Tag: work

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#AtoZchallenge Blogging challenges Christianity More about me teaching

26 lessons from God’s metaphors: #7

As a teacher for *cough* over twenty *cough* years, I’ve had a few student teachers in that time. You know, the people who study ‘teaching’ at Uni, who come and practice teaching for a few weeks, or months, to learn the ropes of how a classroom operates. Or should.

Some of those student teachers were fantastic. Dedicated, willing to learn, like little sponges eager to hear and absorb ‘the pearls of wisdom that dropped from my lips’. (Ha! I just quoted from my own Film and TV teacher, from my own days as a Senior. She was a fervent teacher, Nicky Bricknell.)

Other student teachers? Not so much.

But when it boiled down to it, they weren’t in charge. I was. The responsibility for the cherubs in my classes lay entirely with me.

Likewise with God.

FullSizeRender (3)In the book of John, chapter 10, verses 11 to 14, Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me.”

I like the idea that I’m not in the class where the student teacher has assumed entire responsibility. I’m in the class where my teacher is the Head Honcho. So I can be confident that my needs – all of them! – will be attended to. He’ll look after me, because I belong to Him.

And that’s my takeaway lesson for Day 7. Because God is the GOOD shepherd, I can be confident. (And if you’re interested in seeing what BAD shepherding is like, and how God feels about it, read Ezekiel 34. But be warned: He doesn’t like it!)

So on that note, have a great day, dear reader!

— KRidwyn

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family anecdotes More about me teaching Work

What I learned, going bald

This time last year, I did it. I shaved my head.

I’d always said I would, you know. I’d wondered what being bald might feel like, since I hit double digits. I’d always imagined a sense of freedom; the chance to ‘reinvent myself’ as it were; the ability to start afresh; be a new me; be who I wanted to be; and so on and so forth, with all the gush which comes from being young and living life intensely.

Screen Shot 2016-03-20 at 8.40.01 pmAs the years went by, I still wondered about it. Then all of a sudden, I realised I was getting older. (Took a while. Dumb, I know.) Which meant, if I wanted to shave my head and NOT have people think I actually *did* have cancer, the years were running out for me to get around to doing it.

Screen Shot 2016-03-20 at 8.39.42 pmSo last year, at 40, I did it. I shaved my head.

“This will be a once-in-a-lifetime thing!” I insisted to my extremely unimpressed Hubby. It didn’t reassure him.

“It’ll grow back!” I told my children; my own three cherubs, and the 400 plus primary school students I teach on a weekly basis. They weren’t sure they believed me. Neither was I, to tell the truth.

I did it anyway.

It grew back. Slowly.

This is Shave plus One Year.

IMG_0945

So – was it all I hoped for? Alas, no. Is anything?

In hindsight, I spent too long allaying the fears of others to relish the moment. And that’s okay – I’m not sure if I really did enjoy the experience as much as I hoped I would. There wasn’t too much re-inventing of myself happening, that’s for sure…

The attention was enjoyable, sure. I mean, who doesn’t like that? And it certainly was novel; I’d never in a million years realised I’d need to unstick my head from the car headrest, where my spiky regrowth had attached me like Velcro!

Just the other day, staff at my school shaved their heads again. I watched, remembering.

I won’t do it again. I was happy with the funds I raised, and pray for a cure, and am satisfied with my contributions to the cause thus far. But I shan’t shave my head again. And my family are happy about that.

How about you – have you ever shaved your head? Would you?

Categories
Life random scribblings teaching

On death and other such stuff…

So I wrote last week about motivations; what’s the *real* reason behind people – and characters in novels – doing what they do. Is it all explainable? If so, then is it forgiveable? When is a crime a crime? All that kind of thing. I was trying to puzzle out how to go about writing a torture scene for my current WIP (Work in Progress). I was concerned that, having had zero experience with torturing someone – physically, anyway; I’m fairly sure that I hurt people emotionally in my past, and I’m sorry and I regret it – and having zero experience also of being tortured physically, that my writing of a torture scene would be just simply inane. How could I write something successfully when I had – you guessed it, zero! – first hand experience? Yes, imagination is all well and good, but in my opinion it’s not good enough when potential readers *have* real experience of torture, and who may find my treatment of it inane, hurtful, derogatory, deprecating. So I was worried.

And so, after several hours stewing, chewing my nails about it, and so on, I did the only thing I could do. I needed a torture scene, so I sat down and wrote it. As best I could. I guess it’s just a wait-and-see what my beta-readers think of it when I finally get it to them, huh?

I had death on my mind rather more than normal this week. Not only because I wrote my first ever torture scene, in which the character died as a consequence, but also because my doctor suggested it to me on Monday. You see, I was finalising the paperwork for Mr6’s future autism allied health visits, and needed his signature. He signed away happily, then looked at me, and asked how I was going. If I was sick at all. I said yes, I’d been sick since last Thursday, and it had gone through the throat on fire and the runny nose, to my chest. He said, “Come on in, let’s check you out” and ushered me into his office quite smartly. I was surprised, I didn’t have an appointment. Long story short, I was at 50% lung capacity and hadn’t realised. He’d asked me what my athsma was normally like, when I wasn’t having an attack like I was right then. I replied that I wasn’t having an attack, that my breathing had been like that all day. He was very, very concerned. I explained that my reason (there’s that word again!) for not using my ventolin was that, whenever I use it when I have a headcold, the ventolin reacts badly with that nodule on my vocal cords, and I end up with laryngitis for AGES. The last time, it took over 6 weeks to clear. And as a 0.7FTE teacher, I can’t afford to lose my voice.

He said, “Just imagine if you got to the stage where you’re down to only 30%, and you’re in the shower, with all the humidity, trying to get air in, and then something triggered an attack. I’d hate to think what might happen.” Which made me think. Seeing as my husband regularly works a ridiculous-number-of-hours-week, I’m primary care-giver to my three gorgeous cherubs. And I would hate them to be traumatised by one of them finding me curled up on the floor of the bathroom, turning blue, gasping for air, at 10pm at night [not to mention I couldn’t afford the therapist fees], so I reluctantly agreed. Laryngitis versus death. I guess one is infinitely preferable to the other.

I was amused, initially, at how ‘serious’ it all was… until it occurred to me that having only 50% lung capacity was kinda like I’d been walking around and doing stuff with just one lung. So I did as the doc suggested. I bought my own Peak Flow meter (my God, those things are expensive!!!) and have been diligently taking my meds (so much for the ‘drowsy’ side effects; I’ve had insomnia all week) and my stats have slowly risen from the 240 which I blew Monday afternoon, and the low of 150 that I got to on Monday night, back up to the 340 mark. Which is good. Someone of my height should be blowing at around 480, apparently, so I’m getting there.

So yes, death has preoccupied me a little. This morning though, I’m more thinking about pain. Because for the first time in a few weeks, I did my Krav Maga session yesterday morning. And boy, oh boy, am I feeling it today!

Have a great week, dear reader!

— KRidwyn

Categories
family anecdotes Life teaching

On devices and syllables

I assembled Mr6’s desk the other weekend. It came as a flatpack, so I spent quite some time in his bedroom, with an Allen key, bruising my thumbs and pointer fingers. Mr6 visited me from time to time, to watch. I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling when one of his comments was that his desk was ‘loading’. If anything was indicative that devices (and the terminology associated with them) are colouring his world, that was it!

Something else of note during Mr 6’s last week. As his school music teacher, I get to see him with his classmates, and teach them all, the fundamentals of music 😀 😀 😀

Last week, we were discussing various pictures, and whether they were one syllable words (eg. sun) or two syllable words (rabbit) in preparation for the differences between crotchets and quavers.

My Mr6 was the only student in the whole of his grade (three classes worth) who worked out that ‘owl’ was a two syllable word, instead of just looking at it and assuming that it was just one, because of its length. Cool, hey!

 

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#blogjune

sore

We extended our house recently.The new section was tiled, and Hubby and I had always planned – once the extension was finished and we were in – to tile the original house to match. So the first week of the school holidays was decided upon, and the tiler booked, the tiles ordered and the deposit paid.

The tiles arrived at 5.13pm on Friday. The tiler came over this afternoon (Sunday) to drop off some glue, tools etc, ready for tomorrow. And we opened a packet and checked the tiles. Only to find that we were looking at 95 square metres of the wrong tile. Not happy! Not happy at all!!!

Fortunately, the tiler is very easy-going, and has other work that he can go on with tomorrow, while we get this mess sorted out. And that’ll also give me another day or so to continue moving the furniture (man oh man, do we have a lot of it!!!) and rip up the carpet and the vinyl.

Yay for sore backs, is all I can say.

Here’s hoping that the tile-sorting-out-mess goes smoothly tomorrow – and you have yourself a great day too, dear reader!

— KRidwyn

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#blogjune Random thoughts teaching Work

four days behind…

And I was so proud of how I’d been going with #blogjune this year, too! I guess I hadn’t really realised just how incredibly busy I would be this week. And how little time I’d get to blog. And I’m sad about that.

On paper, this past week seemed a fairly normal week. Sure, I’d have our school’s semester one performance night on Thursday night, but then I’d have Friday off, so I’d be able to recuperate while the kids were at school, and get myself ready for the two weeks of school holidays 🙂

But the reality didn’t match my expectations. Two days of sports carnivals and not-as-helpful-as-I-would-have-liked colleagues meant that although I had *planned* that the performance program order was finalised by Tuesday 9am, so that programs could be written, printed, photocopied, and the powerpoint made… in reality, the program order was only finalised at 12.45pm on Thursday. Dealing with this caused numerous headaches – and the sleepless nights caused by a sick child, and stress over other work issues didn’t make things easier.

Cue swearing and throwing of inanimate objects at other inanimate objects,  (discreetly, of course, where there was noone within earshot, no witnesses, and no harm came to any of the inanimate objects involved,) and a crazy-busy period between 12.45pm and 4pm on Thursday where I managed to get an insanely huge amount of work done WHILE running a choir rehearsal then two Year 3 lessons where the classes were learning and playing recorder (and, of course, fielding several phone calls during this time too) and also collecting two children from their various excursions that had happened that day, and getting Mr6 off to a doctor appointment with Hubby while Miss10 also decided to do a disappearing act on both Hubby and I… just thinking about it, two days later, makes me shake my head and wonder how on earth it all managed to happen! Still, it did, and by 5.45pm, Miss10 and Miss7 and I were fed, ready, and they had also helped me to set up the venue (including supper area, of course, and it was at this point that I realised that I had NO tea, coffee, milk or sugar organised. Whoops.) Cue more swearing (inside my head because students and parents were arriving for the 6pm performance) and some immensely helpful parents, and then it was 6.02 and I was on stage, welcoming everyone to our major evening for Semester One.

Home and collapse by 11pm. But you know those nights when you have so much adrenalin you can’t sleep? That.

And then Hubby couldn’t do the school run on Friday, so the kids stayed underfoot all day. But 95 square metres of tiles *did* get delivered at 5.15pm that day, ready for laying starting 7am this coming Monday, so from then til this minute, I’ve been attempting to empty 95 square metres of furniture out of my house so that the tiles can be laid. And that particular task hasn’t been anywhere near as successful as I’d like it to have been.

So. Four days late for my 24 of June #blogjune entry. Whoops. But I think my excuse is valid, yes?

Have a great day, dear reader!

— KRidwyn

 

Categories
family anecdotes Random thoughts

Raising kids #2

So I posted yesterday my Number One parenting tip: rewards first. The second however, follows closely behind…

Tip #2: stuff costs money.

We know this. We all know it. You get what you pay for in life. Want a new car? Or a house? A holiday? A meal at a nice restaurant? You can have them all – but you need to pay for them. If you’re in the market for a car, and you like Toyota Landcruisers but only have $10K to spend, it’s far more likely that the car you end up buying looks more like Mr Bean’s than you’d like it too.

Likewise, my kids understand the value of things. They understand… because they can be quick learners when they have the incentive to be!

I mentioned yesterday that my kids earn points (and therefore money) by ticking off chores on the app Choremonster. This gives them money to spend.

It also gives them money to lose, on taxes.

Yes, you read that right. Taxes.

Stuff costs money. Including stuff that kids should be responsible for, themselves.

My kids know that they need to pick up after themselves; put things away where they should go.

They also are aware that, when people move house, for example, they pay someone to help them move.

This is what I have in my house.

Mr 6 can’t be bothered moving his bike from where he left it, back to where it should live? That’s fine. I’ll move it for him, and he’ll pay me for the privilege. Moving tax. Miss7 continually leaves her Wii remote on the lounge? Fine, but if it’s still there when I need to sit down, I’ll need to move it and she’ll pay a moving tax. Miss 10, towel on the floor? Fine again – but it incurs a moving tax if she expects me to do it for her.

It’s brilliant; I love it. The kids know that they need to be responsibile, otherwise they’ll end up paying for the privilege of being lazy. And it’s not a set sum. Wii remotes are generally only 20 cents, but moving a bike can be up to $5 (we have a large property). And it adds up! When Miss7 takes off her school uniform and leaves it all on the floor, then that can be 20c for the left shoe, 20c for the right shoe, 20c per sock, 20c for the shirt, 20c for the shorts – that’s $1.20 just for the uniform! Watch out if she’s left her homework folder, school bag, lunchbox etc on the floor as well!

They only do it once.

And taxes don’t just apply to moving things. I have a ‘lights tax’ (for when they leave their bedroom light on) and also a ‘laundering clean clothes tax’ (this one is mainly for Miss10, I must admit). I’ve told her that if she lets her clean school shirt falls off the hanger and onto the floor of her wardrobe, and she then assumes that because it’s on the floor then it’s dirty, and she puts in the laundry ready to be washed again, then that’s fine. I’m happy to wash her perfectly clean shirt, and she needs to be happy to pay me $3 for the privilege. She’s been more careful since she tried that one!

It also applies to food. If my kids want to leave their sandwich crusts, they can. But they can also help me pay for the loaf of bread that they’re choosing to waste. 5 cents per crust is our going rate. And that way, it’s their choice. They can eat their food, or they can pay to leave it. It’s fair, and it cuts out arguments.

Right now, you’re probably thinking, ‘that’s tough’. Yes, possibly so. But my kids are learning that Mummy won’t always be there for them. They’re learning that stuff costs, and things have value.

So many kids today don’t understand that, I’ve noticed. My kids do.

And the way I see it, they’re going to have to learn it one day! May as well be now.

So anyway, that’s my tip #2.

And here’s hoping that you have a lovely rest-of-the-day, dear reader!

Yours,

KRidwyn

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#blogjune my novel-in-progress Reading teaching

Keeping it at bay…

The laryngitis, that is. Well, so far. But I’m teaching for the rest of the week, so let’s just see how that goes, huh? I find that the constant swapping from speaking to singing voice (that’s an integral part of classroom music teaching in a Primary school) is such a strain on it; far more than it ever was in a High school. But maybe that’s just me.

But anyway, on to yesterday. So I edited the first 12 chapters of my book – now the first 11 chapters. And I was pretty happy with that. 30 chapters to go.

I also found some research that I was doing over 10 years ago. For my first ever historical novel. And there’s HEAPS of it – five folders full, in fact! So I’ve been thinking that I might start that piece again. See how it goes, you know? So I read it all through, and that inspired me to continue the research last night. Head back to original sources, back to the Latin versions, etc etc etc. Supremely interesting stuff!

So the plan for today is: not lose my voice. Edit 10 more chapters. And maybe dig some more into the history of Autun. Because I can 🙂

Have a great day, reader!

— KRidwyn

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#blogjune family anecdotes my novel-in-progress teaching

On the relationship between libraries, teaching, and vocal nodules

I’ve been teaching ever since I can remember. Well, not when I was 4, or 5, or thereabouts. Of course. But since my early teens, I’ve been earning money teaching. Back then, it was teaching violin to children who’d just started learning, and whose parents wanted private lessons. It was easy enough – I knew how to play, and passed this knowledge on. At 21, I got formal qualifications in the field, and went on to teach kids as young as four, to students older than me, in subjects that varied from English and Music to Drama, Geography, Christian Studies, History, Dance – and there was also a Sex. Ed. semester long unit in the late 1990’s – to a class of Year Ten boys!

My younger brother commented once, “You’re such a born teacher!” He’d been staying with Hubby and I, and all of us were in our late twenties. I’d just finished teaching a private violin student, and was helping her to count out change from the money she’d paid me. Rather than just giving her the money (4 or 5 coins), I had asked her to count it as I put the coins, one by one, into her hand. My brother watched this, laughed and shook his head, and made the comment – which has stuck with me ever since. I realised that, ‘Yes, I am. Teaching is something that I love doing. Imparting knowledge, helping children develop skills, watch them develop attitudes – hopefully positive ones! That’s what I love.’

Back in 2010, I decided to qualify myself as a Librarian. So that, when my children were old enough to go to school, I could return to full-time work as a Teacher Librarian.

Life didn’t work out quite like that. I’m back at work, on a 7-day fortnight, in a permanent teaching role. And my kids are all at school. Those Library qualifications, earned last December, are just that. Qualifications. At the moment.

But the good thing is that I’m only working a 7-day fortnight. Which means that, every Monday for a while now, I’ve been able to volunteer in a Library for a few hours. And I love it!!! In fact, I would love to be heading there this morning. That’s what I was planning to do. And I was planning to blog this afternoon about it.

But again, life intervened. This morning, it was in the form of that annoying nodule on my vocal cords which sometimes decides to make its presence known. I developed it about six years ago, when I lost my voice for over three months. It was pretty bad. Speech therapy worked wonders though – however, at certain points in time, when I’m sick, it must feel neglected or something, and so it flares up. And that’s what has happened today.

I know that if I don’t rest it, it’ll get angrier and angrier, and I’ll lose my voice for longer than just a few days. So, unfortunately, home is the only place I’ll be at today. Home, and quiet. No Library time for me. And that makes me sad. But it can’t be helped.

On the upside though, I guess, I’ll be able to get stuck into that children’s book that I finished some weeks back. The one that I’ve been procrastinating editing. Because all the advice that I’ve read says: ‘leave it for a month’; ‘wait, let it rest’; ‘return to it with fresh eyes’. Or maybe it’s just because I’m scared. I don’t want to edit it! I’ve never edited a full work of mine before… because I’ve never written a full work before! But today’s lack-of-voice provides a perfect opportunity, so I’d best not waste it.

Hold me to it, dear reader! And have a great day yourself!

— KRidwyn

Categories
teaching Work

Today…

Today I watched children perform. I watched them turn sing, dance, do gymnastics. I watched them support each other, applaud each other, and do this voluntarily. I watched older children organise, compere, stage crew, and sound crew.

This would not have happened without my instigating it. Teaching the older children how to run it. Supervising. Smoothing over the (very few) rough patches.

It was beautiful.

I loved every second.

Sometimes, life is just wonderful.

Here’s wishing your day is just as wonderful, dear reader!

— KRidwyn