There is nothing guaranteed to lessen the enjoyment of a day than to find out that one of your free periods has been taken away and that furthermore that free period is the one which is next to the last period of the day and that the kids which are being supervised are the same as the ones that you are taking for the last period. This is a recipe for absolute and complete misery.
It could be worse, of course, I could be teaching in a school where discipline is a good deal worse than that you find here: at the moment the class are working in silence and this is the sixth of a seven period day for the kids – and these kids are doing their own work because nothing has been set for them. But it could also be a great deal better – I could still have my free period intact.
Following the pattern of the last couple of days I find myself feeling fairly well in the actual lessons, but feeling drained as soon as they end. I suppose there are many who would say that it a normal reaction to any teaching job – except for the feeling of well-being in the lesson itself!
In a version of sods’ law today is also the duty day when I have to supervise the kids having their lunch. Every time I do it I feel a traitor to what we struggled for in Britain where it was finally recognized that the lunch period was the teachers’ own time and could not be timetabled by a school management. Here I have handed back that hard won right with not even a whimper; side remarks certainly, but I have done nothing to try and get the civilized standard of behaviour which obtains in my old school to be accepted here.
The result of all this is that I am feeling gradually worse as the day draws on and I will need a fluid time on the Third Floor to compensate. Come hell and high water I WILL be well enough to sample the fine wines that we are expected to evaluate on Saturday in Sitges.
There is, at last, a little more discussion about the proposed plans to take away a percentage of our pay as the government’s response to the catastrophic situation with public finance. I still sense very little authentic anger in the staff and there is more of a sort of flaccid apathy where any positive response from the management (however token that might be) would be greeted with pathetic joy and any reduction of pay (however vicious) met with a resigned shrug.
The one thing which is keeping me going is the realization that this is the Friday which is a prelude to a long weekend. Thank god for the festivities of Barcelona! This does mean, however, that Barcelona will be with us in Castelldefels as they pack themselves into cars and drive down to disport themselves on our commodious beach.
I assume that, as I drive down to Sitges on Saturday, I will be able to observe the flow of the citizens in Barcelona making their way back to the city.
I am determined to read something “significant” over the weekend. I am at present reading one of Hunter S. Thompson’s works “Better than Sex” and I wonder if that fits the description! In spite of the fractured ‘story telling’ illustrations and liberal use of swear words it has a rather quaint feel to it and there is a feeling that the main ‘character’ (the author) is an engaging sort of drug fuelled odd uncle rather than a character capable of destabilizing the structure of the United States. I suppose he is the youngish generation’s answer to the genteel iconoclasm of someone like the man whose name I cannot recall but the one who did the superb knife job on that dangerous idiot Dan Quale. His name is of course Joe Queenan because I remembered the title of one of his books “If you are talking to me your career must be in trouble!” and the internet did the rest.
The long weekend has now started and to celebrate I finished reading a Derek Jarman book about his responses to being diagnosed with AIDS and his reaction to living in a heterosexual society while being a homosexual. It is actually quite a polemical books interspersed with fairly explicit descriptions of sexual encounters. It is essentially an angry book filled with personal reminiscences and leaves one feeling vaguely dissatisfied because it is neither one thing nor another. But I do like the films!
Bed calls.
It could be worse, of course, I could be teaching in a school where discipline is a good deal worse than that you find here: at the moment the class are working in silence and this is the sixth of a seven period day for the kids – and these kids are doing their own work because nothing has been set for them. But it could also be a great deal better – I could still have my free period intact.
Following the pattern of the last couple of days I find myself feeling fairly well in the actual lessons, but feeling drained as soon as they end. I suppose there are many who would say that it a normal reaction to any teaching job – except for the feeling of well-being in the lesson itself!
In a version of sods’ law today is also the duty day when I have to supervise the kids having their lunch. Every time I do it I feel a traitor to what we struggled for in Britain where it was finally recognized that the lunch period was the teachers’ own time and could not be timetabled by a school management. Here I have handed back that hard won right with not even a whimper; side remarks certainly, but I have done nothing to try and get the civilized standard of behaviour which obtains in my old school to be accepted here.
The result of all this is that I am feeling gradually worse as the day draws on and I will need a fluid time on the Third Floor to compensate. Come hell and high water I WILL be well enough to sample the fine wines that we are expected to evaluate on Saturday in Sitges.
There is, at last, a little more discussion about the proposed plans to take away a percentage of our pay as the government’s response to the catastrophic situation with public finance. I still sense very little authentic anger in the staff and there is more of a sort of flaccid apathy where any positive response from the management (however token that might be) would be greeted with pathetic joy and any reduction of pay (however vicious) met with a resigned shrug.
The one thing which is keeping me going is the realization that this is the Friday which is a prelude to a long weekend. Thank god for the festivities of Barcelona! This does mean, however, that Barcelona will be with us in Castelldefels as they pack themselves into cars and drive down to disport themselves on our commodious beach.
I assume that, as I drive down to Sitges on Saturday, I will be able to observe the flow of the citizens in Barcelona making their way back to the city.
I am determined to read something “significant” over the weekend. I am at present reading one of Hunter S. Thompson’s works “Better than Sex” and I wonder if that fits the description! In spite of the fractured ‘story telling’ illustrations and liberal use of swear words it has a rather quaint feel to it and there is a feeling that the main ‘character’ (the author) is an engaging sort of drug fuelled odd uncle rather than a character capable of destabilizing the structure of the United States. I suppose he is the youngish generation’s answer to the genteel iconoclasm of someone like the man whose name I cannot recall but the one who did the superb knife job on that dangerous idiot Dan Quale. His name is of course Joe Queenan because I remembered the title of one of his books “If you are talking to me your career must be in trouble!” and the internet did the rest.
The long weekend has now started and to celebrate I finished reading a Derek Jarman book about his responses to being diagnosed with AIDS and his reaction to living in a heterosexual society while being a homosexual. It is actually quite a polemical books interspersed with fairly explicit descriptions of sexual encounters. It is essentially an angry book filled with personal reminiscences and leaves one feeling vaguely dissatisfied because it is neither one thing nor another. But I do like the films!
Bed calls.
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