Blake, so he wrote, found infinity in a grain of sand. He was obviously a follower of Mies van de Rohe and discovered that “less is more” long before Mies wrote his famous dictum.
My glimpse of infinity came via a tortuous meeting in school which started at five and finished at eight – with the second part of it delayed until tomorrow!
The ‘meeting’ was something which I assume is required by the Generalitat as no sane person would countenance such a fiasco without the inspired intervention of government.
The meeting was held in the library which was converted into some sort of court room for the occasion. Tables were set out in the centre of the room and all the teachers taking classes in the lower school were ranged around them. A few chairs were left vacant for the elected representatives of each form to occupy.
The form the meeting was to take was that the representatives would seat themselves then the form teacher would give an overview of the form while the pupils took notes to report back to the pupils at a later date. Then all (yes all) the teachers who taught the form would have an opportunity to say a few words. Finally the representatives themselves could say, basically whatever they liked.
Everyone wanted their 15 minutes of fame and some got quite carried away and spoke interminably. At the best of times and in ideal circumstances this sort of meeting would be excruciatingly boring. When the only languages used (with one shining exception) are Spanish and Catalan the boredom enters another dimension of awfulness.
There is just so much enjoyment that can be extracted from taking tiny, desperate sips of water from a school plastic cup while people talk in incomprehensible jargon about pupils you don’t know in a language which, to understand, you would need subtitles at least!
The tedium was enlivened by one Bolshy little bugger of a pupil who seemed hyped up on having an audience of all the teachers who taught him and another who actually said nice things about me.
My contributions to the meeting (in impeccable English) were greeted, according to one of my English colleagues being told by a Spanish colleague, “Doesn’t he speak English well!” Almost like a native one is tempted to reply!
I have now had a meeting with the Directora who asked me about my intentions and, although she mentioned interviews she seemed fairly positive about my chances of remaining at the school. Things will become a little clearer after the Easter holidays. With any luck! I must admit talking about who I would speak to in the school to confirm details about a permanent contract gave the meeting with her a little spice and perhaps pointed towards a certain direction as far as a job was concerned!
However, I should bear in mind that private schools are a law unto themselves and nothing can be certain, or even likely most of the time!
Meanwhile there is the fact that day one of five days to the holiday has now irrevocably gone.
And that, dear reader is a good thing.
My glimpse of infinity came via a tortuous meeting in school which started at five and finished at eight – with the second part of it delayed until tomorrow!
The ‘meeting’ was something which I assume is required by the Generalitat as no sane person would countenance such a fiasco without the inspired intervention of government.
The meeting was held in the library which was converted into some sort of court room for the occasion. Tables were set out in the centre of the room and all the teachers taking classes in the lower school were ranged around them. A few chairs were left vacant for the elected representatives of each form to occupy.
The form the meeting was to take was that the representatives would seat themselves then the form teacher would give an overview of the form while the pupils took notes to report back to the pupils at a later date. Then all (yes all) the teachers who taught the form would have an opportunity to say a few words. Finally the representatives themselves could say, basically whatever they liked.
Everyone wanted their 15 minutes of fame and some got quite carried away and spoke interminably. At the best of times and in ideal circumstances this sort of meeting would be excruciatingly boring. When the only languages used (with one shining exception) are Spanish and Catalan the boredom enters another dimension of awfulness.
There is just so much enjoyment that can be extracted from taking tiny, desperate sips of water from a school plastic cup while people talk in incomprehensible jargon about pupils you don’t know in a language which, to understand, you would need subtitles at least!
The tedium was enlivened by one Bolshy little bugger of a pupil who seemed hyped up on having an audience of all the teachers who taught him and another who actually said nice things about me.
My contributions to the meeting (in impeccable English) were greeted, according to one of my English colleagues being told by a Spanish colleague, “Doesn’t he speak English well!” Almost like a native one is tempted to reply!
I have now had a meeting with the Directora who asked me about my intentions and, although she mentioned interviews she seemed fairly positive about my chances of remaining at the school. Things will become a little clearer after the Easter holidays. With any luck! I must admit talking about who I would speak to in the school to confirm details about a permanent contract gave the meeting with her a little spice and perhaps pointed towards a certain direction as far as a job was concerned!
However, I should bear in mind that private schools are a law unto themselves and nothing can be certain, or even likely most of the time!
Meanwhile there is the fact that day one of five days to the holiday has now irrevocably gone.
And that, dear reader is a good thing.
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