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

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

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.

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?

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!

So this is the new year...

This will not be the first New Year post I've submitted to this blog. I'm sure it will not be the last. Because as much as you try to fight against it, the 31st December makes you a little bit more pensive than usual. All that happens, of course, is that the time ticks over from 00:00 hours to 00:01 and we are in a new year. The 31st becomes the 1st and we're off again. This same series of events happens at the end of every month (except where the final day is the 30th, 29th or 28th) and yet it is only this one occasion when we all have parties, drink alcohol, dance, play games, kiss and make resolutions.

The school year starts in September, not January. The tax year starts in April. So why do we not celebrate then? What resolution is there that is so bound by time, the calendar and seasons that means we can only make in on January 1st and not...today, or yesterday? Nonsense. Make resolutions every day. Resolve to be a better friend, laugh more, drink a little less, use less petrol, visit people, smile at work, work hard, grant yourself a little free time, speak about yourself less, give away more, moan less, allow yourself to fail, move slower, think faster, spend less on clothes and more on stamps, talk to God, forgive and move on. A diet can start on March 13th. A chocolate detox will not be set up to fail just because you start in mid-June.

So tomorrow is January 1st 2009. Think of it as one digit changing at the end of the date as we write it. No big deal. If you can't think of a big life changing resolution, chill out - there's plenty of other things to be getting on with. If you are reading this on some random date in the middle of the year, there's no better time to stop yourself and start over. Get better. Be changed. Be liberated. Do not be confined.

Sermon over. Happy New Year.

A brief rant...about Leona Lewis.

I'm sorry, perhaps I'm picky, but what right does Leona Lewis have to knock Take That off the number1 spot?! She has done a fairly mediocre cover of an amazing Snow Patrol track, and subsequently destroyed all hopes of a Take That Christmas number one! I am angered!

Leona is young lady who has 'conquered' the US, won the X-Factor, and invaded radio waves. She uses vibrato like she's being punched in the oesophagus, and yes, she has an unimaginable vocal range. At first I thought I was just jealous. But I'm really not. I don't like her voice. I don't like her music. And I don't like the way everyone is obsessed with her.

Take That, on the other hand, are a totally respectable man band who had huge success, broke away and lived some real lives and then returned with some solid gold hits. Gary Barlow is a song writing guru (yes, they write and perform their own material, Leona) and they've been there and done it. They're not about breaking digital download records, or conquering any countries. They're just bloody good musicians.

I used to hate Take That. At least, in my younger days, I was not their biggest fan. But now, I cannot fault them. Absolute brilliance. Leona...well she's just a British Whitney. Good set of pipes, a certain amount of interview-likeability and a 'history.' But for me it takes a killer song, written and performed by a killer musician to warrant number one acclaim.

So I don't know about you but if Christmas 2008 is going to be tarnished by yet another X-Factor winner, or an ex-X-factor winner (and to vocalise how much I despise that show would take at least another blog!)...I'm hopping on board the Rick Roll and doing everything in my ability to get Rick Astley to number one!!

A Fairytale Situation?

We have a problem. It has taken me twenty-two years to realise the following, but I hope that I can spare you the same amount of time. Join me, won't you, on an exploration of the moral cloudiness and general evils of...Cinderella. I know, it seems petty. But just you wait.

If by some freak possibility you are not familiar with the story, here it is in short: Cinderella is a beautiful, young lady who is forced into working like a servant by her 'evil' stepmother and three ugly and bitter stepsisters. One night, her fairy godmother appears, turns her rags into a ball-gown and Cinders dances the night away with the Prince at his grand ball. They fall in love, she has to scarper just before midnight and leaves a single slipper at the party. The Prince scours the land for a lady who fits the slipper, finds Cinders and whisks her off to live happily ever after. Aww.

Here's what's wrong with this story. It basically asserts the idea that youth and beauty are desirable and ugliness is essentially bad. Likewise, half-parents. Cinderella's godmother comes to her rescue (whipping up some other 'normal' things into 'beautiful, new' things) and she gets to the ball, where people are shocked by her sharp wit, intelligence, gentleness and caring? Nope. By her beauty. When the prince finally finds her again (because none of the women in the kingdom have the same size shoe as Cinderella), she gets her happily ever after. I'm not sure how happy I am teaching my kids that beauty will eventually get them wealth and position. Because those things aren't the most important. Especially if it means you have to put pumpkins out of their day-job!

Which way?

There are lots of routes I could have taken in my life.

If I’d worked a little harder, I could have achieved the grades I needed to go to Sheffield university (my first choice) and study. If I hadn’t decided, at the last minute, to take an A-level in French rather than Music, I would not have been doing a French specialism PGCE. In fact, I’d probably have gone into something to do with music, English or drama. If I’d gotten over myself sooner, I might have started playing music in 1^st year, cajoled a few band members and played a few low-key gigs. If I’d learnt to be more comfortable in my own skin sooner, I might have made a real go of the relationships and friendships I have allowed to slide past.

But I didn’t take these routes. At the time at which I decided which way to go, I was either too scared, or convinced of the alternative. And that’s ok.

It's ok because nothing I choose to do is a shock to God. God knows exactly and in detail everything I have ever done and will ever do in my life. There is no panic in Heaven. They’re not running around saying, “Aargh!! That girl shouldn’t be doing that there/now/in that way!!”

What if’s and if only’s really get us nowhere. It is not too late for me to write more music, learn more languages, speak more confidently to more people, draw more pictures, and try my hardest at whatever I do. I just have to want it.

And I do.

Welcome to the New Year

2008.

What? It's 6.30 on January 1st 2008 and I don't feel any different. I didn't make any resoultions. I saw the new year in with friends. I slept in 'til 10. I watched a great movie. I thought a bit too much. I started planning a lesson. Now i'm going out for dinner.

If the year started on January 2nd, this would be new years eve. It's really nothing special, a new year. So how about just being grateful for a new 24hours. A new 5 minutes?

You did what, Darling?!

It's like something out of a fiction;

Two discs containing the bank details, dates of birth, national insurance numbers and addresses of 25million UK citizens have been lost in the post. God bless the Royal Mail. Actually, they probably sent the discs using some flash, secure postal service. Well, that was a mistake! Let's be honest, the discs were a mistake. Who does that?!

Nobody knows who has the two password-protected discs. In fact, the passwords are probably the same. One alphanumeric code stands between a potentially very smug fraudster and the personal funds of every British family with children under 16. How safe do we feel?

It is more than a little alarming that the Government can't be trusted with our personal information. Made worse by the fact that the only advice they can offer is, 'monitor your bank accounts.' Sorry Alistair Darling, I'm going to need a little more reassurance than that! And while the government sort it out, can we replace Darling with a chancellor with a more ballsy name like, Dick Dontmesswithmycountrymen?

I just hope they find the discs. This is one slip-of-the-hand the government need to rectify pretty sharpish or there might be a revolution of Guy Fawkesian proportions!

Teeny Little Superguy

This little 5 year-old, Riquelme Marciel from Brazil, ran into a burning house dressed as Spiderman and rescued a baby girl.

While playing with his friend in the garden, he noticed smoke coming from the windows of a nearby house. The little superhero then ran to the house to tell the baby's mother who was too afraid to go into the burning building herself.

So, just like any superhero, Riquelme decided to brave the flames to rescue the damselette in distress. With a simple instruction to the baby's mother, 'Don't cry, don't scream because I'm going to save baby Andrielle,' he disappeared into the smoke. Brave kid. Apparently minutes later both baby and rescuer were safely outside in the fresh air and reunited with mum.

Riquelme is the talk of his home town and has said he now wants to become a firefighter and save more lives. Talk about pursuing your dreams from an early age!

My 'one good deed for the day' usually involves remembering to recycle the milk carton, or holding the door open for someone. Man, I need to get more creative!

Remember, remember

It's the 5th of November and if there's one move you must watch once the fireworks are over, make it V for Vendetta.


"Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition! The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V."

he's got the whole world

My brain is still throbbing from yesterday's science lesson. We were learning about the Earth and beyond. Sure, we had perhaps too much fun pretending to be planets in orbit. But, wow. It's just...HUGE. Seriously, I can physically feel my brain struggling to try and grasp the vastness of the universe. Impossible. Gravity, motion, seasons, tides, years. It's mind-blowing.

But, for me, the most amazing thing is this: that all this occurs because God has made it so. I believe in a God who knows exactly how many grains of sand there are on this planet, and how many more stars there are in the whole universe, 'cuz he flung them there! And He knows how many hairs are on my head, and knows how I sat in my science lesson and smiled with awed amazement. I may not be allowed to 'teach' that in school, but when I do teach this aspect of science, it will be with care, excitement and wonder. Who knows, it might be contagious!

can i make the weather?

Now, why would they show us this in our first few weeks of teacher training?

I have come to a frightening conclusion.
I am the decisive element in the classroom.
It is my personal approach that creates the climate.
It is my daily mood that makes the weather.
As a teacher I possess tremendous power to make
a child’s life miserable or joyous.
I can be a tool of torture or
an instrument of inspiration.
I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal.
In all situations it is my response that decides
whether a crisis will be escalated or de-escalated,
and a child humanized or de-humanized.

— Dr. Haim G. Ginott

*gulp*

It's pretty scary. It's pretty inspiring. It's a challenge. I can work with that.
Lemme in that classroom! I don't want to be held responsible for any child who grows up hating school because they were bored, or bullied, or struggling, or distracted.

Long gone are my undergrad days when all the responsibility I had was to drink enough coffee to stay awake long enough for essay hand-in after pulling an all-nighter. As much as I might want to stay home, bake, watch movies, play music and generally English about, I can't. Sometimes it makes me huff and puff (it's very un-ladylike) but mostly I just want to get it right.

I can't wait to be a teacher.

Tomorrow's Game

Here's my *salute* to the written off England rugby team who have fought back and convinced us that they do stand a chance in the World Cup final tomorrow night. It's gunna be a nail-biter! And there might even be a little bit of history-making, too!

RugbyWorldCup.com

England Rugby

England's World Cup Victory 2003

Jonny Wilkinson's Rugby Column

Around the World in 13 Years

Yesterday, I was watching This Morning and came across the most awesome story. I can't believe I'd never heard of this until now!

Jason Lewis was interviewed on the show, just 24hours after arriving back in Greenwich from his 13-year adventure around the world. He and his good friend, Steve Smith, set off from Greenwich Meridian in July 1994, on a mission to circumnavigate the globe using human power alone. Yep, that means no motor-powered vehicles. No trains, no planes, no cars. Only walking, cycling, roller-blading, and pedalling in a specially designed boat. Steve and Jason parted company in Hawaii in 1998, and Jason carried on. He has overcome crocodile attack, a hit-and-run which left him with two broken legs, and being tormented by pirates, among other things. But he's made it!

The adventure was not solely a thrill-seeker's dream, but it was intended to educate children about geography, travel, and ecology. The guys involved have spoken in hundreds of schools and Steve Smith has written a book about the leg of the trip that he was involved in.

It's an amazing achievement! Read all about Expedition360 at the website, here.

Get interested in the world and how amazing it is!

Here a blog, there a blog...

Creating a blog presents you with one of those strange situations where you find yourself slightly torn. Let's be honest, we write blogs because we think there's something to say (there quite often isn't) but, when it comes to people reading it, that's a little awkward. It's quite personal, and for a brief moment you suddenly realise, 'People are going to be reading about my thoughts, experiences and ideas, and that's a bit creepy.' Yet, when you write and write and realise that, actually, no one is reading, that's very disheartening.

Anyway, there's no escaping it now. I have a newborn ICT blog - course requirement - and everyone can see my other blogs. I wonder what'll happen...

It has been quite a while since I last posted. My intro placement seems like a million years ago, now. They cram so much into this course that I feel like i've been here forever. It has been great, though. My teaching group are lovely, a real mixed bag and the tutors, though all slightly nutty, are excellent! So far I've examined woodlice, sung cheesy French songs, read kids books aloud to a group of adults, and been thoroughly terrified every Wednesday morning - Maths lesson! I'm still smiling and I just can't wait to be back in school again. Lemme at 'em! All I need is minds for moulding...

**Spot that film quote!**

The Friday Collapse

I have done two weeks on Primary placements and I'm already exhausted! This year will be the making of me!

Totternhoe was lovely. I am so attached to my little 3/4 class that I'd like very much to go back and just be a classroom assistant with them. What sweeties!

Swaythling Primary has been a totally different experience but it was fab. Wow, I have never seen kids so intent on physically hurting each other! And with no apparent reason! But aside from the slightly difficult characters, I had a super time learning lots about the demands of the curriculum, the need for every child to be treated differently and the absolute necessity of an LSA! And the kids were generally lovely and I was honestly a little sad to leave this afternoon. Big hugs all round from the dear little year 2s!

So, since I last blogged, I've got up early, taught French, weeded an environmental area, almost cried when a kid finally grasped counting in 10s, and battled with the more humorous nicknames which my last name can produce! So, it's going great.

I start my course next week. Monday, in fact. EEEEK! To add to my stress, I haven't got a landline, internet or (more importantly) housemates at home! This bites! What's more, Student Loans are being picky picky and evidently want me to live on chick peas until at least December, and to top it all off, my laptop intermittently gives up trying and just whirrs for a while before cutting out. Gosh, there's never a dull moment!

Well, that's me. This next year's going to be a test. Heck, the summer was a test. I don't feel entirely prepared but I know this is where I want to be and what I want to be doing. So, I guess then that your support, prayers, hugs, letters, homemade baked delights and slightest fleeting thoughts would be most appreciated!

Love y'all xx

Polly Pocket: The Revenge

I'll set the scene:

My little sister comes over to me at the piano as I'm mid-song and works the Puss In Boots magic on me. You know, the huge glistening eyes and drooping bottom lip? I'm sure there were violins involved.

"Becky, pleeease will you play Polly Pocket with me? None of the boys will and they're not even doing anything important."

How could I refuse? So I settle down for a game of Polly Pocket. It involves American accents and a lot of accessorizing, but it's not so bad. Minutes later, Jed appears and asks to play. Kizzy, far surpassing her older brothers in kindness and forgiveness, agrees to let him join in.

It was a mistake. What had begun as the Pollys having a girly sleepover and fashion show, became combat girls night. Jed's 'Polly' got into a hair-raising car chase on the way to the party and ended up on the central reservation of the motorway. The other Pollys had to mourn briefly before seeking revenge on the hit-and-run driver and excersising their kung fu skills.

It made me giggle anyway. It happens with most games in our house. The presence of 5 teenage boys means that nothing stays calm for long. I bet you've never played Combat Scrabble...