ohb

from last week, i'll catch up one of these days

Sitting in the new 'Old Bank' downstairs, looking out at the lighthouse and the endless shades of green, nothing white in sight, apart from old Sue here (the ibook). Home is home, only that its not, really. It has the feel of a holiday home, everything is new and bright and reasonably clean. I've assumed the role of Mom's washing fairy again and have been in and out to the line all day, nice easy physical work, refreshing. I was back in school yesterday, I don't even have my bag unpacked yet, but sure the money will be handy. I was confronted with one of the classes I used to teach regularly when I was there last, I was convinced that they would have left by now, but no such luck. "Are you back Miss, we thought you were staying in Russia! Did you have loads of vodka? Did you bring us back any?" After struggling to stop them playing cards, I managed to get them talking about mobile phones and why people buy them, a bit of a tenuous link to their communications module, but its better that a game of a hundred and ten. I had a group of first years, they're the best, I wish I could teach first years forever, they're still at the stage where they hold out a bit of respect for their teacher and are interested in learning. though give them another few months and they'll be too cool for their own good. One of the kids I used to baby-sit as a teenager and I have vivd memories of her puking on my jumper after a feed, needless to say she didn't remember. They were studying the different types of newspapers which suited me perfectly. I gave them a list of words on the board (Roy Keane, aggressive, divorce, Britany Spears etc.) with a points system and told them to write a short piece for either a tabloid or a broadsheet and we would have to guess which paper it was for. It worked really well, I was very impressed with myself and it was with this slight smugness and sense of achievement that I walked like a lamb to the slaughter to my last class. Ah it wasn't that bad really, they (Transition years) were supposed to be writing a play, some of them did, the others I allowed to chat quietly about football and talked to a group of girls about what they wanted to do after school. One of the girls wanted to do something in media, I didn't disparage her, perhaps i should have.

posted by orlagh @ 6:33 pm