Okay, so I promise I'm not going to turn this blog into an online forum for airing my grievances about my teaching jobs, but my experience yesterday was so preposterous, that I feel like I've just gotta put it out there.
I was placed out in the South London region of Tolworth, in an infant school- something we don't really have in Oz- and wound up with the kindergarten-age-equivalent class. No dramas, I thought, how hard could it possibly be?
Because I'm so paranoid about a) being late and b) getting lost/not being able to find where I'm supposed to be going (this is one big city which appears to have been organised by a series of Town Planners who clearly had no freakin' idea what they were doing), I leave my home well before seven am each day, and head to Clapham Junction to jump on a train. This has served me well thus far, and I consequently arrived early in the area, and managed to find the school, wedged in between lines of what Melbournites would describe as commission flats. When I first entered the school, I was overcome by the hardcore hospital smell of the place-very sterile- and then somewhat shocked when I walked into the staffroom to put my lunch bag in the fridge and found stacks of empty wine bottles all over the sink... I made my way to my designated classroom and met with the teacher, who was as sour as citrus, and couldn't even manage to crack a smile during the school photos which happened a little later that morning (nb: you wouldn't credit the amount of folks that have said "Ah love, you're still smilin'- ya musn't a been 'ere long then"). She barked out the plan for me for the day, and took off, while I checked out the room. Seriously, the schools here seem to be severely under-resourced, and underloved...but, what's totally strange is that they're all fitted with interactive whiteboards, whaz up with that??
Anyways, the bell rang at about 8:45 am, and in rolled my class (the "Dragonflies") of about thirty children ("Kindergarten is like the ocean, you don't want to turn your back on it"- wise words said to Arnie, in Kindergarten Cop-click on this link please, hilarious!).
Along with the children, rolled in two Teaching Assistants (also known as TAs- another thing we don't have in Oz, and I'm still trying to decided whether I think they are a help or a hindrance), who are pretty much in charge of executing the discipline, in other words, screaming blue-murder at the children until they pipe down, or as I would like to put it, make a "good choice". We all managed to survive the morning session pretty well, there were a few domestics about the buckets and shovels in the sandpit and a minor paint fight, but otherwise nothing and no-one got broken.
Just before it was time for recess, an older child from another class brought in a basket of tomatoes. These were for the children to eat for their morning tea- the children here didn't bring any food to school- not even lunch. The English government subsides fruit for all children under the age of seven, and at this school, for 10 quid a week, the children can eat lunch at the cafeteria each day (pizza, beans and ham mostly), but most of the families are on a welfare program so again, it's subsidised. It made me reflect on the comparison made in the documentary Supersize Me, between student's behaviour in an elementary school where the students ate pure junk from the canteen, and students who were considered juvenille delinquents but were being feed a diet of fresh fruit and vegetables, which yielded 'suprising' results. Hmmmm. Regardless, most of the students passed up the fresh tomatoes, and went hungry, probably just hanging out for the beans and ham lunch combo...
Following the break, I went out to collect the children from their line, and take them to the morning assembly in the hall, and a little boy by the name of George wanted to hold my hand- no harm in that, I thought, until he went to wipe his runny nose on his sleeve, and narrowly missed my hand, which put an end to the hand-holding pretty quickly.
I managed to get the thirty odd children inside pretty easily, and we started to make our way down to the assembly hall, and as we approached we could here this woman shouting as other grades as they entered the hall, "Quiet! Be quite now! Shut it!" I always find it amusing when adults shout at children to be quiet.
This woman, who I guess was the headmistress of the school, would have been in her mid to late forties and should have known better...and what's more, her resemblance to the school principal in Uncle Buck was uncanny- although the wart-melanoma-growth was closer to her right nostril, rather than on her chin.
This horrible old bat continued to shout at and berate the children (aged between three and six, mind you) until they were all sitting quietly. Then she started to shout at the reception (prep) children, informing them that they were in for a big shock when they got to primary school, and would never succeed if they continued to talk and carry on the way they did. Unbelievable.
Then, she motioned over towards the piano, and said,
"Okay children, we're going to do some singing. I thought we could start by singing 'Banana's in Pajamas'."
The children gave a little cheer of excitement and joy, and well, she lost it.
"Who was talking? Oh! Now you've ruined it all. You're wasting my time! It would serve you right if I didn't play anything today!" she shouted.
But of course, she wanted to hold the floor, and played it anyway (she was actually quite a good pianist, but obviously bitter that she never amounted to anything, and now taking out her anger and frustration on the (very) young and defenceless. Classy. She then started taking requests from the children, and said she would pick people who were singing well to choose the next song (and unless she had eyes in the back of her head, there was no way she would have known). One little boy put his hand up and said, "Twinkle, twinkle little star?" To which she replied, "You're Max, aren't you?", then little boy nodded, and his blue eyes lit up because he'd been acknowledged, and then she sqaushed him, saying "You're joking right? Your singin' was awful". I looked around at the regular teachers, all who had their eyes to the ground, lifeless, and seemed to need a bomb under them; not even reacting to this horror scene! Suffice to say I spent the rest of the day in a bit of a blur after that assembly.
This sort of situation brings out mixed feelings in me- part of me wants to write them, or the education department, letting them know that this is absolutely woeful, unacceptable practice. The other part of me gets inspired to go back and try to combat the problem, and make a difference where I can. So, at the end of the day, when I went to get my timesheet signed, the mousey girl at reception asked me if I'd be interested in coming back to do some work in the future, and I thought about what Uncle Buck would do in this situation.
Buck wouldn't back down or wuss away, in fact, he'd get right in there and set 'em straight, bless him!
So, you guessed it, I said yes.
1 comment:
love it! bless your cotton socks! sour as citris!
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