So, What Have We Learned So Far?
I confiscated a note the other day.
I couldn't understand a word it said and I think it was scribbled on the back of her maths homework, but I took it anyway... I'm twenty and I confiscated a note from a student. My student.
This small - yet mentally colossal - action made me realise something strange: the best parts about being a teacher are the things that you hate as a student. If a teacher confiscated one of my notes to a friend, I would have hated it. Not that it ever happened. I never wrote notes to friends because people irritate me too much to want to talk to them face-to-face, so there was no way I was going to waste my time scribbling a note on a scrap bit of paper for them to read half an hour sooner than just telling them... If I ever remembered the inevitably stupid thought.
As well as the realisation that I am now the-teacher-that-confiscates-notes, I realised a few more things...
I never have a pen, which really bothers me because one of the first things I bought was a pack of pens. I know they're somewhere, but God only knows where. I can't say that I feel overly professional writing all of my notes and lesson plans in bright pink biro, but they do look funky.
It has never occurred to me before how vile children are. Of course, my youngest classes are six years old - I understand that they aren't going to be the epitome of society, but bloody hell they're vile. The three main issues:
1. They're all mouth breathers. Not in an insulting way, they all literally breathe through their mouths. Loudly.
2. They don't seem to know tissues exist. The amount of times a child walks into my class, knuckle deep in their own personal gold mine disgusts me.
3. They have not yet learnt the etiquette of a social fart... Enough said.
I feel that this is true in all walks of life: it is imperative to existence to make banter a priority. I will concede that this is difficult when faced with a group of six-year-olds who hardly understand a word you're saying. However, as soon as they begin to understand full sentences, bombard them with banter. They're far more engaged and the hour goes by much faster when they are.
Despite being an incredibly disorganised person with a slightly too foolhardy approach to "winging it," I have leant that that doesn't quite work in a classroom. Planning is important and it didn't occur to me just how much is involved in teaching children your own language. It's a blessing that nothing is open on a Sunday here because I need practically all day to sort myself out.
I say it, probably, more often than I should: English is stupid. For example, did you know that there is a specific order in which adjectives appear in a sentence? AND, did you know that there are ten types of adjectives in the English language (unless you count adjectives of condition and physical condition as two separate things, in which case there are eleven)? Or that the past perfect tense is to speak about the past or the past. Or even that the past perfect tense existed at all? The most difficult part of teaching your native language, isn't getting your head around all of these things you didn't know existed, it's being asked the question "why?"
"Why is there a specific order?"
"Why do you bother using the past perfect tense?"
"Why does the past perfect tense exist?"
The only answer I have to any of these questions is "English is stupid. That's just the way it is."
Office stationary is a nightmare. It's never where it should be - it's never far, but never far isn't where it should be. It should be where it should be and it never is where it should be so it shouldn't be there whether it's not very far or not!
Do you get it?
Despite popular belief, teachers are idiots. If you know me (if you don't, read my last blog, it'll give a pretty accurate overview) just ask yourself if you would trust the education of your child to me. I do know me and I'll tell you now, I wouldn't.
In my first month at work, I have decided that I hate computers. Yes, they're useful and great, but good Lord I hate them. Connecting to Wi-Fi and the printer and losing things you thought you'd saved but hadn't and having to start all. Over. Again. I just hate them!
Despite all of these little realisations - negative ones included - this is the first job that I've had that I haven't planned on leaving in a few months time... Well, until Christmas.
I couldn't understand a word it said and I think it was scribbled on the back of her maths homework, but I took it anyway... I'm twenty and I confiscated a note from a student. My student.
This small - yet mentally colossal - action made me realise something strange: the best parts about being a teacher are the things that you hate as a student. If a teacher confiscated one of my notes to a friend, I would have hated it. Not that it ever happened. I never wrote notes to friends because people irritate me too much to want to talk to them face-to-face, so there was no way I was going to waste my time scribbling a note on a scrap bit of paper for them to read half an hour sooner than just telling them... If I ever remembered the inevitably stupid thought.
As well as the realisation that I am now the-teacher-that-confiscates-notes, I realised a few more things...
I never have a pen, which really bothers me because one of the first things I bought was a pack of pens. I know they're somewhere, but God only knows where. I can't say that I feel overly professional writing all of my notes and lesson plans in bright pink biro, but they do look funky.
It has never occurred to me before how vile children are. Of course, my youngest classes are six years old - I understand that they aren't going to be the epitome of society, but bloody hell they're vile. The three main issues:
1. They're all mouth breathers. Not in an insulting way, they all literally breathe through their mouths. Loudly.
2. They don't seem to know tissues exist. The amount of times a child walks into my class, knuckle deep in their own personal gold mine disgusts me.
3. They have not yet learnt the etiquette of a social fart... Enough said.
I feel that this is true in all walks of life: it is imperative to existence to make banter a priority. I will concede that this is difficult when faced with a group of six-year-olds who hardly understand a word you're saying. However, as soon as they begin to understand full sentences, bombard them with banter. They're far more engaged and the hour goes by much faster when they are.
Despite being an incredibly disorganised person with a slightly too foolhardy approach to "winging it," I have leant that that doesn't quite work in a classroom. Planning is important and it didn't occur to me just how much is involved in teaching children your own language. It's a blessing that nothing is open on a Sunday here because I need practically all day to sort myself out.
I say it, probably, more often than I should: English is stupid. For example, did you know that there is a specific order in which adjectives appear in a sentence? AND, did you know that there are ten types of adjectives in the English language (unless you count adjectives of condition and physical condition as two separate things, in which case there are eleven)? Or that the past perfect tense is to speak about the past or the past. Or even that the past perfect tense existed at all? The most difficult part of teaching your native language, isn't getting your head around all of these things you didn't know existed, it's being asked the question "why?"
"Why is there a specific order?"
"Why do you bother using the past perfect tense?"
"Why does the past perfect tense exist?"
The only answer I have to any of these questions is "English is stupid. That's just the way it is."
Office stationary is a nightmare. It's never where it should be - it's never far, but never far isn't where it should be. It should be where it should be and it never is where it should be so it shouldn't be there whether it's not very far or not!
Do you get it?
Despite popular belief, teachers are idiots. If you know me (if you don't, read my last blog, it'll give a pretty accurate overview) just ask yourself if you would trust the education of your child to me. I do know me and I'll tell you now, I wouldn't.
In my first month at work, I have decided that I hate computers. Yes, they're useful and great, but good Lord I hate them. Connecting to Wi-Fi and the printer and losing things you thought you'd saved but hadn't and having to start all. Over. Again. I just hate them!
Despite all of these little realisations - negative ones included - this is the first job that I've had that I haven't planned on leaving in a few months time... Well, until Christmas.
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