For the past four years I have written a Dean’s Blog about theft in school. These four blogs have been provoked by a series of thefts of students’ belongings. In the past I have placed the word ‘thefts’ in quotation marks or used the noun phrase ‘misplaced belongings’. I have done this in the past for two reasons. The first is that I have taken pains not to use the word ‘theft’ as it implies at the very least a deliberate antisocial act or even a crime probably planned, definitely committed and I did not want to impugn your/our children, nor the staff nor our visitors.
The second reason is because of circumstances. An example of a ‘circumstance’ today, a wet Wednesday halfway through October, might be that there are about one hundred items in Lost Property. Another might be that the object stolen was left in school in an open place as opposed to the places locked up and designated, overnight or even over a weekend. Another might be that the items appear not to have been named or marked in some other way to indicate the owner which is often a deterrent. And in the past these blogs have been the only ones to provoke a reply. In each case the riposte was to the effect that these items were ‘stolen’ not lost and that it was mainly the school’s fault and/or responsibility.
As regards responsibility (I won’t address the concept of blame and fault as it gets us nowhere and raises emotions as we travel there) it is quite clear that ICS has a major responsibility and it is twofold. First, we must provide secure, metal, lockable lockers, with back up keys, in easily accessed and therefore visible places. Second, we must ensure that our education and philosophy cover the teaching of good citizenship, the respect for other people’s property and the respect for law and common decency. And I think the ICS does this. What ICS is not responsible for is the hour by hour, daily vigilance over our students’ valuables. That is the owner’s responsibility; so that a valuable phone or mp3 player or wallet containing valuable items is not placed in a bag and left there over a school day often left unattended. There is a third component. I am a parent and accept I have a responsibility to co-teach these ideas at home, too, from a much younger age, as well as to discuss and try to limit costly or valuable items being bought for or brought to school. As a parent I have to nag about handing in a one-off item (a passport, for example) to the office for safe keeping until the end of school, in the ICS Secondary School to Ms Downie or Ms Plouidy. And I have to nag that other items are locked in the school locker assigned to him or kept in a pocket of a garment that is not going to be discarded on a bench or chair and then forgotten when the next bell rings.
In the meantime when things go ‘missing’ we can only take a note of the details and the circumstances and keep an eye open and commiserate whilst adding the unwelcome advice: ‘next time lock it in your locker!’ And thus this combination of nagging, education and provision of secure places takes away the opportunity that a thief needs to practice his or her malicious pastime.
And, note, not a word about blame!
Monday, 31 October 2011
Friday, 12 August 2011
The Dean’s Blog – ‘First Day’
As I slowly walked up the stairs from level 2 to level 3 in the New Building on Friday 5th August I gradually realised that in the deathly quiet building something was watching me. Disturbed, I looked up and back and saw myself surrounded by tall bushy plants bending over and reaching through and whispering round the railings overlooking the stairwell. It was a ‘Day of the Triffids’ moment. But it was just the wind from an open window somewhere creating a draught and then a door banged and I heard loud adult teacher type voices and the moment went. That’s where the kids normally hang out en masse, as they should, and inspect the ascending and descending people and pass judgement or greeting or just look casually cool, which they are very good at.
Faintly unnerving atmosphere
But today the school was just a handful of adults planning and prepping, a construct without content, a plan without data, a bus with no passengers or some such metaphor to describe the strange and for me faintly unnerving atmosphere of a large school building designed for kids and the normal noisy process of learning, when it is all ready to go, full of classrooms with desks and chairs and whiteboards and things, but devoid of a single kid.
Up a notch
Each subsequent day different levels of staff joined in the preparation. The activity fevered up a notch. The detail and focus of meetings went to ‘increase sharpness’. Policy, assessment, objectives, strategies, rubrics, syllabi, plans, unit delivery, scope and sequence, equipment, texts, facilities, major event prep – all these were created, renewed or developed or coordinated, fine-tuned and integrated into the year’s master plan. Necessary, and satisfying when completed.
Jugfull of pure white liquid fire
But as the bells continued to ring every 45 minutes I was constantly reminded of what D. H. Lawrence described graphically (but not, I think, as a metaphor for the start of the ICS new school year) in his short poem ‘Storm in the Black Forest’ where having described the electrical and aural components (‘jugfull after jugfull of pure white liquid fire, bright white tipples over and spills down... and then the heavens cackle with uncouth sounds.’) he expresses his frustration with the pointlessness of the whole natural show ‘...And the rain won’t come, the rain refuses to come!' For ‘rain’ read ‘kids’.
So everything is ok
But by this morning the gang of Triffids had been broken up, removed from its gallery view of the stairwell and each plant reassigned to and isolated in its separate classroom, to decorate a sunlit corner with a harmless splash of bright green. And tomorrow in their place come the real occupants, the kids. Not exactly with the patter of little feet as we know teens have big feet and hardly a patter as a few hundred of them explode out of classroom doors simultaneously at the sound of that bell, full of boundless energy, exclamation, relief, wild gestures and whoops of greeting. But this is as it should be and so everything is ok again now...for another year.
nickydarlington.blogspot.com
Faintly unnerving atmosphere
But today the school was just a handful of adults planning and prepping, a construct without content, a plan without data, a bus with no passengers or some such metaphor to describe the strange and for me faintly unnerving atmosphere of a large school building designed for kids and the normal noisy process of learning, when it is all ready to go, full of classrooms with desks and chairs and whiteboards and things, but devoid of a single kid.
Up a notch
Each subsequent day different levels of staff joined in the preparation. The activity fevered up a notch. The detail and focus of meetings went to ‘increase sharpness’. Policy, assessment, objectives, strategies, rubrics, syllabi, plans, unit delivery, scope and sequence, equipment, texts, facilities, major event prep – all these were created, renewed or developed or coordinated, fine-tuned and integrated into the year’s master plan. Necessary, and satisfying when completed.
Jugfull of pure white liquid fire
But as the bells continued to ring every 45 minutes I was constantly reminded of what D. H. Lawrence described graphically (but not, I think, as a metaphor for the start of the ICS new school year) in his short poem ‘Storm in the Black Forest’ where having described the electrical and aural components (‘jugfull after jugfull of pure white liquid fire, bright white tipples over and spills down... and then the heavens cackle with uncouth sounds.’) he expresses his frustration with the pointlessness of the whole natural show ‘...And the rain won’t come, the rain refuses to come!' For ‘rain’ read ‘kids’.
So everything is ok
But by this morning the gang of Triffids had been broken up, removed from its gallery view of the stairwell and each plant reassigned to and isolated in its separate classroom, to decorate a sunlit corner with a harmless splash of bright green. And tomorrow in their place come the real occupants, the kids. Not exactly with the patter of little feet as we know teens have big feet and hardly a patter as a few hundred of them explode out of classroom doors simultaneously at the sound of that bell, full of boundless energy, exclamation, relief, wild gestures and whoops of greeting. But this is as it should be and so everything is ok again now...for another year.
nickydarlington.blogspot.com
Tuesday, 22 March 2011
The Dean's Blog: 'Cars, BIG cars'
I am not going to be judgemental. I will express no opinion. I will hint no subtext. No implication at all is there to be inferred. Just facts observed over the last two weeks as Spring starts to send fresh optimism into the air. Ok? Good! Then read on…
At 8.20 a.m. the problem is only perceived by the 30 or 40 drivers still queuing to get into the school drive, maybe all the way down Strubenacher, even round the corner past Rinspeed, and up the hill and round that corner, too…
It is not perceived by the driver who waits in the drive blocking the said 30 to 40 cars for the first space to become free regardless of what happens behind and the fact that there is a car in the first space by the Red Top gates anyway and that there are three or four spaces free at the far end of the Red Top…
and not by the driver who pulls into a clearly too small space leaving a couple of metres of metal sticking out into the driveway that others will just have to negotiate as best they can…
and not by the driver who pulls into the first of the three freed up spaces and then parks in half the second one as well…
and not by the driver who is relieved to find a space having dropped off offspring and so gets out of vehicle to chat to other drivers…
and not the driver who starts texting instead of above…
and not by the driver who should have been in the car park as he waits for his companion to return from the primary school…
and not by the driver who does not let in a colleague who is indicating a wish to exit the drop off because this driver is in too much of a hurry and doesn’t need the space anyway…
and not by the driver who tries to pull out into the mainstream but unfortunately owns one of these cars where the indicator option was deleted so it is all down to bluff and guesswork…
and not by the few, the very few drivers when they give the four members of staff concerned with ICS students’ safety at around 8.15a.m., aggressive looks and gestures and sometimes even hostile comments.
But the four do see simple solutions, though, which if adopted by the few would alleviate some of the stress of the many …
such as pulling into the furthest available space even if it is on the far side of the Red Top because it frees up the driveway and it is a medically proven good thing if offspring walks the extra 30 metres...
such as child already having coat, lunch and bag in cabin so lengthy leave-taking involving driver having to decamp from cabin (so another large car door is left open to be circumvented by the pedestrians walking up to school on the narrow path) is cut to the ideal 30 seconds or less…
such as using indicators to pull in and to pull out…
such as leaving home five minutes earlier to avoid the rush (the school is open and so is the playground)…
such as always letting the driver who wishes to exit the drop off and thus leave a space, have precedence…
such as moving forward as much as is possible so another driver can pull in behind as this is so much quicker for them…
such as not parking on our neighbours’ property (at the DSC that’s Stahl or Ruegg just because it is more convenient than the stipulated options and there happens to be space – it is still called trespass)…
and…
such as realising that the said four teachers and all the drivers are united by one single aim to have all children safely out of cars and away from cars and into the safety of school as quickly as possible, with as little irritation to our long suffering neighbours and members of the ICS community as possible.
Actually the philosophy is all there in the IB Learner Profile.
At 8.20 a.m. the problem is only perceived by the 30 or 40 drivers still queuing to get into the school drive, maybe all the way down Strubenacher, even round the corner past Rinspeed, and up the hill and round that corner, too…
It is not perceived by the driver who waits in the drive blocking the said 30 to 40 cars for the first space to become free regardless of what happens behind and the fact that there is a car in the first space by the Red Top gates anyway and that there are three or four spaces free at the far end of the Red Top…
and not by the driver who pulls into a clearly too small space leaving a couple of metres of metal sticking out into the driveway that others will just have to negotiate as best they can…
and not by the driver who pulls into the first of the three freed up spaces and then parks in half the second one as well…
and not by the driver who is relieved to find a space having dropped off offspring and so gets out of vehicle to chat to other drivers…
and not the driver who starts texting instead of above…
and not by the driver who should have been in the car park as he waits for his companion to return from the primary school…
and not by the driver who does not let in a colleague who is indicating a wish to exit the drop off because this driver is in too much of a hurry and doesn’t need the space anyway…
and not by the driver who tries to pull out into the mainstream but unfortunately owns one of these cars where the indicator option was deleted so it is all down to bluff and guesswork…
and not by the few, the very few drivers when they give the four members of staff concerned with ICS students’ safety at around 8.15a.m., aggressive looks and gestures and sometimes even hostile comments.
But the four do see simple solutions, though, which if adopted by the few would alleviate some of the stress of the many …
such as pulling into the furthest available space even if it is on the far side of the Red Top because it frees up the driveway and it is a medically proven good thing if offspring walks the extra 30 metres...
such as child already having coat, lunch and bag in cabin so lengthy leave-taking involving driver having to decamp from cabin (so another large car door is left open to be circumvented by the pedestrians walking up to school on the narrow path) is cut to the ideal 30 seconds or less…
such as using indicators to pull in and to pull out…
such as leaving home five minutes earlier to avoid the rush (the school is open and so is the playground)…
such as always letting the driver who wishes to exit the drop off and thus leave a space, have precedence…
such as moving forward as much as is possible so another driver can pull in behind as this is so much quicker for them…
such as not parking on our neighbours’ property (at the DSC that’s Stahl or Ruegg just because it is more convenient than the stipulated options and there happens to be space – it is still called trespass)…
and…
such as realising that the said four teachers and all the drivers are united by one single aim to have all children safely out of cars and away from cars and into the safety of school as quickly as possible, with as little irritation to our long suffering neighbours and members of the ICS community as possible.
Actually the philosophy is all there in the IB Learner Profile.
Monday, 28 February 2011
The Dean’s Blog: ‘I have an iWife’
Since Christmas I have an iWife. She bought an iPhone and an iMac and has managed with my iSon’s help to get them to talk to each other and to his iPhone and to his iStation in his Architektburo. It was his iDea. Personally I saw nothing wrong with her carrier pigeons and our eyeball-to-eyeball (or is that iBall?) conversation. I am in danger of becoming an App that has yet to be downloaded. On the plus side family conversations have become a little easier in that when they are together they always speak in Schwiitzertuuetsch (sp?) but now when discussing iLife it’s all in English with ‘ge’ in front of the verbs and bad vowel sounds.
But the enthusiasm and sense of cult is palpable, even to a non worshipper at the altar of i like me who owns a smartphone of a different iLk. There is a common set of rituals and a common technical lexis that binds these people to their machines and to each other in an almost Masonic way that offsides remarks like, ‘Yeah, well, my GL Arena 900 transmits My Music direct to the car’s Bose 12 speaker system, you know, wireless…’ And the silence and dropped eyes tell me all I don’t want to know about extra facilities not buying membership to the iElite. It’s the phone equivalent of Nespresso capsules; ‘what else?’ encapsulates the attitude. Ask Denner. ‘Was suscht?’
But, and there is a ‘but’ here, the whole withering experience has given me clearer insight into why a smartphone is the first piece of clothing our students put on in the morning. I see the fascination, I appreciate the dizzying range of colours, the spinning, morphing world of widgets, the expanding universal choice of ring tones for arrival and dispatch of sms, msn, phone call comment or connection. There’s a tailor made world of sensory delight for each of them masquerading as important communication and technical innovation and each kid is the master tailor, or indeed the Master of this universe. Every day there are a dozen new ideas, apps, sounds, tricks, games, facilities, clips to show and tell and swap.
It is no surprise, then, that they want to pull out their phone in class or just before the bell or keep on communication and downloading after the teacher has come in and indicated the class is starting. No wonder but no excuse, of course. Some things are even more important in school in the classroom, in the lab, in the gym however dull our world of talk may seem.
In G10 English we are doing a poetry unit and we had read and analysed a couple of poems by Taylor Mali. There was a small computer problem in the classroom when I wanted the G10 students to watch him rap four of his more famous poems on Youtube at an ECIS conference I attended. Three boys immediately offered to access the clips on their smartphones and suddenly interest levels and involvement shot up 2000% as they huddled around the small screens shushing each other if someone spoke. Electric! They were in charge – it was their world and for a moment a teacher’s, too. Everyone who gets a smartphone (and has someone to pick up the horrendous costs) can join this world, feel they belong and interact. It is a social leveller, all users are equal.
But iSome are more equal than others.
But the enthusiasm and sense of cult is palpable, even to a non worshipper at the altar of i like me who owns a smartphone of a different iLk. There is a common set of rituals and a common technical lexis that binds these people to their machines and to each other in an almost Masonic way that offsides remarks like, ‘Yeah, well, my GL Arena 900 transmits My Music direct to the car’s Bose 12 speaker system, you know, wireless…’ And the silence and dropped eyes tell me all I don’t want to know about extra facilities not buying membership to the iElite. It’s the phone equivalent of Nespresso capsules; ‘what else?’ encapsulates the attitude. Ask Denner. ‘Was suscht?’
But, and there is a ‘but’ here, the whole withering experience has given me clearer insight into why a smartphone is the first piece of clothing our students put on in the morning. I see the fascination, I appreciate the dizzying range of colours, the spinning, morphing world of widgets, the expanding universal choice of ring tones for arrival and dispatch of sms, msn, phone call comment or connection. There’s a tailor made world of sensory delight for each of them masquerading as important communication and technical innovation and each kid is the master tailor, or indeed the Master of this universe. Every day there are a dozen new ideas, apps, sounds, tricks, games, facilities, clips to show and tell and swap.
It is no surprise, then, that they want to pull out their phone in class or just before the bell or keep on communication and downloading after the teacher has come in and indicated the class is starting. No wonder but no excuse, of course. Some things are even more important in school in the classroom, in the lab, in the gym however dull our world of talk may seem.
In G10 English we are doing a poetry unit and we had read and analysed a couple of poems by Taylor Mali. There was a small computer problem in the classroom when I wanted the G10 students to watch him rap four of his more famous poems on Youtube at an ECIS conference I attended. Three boys immediately offered to access the clips on their smartphones and suddenly interest levels and involvement shot up 2000% as they huddled around the small screens shushing each other if someone spoke. Electric! They were in charge – it was their world and for a moment a teacher’s, too. Everyone who gets a smartphone (and has someone to pick up the horrendous costs) can join this world, feel they belong and interact. It is a social leveller, all users are equal.
But iSome are more equal than others.
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
The Dean’s Blog ‘Civic Responsibility’
Hot on the heels of tirades about senior students not clearing up their own mess and harangues about the same age group spreading coffee like rumours, comes a moment of calm explanation. I was asked recently to write up the new prototype grade nine Civic Responsibility Scheme (‘CRS’ - see last blog of year 09/10) for ELMLE’s (European League of Middle Level Education) Tips for Teachers ( target audience is Middle School teachers) for their forthcoming conference in Amsterdam.
The questions to be addressed were:
1. What essential understandings do you think students should have about service in their schools?
2. Could you briefly explain the idea behind the programme of allocating students to spend time with teachers who are on duty?
3. What changes do you hope to see with this programme?
4. Could you write 5 simple steps for middle school teachers to get a programme like this up and running in their school?
The answers follow but I prefaced them with the statement that our beginning is not ambitious; I don’t want it to be seen as a bigger social intervention training than it currently is (mighty oaks from mini acorns…). Here’s the acorn, then:
1. The selection of role-plays I wrote, from both Deanish and from the teaching of English experience, outline the specific situations I hope the grade can begin to help obviate by developing their understanding of the possible causes and issues within these specific areas. The role plays were:
1. Kid A is told by kid B, ‘You can’t sit there. It’s for our friend. Go away!’ (This was to be modelled in English 9 classes to kick off CRS, being relevant to the theme of The Outsider for our study of William Golding’s ‘Lord of the Flies’)
2. A kid is sitting on the stairs up to the Science floor eating lunch all alone and this is not the first time.
3. Two kids claim another boy took their football and then kicked it into the car park and won’t go and get it back and they can’t find it anyway.
4. A bunch of grade 6 boys say that they had the goal on the Red Top first and then another bunch of grade 9s told them to go away and when they didn’t they kicked their ball away (probably into the car park again.)
5. The Librarians report that some grade 8 students, boys and girls both, are being ridiculously noisy and chasing around in the library.
6. A girl is crying because she can’t find her bag and it has her PE things and all her books and her phone in it.
7. Some girls say there is absolutely nowhere for them to play without being run over by shouting boys.
8. A student reports that several kids are playing games on the computers in the computer lab and eating food there.
These – all real situations from the past year - were sent to all secondary staff in a document explaining the scheme.
2. The role-plays and the discussions that prefaced and that follow in the Personal Development Programme prepare the students actively to patrol with a member of the secondary teaching staff in and around the Main Building. It is hoped that they will now be more able to notice isolation or other forms of unhappiness and have ideas and possible strategies ready to discuss or even implement. They will also be able to exchange views with the teacher more effectively as they have some prior knowledge. Thus they can also ask pertinent questions about what the adults do and think, and why.
3. The change being sought is a less isolated and egocentric set of behaviours by the senior grade at lunchtime as they recognise conflict and take active steps to combat it even if it is to ask an adult for help, rather than belong to that large and dangerous group of called onlookers who by their presence and numbers imply support for that behaviour.
4. step 1 define the problems
step 2 discuss with tutors/PDP coordinator to get them on board and get their ideas
step 3 write role plays; the first - must be a common experience witnessed or suffered or understood by the grade - directed by the English teachers as a demo. Tutors/PDP team role play the others.
step 4 student feedback/discussion
step 5 set up the duty tours with the staff and students with a tutor/PDP debrief before the second tour and then an evaluation.
And parents, you can join in, too, with a vital role here and get a conversation going about their experience and thoughts, and indeed the whole issue, around the dinner table at home. I would be delighted to read your further comments and suggestions. Just go to nickydarlington.blogspot.com and click on the reply button.
The questions to be addressed were:
1. What essential understandings do you think students should have about service in their schools?
2. Could you briefly explain the idea behind the programme of allocating students to spend time with teachers who are on duty?
3. What changes do you hope to see with this programme?
4. Could you write 5 simple steps for middle school teachers to get a programme like this up and running in their school?
The answers follow but I prefaced them with the statement that our beginning is not ambitious; I don’t want it to be seen as a bigger social intervention training than it currently is (mighty oaks from mini acorns…). Here’s the acorn, then:
1. The selection of role-plays I wrote, from both Deanish and from the teaching of English experience, outline the specific situations I hope the grade can begin to help obviate by developing their understanding of the possible causes and issues within these specific areas. The role plays were:
1. Kid A is told by kid B, ‘You can’t sit there. It’s for our friend. Go away!’ (This was to be modelled in English 9 classes to kick off CRS, being relevant to the theme of The Outsider for our study of William Golding’s ‘Lord of the Flies’)
2. A kid is sitting on the stairs up to the Science floor eating lunch all alone and this is not the first time.
3. Two kids claim another boy took their football and then kicked it into the car park and won’t go and get it back and they can’t find it anyway.
4. A bunch of grade 6 boys say that they had the goal on the Red Top first and then another bunch of grade 9s told them to go away and when they didn’t they kicked their ball away (probably into the car park again.)
5. The Librarians report that some grade 8 students, boys and girls both, are being ridiculously noisy and chasing around in the library.
6. A girl is crying because she can’t find her bag and it has her PE things and all her books and her phone in it.
7. Some girls say there is absolutely nowhere for them to play without being run over by shouting boys.
8. A student reports that several kids are playing games on the computers in the computer lab and eating food there.
These – all real situations from the past year - were sent to all secondary staff in a document explaining the scheme.
2. The role-plays and the discussions that prefaced and that follow in the Personal Development Programme prepare the students actively to patrol with a member of the secondary teaching staff in and around the Main Building. It is hoped that they will now be more able to notice isolation or other forms of unhappiness and have ideas and possible strategies ready to discuss or even implement. They will also be able to exchange views with the teacher more effectively as they have some prior knowledge. Thus they can also ask pertinent questions about what the adults do and think, and why.
3. The change being sought is a less isolated and egocentric set of behaviours by the senior grade at lunchtime as they recognise conflict and take active steps to combat it even if it is to ask an adult for help, rather than belong to that large and dangerous group of called onlookers who by their presence and numbers imply support for that behaviour.
4. step 1 define the problems
step 2 discuss with tutors/PDP coordinator to get them on board and get their ideas
step 3 write role plays; the first - must be a common experience witnessed or suffered or understood by the grade - directed by the English teachers as a demo. Tutors/PDP team role play the others.
step 4 student feedback/discussion
step 5 set up the duty tours with the staff and students with a tutor/PDP debrief before the second tour and then an evaluation.
And parents, you can join in, too, with a vital role here and get a conversation going about their experience and thoughts, and indeed the whole issue, around the dinner table at home. I would be delighted to read your further comments and suggestions. Just go to nickydarlington.blogspot.com and click on the reply button.
The Dean’s ‘Number 50 Jubilee’ Blog – ‘Kaffipause!’
23, 24, 25, 26, 27…31, 32…“STOP! KEEP TO THE SIDE! CAN’T YOU SEE THE COFFEE? YOU’RE STEPPING IN IT! WHY DOESN’T ANYONE AT LEAST PICK UP THE CUP?” Pretty loud this, odd noises crescendo con brio growing to fortississimo grandioso. As I remarked in my last blog.
The maths was me counting the senior students walking up and down the stairs at lesson change through a dripping lake of cafe latte that was making its own independent way down the narrow stair case in the DSC. It was still warm. It was a full plastic cup, well had been a full one. Now it was on its side, a bit stepped on, with the lid on the next step down.
Of course, they looked at me as if I was from a parallel and frankly far less developed universe. Get off the stairs they did not. Walk to one side they tried but as there were four classes of our gigantic teenagers on the deck above out of sight (out of earshot I do not entirely think) they kept turning the corner and pushed from behind came down into the mess.
A teacher had discovered this event a minute or two earlier and grumbled, rightly, about the lack of clearing up responsibility by the coffee dropper. So I went to see. I was actually rather shocked (see a previous blog at the end of last year on nickydarlington.blogspot.com, again about senior kids busy not clearing up their lunch mess as it was not their job, and again my proto-apoplectic reaction.) Trouble is that they are so big they eat huge amounts all the time and leave tons of evidence in the form of crumbs and spillage, packets and boxes, cups and cartons, plastic forks and teaspoons, tissues and wrappers everywhere!
Ok, there’s some hyperbole there – maybe – a bit. But you want to know what happened back at the stairs. Well…
I pushed through hundreds of vast adolescents carrying jumbo sized bags full of bulky packs of teenage stuff, to get to the bathroom and grab handfuls of paper towels. These I dumped in the brown lake, having pushed through the ever increasing throngs of big kids anxious to get up or down that staircase in order, obviously, to help it in its endeavour to get an entry in the Guinness Book of Records for the greatest surface area AND number of stairs ever covered by a one half litre of cafe latte. (They have such stupid entries now.) The paper disappeared sadly into the thick gluey beige morass and Mr Schlehuber and Mr Malcolm gallantly and energetically helped contain the spillage that started to look like a recent ecological disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. Bits of us got stepped on but eventually paper vs. coffee was won 1:0 by us, the paper wielders. The combined skills of the coffee, the staircase and the kids lost. We teachers, battered, exhausted, bespotted and bespeckled in Migro’s finest, moved on in triumph to our next class.
But I do have a serious point. We teachers felt very depressed for a moment after this incident because of the reaction of the students – nonchalance. And only one student stopped and offered to help. It was a girl. The Co-Chairperson of the Student Council. Bravo to her, I say!
nickydarlington.blogspot.com
The maths was me counting the senior students walking up and down the stairs at lesson change through a dripping lake of cafe latte that was making its own independent way down the narrow stair case in the DSC. It was still warm. It was a full plastic cup, well had been a full one. Now it was on its side, a bit stepped on, with the lid on the next step down.
Of course, they looked at me as if I was from a parallel and frankly far less developed universe. Get off the stairs they did not. Walk to one side they tried but as there were four classes of our gigantic teenagers on the deck above out of sight (out of earshot I do not entirely think) they kept turning the corner and pushed from behind came down into the mess.
A teacher had discovered this event a minute or two earlier and grumbled, rightly, about the lack of clearing up responsibility by the coffee dropper. So I went to see. I was actually rather shocked (see a previous blog at the end of last year on nickydarlington.blogspot.com, again about senior kids busy not clearing up their lunch mess as it was not their job, and again my proto-apoplectic reaction.) Trouble is that they are so big they eat huge amounts all the time and leave tons of evidence in the form of crumbs and spillage, packets and boxes, cups and cartons, plastic forks and teaspoons, tissues and wrappers everywhere!
Ok, there’s some hyperbole there – maybe – a bit. But you want to know what happened back at the stairs. Well…
I pushed through hundreds of vast adolescents carrying jumbo sized bags full of bulky packs of teenage stuff, to get to the bathroom and grab handfuls of paper towels. These I dumped in the brown lake, having pushed through the ever increasing throngs of big kids anxious to get up or down that staircase in order, obviously, to help it in its endeavour to get an entry in the Guinness Book of Records for the greatest surface area AND number of stairs ever covered by a one half litre of cafe latte. (They have such stupid entries now.) The paper disappeared sadly into the thick gluey beige morass and Mr Schlehuber and Mr Malcolm gallantly and energetically helped contain the spillage that started to look like a recent ecological disaster in the Gulf of Mexico. Bits of us got stepped on but eventually paper vs. coffee was won 1:0 by us, the paper wielders. The combined skills of the coffee, the staircase and the kids lost. We teachers, battered, exhausted, bespotted and bespeckled in Migro’s finest, moved on in triumph to our next class.
But I do have a serious point. We teachers felt very depressed for a moment after this incident because of the reaction of the students – nonchalance. And only one student stopped and offered to help. It was a girl. The Co-Chairperson of the Student Council. Bravo to her, I say!
nickydarlington.blogspot.com
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
Birth of a Blog (by email)
(Me) ‘I need to write a Blog for the next Newsletter but I haven’t been provoked into purple prose by student decisions this week. So over the weekend, maybe something about gardening as a metaphor for tending children.’
(Editor of Newsletter) ‘There’s a great extended metaphor in ‘Hamlet’ or ‘Othello’ about gardening. Doesn’t Iago tell us if we plant weeds, we will reap weeds or something? It will be a great topic for a Blog.’
‘Yes and Ophelia witters on in her scary, pastoral way about, ‘There's rosemary, that's for remembrance…and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.’
‘Drippy Ophelia goes to DEFCON 5 when Hamlet has a little joke with her about a nunnery. The fact that she gets upset with loser Hamlet enough to drown herself tells you something about her inherent lack of nous.’
‘IMHO, some Shakespearean heroines just have no sense of humour – they go all feminist on you just when you are deciding on important male things like whether to kill your Royal Scottish Banker, burn the Turkish fleet, perform invasive surgery to reclaim 0.453592 kilos of flesh or divide your kingdom into three Kantons. But as Shakespeare could only write about flowers, toads and weeds and not, say, about garden strimmers going melt down I might have a small advantage.’
‘Contemplating strimmers is far more exciting than contemplating life and death.’
Ok, I’ll start with something like…
Cutting the grass was a job I had put off because it was so hot, around 34 degrees C at about 5.30 in the afternoon and it now seemed almost knee high to my English ‘lawn-as-liquid-emerald’ eye. I started to strim an area somehow full of ‘noisome weeds…things rank and gross in nature’ (but here young Will was, I’m afraid, talking about Denmark) ‘…which without profit suck The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.’ Until, that is, I noticed that the strimmer I had bought last year to suck the noisome weeds from our soil's fertility, on the advice of a professional I might add, had become totally ineffective. It was getting meltdown hot. It was starting to make odd noises. And it was issuing acrid, dark grey smoke. Like me last week in class. Let me explain…
An assessed assignment was due in to me at the start of class after a two week lead-in, and so, again, the owners of a chorus of waving hands (and some not bothering to do that traditional classroom semiotic cue) told me, with authoritative finality, that they couldn’t hand it in ‘because the school printer has jammed’/ ‘our printer ran out of ink’/ ‘the school’s email system bounces my mail’/ ‘the disc got wiped’/ ‘I can’t access my account’/ ‘there wasn’t a free computer at break time’/ ‘my computer crashed’/ ‘the document’s been corrupted’/ ‘it’s here on my memory stick’/ it's the browser'/'there’s a fault with Windows 7’ - all ending with ‘ok?’ stated not really as a question but a fact to be accepted, ok?
‘No!’ I replied. ‘It is not ‘ok’! It is definitely not ‘OK’! NOT!!! ... OK?!?? The IB, the ICS, I, the known universe, simply do not accept lame IT malfunction statements as excuses for failing to…etc.’’ Pretty loud this, odd noises crescendo con brio growing to fortississimo grandioso. And then melt down with acrid, dark grey smoke …’
(Editor of Newsletter) ‘There’s a great extended metaphor in ‘Hamlet’ or ‘Othello’ about gardening. Doesn’t Iago tell us if we plant weeds, we will reap weeds or something? It will be a great topic for a Blog.’
‘Yes and Ophelia witters on in her scary, pastoral way about, ‘There's rosemary, that's for remembrance…and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.’
‘Drippy Ophelia goes to DEFCON 5 when Hamlet has a little joke with her about a nunnery. The fact that she gets upset with loser Hamlet enough to drown herself tells you something about her inherent lack of nous.’
‘IMHO, some Shakespearean heroines just have no sense of humour – they go all feminist on you just when you are deciding on important male things like whether to kill your Royal Scottish Banker, burn the Turkish fleet, perform invasive surgery to reclaim 0.453592 kilos of flesh or divide your kingdom into three Kantons. But as Shakespeare could only write about flowers, toads and weeds and not, say, about garden strimmers going melt down I might have a small advantage.’
‘Contemplating strimmers is far more exciting than contemplating life and death.’
Ok, I’ll start with something like…
Cutting the grass was a job I had put off because it was so hot, around 34 degrees C at about 5.30 in the afternoon and it now seemed almost knee high to my English ‘lawn-as-liquid-emerald’ eye. I started to strim an area somehow full of ‘noisome weeds…things rank and gross in nature’ (but here young Will was, I’m afraid, talking about Denmark) ‘…which without profit suck The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers.’ Until, that is, I noticed that the strimmer I had bought last year to suck the noisome weeds from our soil's fertility, on the advice of a professional I might add, had become totally ineffective. It was getting meltdown hot. It was starting to make odd noises. And it was issuing acrid, dark grey smoke. Like me last week in class. Let me explain…
An assessed assignment was due in to me at the start of class after a two week lead-in, and so, again, the owners of a chorus of waving hands (and some not bothering to do that traditional classroom semiotic cue) told me, with authoritative finality, that they couldn’t hand it in ‘because the school printer has jammed’/ ‘our printer ran out of ink’/ ‘the school’s email system bounces my mail’/ ‘the disc got wiped’/ ‘I can’t access my account’/ ‘there wasn’t a free computer at break time’/ ‘my computer crashed’/ ‘the document’s been corrupted’/ ‘it’s here on my memory stick’/ it's the browser'/'there’s a fault with Windows 7’ - all ending with ‘ok?’ stated not really as a question but a fact to be accepted, ok?
‘No!’ I replied. ‘It is not ‘ok’! It is definitely not ‘OK’! NOT!!! ... OK?!?? The IB, the ICS, I, the known universe, simply do not accept lame IT malfunction statements as excuses for failing to…etc.’’ Pretty loud this, odd noises crescendo con brio growing to fortississimo grandioso. And then melt down with acrid, dark grey smoke …’
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