It occurs to me that I probably could have made something of this blog if i'd written about something interesting. For example, my year as a trainee teacher. My year as a first-year teacher. It could have been called The Staff Room. Or Confessions of an NQT. It isn't.
This blog is called Barefoot in the Dark because, for reasons best left to the pages of history, I have learned that it takes me a while to settle into anything. I flounder and grope about, my brain chews over and over, my heart sinks and rises. Finally, when it fits, I'm content. I have also learned that very little about this life is permanent. In fact, very little about this life lasts for more than a year. Situations change, people come and go, feelings alter. All very philosophical i'm sure. What I'm getting at here is that it's not easy to maintain anything other than a regular rate of respiration.
Here I am again, getting all thoughtful on the verge of a new year. Those little proverbial digits will tick over 00.00.01 and we will all be expected to shout "Hoorah! Happy New Year!" and I forget why we ever celebrate this thing. I should be nothing but grateful, humbled and hopeful as the new millenium becomes a decade old and '09 becomes '10. Why, then, do I still feel distinctly flat? New Year's Eve - the greatest anti-climax in the calendar year.
Tonight I won't be thinking about the new year (365 days is a long old time!). Rather, I'll be considering the spring term. I've a lot to do. I wonder what'll happen.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Declaration
I'd like to declare: love is weird.
It's a wonderful thing. It doesn't make sense to anyone but the two people involved. It overcomes image, ability, status and occupation. It inspires creativity. It lightens. It darkens. It lifts up, guides, supports, pleases, glorifies and humbles.
I'd like to declare: walls are nasty.
Walls are unkind, unnecessary, unatural, uninviting and unpleasant. Walls are a way of making everything about me. Walls are a way of saying, 'You don't belong here,' and 'We are different.'
Men make walls. God makes love. I know which one I want to be building.
You? x
It's a wonderful thing. It doesn't make sense to anyone but the two people involved. It overcomes image, ability, status and occupation. It inspires creativity. It lightens. It darkens. It lifts up, guides, supports, pleases, glorifies and humbles.
I'd like to declare: walls are nasty.
Walls are unkind, unnecessary, unatural, uninviting and unpleasant. Walls are a way of making everything about me. Walls are a way of saying, 'You don't belong here,' and 'We are different.'
Men make walls. God makes love. I know which one I want to be building.
You? x
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
Quick note...
Hi.
Yes, I am still alive.
No, I'm not cut out for the world of blogdom.
No, I'm not ready to start a new school term.
Yes, I'm gunna take it on.
Yes, you can join me!
Let's talk. xx
Yes, I am still alive.
No, I'm not cut out for the world of blogdom.
No, I'm not ready to start a new school term.
Yes, I'm gunna take it on.
Yes, you can join me!
Let's talk. xx
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Easter, tears and fears.
I made it through Term2 and right into Easter. Phew. Deep breath.
Having two weeks holiday was even greater relief than the kind you feel when you turn your bag inside out looking for your phone and realise it was in your pocket the whole time. I have been able to sleep and drink cider, two of life's great pleasures! But more than this, I have had time to think and write.
I don't want to sound all melodramatic and emotional, but holidays are a good time to cry about stuff. If I exhausted myself with crying during term time, I wouldn't get into school each day. But Easter in particular gives me lots to think about. Like what's it all about, where's it all going and what am I doing about it?
School is still really hard work and, even though there are just 11 weeks until I am a fully qualified wings-and-everything teacher, it seems a loooooong way away. I don't think I'll ever forget this class. They have taught me so much about my ability to persevere, to brush off nasty comments, and to try and make myself better at what I do. What makes me sad, though, is no matter how much I put in now, most of these children will arrive at secondary school and slip through the net. They are not the brightest or most ambitious children and they need a poke in the proverbial rib cage on a regular basis. Secondary school won't give them this.
1 term is all I have left to make a lasting impression. That is terrifying.
Having two weeks holiday was even greater relief than the kind you feel when you turn your bag inside out looking for your phone and realise it was in your pocket the whole time. I have been able to sleep and drink cider, two of life's great pleasures! But more than this, I have had time to think and write.
I don't want to sound all melodramatic and emotional, but holidays are a good time to cry about stuff. If I exhausted myself with crying during term time, I wouldn't get into school each day. But Easter in particular gives me lots to think about. Like what's it all about, where's it all going and what am I doing about it?
School is still really hard work and, even though there are just 11 weeks until I am a fully qualified wings-and-everything teacher, it seems a loooooong way away. I don't think I'll ever forget this class. They have taught me so much about my ability to persevere, to brush off nasty comments, and to try and make myself better at what I do. What makes me sad, though, is no matter how much I put in now, most of these children will arrive at secondary school and slip through the net. They are not the brightest or most ambitious children and they need a poke in the proverbial rib cage on a regular basis. Secondary school won't give them this.
1 term is all I have left to make a lasting impression. That is terrifying.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Feeling just a little defeated
My kids are wearing me down.
No folks, you haven't missed anything that big - I don't have kids. I mean my darling little class of 23 year 3s. They are wearing me down.
Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love them but they are just very very hard work. Even the ones who started the year as my allies have begun to defect. They call out, they chat, they don't finish their work and they still bring me presents and card on a daily basis. How can I possibly be mad at them?
I'm not even sure where to go with this. Short of being a horrible, joyless dragon until Easter, I just don't know.
Any tips?
No folks, you haven't missed anything that big - I don't have kids. I mean my darling little class of 23 year 3s. They are wearing me down.
Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love them but they are just very very hard work. Even the ones who started the year as my allies have begun to defect. They call out, they chat, they don't finish their work and they still bring me presents and card on a daily basis. How can I possibly be mad at them?
I'm not even sure where to go with this. Short of being a horrible, joyless dragon until Easter, I just don't know.
Any tips?
Friday, January 02, 2009
When it's time to party...
How did you see the new year in?
I gave in to the impulse to throw a party for the sake of the stroke of midnight. And what a party it was. To set the scene, I have been battling a horrendous thick cold ever since Christmas day and it was no better by New Year's Eve. I was, therefore, resigned to a night spent at home with whatever family members remained after those with friends and a social life swanned off into the icy evening. Simon left about 6.30, Liz was at work. In short, it was pretty much a full house.
In the Willis house, we don't go down without a fight, and fight we did. We decided to throw our very own makeshift 'DiscoParty.' The single best decision we have made all December! What better party is there than one where you can decide what you want to drink, what music to play, how to dance, and how long to carry on past midnight?! A few of my brothers had friends over who were slightly sceptical at first. What kind of freakish family throws their own exclusive disco party on New Years Eve and enjoys each other's company?! Anyway, after a few drinks, they were joining in the dancing. Excellent. It was disco, it was drum and base, it was dance, it was motown, it was pop, it was electro. In short, it was exactly everything that you could imagine.
We welcomed in the new year in the only way that a new year should be welcomed - with a huge glass of champagne in hand and a bloody good mosh to the melodious tones of Andrew WK's anthem, Party Hard. It was classic. We played it three times. Kizzy got a neck injury from misinformed headbanging technique.
Happy New Year (whatever that means). Have a great January and I'll see you for some partying hard on January 31st!
I gave in to the impulse to throw a party for the sake of the stroke of midnight. And what a party it was. To set the scene, I have been battling a horrendous thick cold ever since Christmas day and it was no better by New Year's Eve. I was, therefore, resigned to a night spent at home with whatever family members remained after those with friends and a social life swanned off into the icy evening. Simon left about 6.30, Liz was at work. In short, it was pretty much a full house.
In the Willis house, we don't go down without a fight, and fight we did. We decided to throw our very own makeshift 'DiscoParty.' The single best decision we have made all December! What better party is there than one where you can decide what you want to drink, what music to play, how to dance, and how long to carry on past midnight?! A few of my brothers had friends over who were slightly sceptical at first. What kind of freakish family throws their own exclusive disco party on New Years Eve and enjoys each other's company?! Anyway, after a few drinks, they were joining in the dancing. Excellent. It was disco, it was drum and base, it was dance, it was motown, it was pop, it was electro. In short, it was exactly everything that you could imagine.
We welcomed in the new year in the only way that a new year should be welcomed - with a huge glass of champagne in hand and a bloody good mosh to the melodious tones of Andrew WK's anthem, Party Hard. It was classic. We played it three times. Kizzy got a neck injury from misinformed headbanging technique.
Happy New Year (whatever that means). Have a great January and I'll see you for some partying hard on January 31st!
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