Take THAT! And THAT!!

I am entering a new phase in the Flaming Sword stakes. The sword is getting heavy and seems to be burning my hand.

So I put this to you. Are these unreasonable parries?

1) I am uncomfortable with unsupervised (that's right...you heard me) sleepovers where boys (and probably alcohol) will be present.

2) Boyfriends do not need to visit on week nights (and no, I don't think he was helping her study).

3) On the majority of school nights it is advisable to come straight home through town without stopping for a 2 hour tryst with boyfriend in the Botanical Gardens, rendering arrival home at circa 7pm and in the dark!

4) Boyfriends, whilst welcome to visit on Friday-Sat nights, do not need to be entertained in the bedroom. There are two large living areas and the adults are usually in their study.

What do you think? Should I be 'chillin' the sword' at 16 years and 4 months?

Yesterday In Year 9 Maths Class...........

There's a single stifled giggle from across the classroom, which quickly becomes less stifled and is rapidly joined by others. I glance up from the co-ordinate geometry I am explaining in time to see several red faced pupils, a couple of desks over, looking my way and choking back guffaws.

They are too far away to be the actual source of this hysteria so my super-fast, patented teacher eyes flick down at the speed of an eyelash to take in the 'usual suspect' perched innocently on his chair, right next to me. At about the level of my butt.

Now, had this little angel been bent forward, intent on his probability revision, he would be nowhere near my butt.........but........

"What's going on Luke (not his real name)," I enquire sweetly; voice laced with honeyed venom.
His long lashed, wide eyed mock innocent baby blues look brazenly up into mine. This kid is going for the Oscar.
"Why nothing, Mrs A! I'm just doing my maths."

The stifled mirth around me cracks the dam wall and spills over into fully fledged belly laughs.

This is not good.

As any teacher knows, when you are up against it like this, it is best to work with the humour. Think fast; what has probably been happening? My bent over posture would mean he was pretty close to my butt. Was he making gestures? Sticking something on it? No I would have felt that. Gestures maybe..... I take a chance.

Straightening up I glance down at my rear end and then fix him with a death adder smile.

"Well, Luke, all I can say is I'm glad someone is still interested in my arse after all
these years."

His beetroot red flush was gratifying to behold.

The deafening roar of laughter from the rest of his classmates was the icing on the cake.

Who said teaching secondary doesn't have its moments?


Post-Script: Some judicious questioning of his mates, later, leads me to believe that what he was actually doing was taking photos of my butt with his mobile phone! Well, whatever floats your boat I guess!!!

Its A Hard Knock Life For Us!

It is over.

Months and months of planning and rehearsal culminating in a brief week of furious activity and four performances.

Throughout this glorious week I wore a number of hats. I was still responsible for costumes and, in particular, finishing the infamous Annie 'red dress' but I was also stage manager which meant I 'ran' the show from a position in the wings, co-ordinating the lights, spots, sound, orchestra and backstage crews. A perfect job for a control freak :-D



We moved into the theatre last Monday in a process known as 'bumping in'. It is well named. It is rarely a smooth process. There was a truck and several trips back and forwards to bring all the sets, props and costumes from the school. There was a trailer and another trip to bring instruments. There was the whole 'costume rack falling over on the way and all costumes falling onto the floor of the truck and losing their labels' to deal with. There was the problem with the staircases.


These monoliths, our main set, were produced for us by the Tech Department at school. They had been fitted with carpet squares underneath so that they sat flush with the ground and slid along the polished floor of our rehearsal room. Of course, as the best laid plans of mice and men flew frantically awry, we discovered that the stage in the theatre had been painted with a slightly textured paint to prevent actors slipping. Unfortunately, this also applied to staircases. There was some intense consultation and experimentation. It was evident that we would need double the number of crew members to move these things in anything close to an acceptable time frame for set changes. Quick rethink. Trolley trucks were provided and with much groaning and sweating the ends of the stairs were hefted aboard. Still too slow. And too noisy! Eventually the Tech boys were brought in from school and fitted both sets of stairs with multiple castors. They no longer sat flush to the ground but at least we could move them.

There was also the problem with the dressing rooms. Two were provided, one for men and one for women. They were of approximately the same size. In our production there were approximately 40 girls and 6 boys. I made a snap decision; the girls were spread between the two woefully inadequate dressing rooms

and the boys were relegated to the loading dock at the back of the stage.



The strange looking table in the foreground here is the mic table. We used 10 radio mics which were swapped between cast members as they came and went from the stage. This grid formation was essential for keeping things under control.

Tuesday was the Tech rehearsal, a tedious process involving; setting lights, practicing set changes and running sound cues. Microphone levels needed to be checked and the orchestra practised with fold back. Our young cast were remarkably patient and co-operative and our backstage crew phenomonally organised and committed. If a little inexperienced.

I asked the prop girls if they had prepared the props table with labels for each item (rather like the grid for the mikes). "Sure," they reassured me and indicated a table marked with two strips of masking tape. One said 'orphanage' and one said 'mansion'.

Me: OK, that's a good start but it's a little bit vague.

Crew: What do you mean?

Me: Weeeeell, you would be better off dividing the table up into a grid and giving each prop a particular space and a label.

Crew: But we are the only ones taking things off, we'll know where they are and where they go.

Me: Uh-huh but in the excitement of the live run you're gonna find that you are working under huge pressure and things will just get put down where-ever. It all looks simple there now, but if I took one item away, would you know which item it was? You should be able to look at your table and know immediately if anything is missing. If you have a space for everything, the gaps will be obvious.

Crew: Hmmm (unconvinced)

Me: Well, I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist on this one. Just trust me.

They grumbled and made faces but they did what they were asked (a blessed change from my normal classes).

I asked them about it again after the run and they looked at me like I was stupid to suggest it could occur any other way!

On Tuesday, 'Annie' once again asked me if her red dress was ready. Once again I answered 'no'.
That night I went home to complete it. OK, actually I went home to cut it out first! The problem was that patterns suitable for adapting to make the 'red dress' were in sizes 2yrs-8yrs. Our Annie was a very well developed 15. I had managed to work with one of our more talented staff members to draft a pattern for the red dress but it was all guesswork. On Tuesday night I crashed onto the sofa for a few hours before waking at 1am and starting to cut and sew. When the BA got up at 6am, I was still there. The machine had decided to play up and was constantly jamming. Trying to sew two veeeeery long gathering lines for the sleeves was proving impossible and anyway, I needed to know whether what I had done so far actually fitted the girl in question.

I went into the theatre on Wednesday having worked through from 1am. The dress was still not finished. Once in the theatre I had to stop sewing and start stage managing. Annie wore her dress that afternoon for dress rehearsal complete with pins and no sleeves. I took it home Wednesday night and tried to finish it but my exhaustion defeated me. I got up at 7am and took the unfinished monstrosity into the theatre to complete. The machine continued to play up and the final stitches were put into the dress in the interval before it was worn on stage. Nothing like cutting it fine.You can see the offending, incomplete article in the mirror in this shot.

And so the show got underway.

This is my favourite story.
My lighting 'boys' were two very sweet seventh graders . They had been shown how the desk worked and which buttons to press and we had explained that I 'called' the cues for them to execute. As we worked through the dress rehearsals and the first two live performances, there were a few hiccups in the timing of the lights. Some were my fault but some just seemed to be a general slowness in response from the lighting room. But come on, they are only year sevens!

There was one cue in particular which we had consistently messed up. At the end of the cabinet scene where FDR and his cronies are all singing 'Tomorrow' we had consistently blacked them out too early. By the third performance I was determined to get the timing right. I held off, I called the 'stand-by', I watched intently....and to my horror, the lighting boys blacked the stage out with NO CUE FROM ME!!!!!!!! The cabinet once again finished singing in the dark and after my string of invectives I determined to find out how this had gone wrong.

I fronted my little lighting friends.

Me: So what happened with that black out?
Boy 1: Well, I gave a hand signal to Him and he thought I meant something else so he just 'went'.
Me: hang on........what do you mean you gave a hand signal to him and he 'went'....??????????????
Boy 2: (guilelessly) Well we decided to share the job so in one half he wears the headset and I press the buttons and in the other half I wear the headset and HE presses the buttons!

My carefully timed lighting cues were being passed from one set of ears across the room to another set before being implemented.
No wonder my cues were slow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: Did you never think of sharing the job by ONE of you wearing the headset AND pressing the buttons in the first act and the other doing it in the second??????????
Boys: Er...no.
Me: Well that is what we will be doing for the last show!

And the lighting was perfect.

What Happened Next.

Thank you for all your sympathetic comments regarding the Harry Potter debacle.

Here's the update:

After trying to flog the tickets to you people :-) and on facebook, I offered them to the kids at rehearsals yesterday. I had two 'nibbles' but nothing came of it so as I left school at 5pm I decided to go down to Marion, pick up the tickets and try and sell them on to someone in the queue. I had already bought the replacement tickets for the correct night (tonight: oh boy oh boy) so it was looking like it was going to be a reeeeeeeally expensive birthday present for the Small Boy!!!!

Down at Marion I queued in the 'collect tickets here' line and then, I became that person that you really hate when you are running late for a film and all you have to do is collect two tickets which you've already bought and paid for online and the person in front of you asks for a refund!

Yes, that was me. I figured since I was there I might as well explain about the whole 'thought I was booking Saturday and forgot to check before I pressed the button' thing. I showed them that I had rebooked the tickets for the next night and explained that I had spent sometime on the phone during the day trying to get through to someone to talk about the error but had been unable to get an answer. Surprisingly, incredibly, they made a quick call and agreed to give me a refund!!!!!!!!

Of course, that's where it got messy and everyone behind me was wishing they had joined a different queue. For some reason they couldn't find one of my bookings and then they told me I'd actually booked two tickets for Gold Class (what???? I'm dumb but I'm not that dumb...they don't let kids in to Gold Class) and then I had to wait to one side while they found the manager and then I saw 2 of the BA's friends in the queue and they were with boys........

Talk about stressful. I actually tried to hide from the BA's friends but they spotted me and called out to me across the queue, wondering when she was coming back from Sydney. Then I realised that one of the boys was a lad from their class at school and the other, although I didn't know him, was cheerful, polite, articulate and charming. Hmph. As if that was going to win me over.

Result? I GOT THE REFUND!!!!!!!!!! I had to forgo the $4.00 booking fee but did I look worried about that???? :-D

So all's well that ends well. We're off to see Harry tonight with both kids and Himself!(I had to do some fast talking along the 'guilt guilt, Small Boy's birthday, guilt guilt, nice family outing, guilt guilt etc) but he eventually agreed to leave his work station and come with us :-D

Only two days of holidays left but the good news is that we start the term with a two day conference so NO KIDS and I still have 'til Thursday to mark those pesky exams. Today I pick up the BA from the airport, visit our dear friend Nellie, take BA to netball and then home for a few quick loads of washing before HARRY POTTER!

Life's pretty good really.

Gender Differences: Lesson 4: Showers

Girls:

Put the bucket under the faucet to collect the runoff as you warm up the hot water.

Set the shower timer for 2 mins (straight wash) or 4 mins (hairwash). Once a week allow an extra minute for shaving legs.

Turn on the extractor fan.

Enter the shower and allow approx 15 secs for luxuriating under the red hot needles of cleanliness.

Choose the appropriate product from the range of shampoos/conditioners/colourlock/facial scrub and bodywash available.

Deftly and expertly apply and remove products. Step out of shower just after the timer goes off but not before wiping off excess moisture so as not to drip too much.

Dry off, hang up towel and turn off extractor fan.

Check butt in mirror.

Boys:

Blunder into bathroom. Ensure faithful cat has followed you.

Turn on shower. Fiddle excessively with taps until temp is correct. Realise you have forgotten to use the bucket and swear to remember next time.

Get into shower and wonder what that annoying digital thing on the wall is and why you feel vaguely guilty when you look at it.

Allow approximately 15 minutes for luxuriating under the red hot needles of cleanliness.

Realise you have run out of time and are meant to be leaving for work soon. Fumble through selection of containers in shower recess and choose one that may or may not be bodywash.
Wash.

Consider shampooing hair but remember that you have to leave the shampoo on for 3 minutes and then there's conditioner and after all, this shower is a waste of valuable water resources.

Decide not to bother with the shampoo.

Shave.

Drift off again and allow another 5 minutes for luxuriating under the red hot needles of cleanliness.

Finally turn off taps and step immediately out into the bathroom dripping as much water as possible.

Glance in mirror but realise it is completely steamed up through failure to engage extractor fan. Engage extractor fan. Start to dry off whilst waiting for mirror to clear. Give up on the wait, after all who needs to see to comb your hair?

Leave the room ensuring that the extractor fan is still running.

Throw wet towel on the bed.

Gender Differences: Lesson 2: Hanging Out Washing

Girls:

Take washing out of machine as quickly as possible and, if necessary, remove the tufts of tissue distributed throughout. Hang as quickly as possible to avoid mouldy smell ensuing. Hang each item separately, socks from toes, trousers from waistbands etc in order that air may circulate and clothes dry quickly and avoid fading in the sun. Gather in when dry.

Boys:

Leave clothes in washing machine until you happen to pass by the laundry. If mould ensues, rewash. When you remember, hang washing out: fold each item in half over the line and peg through the middle. Multiple items to one peg saves time. Wait for two weeks while washing dries. Complain loudly that you have no clothes, completely failing to notice the large pile of clean, dry folded clothing your stepmother has removed from the line and sat on the dining room table for two weeks.

Gender Differences: Lesson 1: Easter Luxuries

For Girls:

Sitting on a squashy sofa eating chocolate for breakfast, knitting(me) or cutting out pictures from magazines(BA) and watching all three series of 'Roswell' back to back.

For Boys:

Sitting in your newly cleaned out shed with your laptop, a cigar and a steaming mug of freshly ground coffee (or two), footy on the radio and the next leg of the Virtual Yacht Race on your screen.

....Are Doomed To Repeat It.....

Boy 1: "Yeah, but like why do we have to learn things like Ancient Rome and stuff? When are we ever going to use that? I mean unless you're going to be a museum curator or a historian or something and like, that's not very likely is it?"

Boy 2 (M)"Yeah Mrs A, we should be learning stuff about TODAY. About the issues that are happening now, that will affect us in the future, why can't we learn about THAT??"

Thusly went part of a conversation between students and teacher in a Geography lesson on Friday afternoon.

This one Geography lesson a week has been the bane of my existence this year. It is the 'worst' Year 10 class; straight after lunch on a Friday; they're not really my class, I simply babysit them once a week for their extremely talented and popular male teacher who has another class at that time and we differ in our expectations of what they should actually do in a single Geography lesson on a Friday afternoon. They think they should do nothing. I disagree.

As you can imagine, a significant portion of the boys in the class (and a significant proportion of the class are boys) see this lesson as an opportunity to have a little fun with the teacher. At the beginning of the year, the bell would go at 1.40pm and by 2.00pm I had maybe 2/3 of the class present. The rest (we shall call them 'The Reprobates'*) would straggle in, sans books, pencils and work ethic and proceed to clatter loudly though the room to the back row, prop their chairs up against the back wall and put their feet up. When quizzed on their lateness they would look me straight in the eye and say, "We were looking for our books in our lockers." The fact that they were all wet through from an obvious water fight in the toilets was neither here nor there.

After a few weeks of detentions where they had to write out the importance of coming to class on time, I had cured most of their lateness but rubbed their 'attitude' up into a veritable static storm of resentment. They crackled as they entered the room.

I further endeared myself to them by beginning to escort them to their next lesson as it became evident that they used the 45 sec walk from one classroom to another to visit the toilet, locker, drinking fountain, squabble, water fight or disappear off into the bowels of the school never to return. The end of last term saw an escalation in the resentment as I gave several detentions for reading manga comics in class and talking during 'silent time' (don't ask, it's a school tradition).

The manga comics incident was one of those headshaking moments. I noticed, as the rest of the class were discussing the current Australian water crisis, a young man in the front row, head down, absorbed in his reading. He wasn't even trying to hide it. When asked to hand over the book he was outraged.
"But it's not mine! He (points) lent it to me."

Later, as others were answering written questions I tackled him on the issue.
"What makes you think that it is in any way acceptable to be sitting in class reading a comic?"
"Well, I didn't have my textbook or my exercise book so I couldn't do any work, so I might as well."

Aaaaaanyway, I digress (now there's a surprise). To some degree it was a difficult class for the kids too as I was not their regular teacher and relied upon him to give me the work for them to complete. He usually did this about 30secs before I walked into the classroom so I was left playing catch-up and could not always answer all their questions, not that The Reprobates had any intention of asking any, well not intelligent ones anyway. Their questions usually had ulterior motives like trying to trick me into saying something that would get me into trouble with the ultra conservative Christian School Board.

In the second to last week of term their teacher was on a course and had not left me any work (horror) so I visited the Library and found an animated film about life in space after the Earth had been destroyed; Titan AE or something. Do you think The Reprobates could manage to let me get it up and running without incident? Of course not. Granted they probably didn't know what the film was and may have assumed an old frump like me was going to force them to watch a documentary on endangered marsupials in the Amazon, but their deliberate group singing over the top of my introduction tried my otherwise sunny countenance and I sent one of them outside.

Once the rest had shut up and were watching the film I went out to see my little friend and discuss his behaviour. He was arrogant and rude in the extreme and rather than engage in a fruitless power struggle I suggested he just go straight to the Focus Room. He was irate!

"You can't send me to the Focus Room! You haven't given me a warning yet! School rules say you have to warn me, move me and THEN send me out! You didn't even warn me or move me!"

"I think you've had enough warning already mate," I reasoned," You've had three terms worth of warnings, you know what is expected of you."

"Ah! But every lesson should be a fresh start. We get our warnings all over again every lesson."

"But you don't give me a fresh start every lesson."

This slowed him for a moment.

"Yes, but you're the teacher, you should lead by example."

"M, I have tried time and time again to give you a fresh start. I speak to you civilly in the yard. I ask how you're going and you cut me dead."

"But there's a line between being a teacher and a friend you know."

"I'm not trying to be your friend. I am trying to be pleasant and civil but you boys, when you come into this class carry every detention you've ever received with you. You walk in the door in attack mode and you never give me a fresh start. Why should I give you one?"

There was a momentary silence.

"Well, I'm sorry about that."

Pardon? Did I hear him correctly? Did he just apologise????

"That's alright M. If you can sit out here quietly for a moment I'll see if I can let you back in the classroom."

**********************************************************************
He was indeed able to re-enter the classroom and although I am not saying he is a radically changed young man, he has at least given the whole thing some thought. This was evidenced by this week's lesson and the conversation with which I opened the post.

This week I had given up any hope of getting any work out of them. They had the list of revision questions to attempt and I had made it clear that I was available to help if they needed me but I was b******d if I was going to knock myself out on a Friday afternoon on the week before exams. I sat with a group of kids looking at the questions, trying to decide what a 'scattergraph' was, when M and his two friends called to me across the aisle with their question about History.

To begin with, it was difficult to ascertain whether they were simply being malicious, having a 'go' at a subject they know I teach, but I decided to try the 'fresh start' principle and engage in the discussion rather than attempting to steer them back onto Geography questions they had no intention of completing.

Firstly, I felt it necessary to point out that if they wanted a subject which dealt with current issues, things that would affect their future, then Geography is it. After all, the current topic is Environmental Issues!
They kind of acknowledged this but pushed it aside as they continued on with their rant against History.

"I mean, what's the point of learning about Ancient Egypt?"

"I thought most kids liked learning about ancient Egypt?"

"Well, yeah, that was quite interesting BUT other History topics, what use are they?"

"Hmm, you mentioned Ancient Rome. What happened to it? Why did it collapse? It got too big didn't it? And what is happening to our world economy today? It's got so large and interdependent that if one large economy falters it affects us all. We're seeing that now."
(I know this is a pretty loose interpretation but I was going for impact here)

"Yes, yes, yes, but we should be looking to predict things about the future. I mean, why aren't we talking about Mumbai?"

"Well, do you know the History of Mumbai? Of India? Do you know what the attackers are protesting about?

Back and forward we went. He led himself into it. "The reason you are able to 'make predictions' about things," I suggested, " is because you have seen things happen in the past and you have learned from them. That is History!"

The conversation then ran from 9/11 to North Korea to East Timor to the Middle East. I pointed out to them that if they wanted to talk about these things they had to be in possession of the facts ie history; if only to ensure that they are pleasant and intelligent dinner table companions!!

"So knowing all this stuff is just about social life really?" asked M.

"That, and impressing an employer you are a well educated, well rounded individual."

" I still don't see why we have to learn things that we're not going to use!"

"Well, " I foolishly began," that's a very 15 year old point of view. You really don't have any idea just yet what you will use in life or work in the future. "

M looked at me attentively and was obviously considering this proposition. His mate however couldn't leave it alone.

"Are you saying we're childish???? At least we don't wear bright pink mickey mouse ipods. That's like what an eight year old does!!!!!!!!!!!" The other two looked at him as if he were mad.

I couldn't decide whether I was disappointed that he was still on his previous 'get the teacher agenda' or pleased that the other two weren't. I decided to go for humour.

"Oh! Ow, ow!" I feigned extreme pain," Cuts deep mate! Touche."

This time all three of them were looking at me.
"What the hell is 'touche'?"

*sigh* I guess I've still got a long way to go in the teenage boy/teacher relationship stakes.



*Reprobate: I have just checked the definition of this favoured word and found it to mean, as I intended, an 'unprincipled person'; but more co-incidentally, in Christian Theology(archaic) it apparently means 'predestined for damnation'!!!!!! My, my.

Image Credits

roman coin

globe

tin of paint

Please Miss: What does this look like to you????

The Baby Angel reminded me of the last story (I promise) from the Year 10 Excursion.

"Mum," she asked, "did you tell them about the boys and 'it's a penis miss'.....?????"

How had that one momentarily slipped my mind?

It was part of the lunch stop. The same one where we'd had the food fight. I had wandered across the park, past a group of lads, just as one of them said loudly, and explosively, "Look dude, this water bottle is shaped like a PENIS!!!!"

The group immediately realised that I had overheard this observational revelation so they naturally fell about shrieking with laughter and looking expectantly at me to see my reaction.

It had been a long morning. The last thing I felt like doing was trying to discipline ferral fourteen year old testosterone ridden boys over their inappropriate language in a public place. And anyway, was it inappropriate? I mean, at least they didn't bellow 'dick' or any number of other unsavoury euphemisms through public airspace. I simply rolled my eyes at them, smiled and said.......actually, I can't remember exactly what I said. It may have been, 'really boys, exactly how many penis jokes do we have to hear before you tire of them?' or ' this preoccupation with penises is concerning boys...you must spend a lot of time looking at them...' or simply ' are all penises that funny?'. I can't remember. Maybe those were things I wish I'd said! Regardless, it was an attempt at flippant humour and it backfired radically. They shrieked with laughter all the more.

"Miss said penis!!!!!She said penis!!!!"

They ran off in the opposite direction, still shrieking with laughter and when I passed them a few minutes later they were all lined up with the few extra friends who obviously didn't believe them and were here for the evidence. I could tell what was coming so I gave them the royal wave as I walked past and they all caterwauled
'penis miss, penis penis penis...bwahahahahahahahahaha'...........

*sigh* the things you have to put up with.

As a foot note I might add that they tried it again the next day at school but were a little more subdued due to their surroundings. I came up close to them this time and told them they'd gone far enough and that the joke needed to stop now. It's all about knowing where the line is boys...

To their credit they did pull their heads in. Far enough to gaze on their own penises.

I left them to their reverie.

image credit

Boys Were Here

Best (?) Shot Monday: Boys Ate Here

Well, it's hardly a 'best' shot but I didn't take many this week what with Baby Angel coming home and all......in a way it just summarises my life at the moment. Attempts to make things 'nice'; to be the poised, centred adult in the face of children and the lack of poise they bring to most situations.

Contrast, for example, our tasteful salt and pepper grinders with the plastic IKEA cup; the folky table cloth and contrasting weave mats with the faded, cheerful kidstyle cork mats in the middle; the vase of flowers from the garden (ok you can only just see them) with the plastic sauce bottle. And don't even ask me what they were doing with the torch.....who knows.....

I am trying to train Mr 9 to take his table mat to the sink and shake off the crumbs at the same time as he puts his plate in the dishwasher. *sigh* I suspect that would not have been enough in this case.

I made it to school by 7am today all kitted out and ready to exercise. There were only 2 of us there. :-( I suppose it was only the first day back.

Undeterred, we went for a walk around the block and then I did a few sit ups and other floor based exercises in my office. At least waking up at dawn and lying awake until 5.45am so I didn't miss the alarm, wasn't completely wasted.

For a glimpse at other people's photo of the week.....