134. Four legs bad…
“So your first task is to design a classroom – something you’ll be doing for real before you know it!”
We glance nervously at each other; the thought of actually having our own classrooms is both awe-inspiring and terrifying in equal measure. Us? Teachers? Cripes!
132. More happy birfdy…
“It’s all right to listen, Miss Sugarsprinkles. It’s not at all rude.”
“Are you sure, Mrs Jellywoman?”
“Quite sure, Miss Sugarsprinkles. Please don’t worry.”
“I’ll just wash up the paint-pots, then.”
“Please do.” Continue reading →
131. Time to stare…
“However you organise the room to start with, you’ll want to change it the minute the kids arrive. At least, that’s how it was for me. It took me half a term before I had things organised the way I should have had them in September.”
I am still grateful to Simon. Unasked for, he helped me sort out my first‑ever classroom, including a lesson in the putting up of backing paper. I chose to cover all my boards in a ghastly, beige-y, custardy, blah sort of colour, I seem to remember. A good back-drop for all that free, independent writing my class would be itching to produce, was the theory. Titter ye not.
130. Fellow passengers to the grave…
“You do realise that the work can be quite heavy? Loading the autoclave, lugging stuff to be sterilised and so on?”
The candidate nodded. “Yes, I don’t mind lifting. I’m stronger than I look.”
Mrs Valley ticked her list of questions and then I weighed in with some routine probing about previous work history. Just like they’d taught me at Personnel Management School. I handed back to Mrs Valley, the Head of Department for the hospital’s Sterilising Unit.
I’d not been in post for long and this was the first time we’d interviewed together. I’d heard that Mrs Valley had the reputation of being as mad as a box of frogs but so far she’d been absolutely charming. I was starting to relax: the hunt for a new assistant in the Sterilising Unit seemed to be going smoothly.
Mrs Valley looked up from her notes and smiled at the candidate. “Just one more question. Are you pregnant?”
128. Is this a wedding cake I see before me?
“He’s is going to be studying Macbeth for the literature exam,” Fred’s mum says, as I pack away my highlighters. I’ve started tutoring Fred, who is resitting his English GCSE next month. It’s a learning experience for us both.
126. Nervous? Yes. First time? No, I’ve been nervous lots of times…
To begin at the end.
We landed at Stansted in the early hours and finally tottered through our front door at about two thirty this morning.
I’m a very poor flier, as you know, and was in a horrible panic all the way out to Naples, despite my valiant attempts to ‘man up’. Coming home was much better, partly due to the application of a large glass of red wine just before embarkation, but mostly because, by keeping my eyes fixed on a book, I managed to fool myself into believing that I was actually on a train.
125. I know my place…
Everyone was looking at me as I reached for the nappies. What on earth was I doing here, now? I skulked around the baby wipes, trying to ignore the frowns. Would I need a bottle steriliser? The NCT lady said no, but my cousin, Young Bessie, had said yes and she is a woman of infinite resource and sagacity. I tried to ignore them all tutting as I picked up the Milton, but I could smell the disapproval.
124. Normal service to be resumed…
I have Blogger’s block
Everything I right
Seems rong
123. Learning Objective: to be a domestic goddess….
- Heat 4 fl oz of white vinegar in microwave for about a minute.
- Add 4 fl oz of washing up liquid.
- Put into hand-sprayer.
- Spray onto shower screen.
- Rub off with cloth or sponge.
122. School’s out…
Term started yesterday. I guess that now makes me officially retired. It feels surreal.
I’m not short of things to do. There’s a whole bungalow to decorate, for a start. We’ve been here for over a year now – people will start to think we actually like the brown and yellow kitchen tiles and the polystyrene ceiling. There are still swathes of the garden to reclaim for civilisation and an allotment with a plenitude of guilt-inducing weeds.
The Jelly Chronicles 