many of our students start these courses with a record of being poorly behaved, with a bit of a ‘rep’ as someone who’s difficult to deal with … and yet, once they start to discover that they can succeed in a practical subject, they start to transfer that confidence to other, more academic, subjects.  We start to see them achieve better grades in English and Maths and if we’re lucky, their behaviour improves as well.

And yet, in recent months, this basic precept has been buried under a mountain of paperwork and stress.  I had almost forgotten how positive an experience our courses could be for students.  I am incredibly grateful to the organisers of the current project; not just for providing another set of practical experiences but also for reminding me about what’s important.  I need to concentrate and make sure that, whatever else is going on, I don’t lose sight of my primary purpose; to provide a positive educational experience for my students.





“Normal is vastly overrated”

19 02 2013

Before I start this particular rant, I need to tell you that I work with teenagers.  They are some of the most inspiring, amusing and just plain idiotic people I know, but there are some things they do that drive me absolutely insane.

The first, and probably the worst, of these is that so many of them aspire to be ‘normal’.  It seems that it’s a complete disaster (of untold magnitude) if they are seen to stand out from the crowd in any way.  I spend an inordinate amount of time saying, usually in a voice dripping with disbelief, that ‘normal is vastly overrated’.  They, on the other hand, seem to spend an inordinate amount of time looking at me like I’m from a different planet!  I was told by one of my cherubs on Friday that I wasn’t normal.  I did a dance.  It was a good dance and everything.  Admittedly, it probably didn’t help with the whole ‘from another planet’ issue, but it did make them laugh.

It’s always a good day when I manage to get through to one of them that in about two years time even their peers won’t think they’re weird, they’ll just be interesting; the kind of person that people want to spend time with.  Even if this success is often measured using very very small units, I’ll take what I can get.  Until I can make the understanding universal, I’ll just keep doing what I do; tweedling along being as ‘not normal’ as I can manage!





19 02 2013

The universe, they said, depended for its operation on the balance of four forces which they identified as charm, persuasion, uncertainty and bloody-mindedness.

Terry Pratchett








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