Tuesday 30 March 2010

Of blogging, and writing, and facebook

The trouble with blogging is that I am hugely economical with words.
It's not bloggings fault. It's my brain. It jumps ahead of my thoughts so much that I move from A to C and assume that B is understood.

Now, that works sometimes.

It didn't work with my facebook post. Because now I've turned myself inside out, I am wondering why I haven't friend requested my friend to be my Facebook friend.  I don't usually request friends, ignore friend suggestions, and have just a few dozen Facebook friends. I like to keep life simple.

But that's no excuse in this case?

Hmmm.  Comments from short-cutting, leap-frogging, web-tangled brain.

Facebook?

Facebook is an odd phenomenon.  I'm sure many others have philosophized about it far more eloquently than I will.  I just need to put some thoughts down.

It's great for getting to know what people who you are not particularly close to or don't care about so much are doing.
It's great for getting to know what people you DO care about are doing.

But sometimes, it's not great.

It's not great when a friend who you think is a friend isn't actually your Facebook friend. 
It's not great when you get to see what that friend is doing through other friends.

So here's the question: is your good friend - your heart-close, sharing-of-the-joys-and-sorrows-of-life-friend - still your friend in the same way if you AREN'T Facebook friends?

Facebook friends may be friends - or acquaintances - or even complete strangers, just 'friends' of 'friends' of 'friends'... And now I'm writing the word friend so often that it is beginning to lose meaning for me.

Is this what is happening with my friend who is not my Facebook friend?  Is our relationship beginning to lose meaning...?

Wednesday 24 March 2010

Laughter at school

I guess this will be my last post from school for a couple of weeks.  I just had to do it, though, before I forget.

We've been playing 'Taboo' a lot recently.  The game where someone has to guess a word which the rest of the team describe, without using certain words. 
The first word was 'Teacher'.
"It's what Mrs Pollard is!"
The guess: "A man!"
Screams of merriment. One child laughed hysterically for five minutes.
So did I.

The second word wasn't much better: 'Dolls'.
They tried really hard with this one, without success.  Then one bright spark said: "We don't like them."
The guess: "Teachers!"

I can't be serious about teaching any more. I really can't.

PS It wasn't quite the last observation.  I asked the children to tidy their desks this afternoon...so two boys have emptied them completely and taken EVERYTHING home.  I wonder what books they intend to write in next term...?

Tuesday 23 March 2010

Here we go again...

Last week of term.  LAST WEEK OF TERM!!!!

No, I'm not that much out of control.  Things are pretty calm in my classroom, actually. Projects have been finished without any hectic nagging, the room is tidy - I'm even redoing a display. Which reminds me... it's staring me in the face, shouting 'take me down, take me down' - I'm only half way through stripping a board of children's work before I put the new stuff up, and somehow I'd forgotten about it.

But that's symptomatic of everything else. I get up in such a rush in the morning that I only have time for the bare essentials - and that doesn't include breakfast (that comes later, when I have a break at school).  And what's bothering me is what the 'bare essentials' are.

Washing. Brushing teeth and hair. Moisturiser. Clothes. Earrings and necklace. Cycling to school - essential exercise.

Where is my time with God?  If I'm lucky, I read a little from the Bible or from a book out of my pile of 'good reading'.  As a church we're studying Rick Warren's 40 Days of Community, so I try to keep up with that as well.  But when do I do that?  'If I'm lucky', between necklace and cycling.

Priorities are wrong. Luck doesn't come into it. I just need to drag myself out of bed just a few moments earlier.  That's all.

Friday 19 March 2010

Tolerance

I attended a training course this week. The message was all about tolerance - I won't say tolerance in which respect, except that it's a controversial issue.  There aren't clear right/wrongs. Just a myriad of differing opinions and attitudes.

Except that, on this course, it seemed I was the only one who had a different opinion.

All the time we were being encouraged to be tolerant, to educate others on the difficulties a particular group in our society experience and how they feel isolated and marginalised...that was exactly how I felt. Isolated, marginalised, not daring to express a differing opinion. Experiencing the invisible barrier which others from this group are said to experience.

So, I wonder, am I being intolerant by having a different opinion? Or are the 'tolerant' being intolerant of me and my 'intolerance'?  And so I am having to be tolerant of  those who think I am 'intolerant'...where does it all end?

The course wasn't about tolerance. The course was about trying to get me to teach a particular viewpoint to the children in my care. And there are a lot of reasons - good reasons - why I'm not sure I can agree with that viewpoint, or even agree that it would help children to teach it.  Fortunately, my colleagues agree with me.

And the bottom line is... don't speak to me of groups. Speak to me of individuals; give me the opportunity to love them - as Jesus did.

Monday 15 March 2010

The best homework excuse

Homework excuses are legendary.  And yes, the dog did eat mine once. I never confessed, and somehow the teacher never caught up with me, but I spent the rest of my many years in secondary school living in dread of being discovered.

The excuse today was so unbelievable that I nearly laughed. History homework for the last month or so has been to create Tudor house in some shape or form. So we've had exquisite paintings, hand-crafted wooden houses, complete with furniture, tapestries, fireplaces, chimneys, gardens... cardboard houses with highly effective lattice windows made out of some kind of bandage, beyond its use by date (mum works at the hospital), even a 'net' of a Tudor house downloaded from the internet and reconstructed in heavy card. Wonderful.

But T didn't bring his house in. He lives on a tiny island a short boat ride away, commuting backwards and forwards at the weekend. Apparently - and I have to believe him, he is honesty personified -the wind blew his house out of his hand into the sea, as he was getting off the boat this morning.

"The sea ate my homework."  Hmmm, doesn't really sound quite right, does it?

Wednesday 10 March 2010

They must think I'm mad...

I met two former pupils today, shopping. At least, I was shopping. They were hanging out in the cafe.
They only left two years ago, but they've shot up and are now, at 13, almost as tall as I am. I managed not to comment.
Anyway, the twins - Andrew and Peter - rushed over to say hello. And I was really pleased to see them.
Eventually, they managed to ask me how school was.
"Oh, it's good," I said. "I have frogspawn on my desk, so it can't be bad. I'm always hopeful, but I have never yet managed to achieve frogs hopping all over the classroom."
They smiled weakly. I don't think that's quite what they meant.
I made my excuses and said goodbye. Quickly.
Mad? I think I might be...


The frogspawn and tadpoles...

Tuesday 9 March 2010

Even more exciting!

Phew - last week got VERY exciting. Then, yesterday, I opened an email to find that one of the children in my class had won a garden design competition. I was so excited that I called him over to read it... then I read the next sentence, telling me not to say anything to him yet. Whoops. Fortunately, he is a very mature ten year old and can keep a secret with relative ease. Odd, though, that no one else asked why we were grinning inanely in a maths lesson...

The prize is that the garden will actually be made in the school grounds! Floral Guernsey are behind the initiative and will come in and make the dream come true...and the Guernsey Press is coming on Friday to report it.

So that's my excitement for the week - more than enough. Phew!

Thursday 4 March 2010

Exciting

I've had such an exciting week. In a tiny, minute kind of way. Nothing global or newsworthy, except in my heart. And it's still only Thursday - Alpha tonight, Holy Spirit Day on Saturday. How much more exciting can it get?

Anyway, my first bit of excitement is... wait for it, this is so sad...my portfolio of evidence for achieving a certificate in PSHE arrived back from assessment.
PSHE stands for Personal, Social and Health Education. I'm the school coordinator. It means life skills really, ties in with the social, moral, spiritual and cultural aims of school.
The portfolio isn't finished yet, but it's not far off. Further than I thought or even hoped.

I also got to observe a PSHE lesson - such fun. It was hugely encouraging to see how the scheme I have put in place is working so well in practice. I picked up some useful tips, too. Our Year 3 teachers are SO gifted, it's always a pleasure to watch them.

My other bit of excitement caught me by surprise. I had gone on an art course on Tuesday. Now, I always believe that educational subject courses are meant to just give me the nuts and bolts for teaching that subject better. Normally, that is exactly what they do and I come back to school with reams of notes and tons of ideas.
Art courses aren't like that. Unfortunately, I always forget what they are like, so when I pitch up and, after a few minutes of introduction we are then told to 'get on with it', I go into meltdown. Quietly, in a controlled and unobtrusive way.

Because I JUST CAN'T PAINT. OR DRAW. OR DO ANYTHING ARTY.

Last course - abstract art - induced pure panic. I spent the first half hour just slapping on paint in the hope that something would emerge. It did, eventually, and didn't look too bad.

This time, we had to paint flowers. Complicated flowers, with a myriad of different hues. Shade, tone... you name it.

I chose a photo of a purple cyclamen. And you know what? I ACTUALLY PAINTED IT. It looks fabulous. I am more thrilled than if I'd had writing published.