Two days and exhaustion has taken on a whole new meaning!
Getting to the school in the mornings with all the rush hour traffic is, I have discovered, taking little more time than getting to the previous school in Sitges. One accident, however, and chaos will reign over the whole of northern Barcelona and I could be within shouting distance of the school and hours away by car!
It seems as if it might be at least possible that the teacher that I am replacing is back in the classroom on Thursday. This does not please me as I was booked (as it were) for a week, but on the more practical side I have at least managed to get inside a real school and be part of the staff for a few days.
The kids continue to reel.
One of my colleagues said that the pupils had told her in shocked tones that “He made jokes!” It was difficult to work out from her description whether that was positive or deeply negative!
I now have the keys to the school. This is feat that I have not managed to repeat since I last had the keys of and educational institution when I was given the keys of The English Department in Swansea University when I was a student!
In an odd lapse of reality the Head of Department took me through my timetable and pointed out the times and the rooms that I would be expected to lock next week – when I won’t be there. I take this as another positive sign!
The pupils continue to please and one class offered that temptation to inexperienced teachers of an invitation to stay and teach them permanently. Alas! I know only too well the juvenile welcome given to the new at the expense of the established – fickle swine, the young! Also there is no job at the school at present. I can’t help feeling that the lack of a place is a limiting factor in my future employment!
Tomorrow sees my first lesson at the grotesquely early time of 8.15 am. I assume that this start (which is twice a week for me) is part of a way of giving some sort of flexibility to the timetable. This is of course (with the exception of two days this week) of only theoretical interest to me. What the future holds may change that attitude.
As far as the lessons are concerned there is for me an almost palpable sense of relief in talking about my subject again and replaying all those little tricks of the trade to get pupils responding. Stewart has just sent me an email in which he says that, “you and I both know that when one is on a roll, there is nothing more satisfying than a class that, come four o'clock, knows more (and better) than it did at nine this morning.” That, I know is the feeling that I have been missing and this school is allowing me the luxury of experiencing it again.
Meanwhile my e-book reader (which was much admired by a colleague this morning) continues to provide odd reading. The novel I am devouring at present is one by Somerset Maugham called ‘The Magician’ and unless I had seen the author’s name on the page I would never have put writer and work together.
The subject concerns a splendid young couple who fall foul of an exotic gross eccentric who poses as (and might actually be) a magician. I have to say that it reads like a Dennis Wheatley novel – not that I consider it any the worse for that.
I well remember reading ‘The Haunting of Toby Jug’ in bed at night when fairly young, resting the book on the pillow and eventually reading with the focussed attention of the very scared and not wanting to stop reading because that would mean turning round to put the lights out. And who knew what might be lurking there!
This is a perfect example of a book which one should never re-read. What chance is there that I can retexture my innocent horror from a book like that with my hardened cynicism built on the analysis of a tranche of novels since then? It is better to allow the book to live on as an experience in my memory than to sharpen the appreciation of it by reading through it again.
And anyway, I’m not sure it’s out of copyright for me to download.
Getting to the school in the mornings with all the rush hour traffic is, I have discovered, taking little more time than getting to the previous school in Sitges. One accident, however, and chaos will reign over the whole of northern Barcelona and I could be within shouting distance of the school and hours away by car!
It seems as if it might be at least possible that the teacher that I am replacing is back in the classroom on Thursday. This does not please me as I was booked (as it were) for a week, but on the more practical side I have at least managed to get inside a real school and be part of the staff for a few days.
The kids continue to reel.
One of my colleagues said that the pupils had told her in shocked tones that “He made jokes!” It was difficult to work out from her description whether that was positive or deeply negative!
I now have the keys to the school. This is feat that I have not managed to repeat since I last had the keys of and educational institution when I was given the keys of The English Department in Swansea University when I was a student!
In an odd lapse of reality the Head of Department took me through my timetable and pointed out the times and the rooms that I would be expected to lock next week – when I won’t be there. I take this as another positive sign!
The pupils continue to please and one class offered that temptation to inexperienced teachers of an invitation to stay and teach them permanently. Alas! I know only too well the juvenile welcome given to the new at the expense of the established – fickle swine, the young! Also there is no job at the school at present. I can’t help feeling that the lack of a place is a limiting factor in my future employment!
Tomorrow sees my first lesson at the grotesquely early time of 8.15 am. I assume that this start (which is twice a week for me) is part of a way of giving some sort of flexibility to the timetable. This is of course (with the exception of two days this week) of only theoretical interest to me. What the future holds may change that attitude.
As far as the lessons are concerned there is for me an almost palpable sense of relief in talking about my subject again and replaying all those little tricks of the trade to get pupils responding. Stewart has just sent me an email in which he says that, “you and I both know that when one is on a roll, there is nothing more satisfying than a class that, come four o'clock, knows more (and better) than it did at nine this morning.” That, I know is the feeling that I have been missing and this school is allowing me the luxury of experiencing it again.
Meanwhile my e-book reader (which was much admired by a colleague this morning) continues to provide odd reading. The novel I am devouring at present is one by Somerset Maugham called ‘The Magician’ and unless I had seen the author’s name on the page I would never have put writer and work together.
The subject concerns a splendid young couple who fall foul of an exotic gross eccentric who poses as (and might actually be) a magician. I have to say that it reads like a Dennis Wheatley novel – not that I consider it any the worse for that.
I well remember reading ‘The Haunting of Toby Jug’ in bed at night when fairly young, resting the book on the pillow and eventually reading with the focussed attention of the very scared and not wanting to stop reading because that would mean turning round to put the lights out. And who knew what might be lurking there!This is a perfect example of a book which one should never re-read. What chance is there that I can retexture my innocent horror from a book like that with my hardened cynicism built on the analysis of a tranche of novels since then? It is better to allow the book to live on as an experience in my memory than to sharpen the appreciation of it by reading through it again.
And anyway, I’m not sure it’s out of copyright for me to download.
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