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

Lost in Translation

The art of humour can be hard to grasp at times, nothing like a joke that goes down like a cup of cold sick.  I have been in social situations where people have made assumptions about who I am and have told blatantly racial, sexist,sexual bad taste jokes. I have told jokes to big meetings

Lust, like and love.

Three words that a 15 year old told me they understood the difference between the other day.  I am fortunate in many ways to have many teenagers around me, at work and home, they keep me honest 

Dirty Politics, School and Voting.

I have started a new job this week, leading learning at a School that is just 10 years old.  A modern design, shared teaching spaces, 100 minute learning episodes.  I have to travel to get there just over 110 kilometers.  It is good to be back in the classroom again, it is stimulating work,planning and prepping, then engaging with learners.  There are no students at this school and no teachers, learners and learning leaders, engaged in learning episodes.  it is at the 

My Name is Paul and I am a

My name is Paul and I am a recovering confrontationist. I recently had an education day in which the theme of the day was around confrontation. Type confrontation into Google and you get somewhere around 47 million references. Yes that’s right 47 million. That is a whole lot of pages about confrontation and here I am adding another one. Now I have blogged before about my need to be right and how a long time ago I would beat down anyone else who disagreed with my accepted position on life. I think I have arrived at a more reasoned approach these days. https://kiwipaulspoetry.wordpress.com/2012/09/17/the-bully-within/

Don’t get me wrong,

Teaching a work of the heart?

I have just finished a ten week stint, my first experience of the reality of classroom life with sole responsibility.  I reflected on this last night with a classmate of mine from our teacher education.  We reflected on that which we had learnt and how much of it was particularly relevant to our teaching. We decided that as great as it was that we were under prepared for many of the situations that we faced.  In saying that is there anything but experience that prepares you for situations like this… excuse me  (insert your choice of name) would you please take your earphones out, no electronic devices in class.  Reply, “f**k off sir.”.. , this is followed by a calm response where I mime the removal of the earphones, the reply would you like me to knock you out sir”?  A rhetorical question, surely!  Now past training in nonviolent crisis intervention kicked into action, calm voice, distant and decisive action resolved the situation quickly, the end story is inconsequential but the question is the same.  What, how, when do we teach when we are dealing with that kind of behaviour.

The thing is teaching is only one facet of education. Yes there is a degree of transfer of knowledge, techniques, skills and ways of thinking that enable students to engage in the world.  English gives students access to the understanding, knowledge, and skills they need to participate in the social, cultural, political, and economic life of New Zealand and the wider world.  So we as educators know the importance of learning, we have an inherent understanding of what happens if you are unable to make meaning of text or an inability to create or share meaning through text.  Some stats show that 90 percent of prison inmates are not functionally literate.  Whilst this is an appalling statistic literacy is much more important than just keeping people out of jail.  We need literacy to function in society in any meaningful form, it just is that way, critical and without it the fabric of society falls apart.  Literacy in itself will not solve the problems that face our society but it is one of the building blocks, a foundation stone that is critical in our modern society.

How do we reach past the barriers at the sharp end of education?  How do we reach the disengaged, disillusioned, disaffected, tail that is represented in the majority of our schools.  The students that Government is demanding that we help achieve.  Firstly there needs to be a reality check.  There will always be some people who do not achieve, they often find a way to navigate in society, sadly some do not and become statistics, we don’t live in a utopian society.  My purpose is not to dwell on that which we cannot do but that which we can.  So I can talk to the cows come home of early intervention, intensive programs, community initiatives, technology.  None of this matters in the end unless it has an essential ingredient.  What it needs is people with passion, people whom understand teaching is a work of the heart.  Teachers who are able to ignite students to create an alternative narrative around their lives.  Teachers need to be modeling that which they believe, students spot fraudulence at fifty feet.  It  isn’t the grand gestures that make the difference, it is just the small ones, being honest, apologising, being enthusiastic.  Government needs to understand before it heaps another measurement tool or another performance indicator on those at the coal face, the effect of that.  Teachers are busy people, try herding 18 cats with fireworks tied to their tails last period on a Friday! Then tell them that they need to spend half the weekend marking,planning and reflecting on their week, I suggest that you do it from a distance.

Students spot passion, they are drawn to it and they will respond to it.  As a teacher I need to remind myself of this and to have it at the forefront of all that I do.  I am human and there are days when my passion would be difficult to find, sometimes it has to be put on like a mask but if it is a truly held passion then once on it kind of clicks into gear and finds its groove.

What I know about teaching English, that is the mechanics of it, in comparison to many teachers who have been around for years would barely fill a postage stamp.  But I know about passion and I recognise it when I see it.  My motto in life is if I must be condemned for anything let it be for my passion, not mediocrity.

Mediocrity in any form is a creeping cancer destroying all that it is sinks it’s tentacles into, so whatever it is in life that you do, do it with passion and purpose.  Do what you love and love what you do.  I love teaching!