This morning was spent charging around the local forest with twelve Brownies. The Brownies did the charging around, as you may have expected. Ms Fab, assorted adults and I sort of mooched, instead.
It was raining when I got a phone call from Brown Owl at 9.00am. 'Shall we still go?' she asked. 'It's only raining a bit, and it's meant to clear up.' Still in a fog from having been woken by the alarm at 8.30, and still wondering what on earth my dream was about (shoe-shopping with Ms Fab in a shop with a swimming pool, trapeze and 1970s-style psychedelic-patterned carpet), I hazily answered that it would be fine, and yes, let's go. 'About your email...,' she added, and that woke me up properly. (I've now realised that this post will have to be written backwards, because I've started at the end. Bear with me.)
Thursday evening, I wrote an email that sort of handed in my notice for Brownies. I said that I could stay until September, when my next OU course (no, I've still not decided which one) would start. I said that I really had to give my courses more attention than I had so far because... and now we go back in time until just before Christmas... The Boss Lady had asked again if I would go into teaching. So far, I've answered this with a polite, 'no thank you', but a child helped to change my mind last week (fast forward to last Thursday). Whilst taking an ICT lesson, a low-achieving, but very hard working girl grabbed me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes (quite aggressively, actually) and demanded: 'Why aren't you a teacher?!' She then told me my lessons were 'interesting and fun at the same time, which is weird,' and that she always understood things when I explained them.
The Boss Lady, in her latest attempt, had outlined her plans for me, and had put forward an interesting proposition that had potential for Ms Fab, too. When I got home, I realised that I'd been dwelling too much on the negatives of teaching: stress, paper-work, inspections, children that hate you, and so on. I hadn't really been looking at the positives: a chance to make a difference, choosing topics, more money (even a newly qualified teacher makes literally twice my wages), nicer presents at the end of term, etc. So, I imagined The Boss Lady telling me that a teacher was leaving next week, and would I like their class? The answer would be an instant, 'yes, please.' I know this wouldn't happen, but imagination is very helpful in these situations. This is one reason I relate to Anne of Green Gables so much. I have sometimes reduced myself to tears, just by imagining something. I got told off at primary school, once, for crying all afternoon. When my teacher eventually asked what was wrong, I told her that I'd been imagining I'd got home and my dog had died. I didn't actually have a dog, then. It's a wonder I wasn't put on strong medication.
Ms Fab will be leaving Brownies at the same time. Brown Owl told me: 'I know you come as a pair,' which gave Ms Fab the perfect opportunity.
Anyway, what all this rambling boils down to is: I'm leaving Brownies at the end of the Summer term; I'm envisaging a future in which children hate me and I get to argue with parents. That's if I don't change my mind again...
We were here... but with less FEWER, dammit, leaves
and more water
It was raining when I got a phone call from Brown Owl at 9.00am. 'Shall we still go?' she asked. 'It's only raining a bit, and it's meant to clear up.' Still in a fog from having been woken by the alarm at 8.30, and still wondering what on earth my dream was about (shoe-shopping with Ms Fab in a shop with a swimming pool, trapeze and 1970s-style psychedelic-patterned carpet), I hazily answered that it would be fine, and yes, let's go. 'About your email...,' she added, and that woke me up properly. (I've now realised that this post will have to be written backwards, because I've started at the end. Bear with me.)
Thursday evening, I wrote an email that sort of handed in my notice for Brownies. I said that I could stay until September, when my next OU course (no, I've still not decided which one) would start. I said that I really had to give my courses more attention than I had so far because... and now we go back in time until just before Christmas... The Boss Lady had asked again if I would go into teaching. So far, I've answered this with a polite, 'no thank you', but a child helped to change my mind last week (fast forward to last Thursday). Whilst taking an ICT lesson, a low-achieving, but very hard working girl grabbed me by the shoulders and stared into my eyes (quite aggressively, actually) and demanded: 'Why aren't you a teacher?!' She then told me my lessons were 'interesting and fun at the same time, which is weird,' and that she always understood things when I explained them.
The Boss Lady, in her latest attempt, had outlined her plans for me, and had put forward an interesting proposition that had potential for Ms Fab, too. When I got home, I realised that I'd been dwelling too much on the negatives of teaching: stress, paper-work, inspections, children that hate you, and so on. I hadn't really been looking at the positives: a chance to make a difference, choosing topics, more money (even a newly qualified teacher makes literally twice my wages), nicer presents at the end of term, etc. So, I imagined The Boss Lady telling me that a teacher was leaving next week, and would I like their class? The answer would be an instant, 'yes, please.' I know this wouldn't happen, but imagination is very helpful in these situations. This is one reason I relate to Anne of Green Gables so much. I have sometimes reduced myself to tears, just by imagining something. I got told off at primary school, once, for crying all afternoon. When my teacher eventually asked what was wrong, I told her that I'd been imagining I'd got home and my dog had died. I didn't actually have a dog, then. It's a wonder I wasn't put on strong medication.
Ms Fab will be leaving Brownies at the same time. Brown Owl told me: 'I know you come as a pair,' which gave Ms Fab the perfect opportunity.
Anyway, what all this rambling boils down to is: I'm leaving Brownies at the end of the Summer term; I'm envisaging a future in which children hate me and I get to argue with parents. That's if I don't change my mind again...
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