Tomorrow is the start of a new week.

Last week made the week before look like a holiday. School has been absolutely horrendous, again, and for the first time I actually do not want to go in tomorrow. I'm trying to stay positive, something that normally comes easily, and convince myself that a new week, new start and all that jazz but I just can't. I hate my job.

Actually, that's not true. I love my job, I love the kids... I just hate where I'm doing it. I can't begin to explain why, but all I know is that my school is not driven by the kids and that the longer I spend there, the more sorry I feel for the kids.

I mean, I work at a primary school where the children aren't allowed to run on the playground.

Enough said.

But this week will be better. It has to be because I can't have another week like the last two. I will not cry every day, I will stop losing weight because of the stress, I will eat properly and my hair will stop falling out. I will, I will, I will...

Theology according to seven-year-olds.

Another little gem from some children in my class.

Child A: "I wonder who will win next week. I bet it will be the boys."
Child B: "You don't know that, only God knows."
Child A: "Yeah but God is getting really old. That's why he doesn't look after everyone very well any more and why there are lots of hungry children and bad things that happen."
Child B: "Oh that makes sense, because I was wondering why if God was so nice why horrible things happened."
Child A: "Well now you know for sure."
Child B: "Yeah, thanks for that."

Only a seven-year-old could come up with such a flawless explanation. I love them!

The "goodbye"s have started.

I said my first goodbye last night, to my Rainbow and Brownie unit, after we realised we would have to cancel next week's meeting. It was really very sad, I love those crazy little kids and I'll miss them and our adventures. In the last three years we've been on pack-holidays, we've had an over-night stay at the National Marine Aquarium and we've spent days at theme parks, making dens, carol singing, going to jamborees... I could sit and list the things we've done all night, and just feel more and more sad with each minute. I really will miss them and the other leaders. To say my Tuesday nights will feel empty now may only be a slight over-exaggeration.

One of the girls in particular I will miss, S. I've known her since she was a Rainbow and I've watched her grow up despite her battles. She has severe ADHD and this has always meant she has struggled to integrate. She latched on to me a couple of years ago and I've had the privilege of working with her since then, either encouraging her participation or finding other things for us to do. We've had some fun making things from kilts to fairy dust and, acting on the spur-of-the-moment, running around the church doing crayon rubbings, and it's so nice as a teacher to have time like this with a child like her - if she were in my class I would, more than likely, be so concerned that her reading and writing were below expectation that I would never have time to embrace her interests and channel her creativity like this and we have had the most fun doing it.

Maybe that's a point for my future professional development, maybe I need to approach children like her in this way despite the formal education which would only ever constrain her progress. Maybe I should treat all children like S sometimes and just give them time to do what they want. Although in the foundation stage things tend to be more like this, but it's still a point I need to consider for next year. And maybe, just maybe, I should take a life lesson from her and give myself time to just do what I want, rather than feeling the need to fit into a routine. I know routines are one of my anxiety-management strategies, but maybe it's time to push past this and embrace life and it's spontaneity. Maybe S has helped me more than I will ever help her.

This is exactly why I love working with children.

And this is exactly why I'm not done with my voluntary work yet. Yes, it will be taking a hiatus for the next few years for my career to take full focus, but I will come back to it. Children keep you young, they keep things interesting and they open doors you forgot were even there. So call it a goodbye, but it's only a goodbye for now. This lot will all be grown up by the time I come around again, but I will go back. Girl guiding is a wonderful organisation, it brings so much to children and I'd highly recommend volunteering - it will bring a lot to you too.

I'll miss all of you sweethearts.

Bonfires and den-making.

When I move away, it never occurred to me that I would miss this lot, but I really will. You see, I've been a Rainbow and Brownie guider for the last three years and as much as the Rainbows are very excitable and the Brownies can be rude and loud, they are so much fun. Even despite the fact I was in a dreadful mood today, a few hours with them running around a forest making dens and cooking sausages around a campfire and I had the biggest smile on my face. They can be little monsters, and I'm sure if you quoted me on this at 4am when we're having a 'sleep'over that I would retract this, but mostly they are all lovely. The Rainbows in particular I'm attached to, they are so little and sweet, evidence if you needed anything that little girls really are made of sugar and spice and all things nice. We took them to the Build A Bear factory yesterday which was great fun too, so all in all, it's been a happy smiley week thanks to them. I really, really will miss them.

Although I wish I had taken a picture to show you of the new Rainbow bear, Jelly Bean. She really is... something else. Unique, I think you could say...

Anyway, I was very pleased to log on today and find I've been awarded my first blog award from Missy, who's blog you can (and should) check out here. I'm very excited, and even more so to receive the award from the blogger who's new posts I look forward to the most.

So in line with the rules, here are my seven random facts about myself:

1) I've never seen Mary Poppins, the Wizard of Oz or the Sound of Music, which I am led to believe is quite weird.

2) When I was four-years-old, my Mum mixed some medicine into a strawberry milkshake to make me take it and it made me sick. Even to this day, the smell of strawberry milkshake/ice cream alone will make me physically sick, I have such a strong aversion.

3) When I was 16, I had absolutely no friends and turned to the internet for solace. Since then, I've had the most amazing set of online friends with whom I would trust my life, despite having only met them once/twice.

4) I bought my own set of board markers for school because schools never provide you with purple ones.

5) I'm not scared of the dark, I'm scared of what might be there that I can't see. My imagination is far too overactive sometimes...

6) If I ever want to smile, the surefire way is to put on some good, 90s children's programmes and suddenly, with a cup of tea and a biscuit in my hand, I feel as innocent and free as I did when I watched them the first time.

7) If reincarnation is true, I want to be a cat in my next life. They have the most amazing lifestyle, they rule their own lives, do what they want when they want and can sleep through pretty much anything. Sounds perfect. (Or should I say purrfect... oh I know, I couldn't miss that opportunity, could I?!)

And now to pass on the award seven times over:

Sy's Prints

A Day in My Wheels

Eat Your Veggies

In This Box of Goodies

Together for the Better

Smallgirl Towers

Introducing: Me

Now, I must stop procrastinating and I must get on with my essay. I had such a productive day today, unfortunately being in a bad mood is better for my productivity, so lets see if tomorrow can be both a happy and beneficial day. One more essay to go, 8 days left and then university is done forever!

Why I became a teacher.

I just read a blog post from a fellow trainee teacher which inspired me to write about my own motivations for going into teaching. Thanks for the inspiration (have a look here)

When I was 8 years old, our family moved 200 miles and I had to start at a new school. I moved into a school which was nearly 5 times bigger than my old one and was plonked into a new class bigger than my old one. I was assigned some 'friends' who would show me around, be nice to me etc by my class teacher, Mrs Bullock.

She was horrible. Two out of the three girls she put me with were nasty bullies.

And needless to say, I had a very unhappy year. My teacher assumed we were all just typically bickering little girls, rather than dealing with the issue and she saw me as the problem because I was the last one into the little friendship group. I remember crying myself to sleep most nights and day dreaming about moving back to my old school where I was happy. In order to deal with me, all 90 children in the year group were mixed up when we moved onto year 5, so that I wouldn't bother those children again.

An extract from the school report she wrote about me. I still can't read it without feeling awful.

After half a term in year 5, the bullying was still going on in the playground. But this time I had a lovely teacher whom I adored and for the first time since moving, she realised what was really going on. I still remember vividly the day she marched me down the corridor to the other year 5 class, pulled the two bullies out and shouted at them. I stood behind her and cried, but cried with happiness that it was finally over, and I loved my teacher ever more for that. The rest of the year was lovely, I made new friends and made much better progress. I still believe to this day that everything I am as a person is because of her.

Much better :)

The next year I remember sitting in an assembly with my new year 6 class. The theme for the assembly was 'Special Things' and it was my old year 5 teacher who stood up to speak. She held up a little green fish - the little green fish that I had bought for her when I went on holiday to Cyprus - and told everyone how special and loved it made her feel when she had been given the present.

I sat there right then and decided that I wanted to be a teacher because if I could be even half the amazing teacher that she was and could make a child any where near as happy as she had made me, then what better way could there be to spend the rest of my life? That desire never left me.

So throughout my secondary schooling, I did work experience in schools whenever I had the chance. When I was at sixth form, I volunteered in my old school one day a week, and after my exams finished I did another full week.

I turned up on the Monday morning of that week, rubbed my hands together and asked "So, what's happening this morning?". The teacher I was working with then told me that over the weekend, a girl in the year above her class had died and that the headteacher was holding an assembly first thing this morning to tell the school.

This assembly was, without a doubt, the worse experience of my life. As we walked in, the class the girl was in were already sat at the front crying. The school filed in and the news was broken. Many of the other year 5 children cried, some from other years who knew her did too. And then, and I don't think with hindsight this was his best idea, the headteacher started to talk a bit about grief. He began by saying, "now, it's natural when we lose someone we love to miss them very much. Some of you may have already experienced this, you may have lost a granny or a grandad, maybe even a dog or your favourite hamster..." and suddenly, every child in the room which was already tense with emotion, was thinking of someone they had lost. And everyone cried, all 450 children, all the teachers, teaching assistants... everyone. It was horrible. 

We went back to the classroom and the children finished off some art work. At break time we sent them all out as usual, but three children from the bereft year 5 class came to speak to myself and the teaching assistant to ask if they could go into the stock cupboard and get some paper and card to make a 'memory book' for the girls family. They all had so many ideas and were so positive about remembering the good things about her rather than the tragedy, and I sat with them for the rest of the day printing photos, sticking in things other children wrote, helping them with drawings and putting the book together. Their attitude was truly inspiring, they were so positive and uplifting whilst the grown ups were sat in the staff room crying over sweet tea. I really felt then that not only do I have so much to give to children, but they have so much to give to me! Children kick grown ups asses so so often, if we can be a bit more like then life would be so so much better.

That day I went home and filled in my university application.

And here I am, four years later, with my own class waiting for me in September. Is it any wonder I can't wait? :)