Never let it be said that I wasted an opportunity to spend Money.
Disturbingly Word just capitalized ‘money’ without my asking. Perhaps it shows the true mercenary soul of Microsoft as its grammatical program turns any mention of ‘money’ into a proper noun!
Or perhaps I am merely reading in too much significance to the wayward impulse of a few rogue electrons altering a key-press.
I think not!
Today has been a story of mixed fortunes: I gained an unexpected free period, but lost a quarter of an hour waiting for the next teacher to complete the preparations for the examination he was setting and I also had to say on to finish an examination of my own, with their extra time eating into my ‘early finish’ day.
The termly examination was for my second year class (roughly equivalent to Year 8 as far as I can estimate) and they were touchingly nervous about the whole thing. As I have said, our school’s soul is fed by the misery of examinations and our photocopier runs white hot churning them out. These are important examinations as they will form an essential part of the final ‘mark out of ten’ which will determine the standing of the pupils.
My second year class are still slightly traumatized by the teacher that they had last. I think that their resentments are ill founded and that they themselves were an important part of the problem but, nevertheless, they feel that they have had a rough deal and that ‘other classes’ are ‘ahead of them’ and ‘know more.’
There has to come a time when they accept that the responsibility for their learning is theirs and they have to do more to catch up. I think that this point will be reached next term when I will be able to take full responsibility for the learning that they have had for the next test.
Whatever the truth of the situation, the kids (and one in particular) saw this test as a threat to their intellectual standing. I teach them either in a room which is referred to as ‘the dungeon’ or a strange room with a wall of stained glass.
The examination was to take place in the stained glass room and I had to do my best to make it look like a proper test centre within the cramped limits of its four walls – or rather three walls and a panelled sheet of stained glass.
They trooped in with their usual chirpy greetings and then the regimented atmosphere of unnaturally separated desks began to affect them. Friendship groupings were broken and three of them had to sit facing the whiteboard to give some space for the others.
As soon as the test started, literally within a few seconds the first hand went up and, throughout the test, a regular procession of tense faced youngsters trooped up to my desk with more and more particular questions.
It was one of those tests in which the class teacher had to be there to calm and explain. As I was dealing with the umpteenth question it did cross my mind that with anyone else there the whole thing would have been a very strained disaster! I claim no credit for the smooth running of the test, it was merely the fact that a familiar face was sitting amongst them wearily answering all their inquiries.
You’ve probably forgotten, but I did talk at the beginning about spending money.
The money in question was to find my way to a meeting. Let me explain.
Vilanova is a reasonably sized town down the coast from Sitges. It is a sort of administrative centre for the region and it houses various offices and headquarters. It was to one of those that I was going for my meeting.
Parking in Vilanova is impossible. Absolutely impossible. As I have been there a number of times before I thought that I had found a ‘little spot’ which I could cwtch in whenever I needed to find a space in the centre. This was a false belief and the space is never there when I really need it.
My limited explorations of the place have revealed a subterranean car park within walking distance of where I want to go. Unfortunately I have never exited from it in the same place and am instantly confused by the array of small streets which wend away into the distance when I finally make it into the daylight.
I got hopelessly lost, but on retracing my steps I noticed that a previously closed bookshop was now open. Never one to refuse the opportunity to look at books, whatever the language they happen to be in, I entered.
I couldn’t find any English books. And I was lost. So I asked the bookseller if he had a copy of poems by Yeats. This request unleashed a wholesale search which produced, after a rather painful computer consultation, a volume of our Bill’s poems with a picture by his bro on the cover.
I bought it at once and also managed to elicit advice on how to get to my half remembered destination with only fragments of the street name to guide them. They also managed to produce a free map to help me further. And to be fair it did get me there, and the meeting went really well.
Anyway, back to the book. Not only was there an introduction by Seamus Heaney but also the poems were selected by him as well. The clincher in my purchase was that it had a translation of ‘He Wishes For The Cloths of Heaven’ which is not in the other selection of Yeats poems in Spanish that I have.
The last two lines of the poem in Spanish are:
“y tan solo mis sueños he puesto yo a tus pies;
Pisa con tiento entonces, porque pisas mis sueños”
I have been reading my favourite poems of his in Spanish and seeing if I could have recognized them from my translation of the Spanish into English. It obviously helps that I am reading the Spanish translations of poems I know well, so I am flattering myself that my knowledge of Spanish is improving all the time! I have to say that even with my limited understanding; I can see that the translation has lost an immense amount of the subtlety that exists in the original language.
If nothing else it is an interesting approach to reading the originals in detail again!
A good buy I think.
But there again, what book isn’t?
Disturbingly Word just capitalized ‘money’ without my asking. Perhaps it shows the true mercenary soul of Microsoft as its grammatical program turns any mention of ‘money’ into a proper noun!
Or perhaps I am merely reading in too much significance to the wayward impulse of a few rogue electrons altering a key-press.
I think not!
Today has been a story of mixed fortunes: I gained an unexpected free period, but lost a quarter of an hour waiting for the next teacher to complete the preparations for the examination he was setting and I also had to say on to finish an examination of my own, with their extra time eating into my ‘early finish’ day.
The termly examination was for my second year class (roughly equivalent to Year 8 as far as I can estimate) and they were touchingly nervous about the whole thing. As I have said, our school’s soul is fed by the misery of examinations and our photocopier runs white hot churning them out. These are important examinations as they will form an essential part of the final ‘mark out of ten’ which will determine the standing of the pupils.
My second year class are still slightly traumatized by the teacher that they had last. I think that their resentments are ill founded and that they themselves were an important part of the problem but, nevertheless, they feel that they have had a rough deal and that ‘other classes’ are ‘ahead of them’ and ‘know more.’
There has to come a time when they accept that the responsibility for their learning is theirs and they have to do more to catch up. I think that this point will be reached next term when I will be able to take full responsibility for the learning that they have had for the next test.
Whatever the truth of the situation, the kids (and one in particular) saw this test as a threat to their intellectual standing. I teach them either in a room which is referred to as ‘the dungeon’ or a strange room with a wall of stained glass.
The examination was to take place in the stained glass room and I had to do my best to make it look like a proper test centre within the cramped limits of its four walls – or rather three walls and a panelled sheet of stained glass.
They trooped in with their usual chirpy greetings and then the regimented atmosphere of unnaturally separated desks began to affect them. Friendship groupings were broken and three of them had to sit facing the whiteboard to give some space for the others.
As soon as the test started, literally within a few seconds the first hand went up and, throughout the test, a regular procession of tense faced youngsters trooped up to my desk with more and more particular questions.
It was one of those tests in which the class teacher had to be there to calm and explain. As I was dealing with the umpteenth question it did cross my mind that with anyone else there the whole thing would have been a very strained disaster! I claim no credit for the smooth running of the test, it was merely the fact that a familiar face was sitting amongst them wearily answering all their inquiries.
You’ve probably forgotten, but I did talk at the beginning about spending money.
The money in question was to find my way to a meeting. Let me explain.
Vilanova is a reasonably sized town down the coast from Sitges. It is a sort of administrative centre for the region and it houses various offices and headquarters. It was to one of those that I was going for my meeting.
Parking in Vilanova is impossible. Absolutely impossible. As I have been there a number of times before I thought that I had found a ‘little spot’ which I could cwtch in whenever I needed to find a space in the centre. This was a false belief and the space is never there when I really need it.
My limited explorations of the place have revealed a subterranean car park within walking distance of where I want to go. Unfortunately I have never exited from it in the same place and am instantly confused by the array of small streets which wend away into the distance when I finally make it into the daylight.
I got hopelessly lost, but on retracing my steps I noticed that a previously closed bookshop was now open. Never one to refuse the opportunity to look at books, whatever the language they happen to be in, I entered.
I couldn’t find any English books. And I was lost. So I asked the bookseller if he had a copy of poems by Yeats. This request unleashed a wholesale search which produced, after a rather painful computer consultation, a volume of our Bill’s poems with a picture by his bro on the cover.
I bought it at once and also managed to elicit advice on how to get to my half remembered destination with only fragments of the street name to guide them. They also managed to produce a free map to help me further. And to be fair it did get me there, and the meeting went really well.
Anyway, back to the book. Not only was there an introduction by Seamus Heaney but also the poems were selected by him as well. The clincher in my purchase was that it had a translation of ‘He Wishes For The Cloths of Heaven’ which is not in the other selection of Yeats poems in Spanish that I have.
The last two lines of the poem in Spanish are:
“y tan solo mis sueños he puesto yo a tus pies;
Pisa con tiento entonces, porque pisas mis sueños”
I have been reading my favourite poems of his in Spanish and seeing if I could have recognized them from my translation of the Spanish into English. It obviously helps that I am reading the Spanish translations of poems I know well, so I am flattering myself that my knowledge of Spanish is improving all the time! I have to say that even with my limited understanding; I can see that the translation has lost an immense amount of the subtlety that exists in the original language.
If nothing else it is an interesting approach to reading the originals in detail again!
A good buy I think.
But there again, what book isn’t?
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