To sum up the last two years with a celebrated (but not to be endorsed) education charity, here are some choice highs and lows:
- having a hole cut in my cardigan before an important observation lesson (it was left on a chair: I was not attacked with by a teenager weilding scissors);
- crying in front of a teenager when they cheated because their self esteem was so poor;
- being verbally abused and threatened by a scary parent whilst on duty;
- being rugby tackled by two Amazonian twins when they both got As in their English Literature;
- having the most intelligent young man I have ever met use something I taught him in an essay;
- having the popular tune 'Mama Do the Hump' renamed 'Sheppard do the Hump' by my year 11s;
- having my prodigee tell the head that she wants to go to Kings College and do English and French like Miss Sheppard (who doesn't?)
- planning the new KS4 set text: 'An Inspector Calls Back and Leaves a Message' in year 11 revision lessons;
- leading the first ever eight International Medical Corps Ambassadors in their charity fundraising;
- the day I curled up in a ball and cried in the English office because of year 9;
- all the other days where year 9 made me want to punch the ceiling with joy.
For any further detail, you'll have to get me drunk and bring Bridget along. We have hilarious tales that would shock and horror many in the teaching profession, but that we will always remember fondly. Oh! Early entry! What jokers!
But this blog is not named 'Emmaremembersherfirstyearsofteachingwithnostalgia', its conception and birth is due to my recent flight confirmation from my new, international school in Vietnam, where I will be working for the next two years. Consider the next few posts, if you will, a preface to the actual two year novel that is to follow.
Pledge of blog-legiance:
I do solemnly swear to blog every two weeks, or whenever something interesting happens.
I do solemnly swear to forget that people read this and be inappropriately candid about the inner workings of my brain.
I do solemnly swear to galavant in the holidays to glean hilarious stories of near death.
I do solemnly swear to pursue Li Hi activities at all and every stage.
I do solemnly swear to name drop any person(s) who commit to following and commenting on my witterings.
So far, I have spent a desperately panicked month trying to get the certificates acknowledging my qualifications (of which there are many) certified by someone certified in the art of Soliciting. This is a clever use of words to slander lawyers. After many warnings by stern, finger-wagging emails, I was aware that to leave it too late would mean being refused entry into Vietnam, a country that ONLY accepts highly qualified and certified non-criminals. Turns out that, after getting them squiggled by a slightly strange, but glamourous Solicitor who lived near Watford Junction, the jolly old Foreign Office took all of three working days to Fedex my certificates back to me, fully certified. What a lot of fuss over nothing! That, or I'm so radiantly qualified and non-criminal that my documents shone through the pile of others, burning them to cinders of ash, grateful to have deceased in the presence of my degree, PGCE, NQT and criminal records form, that mine were quicker to process.
I have dutifully read through the entire staff handbook, and have duly noted that on one or two Fridays over the course of the year, I will be on official Friday Cake Duty. Like lunch or break duty, but with cakes. Now if this isn't the most wonderful school in the known universe, I don't know what is. So official. So formal: 'Each member of staff is expected to provide the staffroom with Friday cakes, as per the rota, which is drawn up at the start of term. Administration staff can provide details of suitable retailers of confectionary and baked items.'
I hope that one day, I live in an England where the job description of admin staff is to provide details of bakeries and other joy-bringing, sweet-making establishments.
