I have been dreading today for a month. Our school has started having celebration assemblies, in which each teacher chooses a couple of children from their class who have worked especially hard, or displayed a positive attitude towards their learning. So far, so good. Parents are invited to watch their child receive a certificate and some praise, which is great. The teacher tells everyone in the school hall how marvelous the child is, and everyone goes away happy.
It was rather nice to watch the first one, at the end of January, until The Boss Lady said, '...and our next celebration assembly will be on February 27th.' Ms Titian, sitting next to me on the teaching assistants' side of the hall, turned and looked at me, and my heart fell. I would have to do the next one as a class teacher. I am hoping that no child was sitting close enough to hear the word I uttered.
My stammer may be under fairly good control, but it does still appear from time to time, especially if I'm feeling a bit nervous about something. Would this result in alcoholism and a move to an isolated village in Scotland? I put the assembly out of mind for a while, but Ms Titian and I eventually decided whose learning we were going to celebrate.
I was hoping for someone with an easily pronounceable name, but they were all busy being pains, and I couldn't really praise someone just because they had a name I could say. Ms Titian kept reassuring me that I was always fine when talking to the children, which made me decide that, rather than talking to everyone in the hall, I would talk to the child who had done all the hard work. It helped that one of the children I'd chosen told me they were a bit scared about standing up in front of everyone. I admitted that I felt the same, and said, 'Don't worry, just look at me, and we'll forget everyone else.' 'Are we allowed to do that?' they asked me. 'I don't care,' I replied, which made them laugh, and we were able to look forward, rather nervously, to the assembly.
This morning, I checked with The Boss Lady that it was okay for me to do things this way (to be honest, it was that or nothing). It appeared she had all sorts of plans up her sleeve in case I chickened out. Actually, she didn't say that. She said, 'In case you decided you really couldn't go through with it,' which amounts to the same thing. I then found out, from a teacher I'm beginning to like more and more, and who overheard our conversation, that there have been some extremely kind people who have been helping me more than I realised, and have been supporting me from behind the scenes, as it were. Thank you. Hugely.
Anyway, the assembly went without a hitch. I had to fold my arms because my hands were shaking, but I didn't bugger up anyone's name, or make an idiot of myself. Mrs GSOH gave me a naughty look when she caught me not singing the special assembly song (I didn't know the words, honestly. And nor did she), and I had to try not to laugh, but that was it. Phew.
Now we can use the next celebration assembly as a bribe for a while ('Is that sort of behaviour going to get you a certificate? No, it certainly isn't.'), and I can start encouraging children with easy-to-say names to work really hard.
It was rather nice to watch the first one, at the end of January, until The Boss Lady said, '...and our next celebration assembly will be on February 27th.' Ms Titian, sitting next to me on the teaching assistants' side of the hall, turned and looked at me, and my heart fell. I would have to do the next one as a class teacher. I am hoping that no child was sitting close enough to hear the word I uttered.
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I was hoping for someone with an easily pronounceable name, but they were all busy being pains, and I couldn't really praise someone just because they had a name I could say. Ms Titian kept reassuring me that I was always fine when talking to the children, which made me decide that, rather than talking to everyone in the hall, I would talk to the child who had done all the hard work. It helped that one of the children I'd chosen told me they were a bit scared about standing up in front of everyone. I admitted that I felt the same, and said, 'Don't worry, just look at me, and we'll forget everyone else.' 'Are we allowed to do that?' they asked me. 'I don't care,' I replied, which made them laugh, and we were able to look forward, rather nervously, to the assembly.
This morning, I checked with The Boss Lady that it was okay for me to do things this way (to be honest, it was that or nothing). It appeared she had all sorts of plans up her sleeve in case I chickened out. Actually, she didn't say that. She said, 'In case you decided you really couldn't go through with it,' which amounts to the same thing. I then found out, from a teacher I'm beginning to like more and more, and who overheard our conversation, that there have been some extremely kind people who have been helping me more than I realised, and have been supporting me from behind the scenes, as it were. Thank you. Hugely.
Anyway, the assembly went without a hitch. I had to fold my arms because my hands were shaking, but I didn't bugger up anyone's name, or make an idiot of myself. Mrs GSOH gave me a naughty look when she caught me not singing the special assembly song (I didn't know the words, honestly. And nor did she), and I had to try not to laugh, but that was it. Phew.
Now we can use the next celebration assembly as a bribe for a while ('Is that sort of behaviour going to get you a certificate? No, it certainly isn't.'), and I can start encouraging children with easy-to-say names to work really hard.
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