WARNING!

There is a poem on this blog!
You have been warned.

Ode to the Hoodie

Grey or black you cover the face
downcast, pimpled, angry...
Crying what are you looking at?

I guess you might have had a cornered life
trapped in the council estate with your
13 year old mum
Or maybe its drugs, gangs, violence
A modern teenage affliction

But when you fight and swear,
and fight and swear,
mimic my accent,
throw paper at my head,
give me a false name,
and run out of the classroom
I don't really care about the
estate or the pimples

I just see the hoodie
angry, angry, angry.

'Are you from Orstraya?': the whinings of another bloody Australian supply teacher in London

The interest I had thought that would be stirred by London students on having a teacher (albeit supply teacher) from Australia is really only ever a nuisance as for 1;(yes there is a list) everyone in London is from somewhere else (including 50 million other Aussie supply teachers) and 2: the constant questions about Orstraya and the mocking of my accent take up alot of valuable lesson time (end list). It is not what I had envisioned would happen when I engaged the students in a variety of fantastic learning strategies and experiences.

But then again, either is the paper-throwing, the fake names, the worksheet/paper-aeroplanes, the fighting in class, fighting outside of class, fighting in corridors, fighting at break, fighting in the dining hall...... And this was just Year 4...
(no really, these little Year 4 boys I had were tearing each other to bits in the classroom while their teacher watched and suggested 'please stop darlings...?').

And yes, the barely disguised sarcasm/aggression here is my form of therapy/catharsis/psychological treatment needed for my working week. It is either that or build voodoo dolls of year 11 boys in hooded tops who call me 'man'...
For the third time, I am not a 'man' and we speak English in Orstraya!

We'll always have Paris- Feb 2007

Yes, two posts in as many minutes, but when its only 50p for an hour on the Net in slightly dubious London net cafe, there is always more stuff to put up for complete strangers in cyber world to gawk at....
So- gay Paris was v.nice, sidekick and I had lots of lovely food at slightly-pricey Parisian cafes served by slightly cranky (or is that sophisticated?) young female waitressers. Wine was very drinkable and ended up being able to finish quite a few bottles of lovely red french plonk without too much trouble at all. Almost put paid to sidekick's repeated comments of myself being a total lightweight in alcohol stakes.. Thankyou Paris!
We completely knackered ourselves doing-all-the-must-see-touristy things in too few days- Louvre tops, Eiffel Tower pretty tops but the top of Notre Dame was most toppest (?). Only problem was the continual queues for each said attraction. Got to the point where sidekick and I joined any queue we could see- most were for touristy things, some just for the toilet...
After Paris, had few days in seaside town of St Malo in Brittany- v. quaint and nautical. Stayed at lovely b and b where our complete lack of French become a farce. Lots of hand signals and occasional short mimes ensued between us and B'B host (the lovely Sandrie, who drove us everywhere when she didn't know enough English to tell us how to get somewhere on the bus.....).
Only incident to mar our French experience was getting severely lost on the Paris Metro on return from St Malo. Another farcial incident involving sidekick, myself and fast-closing train doors which left both of us on different sides. Both of us were left to wander tube stations for next two hours as we continually missed each other. Finally, distraught and with visions of having to tell sidekick's mother that I lost her son in Paris, we both found each other at the airport- sidekick nonplussed and myself, massive hysterical mass of tears.
Alls well that ends well....

Liz and John's wedding Canberra-style

Flew- or 'jetsetted' (!) into Sydney last week for Liz and John's wedding. It was a lovely, sophisticated affair in the Botanic Gardens in Canberra on a nice, balmy,warm night. Bride looked tops, brisdemaids weren't too bad either (!) and groom looked chuffed. Slight mishap on the aisle as bridesmaid 2 (me) got very high heels stuck in soft grass of said Botanic Gardens, but apparently no one saw it -or that is what they said anyway- could all be a massive cover-up. No footage exists of moment, as cameras were distracted by the bride...(thanks lizzie..).