Words are coming back again
I’ve decided to start writing again. I need to move beyond photographs of strange vegetables.
Kate told me today that she is thinking of writing a novel (which I, for one, would love to read!) and it made me realise that I am itchy to write again. I used to spend so much time writing, but over the last year I have stopped. I don’t really know why. And I guess I don’t really know why I’m going to start again. But that’s no problem… now’s just the right time. I wonder how long it’ll be til somebody notices… hehehe. We’ll see.
At the moment I have two main things on my mind. One is teaching. The other is Nick.
I’ve been doing a lot of marking over the last 24 hours, seeing as today is the last day of my holidays and I haven’t done any of the marking that I promised to my dear, smelly little boys. I am becoming increasingly frustrated with the amount of absolute rubbish that I have to mark. And, when I say ‘absolute rubbish’ I am, by no means, referring to the quality of the kids’ work. What I mean is that the assignments that we set for them are dull, dead end, lifeless assignments that don’t help them engage with the world in any useful or exciting way. Marking them is painful on two levels. Firstly, I feel like I am wasting my time. Secondly, I experience little stabbing heart pains each time I realise how much effort some kid has put into something that is so meaningless. That’s the heartbreaking thing about teaching teenagers sometimes. They are part adult and part kid, which means that you can tell them to do stuff (that’s the kid bit – they obey you) and if that stuff is pointless (eg. a lot of the things I have to teach at school) then there is this sense of humiliation about them. Sometimes I look at them working away really hard at something that has absolutely no bearing on their lives and I feel like I’m degrading them in some way, like they’re just doing something pointless because they’re told to. Adults, often, are in a position of power over themselves and so can choose whether or not they do something pointless. But the kids can’t. It makes me sad that I am the pointless-assignment-enforcer.
Although, we do have fun in my classes and there are some aspects of the curriculum that I feel are valuable, which helps. I just forget this at times such as now, when I’m swamped with book reports full of mind numbing plot summaries and character profiles. Oh, kill me.
The other thing on my mind. That Nicholas boy. He has been silently and patiently suffering from acute pharyngitis over the last few days. He reckons his pharynx is a bit of a looker. I have had him here at my place for three or four days – and have been secretly and guiltily savouring the opportunity to look after him and bring him water, feed him lentils and watch him sleep. He slept endlessly in my bed, only shuffling to the loo every now and then looking startled and hilarious in my pink dressing gown. Now he’s better and I miss looking after him! Damn penicillin! But, I am actually glad he is better – it was a pretty nasty illness and I didn’t like seeing him in pain. My goodness I love that boy. The other day I told him that I love him like jellyfish love plastic bags… but I just don’t think he really gets it. I spose it was a rather random analogy. Time for bed.
Kate told me today that she is thinking of writing a novel (which I, for one, would love to read!) and it made me realise that I am itchy to write again. I used to spend so much time writing, but over the last year I have stopped. I don’t really know why. And I guess I don’t really know why I’m going to start again. But that’s no problem… now’s just the right time. I wonder how long it’ll be til somebody notices… hehehe. We’ll see.
At the moment I have two main things on my mind. One is teaching. The other is Nick.
I’ve been doing a lot of marking over the last 24 hours, seeing as today is the last day of my holidays and I haven’t done any of the marking that I promised to my dear, smelly little boys. I am becoming increasingly frustrated with the amount of absolute rubbish that I have to mark. And, when I say ‘absolute rubbish’ I am, by no means, referring to the quality of the kids’ work. What I mean is that the assignments that we set for them are dull, dead end, lifeless assignments that don’t help them engage with the world in any useful or exciting way. Marking them is painful on two levels. Firstly, I feel like I am wasting my time. Secondly, I experience little stabbing heart pains each time I realise how much effort some kid has put into something that is so meaningless. That’s the heartbreaking thing about teaching teenagers sometimes. They are part adult and part kid, which means that you can tell them to do stuff (that’s the kid bit – they obey you) and if that stuff is pointless (eg. a lot of the things I have to teach at school) then there is this sense of humiliation about them. Sometimes I look at them working away really hard at something that has absolutely no bearing on their lives and I feel like I’m degrading them in some way, like they’re just doing something pointless because they’re told to. Adults, often, are in a position of power over themselves and so can choose whether or not they do something pointless. But the kids can’t. It makes me sad that I am the pointless-assignment-enforcer.
Although, we do have fun in my classes and there are some aspects of the curriculum that I feel are valuable, which helps. I just forget this at times such as now, when I’m swamped with book reports full of mind numbing plot summaries and character profiles. Oh, kill me.
The other thing on my mind. That Nicholas boy. He has been silently and patiently suffering from acute pharyngitis over the last few days. He reckons his pharynx is a bit of a looker. I have had him here at my place for three or four days – and have been secretly and guiltily savouring the opportunity to look after him and bring him water, feed him lentils and watch him sleep. He slept endlessly in my bed, only shuffling to the loo every now and then looking startled and hilarious in my pink dressing gown. Now he’s better and I miss looking after him! Damn penicillin! But, I am actually glad he is better – it was a pretty nasty illness and I didn’t like seeing him in pain. My goodness I love that boy. The other day I told him that I love him like jellyfish love plastic bags… but I just don’t think he really gets it. I spose it was a rather random analogy. Time for bed.
posted by becrowe at 10:39 pm
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