Quote of the day.

“It often occurs that pride and selfishness are muddled with strength and independence. They are neither equal nor similar; in fact, they are polar opposites. A coward may be so cowardly that he masks his weakness with some false personification of power. He is afraid to love and to be loved because love tends to strip bare all emotional barricades. Without love, strength and independence are prone to losing every bit of their worth; they become nothing more than a fearful, intimidated, empty tent lost somewhere in the desert of self.”

- Criss Jami

Haircut time again.

Hair cut time. Every 8-10 weeks it comes around, and each time I still hate my hairstyle and decide I want a change. Since the age of 16, I don't think I've had the same haircut for more than 3 months before changing it/growing it out/cutting it short and even when I do find a hairstyle I like, I soon get bored of it and go hunting for something else to try. I have never been able to understand those people who have had the same hairstyle for years, even when it suits them really well, how do they not get bored of it? Maybe I just haven't found a style I like that much yet, or maybe it is symptomatic of my indecisiveness.

So, tomorrow, true to form, I'm going to have my hair cut, want a new hairstyle and inevitably and will end up looking a) the same or b) horrible. I'm going to indulge my current serious girl-crush, Katy Perry, and go for this:

Seriously, I have a massive girl-crush on her. She's so beautiful, she brings out a seriously jealous streak in me. That is, until she opens her mouth and reveals the most irritating voice. Anyway, getting side-tracked... Hair.

Now, I do realise that none of you know what I look like as I don't post personal photos, so couldn't tell me whether it will suit me or not, but I love the choppy layers and the side-fringe. It's so different to the normal smooth, plain and boring hairstyle I go for so I'm hoping it will appease my constant desire for a new hairstyle. Or at least do so for the next six months...

It's part of my plan to sort my life out and to make some changes, which I'm kick-starting next week. I will get a life, I will not sit and wallow in boredom...

An epiphany.

I have been struggling at work recently because, with each day, I realise my vision is different to that of the school. I had decided to keep my head down and try, where possible, to do things my way but this wasn't working out too well and I have been feeling un-motivated, disengaged and generally crap and grumpy at school.

Yesterday, we had a welcome day off from the classroom routine and we went to an NQT conference. It was absolutely fantastic: each session was truly inspirational and they even had one of these airy-fairy-life-coach-type people running a seminar who was not actually airy-fairy and gave us all the boost that we needed, if only because we realised that we are not alone in many respects. (Although it has to be said, our group do seem to be suffering more than others.)

I don't think this was his intention, but in making me re-focus on why I wanted to become a teacher and what I thought teaching would be like, he made me realise that I need to keep my own ideas, that it's ok to feel different about certain things than my school does and that the day I lose sight of my 'ideal' is the day I need to leave teaching.

He shared a quote with us:

"Beware your thoughts, for they become your words

Beware your words, for they become your actions

Beware your actions, for they become your habits

Beware your habits, for they become your character

Beware your character, for therein is your destiny."

This really resonated with me and made me feel better about not agreeing with the vision of my school because, actually, the day I do start to think the way they do, that is the day I become the teacher I don't want to be. If I can't be who I am at my school, then I will move on, but I will not give up trying.

And I made new friends yesterday! A small group of us went from the conference to the pub (actually, that should be plural...) and generally had a lovely evening.

So all in all, I'm feeling back to my normal positive self today. Bring on Monday!

Music for my mood.

I've just sat and downloaded a lot of new music and meticulously organised my Ipod into different playlists. Whilst this was a task borne primarily from procrastination from packing (as do 90% of my daily activities right now), it also served a purpose for me.

You see, my music tastes vary according to my mood and as such, most songs on my Ipod remind me of a certain time in my life or a certain event. For example, there are various tracks which remind me of driving with the windows down across Bodmin moor to work; there are others which remind me of moving in 2007; there are others which remind me of dancing round a hotel room feeling like nothing in the world could bring me down, that my whole life was working out for the better and that everything would be amazing... I could go on with this list for hours. They aren't necessarily songs which are to do with moving, work etc, they are just songs which were perhaps popular at the time or which made it to my ipod 'current' playlist around then. And so I decided that, based on this, making a playlist which will see me through this coming week is actually fairly important as it will become the soundtrack to my new life and then, in the future, when I feel down, I can crank up these tunes and remember the optimism and excitement of moving.

I also have a photographic memory, so there will be a song which reminds me of driving away for the last time, there will be a song which reminds me of unpacking in my new home and there will be a song which reminds me of waving my family goodbye at the door. And those are pretty important memories which deserve a damn good soundtrack. A calm, relaxed soundtrack to help me wind down from the excitement, and one which I can call on in the future to chill me out when I feel life is getting on top of me.

Plus, it needs to be a damn good soundtrack because there will be lots of cleaning and sorting to do and, lets face it, that sort of thing is a lot more interesting when you can sing at the top of your lungs, spin around and lip-sync into a can of furniture polish.

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? :)