Updating: The Short Story 3 (Perth High School)

I started my new job at Perth High School on August 13th and spent the vast majority of the first term just trying to keep my head above water, dealing with
1. A new HUGE school
2. No classroom, resulting in me lugging boxes of folders and books around a total of 11 different classrooms on various floors around the school each week. You should see my biceps!
3. Teaching Higher. Eek!
4. Once again having the bammer Third Year class - why me?!?
5. Finding a flat - I was in a B&B for the first three weeks of term
6. Getting my stuff down from Shetland - complicated by an untimely death. Honestly.
7. Being shipped off on one of the school's S1 Residentials. Fun...I got to rockclimb, and climb trees, and randomly met a friend of Jenny's...but I could have done without having to sort out two days of cover materials for my classes
8. Just generally wondering what on earth I'd let myself in for and if working in an office or in retail was really as bad as I remembered.

I decided that yes, it was as bad as that, and I could cope with teaching. Probably. And that's where I am at the moment. Trying to get sorted for next term and working my way through the monstrous pile of marking I had to bring home with me for the holiday. Why couldn't I have been a maths teacher, or something else with minimal marking?

Reasons Why...

Back Pain Sucks...

Oh, let me count the ways...

1. It hurts.
2. You can't move.
3. Other people cannot appreciate just how much it hurts.
4. It hurts.
5. There is NOTHING you can do to make it better.
6. Everything else in your body hurts as a result.
7. You end up walking like you have - a quote from one of my oh-so-sympathetic pupils - "a dildo shoved up your ass".
8. It HURTS! (The back pain - not the dildo up the ass. I don't have a dildo up my ass. I've never had a dildo up my ass. I wouldn't know if it hurt or not. I'm going to stop this train of thought now.)
9. It can be remarkable tricky to pin-point exactly what you did that caused the pain.
10. Because you can't move, it takes 10 times longer to do anything at all.
11. IT REEEEAAAALLY HUUUUUURRRRRTS!!!!!!

Yeah...so...I hurt my back at some point during the canoing/swimming/jumping fiesta of fun on Tuesday, and when I woke up on Wednesday, I could hardly move. Seriously. Not cool.

It was the School Walk on Wednesday, and I was meant to be on it - I dressed the part, thinking it might ease off, but by the time I got to the staffroom I was almost in tears - and I pretty much did start crying when Ginny and Eileen spotted me and asked if I was ok. It's weird - why is that you're fine, and then as soon as someone asks if you're ok, you start crying? Eileen instantly sprang into mum-mode, bustled off to Jim and informed him that I wasn't walking. I felt gulity, but I wasn't going to argue.

So I spent Wednesday in school, doing stuff that needed doing but didn't require too much physical effort. Like finishing my reports - hee hee! I did spend a fair amount of time wandering the hall ways - if I stayed still too long I totally seized up. Fortunately, JD wasn't walking either, so I harassed him for a while, and I went down to the hall to watch the concert that a couple of the Primary classes did - it was good - part of a workshop/outreach thing-a-ma-jig by the Scottish National Orchestra. And I had the office ladies checking on me - they seem to have semi-adopted me as a poor motherless bairn and as soon as they found out I'd hurt my back they were all for driving me to the doctor, then home - bearing in mind it's about 30 mins each way from school to home, that's a kind offer. I was tempted, but I declined - something they only permitted after I solemnly swore that if the pain got worse I would come and tell them, and if it was no better in the morning I would go myself and not come to school.

After school I paid a visit to the chemist for the strongest painkillers he would give me. I took a double dose - naughty, but the only way I was going to get any sleep. On Thursday I seriously considered calling in sick and going to the doctors, but it was a bit better, and the new timetable was starting, so I figured I'd better go in.

I'm now feeling a lot better - I can actually go up and down stairs without wanting to cry, and I have about 80% normal movement back. And I've only taken one of the uber-painkillers today, although I will prob take another one before I go to bed. I probably should see doctor about it, but there's not a great deal they can do apart from refer me to a physio...and as I'm already on a huge waiting list for my wrists, I don't really fancy joining another one for my back. Dontcha love the NHS?

Something I never thought I'd do...

Today I did something that I CERTAINLY never, not even in a month of Sundays, thought I would do while living in Shetland. I went swimming. In the sea!

I was wearing a wetsuit, but it was still BLOODY BALTIC! It's Activities at school this week and today I was off on Outdoor Ed - which today involved canoeing around Lerwick and having a bit of a swim. Oh, and jumping into the sea off rocks of various heights. The highest was about 20 feet high - can't believe I did it! There was a definite "oh my god oh my god oh my god" moment at the top, but...there was only one way down...and it was wicked! Loved it, even if it was scary as hell. It was also cool seeing Lerwick from a totally different angle from usual - I had no idea there were all these cliffs and caves and stuff - brilliant. It's also always nice to get out of the classroom with the kids. It's a totally different dynamic and it makes a difference once you're back in class with them, even if it is only a grudging sort of respect that you actually plucked up the courage to do the big jump, or disappointment that you jumped it, rather than needing the shove that they so kindly offered to provide!

My feet have now finally regained most of the feeling (putting on nice clean warm clothes at the end of the day was pretty close to orgasmic, I have to admit), but I'm totally shattered and my back hurts like a bitch. I'm sure it'll be fine in a day or two, but it's the school walk tomorrow and it might be a bit interesting, in a painful sort of a way. And I still haven't finished those bastard reports...

The bane of being a teacher

It's that time of year. There's no avoiding it. You can run. But there is no where to hide. Like a nuclear powered GPS missile tuned to target your DNA, they WILL find you.

That's right...report cards! Teachers everywhere are finding things to do that have merrily sat unlooked at for months but now, right this minute, they must be done. Hoovering? Essential. Ironing? Absolutely must be done. Alphabetising your DVD collection by Director then cross-referenced with Producer and Genre? The fate of the free world depends upon it. Stock-taking the English cupboard and putting the books into some vague parody of a sensible order? Well...maybe not that far!

However hard you might fight against it, there comes a time when you just need to suck it up and get writing.

I'm at that stage now, and I can feel my life force ebbing away. Methods of procrastination are screaming out to me - like this blog, for example. I have played Suduko. I have caught up on my emails. I am itching to organise my DVDs (perhaps not by director, cross-referenced by producer and genre, but still). But...they need to be written.

And so I am tackling that timeless challenge faced by teachers the world over. Exactly how many different euphamisms are there for "Your child would require a divine act of providence to reach the dizzying heights of idiocy."? Or perhaps "X is not achieving their full potential. Tesco are fairly unwilling to hire shelf-stackers who cannot yet spell 'Tesco'."? Or, my personal favourite, and the one I am currently trying to resist the urge to write: "Y is a gobby little shite and is a monumantal pain in my arse. I am counting the hours until I can palm him off on the next poor sap who loses the annual departmental dance-off and so is consigned to the seventh circle of hell, otherwise known as class 4B. I have been practising my moon-walk especially. Frankly, I think it a huge pity he was not drowned at birth, I daily mourn the passing of corporal punishment, and I shall be forwarding the bills for my summer's residential psychiatric treatment to you forthwith." Do you think writing that would be considered a bit TOO blunt?

Righto...suppose I'd better get back to the buggers, especially if I plan on getting any sleep tonight...

Ooh...Big Brother's about to start...

Ski Trip Video

Ok, this is the last post I'm going to make about the ski trip, but I had to share this vid. One of the S4s made it, and it's totally wicked - I'm so impressed! (Look out for a couple of particularly unflattering pics of me flashing by...) Towards the end John's death-defying tumble is captured on film - he's the speck tumbiling down the mountain. Try not to get distracted by Kirsten stacking it in the forground, but if you miss it, it's repeated several times in slow mo. You know it's bad when you hear Shaun's voice at the end after he's skied past the crumpled heap!

Pila

This is just a quick supplement to the recent skiing recaps. It has come to my attention that while I have rather blithely been referring to things such as 'Chamole', 'The Grimod Bowl' and 'The Laisse Chair', that will mean bugger all to anyone who hasn't visited Pila. And so...in an effort to rectify the situation (and in the delusional belief that anyone who reads this actually cares this much)...I give you...The Piste Map!

Ok...I gave you the piste map, but it's not actually very readable...sorry! I do have a piste map on my shiney new bebo site tho...but that may not be very helpful. I tried.

The Last Run

Saturday morning, 6am, and Beth woke everyone up for a VERY early breakfast so we could be on the slopes ready to start at 9am. Because of stupid boat being in dry doack, we HAD to be on the Sunday night ferry back to Shetland. As a result, we had to leave Italy at lunch time and so would only get a couple of hours skiing in. The kids had the choice to ski or not, and although a few decided just to stay in the hotel for the morning, most headed up the mountain, and I was with them.

All the groups headed straight up the Chamole chair and another massive free-for-all ensued. How no one did themselves serious damage is beyond me, but I was NOT loving it - I felt like I had a huge target on my back as a lot of the kids thought it'd be hysterical to wipe out the teachers. Liam managed it with what I thought was a very dirty trick - he swerved right in front of me and then stopped. I swerved to miss him, and ended up on my backside with my skis pointing in opposite directions. He seemed to find it hysterical - should have just skied right into the little bugger! Cody also managed it a bit later on, but that one wasn't deliberate - he skied right in to the back of me and we both ended up sliding most of the way down the slope on our butts!

We had one last go at the jumps, hung around to watch everyone else try it (most failed miserably - our group was definitely the best, but I think we'd had much more practise at them) and then we were off again. Away from the other groups and down to the Laisse.

Up the Laisse and, for the first time, we didn't head down towards Grimod, but turned to the left and went down a steep red we'd never been down before. It was distinctly scary but, despite that, or perhaps because of it, it was BRILLIANT! I had a few wobbles, and at one stage I tried to turn too quickly and my ski came off! It took me ages to get the damn thing back on again on the steep bit, especially as my knee was hurting again following Liam's trick earlier on, but I managed, and after that I even managed to pick up speed and keep well up with the group, even overtaking some of the kids! (Naughty, but after a week of being responsible and bringing up the rear I'd been dying to do it!) After the falling-off-ski incident the run went perfectly - it was a brilliant way to end the trip, although I could have merrily kept skiing for much longer.

On our return to the hotel there was a pleasant surprise waiting for us - John had been released from hospital sporting a rather fetching neck brace and with a supply of pain pills for the journey! We quickly found out that the underwear had been much appreciated, but not as much as the excellent treatment which John had recieved in the Aosta hospital. He'd been treated to a bed bath from 4 young nurses, and had been seen by the neurologist who was evidently "a total babe"! It was clear that he was ok, and so the mocking could commence!

John's neck brace did neccessitate a bit of a re-jig on the seating arrangements on the bus. he got moved to the very front because one of the seats reclined right back - this meant that no-one could sit behind him so I got sent to the back of the bus to sit next to the pupils - poor Craig! It was all right really, they're a nice enough bunch, and I actually got a decent amount of sleep. Poor Craig, however, had had two seats to himself on the way to Italy, and this time had to put up with me sitting next to him, prompting the rather genius comment of "For a peerie wife you dinnae half take up a lot o' space Miss!"

I survived the bus journey, and we even managed to get to Aberdeen with time to spare, so got two hours shopping time. Fab!

First Stop: Vision Express to replace the nose pad on my glasses which had broken off at some point on the bus journey after I fell asleep wearing them.

Second Stop: Carphone Warehouse to pick up a cheap handset. I'm still in mourning for my much loved PEBL - I must have fallen on it at some point and the main screen now doesn't work. Fortunately, I'm due for an upgrade soon so the cheap handset will do until then.

And then... Monsoon, Gap (which rather handily was having a sale), Oasis, Accessorize, a quick visit to M&S to use the toilets to change out of minging bus clothes and into new t-shirt and flip-flops, The Body Shop, Virgin, and then...and then...STARBUCKS!!!! To my absolute horror they were all out of both the berry and the mango frappuchinos, but a grande hazelnut mocha with whip went down an absolute treat! As did the 30 minutes of child-free solitude on the standard issue comfy starbucks sofa.

Onto the Ferry, into the shower, on with 100% new, clean clothes, and I was back to feeling human. Dinner, a couple of drinks, and then off to bed where I slept like a rock, although I did wake up very early whic gave me time for another shower. Arrived in Lerwick, returned kiddi-winks to their waiting parents, had just enough time to drop off bags and change, and then...back to school!

The holiday was over...reality bites.

PS: For anyone who is interested, I fully intend to go skiing in the winter and am currently looking for anyoen else who wants to join. Monkeys in the Snow anyone?

The Ski Off...

Ok, so the last installment of my Skiing Extravaganza ended with the delightful Tale of the Nostril Tampon!

Friday dawned, cooler again (I never thought I'd be so happy to see clouds) and with even a hint of snow. The snow never came to anything more than a few rather feeble flankes, but the thought was there, and at least I didn't sweat enough to fill a small swimming pool. We headed up the mountain and went for our first few runs. They went ok (I only forgot how to ski for 20 mins or so, so didn't have too many tumbles) and then, at 11am, came The Ski Off!

All the Aith Ski Groups gathered at the top of the Grimod Bowl, and our instructors briefed us for battle.

This was the Ski Off. This was our opportunity to show off our hard-earned skills in front of everyone else. This was a matter of Pride. Personal Pride. Group Pride. But most important of all...Instructor Pride - woe betide the person who let down their intructor in front of the other groups. Actually, scratch that...the most important thing was Teacher Pride...JD had dropped out early in the week, ostensibly to supervise the walking wounded and the conscientious objectors who didn't want the skiing to ruin their holiday, and John was in the intermediate group, so that left Kirsty and I to go head to head as beginners.

The Ski Off consisted of each person, in turn, skiing down most of the Grimod with all four intructors watching, showing off the very best of the skills we'd learned in the week. The instructors would confer and that night there was to be a presentation at the hotel where we would get our certificates and discover how many stars we'd won.

This was stressful enough, but before that came a 'practise run' - which basically consisted of the entire group (40-odd including teachers) in a giant free for all down the Grimod, all vying to show off as much as humanly possible. Carnage. Needless to say, showing off was indeed done, and I must admit that I was horribly pleased to be able to swoop gracefully past Kirsty, at some speed, as she lay in a heap in the snow half way down the run. I did suprisingly well - impressing Beth who was behind me, until I got to the very bottom of the run. I had right of way, but some dozy bint from another school didn't seem to think so - I swerved, she ran into the back of my skis, we both ended up in the snow, but I think she came off worse! Beth helped me up, I did apologize but all I got was a very filthy look so I left her to the mercies of her friends who arrived quickly. Whatever!

We returned up the lift, posed for photos, and then...the Ski Off Commenced. And it went ok...there were a few fallers, but most people did themselves proud. I was a bit annoyed with myself...I was concentrating so hard on not falling and on keeping myself in the right position that I think I went a bit too slow - I certainly could have gone faster, but I did it, and it went ok, so I was happy.

After the Ski Off there was a palpable sense of relief and everyone headed off in their seperate groups again. And it was incredible...I totally relaxed, and everything came much easier. It was great, I finally started going faster (although still not fast enough according to Gorgeous George!), I had so much fun, and even managed some more flirting with GG. Happy days.

And then we went down the mountain. And discovered that John Jackson, the Maths teacher, had had a fairly horrific fall and was currently in the hospital (having been sent there from the med centre on the mountain) for MORE x-rays because he may or may not have done something horrific to his neck. However, the show had to go on and off we toddled for a trip to the Nike factory in town - discount Nike gear plus an extra interski discount - happy days! We shopped, and then returned to the hotel for a shower, dinner, and the presentations. Oh yes, and on the way from the bus to the hotel I had to visit the shop and look like a total alkie to buy booze for the kids to give to the instructors. Most got some sort of wine-present combo, but on consultation with Joe and Allan we decided that GG really didn't seem the red wine type, so GG got:
1. A fairly poncy headband from the nike factory (because he had a VERY poncy headband that he regularly wore on the slopes)
2. A tube of hair gel - to ensure a poncy hair style to go with the poncy headband
3. A bottle of Jack Daniels!

Over dinner the call came: John was being kept in overnight to see the neurologist in the morning, and we needed to pack an overnight bag. We got a list, and Michael headed off to pack it - and then needed help because he was totally thrown by the task of finding John's "sleep wear" - which Beth immediately found under the pillow. Duh. We packed up the bag and incuded a quickly made get well soon card, and a matching set of bra and knickers - thoughtfully donated by Kirsty!

After dinner...the presentation. Everyone got a certificate, and got stars, 1 was the lowest, and 4 was the highest anyone in the group got. Most people got 2 stars, and there was then the added bonus of stars, With Merit, or With Distinction. I got 2 Stars With Merit, and I'm very proud of myself! We gave the instructors their presents, and much hilarity was had by all.

We also heard from Rich, the intermediate group, who geve his version of John's fall. And it suddenly sounded a LOT worse than the kids had made out - possibly becasue John had been moving too quickly for them to make out much more than a blur! According to Rich, John went past him at a truely frightening speed, tried to turn and went over, performed roughly 8 cartwheels and landed in a motionless heap. Rich skied like hell to get down to him, apparently thinking that there was a good chance he'd killed his first client, and arrived in time to see that John was actually moving. Just. Rich assured us that it was genuinely the worst crash he'd seen, and we all suddenly became very aware that John had been an INCREDIBLY lucky man to have walked away from it.

How d'you ski again?

Thursday dawned, cooler (hurrah) and, thankfully, hangover free. I headed up the mountain, full of hopes of a great days skiing - it had all been going so well on Wednesday afternoon...surely it would continue to do so. No, turns out skiing doesn't actually work that way.

Once again, we went straight up to Grimod (and this time I didn't want to spew on either of the gondolas!), and began preparations. It started well on the areas we'd skiied yesterday. And then...I forgot how to ski. Seriously. I forgot how to ski - it is the only possible explanation for the hour or so which I spent mostly on my arse, falling over at every available opportunity. It was just embarrassing. I blame Gorgeous George. He kept on telling me off for going at the end (I was meant to be at the back in my role as 'teacher'...) and for not going quickly - apparently I was good enough that I should be going faster. So I tried. And then the falling commenced. And the falling didn't stop. It was horrific. Fortunately, the idiocy passed, at least until the afternoon when I had a 30 minute or so relapse. The falls weren't especially horrific, more entertaining and embarrassing - especially the one when the only thing that stopped me sliding the ENTIRE way down the run was the snowdrift gathered by my ass, but damage was still done. At some point in the day I twisted my knee (actually, I think it was a series of small twists...) and by the end of the day I was feeling less than chipper.

This lack of chipperness was not helped at all by the fact that I was dehydrated, having given the majority of my water to idiot children who hadn't had the sense to refill their bottle at lunch, and one idiot child in particular who was convinced that she'd broken her pinkie in a fall in which she "almost died". My arse. I must confess to having very little sympathy to start with, but fortunately my lack of sympathy was echoed by other adults when we rejoined the main group at the end of the day and it was decided that no, a trip to the med centre for x-rays really wasn't required.

A hot shower and a nap back at the hotel (not to mention the several nurofen and litre of water which I necked) helped my mood considerably, and after dinner I was fully prepped for the Tournament of Tournaments! AKA Bowling Night: Teachers vs Pupils! The Team to Beat was widely considered to be the S4s, but, contrary to all expectations, and despite the best efforts of Beth & I to totally scupper all hopes, the Teachers came from behind to thoroughly trounce the pupils. It was actually kindof beautiful... And largely due to the innate competitiveness which seems to surface in all PE teachers at even the whiff of some sort of sporting challenge.

The night was improved upon when one of the S2s, against all the odds, succeeded in one of those giant-claw-type machines and won a huge Scrat (the funky squirrel-type beastie with the acorn from Ice Age). However, this was somewhat counteracted by a slight medical emergency in the form of a MAJOR nosebleed that kept me confined to the toilet trying to stauch the bood flow for about 45 mins, and ended up in a trip to A&E for Beth and poor unfortunate pupil who then had to spend the rest of the trip with what can only be described as a tampon shoved up her right nostril.

PS: As something of an appendix to the Tale of the Nostril, on Tuesday morning I was greeted by said pupil bouncing across the classroom shouting "Look Miss, look! It's out!!" Something I was equally glad about and responded to by bouncing up and down, grinning hugely, and repeating "It's out, it's out!!" in a spectacularly professional manner!

Best hangover cure ever!

Wednesday was another scorcher, not helped by the fact that I was feeling distinctly hung-over after an unintentionally drunken night before with the other teachers - I wasn't the worst, by any means, but the gondola up to the mountain was not the most fun in the world. The smaller gondola up to the higher slopes was even worse - it was chock full of people, hot, smelly, and juddery. Nor did I feel better when Gorgeous George spotted my hung-over and nauseous state and proceeded to rip the piss. Bloody students. It did help when he 'fessed up to being equally hungover tho! (Although tragically we had achieved our hangovers entirely seperately - school trips blow!) Professionalism in practice and a shining example to the pupils from both of us, I'm sure you'll agree. (Carried on later in the day on another Gondola ride when we set about discussing the finer points of Pub Golf - something a couple of the pupils found particularly fascinating!)

I started feeling a whole lot better once out in the fresh air and we prepared ourselves for the first run of the day. And it was here that I discovered the best and most immediate hangover cure in the world - a trip down the mountain to the med centre with one of the pupils in your care! Talk about instant sobering and adrenaline kick! On the very first run of the day, one of the girls in my group was injured in what can only be described as the most pathetic excuse for a fall ever. Crapness of fall aside, she managed to do something to a ligament in her knee which required a call out to Piste Patrol, she was skidooed down the mountain with me frantically trying to keep up on my skis because I didn't have a scoob where the med centre was. And obviously this was the day that I didn't have my mobile on me so couldn't contact any of the other teachers. Against all the odds, I managed to keep up with the skidoo and reach the med centre without having fallen - I was EXTREMELY proud of this fact - and waited with said pupil while x-rays, etc were taken. A damaged ligament was diagnosed (after the x-ray count for the trip was raised to 2) and I then spent an hour and a half with her at the bottom of the mountain, sunbathing - how glad was I that I'd had the foresight to shave my legs and put shorts on under the salopettes! Fortunately, Kirsty and some of her group were sitting the day's skiing out so I was able to rejoin my group after lunch. (see picture for walking wounded!)

Upon rejoining them, however, I discovered to my horror that in my absence they'd progressed from OK to really rather good - they were onto parallel turns and everything. I had a major flap, convinced I was utterly behind, but GG took me to the side and caught me up. By the end of Wednesday it really felt like everything was starting to fall into place. Foolish, foolish Nyssa...

Staying in a vertical position

I LOVE SKIING!!! That's right - you read it - I love skiing!

Got back from the school ski trip to Italy yesterday - still ABSOLUTELY shattered - and it was totally brilliant. I was having serious second thoughts prior to departure, not least because I was convinced I was destined to break something (I'm sure many remember the mountain-boarding - broken tail bone debacle of last summer...) but no - I was actually not half bad. After I spent the first two days failing miserably to do anything terribly usefull of course.

We left on Friday 6th for the overnight boat to Aberdeen where we met up with our coach - home for the next two days. That's right, two days on a coach with nearly 40 teenagers, driving from Aberdeen to Italy, somewhere near the Swiss border. THAT was fun - especially as Kirsty and I got the short straw and had the crappy seats right at the front of the bus with no leg room. We finally arrived at lunch time on Sunday; tired, bad tempered, stiff, and probably not smelling too great either. What I didn't realise at the time was that smelling bad was going to be something of a theme for the week. We met our Rep, picked up our ski gear, and FINALLY arived at the hotel mid afternoon. One shower and a change of clothes later, and the world was a much nicer place. Especially as it was glorious sunshine and all the teachers headed out for a walk in the sun and then hit the pub - again, a theme for the week.

The Teachers: JD, Michael, Kirsty, Beth, John, Me

Food, wine, and a good night's sleep later, Monday dawned, again in glorious sunshine. We headed up the

mountain and were introduced to our instructors - and the week suddenly took a dramatic turn for the better. My group's instructor was Gorgeous George, a 21 year old student from Loughborough Uni (I have no idea if that's the right spelling...). All I have to say on that is...WOOF! I just about managed to contain my drooling long enough to introduce myself, but not before several of the pupils had twigged, ensuring much amusement for the rest of the week as they hissed "Miss Anderson fancies George" at various points.

The Instructors: l-r Alex (aka Fitty McHotty), Rich, Georgeous George, and Carolyn

The remainder of Monday was then spent trying to learn the basics: getting skis on & staying in vertical position, snowplough on a non-existant slope & staying in a vertical position, stopping & staying in a vertical position, getting skis off & staying in a vertical position...pretty challenging stuff. None of which was helped by the fact that it was baking hot and our ski-suits felt roughly akin to having 15-tog duvets draped all over our bodies. I have never sweated so much in my life...until Tuesday.

Tuesday we were still on the basics but were getting a bit of speed and managed to move onto turning. This caused a lot of problems initially, but by the end of the day things were looking up and most people had got the hang of it. Things were starting to make sense and I was beginning to think that maybe this trip wasn't quite the worst idea I'd ever had in my life. At least until we got back down to the rest of the group and discovered that one of the fourth years in the intermediate group had broken his collar bone, thus starting our x-ray collection.
My Ski Group

l-r Hannah, Shelley, Gorgeous George, Joe, Matthew, Allan, Robbie, Cody, Frances, Paddy, Ashley, Me.

Parent's Night

Parent's Night. *big sigh* My first full one as a proper teacher.

I'm exhausted.

I arrived at school at 8.30 am this morning, I did a full day teaching. I then stayed in school until parent's night started at 6.30 pm, (having changed into my 'I'm an adult, honest' costume) and at that point I started talking to parents. I did not stop talking until some time around 9pm (although rational speech had become tricky at least an hour earlier - note to self: gibbering at parents does not a good impression make!). By that point I'd been bursting for the loo for at least half an hour.

I'm now back at home in a brain-dead fug of tiredness. I might also have some post of post-traumatic stress disorder. A minor one, but PTS none the less. Bloody hell!

God help me when I'm back on the mainland dealing with classes of 30! Of course, Shetland parents are very keen to 'get involved' and all that jazz, and they don't bother with appointments, so you can't even use the 'I'm afraid that's your time up and others are waiting' excuse...still, at least there is very little chance of them lamping you when you tell them that little Jimmy is actually a little shite who may be possessed by Satan, and would they mind terribly if you got the priest in for a bit of an exorcism.

...bloody hell...I need to go to bed...or open a bottle of wine...bed is probably the more sensible option...I don't have a bottle of wine...I have a bottle of vodka...but bed would probably be better...

I'm scary!

Well, it's finally been confirmed by the kids - apparently I am, officially, a bit scary! They're even talking about it in the hallways. Cool, huh?

It's been a funny week on the teaching front. I'm no doubt tempting fate and a full-blown swinging-from-the-lights riot by saying this, but I think I might have turned a bit of a corner with the bad-boy S3 class. Of course, the fact that that class is now down to only 6 members may have something to do with it. Naturally, of course, karma kicks in and the 'good' S3 class is descending rather rapidly through the various circles of hell. Now, there is the fact that one of the 'bad boys' is now in this class because he got chucked out of Physics and now has to take Biology instead, but actually, it's not him causing the problems. No, it's one of the other boys who seems keen to take over the title of 'Most Likely to be a Total Wanker'. So he has been. He made me finally give out a detention, and now he's made me send him out of my class.

As a result of this, he told me that 'I hate you. I really do.'

Am I bothered? I did rather enjoy writing the referral that was fired off to guidance, and I'm now REALLY looking forward to Parent's Evening on Tuesday, but I can't say that I'm really losing much sleep over the fact that one 14 year old boy from Shetland hates me. I'm pretty sure I'll get over it. After all - I'm scary!

Surely they lie?

It is an incredibly sorry state of affairs when your third year boys class informs you of the sexual preferences of your current 'embarrassing, but I'm going with it' celebrity crush. Apparently John Barrowman (aka the rather lush Captain Jack) is, in one boy's words, "so bent he could suck his own knob". Delightful.

Anyone who may have information to the contrary, please let me know! To be fair....the clues were there, but I'm just not ready to resign him to batting for the other team just yet... And third year boys do lie...often...(see previous post for 'I lost the ability to sit')

Teachers laugh more often than any other profession...

And I believe it. To be honest, I really think it's because often you're in a laugh-or-cry situation. For example, when someone pipes up from the back of the class "So what page are we on?" when you've just finished saying "page 43" for the 23rd time in 2 minutes. Or when the reason given for non-attempted (never mind completed) homework is that "I lost the ability to sit. Honestly, it's tragic - I spent the entire night staring at the chair trying desperately to remember what to do..." At least it's more original that 'the dog ate it'!

Today was one of those giggle-inducing days.

Having spent almost the entire day finally marking the huge pile of essays that I've been studiously ignoring, I came upon an absolute corker. The only problem is that I can't decide if it's an accidentally hilarious example of why you shouldn't automaticaly click 'change' on the spellcheck, or if this pupil is actually a cheeky little shite staging a clever form of passive protest against my choice of class text. Maybe you can decide. The opening sentence of this young man's essay read...

"I have reticently been reading..."

That's right, "reticently". So, was he aiming for 'recently' but did something funny that sparked spell-check, or is he a bit clever, a bit funny, and a bit on his way to detention?

Who knows? You decide.

On a completely unrelated note, today I finally cracked and ordered Sky Digital. The Variety and Music mixes, if you're interested. It was a combination of factors that did it. There was the flyer offering 'half price subscription for three months' lying on the floor when I got home. There was the trailer for Lost series 3 that was on tv, mocking me with channel 4's shiteness. There was the obnoxious PE teacher at school who's been mocking my lack of sky (and hence lack of Lost) since the announcement of channel 4's shiteness. And then there was the prospect of the Shetland winter stretching before me...

So I cracked. I did have a mini-tantrum when I discovered that I couldn't order it online because I don't live on the UK mainland, but that was averted when the nice chappy on the end of the phone said that I could still have the £10 'book on-line' credit. And then I discovered that no-one will be around to install it until the 19th of December! Bastards!

PS: The 'I forgot how to sit down' excuse - I genuinely heard that on Tuesday. You have to admire the dedication to avoiding homework.

Visions of the Future...

11 weeks and 5 days. That's how long I lasted on this accursed island before turning.

Tuesday 7th Novenber, period 6, S3 English. I'm giving out books to be read (we're doing a play based on Dracula so I'm getting the kids to read a vampire novel of some ort for their personal reading this term). Anyway, I'm giving out books, deciding who gets what one, and I try to convince one boy to take Cirque du Freak because it's a short, easy read, and he's not a big reader.

So how do I describe this book to said chap? I tell him...oh the horror...I tell him...

"Don't worry, it's only a peerie wee book" (*gulp*)

"Peerie". Now, not only was it somewhat redundant as 'peerie' is the Shetlan' version of 'wee', it was my first unconscious use of dialect. Needless to say the boys (oh yeah, this was my all-boy S3 class) found this all very amusing. I see it as a worrying sign of assimilation.

Still, at least I'm getting off the island to do my Christmas shopping in Edinburgh this weekend... The Shetland influence is obviously much more pernicious than first suspected!

Little Buggers

There are those moments as a teacher when you genuinely wonder what the point is. These were fairly common as a student when I would frequently find myself wondering if it really was all worth it, and was office work really all that bad? I did, eventually, come to the decision that yes, it was worth it, and yes, office work most definitely was that bad. It had seemed that those 'what am I doing?' moments were at least mostly behind me now that I'm a fully fledged (well...mostly fledged) teacher. Turns out that it just means that the little buggers have longer to get under your skin - it's more of a long term project to try and break you down, as opposed to on placement when there's a definite end in sight.

Yes, the honeymoon is most definitely over as I found myself today in with the mentalist third years wondering what on earth the point was - when someone so clearly doesn't want to be in your class as P, there's only so much you can do to try and get them involved. And today that was barely even approaching crowd-control, never mind anything approaching education. Of ocurse, this has an effect on everyone n the classroom as even those few who actually want to learn and do well are skuppered by all the time and energy going in to keeping a lid on it. And today that lid pretty much boiled over. Tomorrow is another day, but it was undoubtedly compounded by the fact that I didn't get much sleep last night - tired and cranky does not a good teaher make. And so I'm now on the sofa in my tracksuit bottoms planning a bath and an early night.

Oh, and it turns out that it is INCREDIBLY cathartic to come home from a shitty day, put on comfy clothes, go out into your garden and spell out "***** [insert name of shitty pupil here] smells" with a sparkler!

Positive Behaviour

Today at school it was 'Promoting Positive Behaviour Day'. Well, afternoon. What this involves is...

Last week all staff were given a list of the first, second, and third year pupils. There was five categories of behaviour (punctual, attentive, attitude, homework, and prepared) and we ticked a little box to say whether they were generally punctual/attentive/prepared/etc etc. Each pupil got ticky-boxes from ten teachers, giving them a possibile score of fifty. If they achieved 44 out of 50 they got to spend this afternoon doing an activity of their choice. (I think the options were crepe making, design/craft, computer animation, music and 'extreme dodgeball' - not sure what that involves but it brings to mind lots of comedy Ben Stiller/Vince Vaughn images). Those who didn't reach the magic number of 44 ticks had to follow their usual timetable - or as close to normal as possible given that lots of teachers were involved in the activities.

Now, I'm all in favour of rewarding pupils - lots of attention tends to go to the 'bad' pupils and those who behave themselves can be just left to get on with it, but it does somewhat seem that today was rewarding pupils for doing what they're meant to be doing anyway - ie, paying attention in class, handing in homework, etc. They haven't done anything particularly impressive, or is it really so unusual for pupils to do what they're meant to that it has to be actively rewarded?

The other issue is the size of the school. As a rule behaviour really isn't a problem, so it turned out that the whole of first year got the required number of ticks in boxes, 23 out of 29 second years got it, and 13 out of the 19 third years got it. Which left not very many pupils not involved in the activities.

Failing to achieve 44 out of 50 ticks is not meant to result in a punishment (although it does result in a 'chat' with guidance) but with such small numbes involved...it's just a bit odd.

I wasn't involved in any of the activities so I found myself with the six unfortunate second years in my classroom for one period. Fortunately they all had an essay to finish off, so really all that not doing the activities meant was that they didn't have any english homework to do! For the other two periods this afternoon I found myself with two of the third years in my room, also working on an essay. They were timetabled for Practical Crafts and Maths, but requested time to come and work on their essays, and I was MORE than happy for them to do this. In fact, in period seven all of the five third years not on activites ended up working on their english essays, although they were split between my room and maths - having all five of the 'bad boys' in my classroom at the same time is not my idea of a relaxing afternoon!

And therein lies the irony. These five are the 'bad boys' - not just of the year but of the school (there are a couple of others but they had somehow managed to get the 44 ticks...don't ask me how) and yet this afternoon was one of the most pleasant I've spent in the school. Thursday is my quiet day and I always have periods six and seven free for marking/preparing/whatever else is required, but to be perfectly honest by the end of the day I'm usually bored stiff. Teaching is really a profession for those with a short attention span - there's an endless variety of people and things to keep you entertained - and on Thursdays I only have two out of seven periods when I'm teaching - the rest of the time I'm festering in my classroom. And so having company while I sat and marked was a refreshing change. It was all perfectly civilised - the boys got on with their essays (and three of them got them finished and handed in - something I doubt would have happened had they been left to finish them for homework) but there was a lovely relaxed atmosphere. There was a fair amount of chatting, but as the work was being done I wasn't complaining, and quite a lot of it was the boys asking me about when I lived in California, university, what I thought of Shetland, etc, etc.

One of the lovely things about such a small school is that there's the opportunity for really good relationships between pupils and staff. There's so few of you that you have no choice but to get to know each other, and this afternoon I think I started to feel that relationship building up for the first time. It really shows you what a difference small classes make. That, and taking the time to actually TALK to pupils, and to treat them like adults, rather than kids. They do respond to it, and it can only make life easier for them and me.

Of course, it was additionally gratifying to think that spending the afternoon working on English essays was preferable to Practical Crafts and Maths, but whether that's a comment on me, or on the maths teacher (and the fact that PC was being covered by the Head today) I'm not sure...nor do I want to ask.

A New World Order

Today at school I found my entire world view in very serious danger of being turned upside down, inside out, back to front, and all sorts of other manifestations of weirdness being afoot. Now, this is not althogether unusual on a Thursday - there is a direct correlation between the nearness of the weekend and the general raucous-ness of school (and I'm not talking about the kids here). To add to this Thursday-effect is the fact that the October holidays begin tomorrow (HURRAH HOORAY YEEHAH etc etc), and this afternoon was 'Promoting Positive Behaviour' afternoon. However, it was none of these deviations from the usual routine by which I run my life that was messing with my head. No, the thing that was really sparking off my weird-ometer was this:

A PE Teacher in a SUIT!

I ask you - what is the world coming to? My first question on heading to the staffroom for the daily meeting was "Is he in court today?" A slightly irritable "I heard that" was the response - it didn't seem to help when I told him that he was meant to hear it! The French teacher asked if he was going to a funeral, and the general consensus amoung the kiddies was "It's just not right."

It transpired that the reason for the suit is the fact that this PE teacher is also one of the two guidance teachers at school, and he had to go out to visit the fourth years who are all on work experience placements this week. Apparently a quiet word had been had that last year he had looked a bit "scruffy" in his standard PE uniform of a tracksuit & trainers, so the other extreme was reached this year. Granted, the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that said PE teacher hadn't bothered shaving (a fact I was fairly quick to point out, in my usual charming manner) - this was a reflection of his 'inner scruff' - or alternatively that a certain someone was running late this morning.

Anyway, basically - it was just plain weird - PE teacher in a suit. It's just not right. Of course, the comedy of the situation was added to considerably at lunch time when there was a rather sheepish confession coming from a suited and booted PE teacher..."I forgot my PE kit!"

Who knew hormones were air-borne?

You remember back in the halcyon days of your childhood, with all the excitement of school-photo day? You know, the day your mum’d do your hair specially and your teenage skin would rustle a zit which so big it practically needed its own seat on the bus? Yeah, turns out that that isn’t actually anything to do with being a teenager, it’s actually a natural body reaction to the words “school photo”.

Now, what’s even more impressive is that I didn’t even know that today was school photo day. I CERTAINLY didn’t know that I would be getting my photo taken (staff photo? Bollocks!) And yet my skin knew. With unerring skill it managed to summon a spot on a scale similar to Mount Etna. And where was the beauty? You guessed it, right on the end of my chinny-chin-chin! Oh the joys! I can only asume it's some latent side affect of spending the majority of my time surrounded by hormone-riddled teenagers. Surely adolescence is like chickenpox - once you've had it once you're immune, right? No-one at Moray House mentioned this as a side-effect of teaching....