CHAOS

Well it has been another one of 'those' days in the madhouse that is work. I spent a large block of time walking a young pupil around the school while she scribbled a rambling stream of unrelated phrases on the back and front of A4 pieces of paper, tore them off the pad, screwed them up and started another page. All this whilst walking and intermittently talking to me. Given a recent over-enthusiastic 'Step' injury to my foot/ankle, it is the most exercise I have had in a week.

She argued with herself, raged in a contained but very disturbing manner and told me multiple times that I wouldn't understand what was going on in her head. She threatened violence, claimed she didn't know why she was behaving in this manner and made intermittent references to her biological family, the way they'd let her down and how she thought she might be insane but that she was actually quite used to it by now so what did it matter?

In the end, I wasn't able to really get to the bottom of her distress and anxiety and once we returned to the classroom after lunch she became more agitated again. I manoeuvred a hand over to the school counsellor and later heard that she had done a runner and secreted herself on an out of bounds balcony. At least she didn't leave the property.  I wondered if I should have stayed with her but rationalised that she was known to the counsellor and that seriously, I was pretty much out of my depth with that level of mental health disorder. Mind you, so was the counsellor, apparently.

After writing up a hasty and harried recount of events I finished off my teaching day and prepared for the evenings entertainment: parent teacher interviews.

We are an R-12 school which means we have various faculties with their own customs and traditions around parent/teacher interviews. Usually, the Primary (Elementary/Junior school) teachers meet parents in their themed, child centred classrooms with a tray of the pupil's work to pore over for about 10 minutes before chatting in depth about the amazing progress Suzie has made in her reader levels. Parents wait on tiny chairs outside in the corridor and I sit in my lovely colourful Special Ed room and pick up passing trade. So to speak.

When the Secondary (High School) interviews are held, they fill the Performing Arts Centre with rows of tiny desks, a teacher's chair on one side and two subservient parent chairs facing you on the other. An acrylic photo frame containing your title, printed out in a welcoming font such as Colonna MT, faces toward the already uncomfortable Mr and Mrs Brown, who have really just come to see if Johnny has stopped faking that hamstring injury in PE. A timer counts down and you are permanently behind as you attempt to solve the problems of adolescence in 10 minutes flat.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you view it, I have to take part in both these events.
Usually they are on separate nights.

This year someone decided we would kill two birds with one stone. Primary would do their warm, fuzzy thing upstairs in their classrooms and the Secondary team would wait nervously behind tiny islands of desks in the voluminous cavern of the PAC awaiting the inevitable 10 minute tirade on their incompetence before being reminded that God is love....All fine, except for me.

I am one of two teachers who work across the two schools. The other is a language teacher and no-one ever wants to see her (I'm sorry but it's true and it's a damn shame because she works jolly hard and does a jolly good job! But there you have it). I, on the other hand, spent the evening sprinting from one building/setting to the other on my increasingly puffy ankle (ref para 1). I blame the online parental interview booking system!!!!! In the past I could take requests for interviews and with some negotiation, group similar interviews together in short blocks of time. This year, the computers took over and parents determined the time of their interview! Can you imagine?

Chaos :-D

This is not the only chaos in my life, but it's all I can manage for now xxxx.



image credit 2

Time For A Change Or Two

This is a little chart I prepared this evening upon receiving our gas bill. The gaps are the bills that are in the tax archives (need to retrieve and add to the total picture) but you get the general idea...

Partially this upward movement has been the result of price hikes, particularly the electricity component which has been affected by our soon to be late-lamented carbon tax. The gas bill on the other hand relates to two significant 'improvements' in lifestyle.

At the end of winter 2011 we installed a gas heater. Bliss! Joy!! No longer was one knee roasting and the other ice cold as we huddled against an electric bar heater.

Now let us examine the gargantuan LEAP in gas usage as we hit 2013:
Exhibit A.

When the spa was installed, the technician assured us that it cost around 16c per hour to heat.
I am now of the belief that he is probably delusional.

So that is change number one for Himself. No more gratuitous heating of the spa, for his own hedonistic wallowing, every third night, without the benefit of some form of insulation.
If he does wish to continue this extravagant practice, he can consider doing it on a single income.
I'm actually not kidding here.

The second big change for all of us is the result of last Saturday's General Distraction, I mean Election.  We have a new Prime Minister and a new Government. Most interestingly we have a bunch of total nutcase losers holding the balance of power in the Senate! Three cheers for democracy and the stupidity of the general population.

This could be the reason.....

That's our Senate ballot paper. Trees died for this farcical attempt at proportional representation. In the polling booth it extended up one wall, across the desk area and up the next wall. No, really, it did. There were 73 candidates who hailed from parties as revered as: The Australian Motor Enthusiasts Party, The Shooters and Fishers Party, The Help End Marijuana Prohibition Party (HEMP),  The Climate Sceptics Party, The Smokers Rights Party and the Australian Sex Party. Not only did a kangaroo poo flinging representative from the Australian Motor Enthusiasts Party get himself elected with no less than 11390 votes (0.5% of the primary), but this gentleman was elected because his Party (The Liberal Democrats) was the first Liberal type party on the paper and were thus, seemingly, mistaken for the major mainstream Liberal Party by large numbers of punters in a hurry to get out of the polling booth and into the beautiful spring sunshine.

As one clever pundit quipped, "He was elected on a platform of 'people not looking very closely at their voting papers'!"

The gentleman in question, who is also a card carrying member of the Outdoor Recreation Party (??? having visions of nudists frolicking around a BBQ here!!), managed a massive 283,000 votes which is probably 280,000 more than he deserved - but there you go, he will be one of possibly 8 cross bench representatives controlling the balance of power in the Senate. Not surprisingly, there has been a general frothing at the mouth and gnashing of teeth - along with cries of 'electoral reform!' ringing around the halls of power (ie the bars where all the media types enjoy their communal talkfests). But really, you've got to wonder....I mean....The Brick With Eyes for goodness sakes????

On a cheerful note, those of us who felt that neither of the major parties had anything resembling a compassionate, humanitarian approach to the problem of refugees being exploited by people smugglers, mounted a minor protest by 'folding our votes like a boat'. No mean feat considering the size of that Senate Ballot paper!

Looks Like I Might Live...For Now Anyway :-)

(Taken whilst tidying up the costume storeroom....)

So this is me looking happy, which has been a bit of a rare occurrence in the last three months or so. Today I'm happy because, following the advice of Prof J and my other school friend Sailor Gal, I went and had a thorough medical. The good news is:

My blood pressure is normal ( no impending stroke then....)
My glucose is normal (not diabetes....)
My Liver and Kidney functions were normal....much to the surprise of my doctor when she heard of my Sav Blanc habit!
My Cholesterol is on the upper border (5.5) but still within normal range
My pap smear was normal and in a strange but procedural test pairing,
I do not have any STDs

The bad news is that I am 4kg over weight and Vitamin D deficient. Again. Last time I was Vitamin D deficient I worked in this basement. Those windows at the top opened onto yet another basement room. The school used to be a wine cellar and our classrooms were in the champagne cellars...(so I am reasonably informed by Himself whose first holiday job involved turning the champagne bottles 15 deg every hour....)

But anyway....that doesn't explain why I am Vitamin D deficient now! At the Wine School, all my 'duties' were in under cover areas and in winter I arrived and left in the dark. But now, I have three outdoor duties a week, I try to drink my coffee in the sun at least once a week...and summer is coming. So why am I still deficient? Sunscreen? General avoidance of the sun? Whatever. I'll take the pills and give the sunburn a miss  thanks....

So apart from being 4kg overweight I have a bit to smile about. I've booked my ticket to the UK, leaving December 16th! I'll be there for the entire school holiday, returning around Australia Day (Jan 26th) in time for the new school year. Just :-) ) And the BA has booked her ticket too! She's a little quicker off the mark and will depart October 1st.

This leaves Himself and his collection of Neanderthal sons to maintain a semblence of order whilst we are away.

I am considering Nanny Cam.
;-D

As My Ratings Plummet I Am Encouraged That Some People Love Me

I was somewhat freaked out by my recent Sitemeter statistics. In the past, my view ratings have remained fairly constant despite my flagging post numbers. Today however I noticed an unprecedented 30% drop in page views, a staggering body blow to the authorial ego. Upon checking my last post I noted that it has been 24 days since my last effort so really, I've gotta say...fair do-s guys. I actually need to lift my game.

I blame Small Boy of course. I pretty much blame him for everything nowadays. He has been back at his mum's for 5 weeks and I have noted a measurable drop in blood pressure and cursing. From me that is. Himself continues unabated.

I suppose I shouldn't be facetious. Life has been testing of late and that, I suppose, is the main reason I haven't been writing. Or taking pictures.

I did take this one the other day as I sat waiting for Al to turn up (or not) for his tutoring session.

I had warned him that he would need to go back to basics and we certainly have. I have challenged him, and his male African pride, in a biiiiiig way but I've got to say he has generally hung in there. I keep reminding him that if he did the on-line homework I set him he might progress faster; but he is a 21 year old, good looking, socially and financially pre-occupied young man and if that wasn't enough he has recently enrolled in uni! Half the time I think he would be just as happy to sit and chat as do any maths (now there's a surprise).  In the last few weeks he has cancelled once and let me down once. I sensed that he was becoming despondent as we ploughed over the same ground plus I knew he was going to be pretty fully occupied by his Uni course (he tells me it is a 'Creative Writing' course but after hearing his subjects yesterday I would say its probably some sort of Social Communications degree).

Stressed to the max by endless meetings and the in-school challenge of getting an autistic child to do anything resembling learning at all (see below*), I texted him yesterday to ask whether we were meeting. Previously I have made myself unconditionally available in an effort to reassure him that he could depend on me. This time, after a few hours of no response I suggested we could give it a miss. Just when I thought I was off the hook I got a text:
"Is everything okay?"
Of course I sucked it up and went in to meet with him.

Later when we discussed it he expressed concern for me but said " Mrs A, if you had just left it at the first text I would have been happy to have another night off. But because you sent me the second text I thought maybe you really wanted to come after all? My friend said I should just check you were ok and so I did."

My exceptionally tired brain didn't really deal with all this at the time but afterwards I thought about it and was stunned by his lack of comprehension of social cues. My first text had been clear: 'Are we meeting tonight. Don't mind if you need a break. Just let me know.'
His response to that was to think, 'oh, we aren't meeting tonight'...but no text to confirm. When I sent the second text 'I haven't heard from you but life is super crazy at the moment so if I don't hear anything from you I'll give it a miss tonight', he interpreted this as me wanting to come, rather than me trying to get off the hook!

This interests me because of the recently identified overlap between early neglect and abuse and autism. The autistic person, so much as they are able to reason, will surmise that since you said "are we meeting tonight?" and their answer was no, that you would automatically know this. Hence there is no need to text and confirm.  Now Al is definitely not autistic; a more forthcoming and people oriented person you could not find, but his early years spent in a refugee camp and his childhood of neglect and horror has definitely left a scar. In this misunderstanding he clearly exhibited some of the key signs of the disability incurred by his early childhood trauma. What concerns me is that if he makes these kind of mistakes with employers, he will have no idea why he has been sacked.

Anyway, the session was worth the effort because I think he saw some progress in himself last night. We are working at such a low level: two times tables; the relationship between fractions, decimals and percentage; word problems. Many times it is the words that trip him up. Last night he tackled some basic word problems around multiplication and division relatively confidently.
Of course when I threw in an addition and subtraction problem he was lost again but that is neither here nor there :-D  There was a brief lightbulb moment when he saw that 50/200 is the same as 25/100  and another when he was able to relate hundredths to tenths. It was one of those 'quick jump' nights when the last few have been plateaus.

At school I have had some moderate successes with an Asperger's student*; I'm going to call him Raymond. Raymond is a classic sensory seeker. He sniffs things, loves the sensation of a weighted cushion on his knees, leans into you for a cuddle and loves to have his back rubbed. If we don't do these things he lies on the floor and rolls around getting the sensation from there. He hates playdoh unless he is wearing gloves and is mortally afraid of making a mistake. Recently we have included him in a spelling group which has been an amazing blessing. Another group may have been incredibly disrupted but this little trio is phenomenally tolerant and have enabled him to feel somewhat normal by joining in with their activities. Yay!! (subdued celebration...just in case)

Finally, I sent an email out to staff a few nights ago, reminding them of a number of children in their classes with learning difficulties. I invited them to contact me if they had any problems or questions but to my surprise I got this:

1) Hi Arizaphale,

I just want to let you know that I think you are a truly remarkable woman. These emails that you regularly send out, your diligence and persistence in seeing needs met and gaps closed, and your gentle encouragement prompting teachers to keep on top of these issues, are all incredibly valuable and rare qualities that are so desperately needed.

I don’t ever want you to feel like you are not listened to, or that your work is in vain. As a mum of a child with Aspergers, and having had to witness his growing frustration and sadness in a school where he is not listened to, understood, or recognized, I felt it was important to tell you that what you are doing here is SO important. We are lucky to have you.

2) Love your work Arizaphale.   It is even helpful for Admin to have some idea – it just helps.

They are all very lucky to have you on their “team” A.

Xooxoxoxoxoxo   Bless the work of your hands abundantly! 

 

3) Thanks for all the care and  work you put into our kids Arizaphale.

We can’t always see what we reap but I think our kids lives reflect the love and consideration the Rainbow Rooms puts into these kids.

I was not expecting such a generous outpouring of thankfulness! It just served to remind me that the quiet beavering we do is actually bearing fruit. Tomorrow I have two important meetings, a transition meeting with another young African man in Year 12 and a Personal Learning Plan meeting with one of our indigenous pupils. Both are new ideas which I have not tackled previously so I am praying that I have the sensitivity and expertise to ensure that they are worthwhile and productive meetings.

Meanwhile in a frenzy bordering on ecstasy I have booked my tickets for my trip to the UK this Christmas. I cannot tell you how excited I am!!!!

Tattoo You

I have just spent a ridiculously large amount of time trying to identify times in my blog life where I talked about tattoos.

#fail

So for those of you who are new to the conversation, my generic approach is TATTOOS ARE BAD...YOU CANNOT TAKE THEM OFF!!!!!!!

BUT

Back when Himself and I went to the Lake Boga Sailing Regatta, I had a conversation with a young person which gave me pause.

Me: People just don't realise that the things they tattoo on themselves now, won't be appropriate or relevant as time goes by.
Her: But sometimes they tattoo significant hings like birthdates and things aboutnpeople who die...they are always relevant
Me: yes, I suppose so, but...it's something done in the heat of the moment. They don't know that they'll still want that emblazoned across them in years to come.
Her: hmm.. I guess... but if its something you really really feel strongly about..

I was about to scoff furiously at the idea of something which one felt strongly about now, as opposed to 30 years time, when a lightning bolt hit me in the head..........

There was actually something which I had carried with me for 40 years, which I still felt the same way about (if not more so) and which may actually be worthy of a tattoo.

And so I posted on my facebook status: 'if I reach the age of 90 I will get a tattoo of the Rolling Stones tongue logo over my heart', which prompted my sister to suggest that it may look somewhat obscene!

The really weird thing is that I'm still thinking of it. It may be the one thing I have been continually passionate about for over 30 years

My key objection to tattoos is that the sweet babies that get them have no idea what they really think about life, the universe, and everything and therefore have no business tattooing their current thoughts/whim/obsessions onto their person. Whenever I see a sports person with a sleeve tattoo I wonder what it will look like in 40 years and I wonder whether they will have sought laser removal techniques by then.

I also hope that I've followed my gut and bought shares in laser removal companies.

Hamburger and Fries!

 The all singing, all dancing, fast food musical opened on Wednesday night!

At the risk of getting myself into all sorts of trouble with posting pictures of students, here is a brief snapshot of the opening night of the musical.

I have since put a logo on the front of the french fries box which is a whole other story as I managed to seal up the inside of the costume by not using an ironing board and therefore melting the two lining sheets of plastic together so that the poor girl couldn't get into her costume until I cut it apart. As a result the inside of the thing is shredded but hey! It only has to last for one more performance :-)

The last photo I love because these two were so professional. The young man is one of the most lovely, solid young fellows I've ever had the pleasure to deal with, and that's not just because I know his mum! He has a girlfriend (who found this whole kissing scene very difficult) but when asked by the director to go in for the kiss, there was minimum fuss and the two of them did it in a very businesslike, though believable in the context of the story, manner! I was impressed.

The Burger costume has caused me some grief as we cannot stop it from dragging at the front and falling forwards through the song. At the end of the day I supposed it doesn't really matter but I would have liked to solve the problem. Last night we spent an hour sewing loops onto the back of the front bun, so the ties from behind could go through the front loops as well. It made absolutely zero difference. Oh well. Any ideas would be gratefully appreciated. The problem is that the front bun is so much heavier than the back one.

I have also yet to find an adhesive which works effectively on the fuzzy material, to secure the sesame seeds. I am constantly picking up a trail of them from the stage and surrounds after the show. I suppose I should have sewn them on.....

So after tonight, I can pack up the sweatshop again and say farewell to the theatre for another two years. I really should try and get involved in some amateur theatrics around town myself sometime. My own family does not count. That is more like soap opera.

Looking For The Laughing Place

I know I have been threatening to tell you about the 'big falling out' with Small Boy but there is so much to say on that subject and I choke on the thought of much of it. So here's another thing:

Tonight the Baby Angel bussed back into Adelaide after 10 days with Soldier Boy's family in the country town of Tocumwal. She was tired but happy and as we drove home she started to tell me all about it.
"Mum, they are such a great family. They're like the Brady Bunch. They never fight or anything!"
Suddenly she fell silent and I glanced over at her to see eyes choked with huge, fat tears.
"Don't worry mum," her voice wavered,"It's just end of holiday blues."
But I knew that wasn't really it.
They are the Brady Bunch and we are the Munsters. Actually, the Munsters are probably better adjusted than our family. It's like a knife through my heart.

Part of me feels a terrible guilt for not being able to provide her with a 'normal' family situation. It was never my intention to be a single mother for 10 years or to only have an only child, or to be a step mother to three deeply troubled young men. The other part of me shares her grief. I too miss the easy familiarity of close family and the shared life of close friends. We have never quite nailed that here.

The most ironic and gut wrenching aspect of this is that Small Boy's mother has the social life I crave. She has a group of close friends who all congregate at her house on a Friday night where all kinds of hilarity and 'goodtimes' ensue. I know this because Himself goes there. After the 'big falling out', Small Boy did not come to stay with us for a long time and as a result Himself was forced to make the effort to go over to SBM's place to connect with SB on a weekly basis.

Initially I was delighted that Himself was making the effort and, presumably, connecting with Small Boy in a possibly more meaningful way than he did here at our place. After all, he couldn't simply sit at a computer and work.....Initially it was quite nice having an evening to myself as well, I mean, I am quite capable of entertaining myself. But then the BA started to drive. And took my car to work on a Friday night. And suddenly the evil beast 'Resentment' reared its head.

After all, Himself is a self confessed hermit who operates happily in a bubble as long as he knows his 'other half' is somewhere around. He doesn't necessarily need to interact with said 'other half'. So how is it fair that Bubble Man is going regularly on a Friday night to enjoy the company of others whilst Social Girl is sitting at home watching DVDs, drinking copious quantities of 'soothe yourself' vintage and wondering where the f*** she went wrong with this picture!!!!!!

So, when the BA breaks down and expresses a longing for an integrated family and friends group (something like the mother of Small Boy has) my heart breaks too.

And deep down  know I have the capacity to develop these networks and establish this social network.

I need to do it. For the BA and I.

The rest of them can muddle on regardless.