Scribo Ergo Cogito (I think therefore I write)

Hallelujah or really? I have started to write again, it has been a long slow progress, getting my writing mojo going again. Lots of reasons why such a lengthy hiatus they can be … oh I know blog posts. Highly personal, sometimes offensive, potty-mouthed at times however authentic, a reflection of me if you wish, so lets start at the very beginning of the decline as it were, (as good as any place) I think, it all started with a door (that’s another subject as well, doors).

I was trying to crack the nod as it were as a provisional teacher, I did some relief at a school and they offered me a short-term reliving contract (two terms). It was a hospital pass that I didn’t see coming. I was to be the 5th teacher in two terms to tackle a class of year nine pupils teaching English. These young people were at the bottom of the learning ratings with behavioural issues and learning difficulties at all sorts of levels, from coming to school high on meth, through to being bone tired because they were working to help support their families. I didn’t ask the right questions so essentially it was my own fault, I went ahead and did it. One of the teachers had been on extensive time off because of a concussion issue, the others had bailed in varying states of distress or thankfulness that they had escaped.

The night before I was due to start I was horsing around with one of my sons, pretending to chase him with a fairly large hammer (just under 2 kgs). I chased him into the bedroom and he shut the door on me knocking me out. Needless to say, I didn’t feel the best! However, I soldiered on anyway as I didn’t;’t want to ring the school and say I had concussion. (I clearly did). (Strike 1) The first day there one of my more polite students when asked to engage enquired of me “Would you like me to knock you the fuck out…., sir?) I had to add the polite bit really. At that point I should have bailed and just gone heck no I won’t go, however, permanent jobs were few and far between, with many very experienced teachers selling their Auckland homes and moving to the Waikato cashed up and able to buy freehold and in some instances even a place at the beach as well.

I had earlier applied for a one-term relieving position and the Principal let me know that they had 45 applicants for the job and that I shouldn’t feel bad as the person who took it was fully registered and had 15+ years of experience. I had trained on the basis of English Teachers being in hot demand however found that was not so in the Waikato, I desperately wanted to be working rather than the alternatives so I was prepared to commute to Auckland daily (strike 2).

I persevered, throwing everything in the book that I had from freestyling rap lessons to refusing to allow some students in the class to attend due to their ongoing behavioral issues. The school in question straddled a divide between some fairly affluent suburbs through to what some might say were effluent. The culture of the school seemed to be rather insular (partly I guess because of its size) and partly due to the way it structured its learning, add a new Principal in and it was not a cohesive place.

Back to strike 1, tiredness and fatigue dogged me, apart from the 4-hour commute there and back and being a full-time sole parent to 4 I was clearly out of my depth. Having just come from a dysfunctional school where a senior staff member had been committing sexual crimes against pupils I wanted to work it out and hopefully that would help crack the nod for a permanent position.

Concussion injuries manifest in a myriad of ways I have found out. I was simply dumb in continuing in the job. To be frank I was out of my depth, I was struggling, didn’t really know where to turn to, I didn’t fit in the highly urban environment, it was foreign to me and I didn’t fit in with the staff. I don’t point any fingers around that, I was a very small cog in a very big clock, and in the end, if I had stopped working the clock may have skipped a second but then with a step like a rugby winger bursting through his opponents, it would have kept on ticking.

The end came when a student (without malice or intent) crept up to a door I was holding and pulled it out of my grasp in the process blowing my shoulder apart, it wasn’t helped when an eager newly qualified physiotherapist thought traction would sort it after all it was merely bursitis (a misdiagnosis). I finished my term at the school. I guess it probably looked cloudy however I was unable to drive for 4 hours a day and cope with the shoulder injury as well as coping with concussion. I had been going to apply for a permanent position however I was told not to bother as it was already earmarked for another beginning teacher.

To say I was disappointed was true, I constructed my own narrative of my time at the school instead of just accepting that I am not a round peg. This narrative when I look back is embarrassing, frankly stupid, and unnecessary, there is nothing wrong with admitting you cannot cope or you do not fit. In the end, it was pretty irrelevant as my shoulder injury was somewhat more extensive than what was first diagnosed with my hands turning different colours, a huge loss of strength and mobility, and add the ongoing concussion issues I didn’t continue teaching.

I had stepped away from statutory social work, burnt out from all the assaults and threats, retrained, and found myself in a place where actually on a numerical basis the assaults threats and pure antagonism were worse than working at Child Youth and Family, (the only difference was that the assaults were much more minor). I had not understood when I left the Department that I needed to carry my registration through so without another two possibly three years of study I was not able to be a registered social worker, essentially consigning me to working as under valued, underpaid, overworked resource worker.

I guess that is really enough for today, my shoulder is certainly telling me that, and brain fog is slowly descending again. So I will leave it there to continue.

Paul

One One, Two Two, Three Three, Shit, Fuck!

I read the Death notices the other day, just to check if I was still alive, not that I would necessarily want a death notice in the paper. Those who are close to me would know already and why give the miserable buggers who don’t like me reason to celebrate?  I digress, in the notices was the name

Kua hinga he totara i te wao nui a Tane.

A mighty Totara has fallen in the forest of Tane.

E te whatukura, haere e koro, haere atu ra. Rest in peace Moana. You have earned your rest. There are some people who you meet once and always remember Moana (Syd) Jackson was one of them

Living With A Traumatic Head Injury

I have had a few concussions over my lifetime, they have been pretty minor really, no difference after a while however that all changed in 2019. Two incidents occurred, the first not as severe as the second. I was the victim of a home invasion and an assault with a rock.

WALK A MILE

Walk a mile

I have being having an internal debate recently about what to do about someone who shouts at his wife. No, not here at home however close enough for me to hear. I was contemplating calling the Police as I see it as a form of violence (yes I have been guilty in the distant past) or calling the child welfare Oranga Tamariki. In the end, I decided to either speak to the shouter or to the shoutee. Today the opportunity came up to speak to the shouter, just as I was getting ready to say hey mate he opened up. He said that you have probably heard me shouting at my wife, I just nodded, knowing when to listen is important. He then relayed his story, his journey.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Why Food Banks are not the answer.

is a phrase coined in the 1500s, well before state welfare even existed, is the mantra that sits behind the government’s preoccupation with outsourcing to food banks, says Danielle Le Gallais. https://thespinoff.co.nz/society/13-12-2021/why-food-banks-arent-the-answer . Danielle provides around 150 people a week a meal on a Sunday for the people she calls people who are facing food insecurity. Danielle says the lockdown impacted the food she normally could provide in terms of quality and quantity. Is Danielle some rich lister? I doubt it she is a single mother of two who’s busy studying law at

PRISON BREAK

Prison Break: The Extraordinary Life and Crimes of New Zealand’s Most Infamous Escapee by Arthur Taylor

Reading this book has prompted a break of my own, that is a break in my blogging a story for another time, it does however have a connection to crime.
This should be a must-read for anybody who cares about justice, whether they are the lock them up and throw away the key or they are people who wonder about recidivism, justice, democracy, and the rule of law. This no-holds-barred account of the notorious Arthur Taylor one of Aotearoa’s notorious misfeasor, with a proclivity and appetite for offending and cocking two fingers to the justice system is a page-turner. Some of the content is very Kiwi however the message is universal.
I am well acquainted with the penal system in Aotearoa-New Zealand, fortunately in terms of the criminal side as an involved participant from the other side of the fence from Arthur. I must say that I am a Facebook friend of Arthur’s and in doing so I have seen Arthur for who he is and I understand him. After reading his book that understanding has become an admiration, not for his offending as Arthur candidly acknowledges the impact that has had on other people, his friends, and family, Arthur appears to regret most of it.
His story is unfortunately not unique as I have tried to help people who like Arthur have succumbed to the slippery slide. There are some very important truths that come through his story, firstly our child welfare system is broken. Beyond broken it is a major cause of offending. Secondly the rule of law should apply to all, those who enforce the law as well as those who break the law. The third matter is that there are some very broken people in our society and rather than assist them they tend to break them even more. The fourth matter is that our Justice (penal) system is very broken, whilst there are some good people in it it really resembles an Orwellian society depicted in Animal Farm and elements of 1984. It needs to be cleaned out and prison reform is well overdue. Our Judges are out of touch by and large and general society has no clue and really doesn’t care about it until they become a participant either as an offender or a victim.
The last thing is that Arthur is a highly intelligent and caring man, as much as any reformist movement he has and still contributes to the cause of justice in a meaningful and sincere manner.
Neglect to read this book at your own risk, one thing can be sure is that we have not heard the last of Arthur and I look forward to his continuing contribution to Justice in Aotearoa, he has inspired me to continue to work where I can.
This book is a seminal tome and should be required reading for students of law for employees of the Department of Justice including all Prison wardens and probation officers as well as MPs. There is something very rotten in the state of Corrections and Justice in Aotearoa.



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Too Thick To Drink and Too Thin To Plow

Such is the description of a number of muddy waters, the Waikato River is one of these it goes from the beautiful blue crystal clear water that comes out of Lake Taupo

Two o’clock and all’s well

All is well right now in our world, Zorro, is sitting on the sofa, one eye open just in case and Charlie is lying peacefully, ever alert to clear and present dangers from door-knockers, cats, and biscuit thieves. 

Like My Life #National Poetry day

National Poetry Day I used to call myself a poet, more lately a writer, I have dropped a few poems onto paper and I still have my book ready to go.  I am a published writer and my work has been bought.  It was a big thing for me, people actually read my words and paid for the opportunity to do that.  Today is National Poetry day and in honour of that I write.

Like my life.

Today I sit, wonder and think

I look out at the world