I have now been given a quiet Word of advice after my tentative voicing of my objections to come to school on a Saturday.
In the nicest possible way a colleague has taken me to one side and explained that refusals to do things (in whatever way that they are phrased) are contrary to the way that things are done in this country which is not Britain. This is a perfect example of “Toto, I don’t think we are in Kansas anymore!” Well, all I can say is that if they carry on like this I shall simply click my heels and depart!
There is a serious point, of course to be drawn from the exchanges that I have had. The responses of the staff are determined by the ‘niceness’ of most other members of staff and the fear of the consequences of not having a job during a period of financial crisis. The pay is astonishingly low; but that fact seems to have been forgotten in the normal crisis conditions of the everyday life of a school. So everyone acts as if they are properly paid professionals in a caring situation in ‘real’ education!
There is also the fact that, in spite of the fact that I have been teaching in this place continuously since February, I am only formally recognized as having two and a bit months permanent experience in the school. It is, it seems, hardly my place as a Johnny-come-lately to make comments about the way that the school is organized – no matter how absurd the conditions that teachers have tolerated up till now.
My colleague was kind to point out that things are done differently in this place. He didn’t seek to get me to change my stance; he merely wanted to point out how my actions or comments would be interpreted by the school. He urged me to do as I wanted; but he wanted to be sure that I realized how I would be seen by the Powers That Be. A nice position to be in!
To speak honestly I don’t have that much to lose, though a job through to next United Nations Day would be welcome.
As far as I see it, I have little option (if I am to stay in this place) but to accept that the two occasions on which we are ‘required’ to come in on a Saturday will entail my presence there as well. My presence, though not necessarily my contribution, as I am sure that the proceedings will slip into Catalan at the first opportunity and almost complete incomprehensibility will ensue, ensuring that I sit there is glacial impotence wasting a valuable part of my weekend!
I think that the attitude of the school is shown in its chairs.
In the staff room in building 4 there are two elongated oval tables which are for the use of staff. Around these tables are chairs. There are three computers for staff use each of which has a chair in front of it. There is (allegedly) a portable computer for which there is no chair. The number of free chairs around the tables is rarely sufficient to allow those colleagues who want to sit to do so.
I asked a head of department if he could exert his power and get some extra chairs for us. He immediately went to the relevant head of school and put the case for extra seating. No sooner said than done; the order was put in. Allegedly. No chairs have arrived. There is still insufficient seating. But no one seems upset about it and the lack of seating is treated as a mildly inconvenient act of god. Good humouredly people stand around during their breaks waiting for an available seat, failing to be stung into action at the sight of an empty space where a chair should be.
What does one do in these circumstances? We are one of the best schools in the city. We surely have the money to buy what we like. But . . .
I have revisited IKEA to get some more Storage Solutions. Toni declined to accompany me. It was by far the most intelligent decision that he has made for some time.
The journey to the shop was uneventful until the unwary visitor approached the immediate vicinity of this magnet for Catalans!
The only way that you can get to the car park is to turn away from it when you are next to it. A simple left turn into the underground car park is impossible. You have to turn right and travel down a main road, go round a roundabout and then drive back to where you were ten minutes before!
Parking was something of a nightmare and it was accompanied by the screeching which is a function of the surface that Catalans tend to put on the floor of their car parks.
The shop itself was packed with couples vying with each other to see how inconveniently they could push a bulky buggy in the most obstructive way possible in crowded walkways and an important part of the competition is not to look back at the walking wounded they leave behind!
Visiting IKEA is much, much worse when you know where you want to go. When you have a destination in mind the other customers seem to play the part of extras in an IKEA version of The Truman Show and deliberately get in your way to prevent you ever reaching the items you have in mind!
When I finally fought my way to the plastic boxes I had intended to get and manhandled the versions of Billy bookcase I wanted there was a further horror waiting for me.
IKEA have instituted a rapid checkout where you can scan your items yourself. The payment still needs an assistant but the process is much quicker. Not in my case.
The people in front of me did not seem to have got to grips with electricity let alone the whole system of electronic scanning. When they finally made the breakthrough in understanding which allowed them to pay for the and go the assistant immediately called a colleague and both of them had a long talk with another couple who seemed to have bought most of the shop in spite of there being a 20 article limit where the queue was.
They guy immediately in front of me just stood there the whole do-it-yourself thing having been a concept too far. So, with the hysterical prompting of the people behind me I started checking out my items.
Of course my card seemed not to work, but, after disappearing for a few minutes the assistant returned and with a few deft clicks of some electronic keys I was able to escape with my purchases.
My egress was a little less horrific than my arrival with only a few bumps behind the knees from an impatient old man who couldn’t control his loaded trolley.
As what I bought were not the full size Billy horrors they were relatively easy to carry and assemble. The real problems began when I started to change around the study to accommodate what I had got.
The third floor has an excellent balcony and an interestingly shaped room to go with it. As this room is the equivalent of the attic the slop of the roof gives dynamism to the space but also means that I hit my head on a regular basis when I stand up!
The simple process of turning my desk around necessitated wholesale changes to the arrangement of the room and yet again the strange paradox of space management reared its contradictory head.
Why is it that the acquisition of extra storage space always ends up with your having less space in which to store things? I have had to push things into the cupboard built into the eves in order to make it look as though some sort of order has been imposed on the chaos.
The writhing mass of electric cables had to be seen to be believed when the desk was moved: it looked like a very much more complicated real life version of those cartoon puzzles of which fisherman has the fish on his line!
I have now left the reorganized chaos of the ‘new look’ room to have a cup of tea and regroup my emotional resources!
Tomorrow, lunch with The Family in Toni’s sister’s new flat in Terrassa. The social whirl never ends!