Kids Are Weird and it's Hilarious and Awesome.

Hey all,

It's been a while since my last post and that can be chalked up, in all honesty, to my serious fear of inadequacy. My last post was re-published as an article on The Plaid Zebra, which was really cool, but then I began to feel like every post from then on needed to be profound and article-worthy. So I put off writing another post for a while, because let's face it -- you don't come across profound and article-worthy situations every day. But then I remembered why I am keeping this blog -- to document my time as a new teacher living in a new place, and to share it with the people that care enough to read (hi Mom, hi Dad). Not to write a masterpiece every week.

Perfectionism and self-doubt can be paralyzing. I remember crying in Kindergarten because I couldn't remember how to spell the word "lighter" (darn those silent letters) and making many trips to the recycling bin throughout elementary school with crumpled up pieces of artwork that were "so terrible" that I had to start over. Now here I am, telling kids that it's okay to spell a word wrong as long as we give it our best try, and that their artwork looks beautiful and unique, not terrible. Guess I've gotta pay my dues for being an annoying kid somehow.

All that aside, I have decided to make a small compilation of some of the funny and adorable things that I have seen students say or do over the past couple weeks of supplying -- because when they are not crying over misspelled words or crumpling up their art, kids are actually hilarious. I suspect that this is part of the reason that I decided to work with them. Here are some moments that demonstrate what I mean:

• (Nursery)
  Girl: "Sam, why do you have tissues?"
  Boy: (Thoughtfully) "I have a cold...I have had a cold for 80 years."
  Me: "80 years? That's a very long time! You would be very old by then."
  Boy: (Pondering this deeply) "When I am 96 years old... I will have a beard, probably."


• (Nursery)
  Boy: (In tough, growling voice)"GRRRR. I'm the Hulk!!!"
  Me: "Oh no! Are you a nice Hulk, or a mean Hulk?"
  Boy: (Still in tough voice): "NICE HULK."



• Two girls in Reception (Kindergarten) came up to me and said "Miss! Want to watch our song?" "Sure!" I say, prepared for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or Baa Baa Black Sheep. Nope. It was "Watch Me (Whip/Nae Nae)" complete with attempted actions. I watched them. They whipped. They Nae-Naed. I died laughing.


• A class of Year Four students had to write newspaper reports on Howard Carter's discovery of King Tut's tomb. One kid decided to describe how Carter "Peered through a hole in the wall". Only, she forgot the "R" in "peered". Guess there were no toilets in King Tut's tomb.

• Same assignment -- kids had to finish a sentence for their news article, beginning with "Howard Carter...". Expected answers were probably along the lines of "Is an archaeologist, is a passionate adventurer" etc.  Instead, a good third of the answers were just about his mustache. One read: "Howard Carter has a long mustache and seems posh". Come on, guys. I need hard hitting journalism here. You're all fired.

While I was taking the register in a Reception class, a little girl begins rubbing my boot. I look down to see what she's doing. "I'm keeping your feet warm for you!" she tells me. Heart = melted.

A little boy in Nursery came up to me at outdoor time and put a construction hat on my head. "You're Bob the Builder". he instructed me. When a 4-year-old tells you you're Bob the Builder, you are now Bob the Builder. It doesn't matter who you were in your former life. You put that hat on, start hammering at random things on the playground, and accept your new identity. There is no questioning it.

While taking the register in a Year One class I had been in a few times, I call a boy's name and ask what he's having for his lunch today. His answer was "Packed lunch, also, I love you." Woah, kid. That escalated quickly.

I told a group of Year One students the really corny knock-knock joke that ends with "Orange you glad I didn't say banana?". Then a little boy wanted to tell me his own joke that goes as follows:
Knock knock? (Who's there?) Banana. (Banana who?) BANANA DOCTOR!! (Cue him laughing hysterically at his own joke). This further confirmed my belief that little kids not understanding the concept of punchlines but trying to tell jokes anyway is the greatest thing ever.

A nursery school girl promptly walked up to me during outdoor play and demanded to know, with a pointed finger, why I wasn't wearing earrings... I have no idea why... but I felt ashamed of my obvious transgression.

I had to do a "long observation" on some Reception kids, meaning I basically follow a kid around for 10-15 minutes, write down the things they do and say, match it to age-level expectations and write their "next steps". The LSA told me to observe one girl, and I was ready to document some wonderful snapshots of learning and development...Except this girl decided she wanted to run around on all fours barking like a dog. For 15 minutes. She only broke character when she noticed someone else doing something they weren't supposed to do, for which she would promptly scold them -- and then right back to being a dog. Next Steps: Stay in character. Become the dog. Research dog's motivations -- Why does it bark? What are it's hopes and dreams? Who is it really?

Sometimes, these tiny humans and their are reminders to smile and to not take life so seriously -- a very important quality to have during the dark, damp Bristol winter. There is a time and a place to be serious -- but sometimes, ya just gotta put on a Bob the Builder hat and run around barking like a dog. (It's an analogy. Please don't actually do that). That's all for now, but stay tuned for more adorably silly tiny-human-moments in the future!


C.

Some Days are Reminders.

Teaching is full of extremes. Some days, you come home feeling like a mess. You sit on the bus feeling frustrated, your back sore and your voice even worse. A toddler on the bus begins wailing, and as you slip in your headphones, you wonder what strange force compelled you to work with kids. 'Why would anyone wish this on themselves?' you think. But then, miraculously, you have days that remind you exactly why.

It's 8:02 AM and I'm sitting on a bench downtown, thinking that the possibility of me working today is getting slim. But then my phone rings. "Hello!", my agency contact says in a chipper voice. "We've got no calls in today for primary supply teachers...but I'd still like to send you out to a school to help out in a classroom -- you're getting paid as part of your guaranteed work agreement, even though we're sending you for free. Is that okay with you?" "Sure, sounds good" I tell them. Work is work, even if it's not technically work... and anyway, it's good to get my face out there and better than sitting at home.

The assignment is Year Six -- equivalent of Grade Five back home. We talk about Remembrance Day, write letters to role models, and I help some small groups with math -- practical problem solving where they have to figure out which (made-up) cell phone plan is the cheapest. The kids are funny, and have tons of questions about Canada and my accent. The morning flew by pleasantly, but it was the afternoon that really got me.

In the afternoon, the students had PSHE -- Personal, social and health education. To sum it up in the most basic terms, this subject revolves around being kind to yourself and others. Today, the topic was disability. The students pushed their desks back and sat in a circle, and the teacher introduced the talking point: we were to go around the circle, and students could choose to share either a disability that they knew about, or talk about someone in their life that has dealt with disability in some form.

We began passing around a stuffed animal as a sort of "talking stick", and the students began sharing. One by one, they told stories in small voices about friends and family members who had been affected by disability or life-altering illness -- some still living and some not. It became clear very quickly that some of these students had dealt with some pretty heavy things at the age of 10 and 11: parents with brain damage, grandparents with dementia, seeing beloved family members battle with injury and illness. But amazingly, despite how chatty this group was earlier, not a single voice could be heard speaking out of turn. These children understood the seriousness of the discussion and sat in respectful silence for their friends who were sharing.

As the discussion went on, I noticed some eyes welling up with tears. Emotions can be such tricky things. Even as adults, we sometimes find it difficult to know how to handle the strong emotions of our friends, and can feel really uncomfortable when we see someone we know crying. But these children knew exactly what to do. I saw students rubbing their friends backs to comfort them, arms around shoulders, quiet acts of kindness. When the discussion ended, I noticed one girl starting to tear up, unnoticed by her peers. When a boy finally noticed, he raised his hand and said "I think Katie needs a tissue" in a concerned voice. Now I was struggling to hold back tears.

"I just wanted to say, thank you all so much for sharing." the teacher said. "You are all brave boys and girls, and some of you have dealt with some very tough things. But look around you. In this class, and at this school, we are like a family. If you ever feel sad or upset, you can talk to me, or any adult here, or any of your friends around you... we are all here to listen. You're not alone." His words were sincere. I felt it, and I could tell the students did too.

As I walked home that day, I thought: "This is it. This is why I wanted to teach". To me, being a teacher is about creating a safe and welcoming space for children to learn. A place where they feel accepted, and where they are unafraid to express themselves. I was reminded that day that every student is experiencing life in a different way, and their experience goes far deeper than what you see at school. Yes, it takes less time to scold a student for bad behaviour than to pull them aside and ask: "I noticed you seem troubled today. What's bothering you?". But you would be surprised what you can learn from the latter. Yes, sometimes kids are just being kids...but sometimes their parents are fighting, or their grandma is sick, and they don't know how to properly deal with their fear and anger. It can be hard to give them the benefit of the doubt when it can feel like they are purposefully doing everything in their power to drive you up a wall...but it's so important to try.

Teachers can't solve every problem for every child -- that would be an overwhelming and impossible task. But we can listen and encourage. We can provide helping hands and shoulders to cry on. We can be on a child's team when they feel like the world is against them. And sometimes, that is enough.


-- C

Supply Teacher Problems: All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go

I've got my teacher clothes on: A smart pair of black dress pants (trousers for any Brits reading), a nice blouse, and a comfy cardigan. My purse is packed with lunch, my day planner, an umbrella, my police check, a water bottle, and some animal stickers. Yes, I am totally prepared. Prepared to sit on my bed, on my laptop, sadly eating dark chocolate soy pudding. As one might guess, my morning didn't go exactly as planned.

Supply teaching is great for many reasons: The spontaneity. The flexibility. A new challenge every day. It can also be quite frustrating for a few reasons: The instability. The unpredictability. A new, potential Google Maps disaster every day. I try to focus on the positives, and enjoy the amazing opportunity that I have been given. But it wouldn't be a blog without a little venting, right?
This morning, I got a call around 7:35 to get to a school that I've taught at a few times, and really like. This school is a bit far on the bus -- almost an hour, and that's if I leave at the right time to catch the most direct bus. However, you don't always have the chance to leave at the right time when you're on-call. I did a quick Google Maps check. It said that if I leave at 7:45 I could catch a 7:57 bus that would take me almost straight to the school. I still wouldn't arrive until quarter to nine -- a bit later than I am technically supposed to show up, but on short notice it's sometimes difficult to be extremely punctual. I let my agency know that I would be a bit later, but still arrive before school started at 9:00. They said they would let the school know. All is going okay so far.

But then 7:57 rolls around, and the bus is nowhere to be seen. Whatever, sometimes they're a minute or two late... So I wait until 8:00. Nothing. 8:05. Still nothing. 8:10. Starting to seriously wonder why these buses even have timetables. I call my agency again, who are beginning to sound quite flustered, and they suggest I call a cab, as the schools don't like when teachers are late and will be less likely to request you again. Okay, mildly freaking out now. I call the first cab company, but they won't have anything until 9:00. I call the second, they don't have anything either. I call the third, and they won't have anything for another 25 minutes at least. The bus drives by as I'm on the phone. Okay, definitely freaking out now. I call my agency again, apologizing profusely. They tell me that it's okay, but they will need to find someone else to send that can get there sooner.

Great. I've let them down, let the school down, and now I won't have work today. I should have just hopped on my bike. Why didn't I just bike? I mean, no, I wasn't super confident on my cycling directions to get there and would have likely shown up moderately sweaty... But I probably could have at least made it on time. The walk back to my house felt a bit like a walk of shame.

A First Bus getting ready to make some people late -- An artistic rendering.

Surely this wouldn't have happened if I were a better teacher, more responsible, better at decision making under pressure. Right? Well, Yes and no. There is a well-known proverb that states "Shit Happens" and I choose to stand by those words. Sometimes, for whatever reason -- be it dumb luck or bad karma or what have you -- things just don't fall together in the way you would have hoped.

There is no way to account for all of the thousands of factors involved in a simple decision like 'how will I get to work today?'. It's easy to start playing mind games with yourself, such as "If I Had Only...", "Why Didn't I..." or the classic "Why am I Such an Idiot?". Especially if you're a chronic over-thinker like me. Would I have liked to work today? Yes. Am I disappointed? Yup. But I am going to suck it up, eat my chocolate pudding, and move on. Tomorrow, I will be ready again at seven AM. My bag will be packed, I'll be wearing my teacher clothes, and it will be a new day.


C.

Homesick? Nah... Just a Bit Under the Weather.

I wouldn't say I'm feeling homesick.

To me, that word conjures up the image of a 6-year-old, crying on her bunk bed on the first week of overnight camp. Admittedly, I was that girl once, but now I am a fully grown adult. I am not at summer camp, nor am I crying. I am not homesick.  But sometimes an expat Canadian gets a bit under the weather, and feels like the only cure is a watery coffee and soggy bagel from Tim Hortons.

This past week was a big one for Canada; a casual scroll through my Facebook news feed makes that strikingly clear. We have a new Liberal Prime Minister with great hair! Stephen Harper's reign is over! The Blue Jays are doing really well! A cat cafe is opening in Guelph! (Okay, that last one is maybe just exciting to me). Yes, it does seem like a really good time to live in the great white north, but I can still follow the news from abroad and share in my Canadian friends' excitement.

And the memes. So many memes.

The real reason I feel under the weather? It's the little things. The things that don't seem like a big deal at the time, but they creep up on you slowly and silently. You could be having a shower, or putting a pot on the stove, or plugging in your phone at night, when you hear it: That little voice in your head that says "you're not quite at home here". Suddenly, all the other little reasons come crashing into your mind, uninvited guests that somehow make you feel like the unwelcome one.

There's a point when "new and novel" becomes "unfamiliar and frustrating", and for me, that moment happened in the kitchen. We had just moved into a new place, and were starting to get settled. I had just gotten home from a tough day at work that involved dodging a pencil being lobbed at my head by a 5 year old, and writing on the whiteboard in permanent marker. I just wanted to make a veggie patty in the oven for dinner. I pulled out the patties, lettuce, pita bread, hummus, all the fixings needed to construct a delicious veggie burger. Then I went to turn on the oven, and the confusion began. First of all, instead of a dial with temperatures on it, there was one with single numbers: 3,5,8, and dots in between. Okay, not sure what those mean but I can deal with this. I turned the knob. Nothing happened. I lift up the cover over the burners, confirming my suspicion that this was a gas stove. But could the oven be gas too? I have never dealt with that in my life. Maybe Beth has, she's been camping a million times and knows her way around fire better than I do. I knock on her door and drag her downstairs to investigate. She's got nothing. We spend a few minutes searching "How to light a gas oven" on Youtube to underwhelming results. We could try doing it...but what if we accidentally blow up the oven/kitchen/entire house? With the landlady out of the house and my veggie burgers melting on the counter, I felt helpless and hungry.

In that moment, I started thinking about other unfamiliar encounters: First of all, why does nobody here have a clothes dryer here? Do they enjoy using crunchy towels? Why is the shower so confusing? And the washing machines are so tiny. And the fridges. And the roads. And who came up with the idea of outlets that you have to switch on and off? I had my phone plugged in all night and woke up to 20 percent battery. It's easy to let the negative thoughts overwhelm you, and everyone deals with this differently. Beth and I dealt with it by packing the veggie burgers and toppings back into the fridge, putting on our coats, and going for Indian food. It was delicious. There were no leftovers.

It's easy to feel homesick on your bad days. It's easy to start thinking that all of your problems are a direct result of not being at home. But what's tougher, is to accept that there were good and bad days back home too. You can't escape from all of your problems by moving. What you can do is think of all the positive experiences you've had, wherever you are. Yesterday, I went for a beautiful, scenic walk across the Clifton Suspension bridge, watched deer grazing amidst the fall colours, and met a herd of curious cows while waiting for the bus. I have had some amazing experiences here, and I will not let any landlord problems, crunchy towels, or gas stoves ruin that for me.
                                   

The view from Clifton Suspension Bridge

More bridge times.

Cow photobombs other cow.

Magical woodland moments.

I think that if I were to give up and come home so soon, I would feel homesick in a different way. There's a lot that I would really miss about Bristol. When we travel, we are essentially building a collection of places and times to be nostalgic for. Keeping that in mind seems to put things in perspective a little bit. To anyone reading this who is far from home and going through similar feelings, you're not alone. Just try to keep yourself busy and think about all the awesome things you've seen and done so far. There will be more awesome things ahead, I promise. But if all else fails, I find that a big plate of Indian takeout also does the trick.


C.

Chips, Crisps and Lucky Dip: A Muggle's Guide to British English.

When I first decided that I wanted to teach abroad after graduating, I remember telling people "I'm going to go teach English in Korea!". I had Korean English academies bookmarked on my laptop and dreams of Kimchi and K-Pop in my heart. However, as graduation crept closer and closer, something changed.

 I can't explain what it was that flipped that switch in my head, but all of a sudden, Korea seemed really far away, and the prospect of committing to a full year in a country where I don't speak the language seemed terrifying. Where England had seemed like a boring option in the past, it now seemed like a much more reasonable choice for my first teaching and "big" travel experience.

I figured that at least speaking the same language as everyone around me would be a comfort in an unfamiliar place. As it turns out, I was right...and wrong.

The first thing you need to understand is that British English is not just Canadian English with an adorable accent. I thought I had prepared myself by watching Skins and The Inbetweeners, not to mention having a whole childhood's worth of Harry Potter etched into my subconscious. But the sad truth is, I have often found myself feeling like a muggle amongst a whole country full of English wizards. So I have compiled a small Muggle's Guide to some of the most common confusing words and phrases that I've encountered in England:

You Alright/Okay?: This is an important one, because it is so commonly used. At first, it seems like British people are just really concerned about your well-being. Then, you start to wonder -- 'Do I look like I'm not alright? Do I look sick? Or worried? I just have a naturally worried face! That's just how my face looks!' However, when British people ask "You alright?", it is a casual greeting along the lines of "How's it going?". But it gets more confusing, because apparently a proper way to answer this is to just say "Alright?". Quite honestly, I still feel weird answering a question with the same question, so I usually mumble something like "Yeah I'm good, how're you?" and immediately sound a hundred times more Canadian.

Toilets: In Canada, a toilet is a toilet -- the thing you flush. In England, it is the room where the toilet is located. This does not work the same way for other rooms/appliances. Just go with it.

Nick(ed): This refers to stealing something.  I've heard this one before, but it's much more common here and sometimes catches me off guard. For example: A little girl in reception (kindergarten) came up to me and said: "Miss H... Katie nicked my Barbie doll!" "She...licked...your doll??" I replied, only slightly bewildered because they are in kindergarten and it would have also been plausible if she had licked it.

Bin: Refers to the rubbish bin/garbage can. It is a really bad idea to tell your students to put their work in their bins.

Hob:  Burner, like the ones on your stove. No relation to hobbits.

Cheers: This is just much more widely used as a way to casually say "thanks" or "goodbye". I honestly have only been able to slip in a "cheers" a few times without feeling like an impostor Canadian.

Quid: I had finally started using 'pounds' and 'pence' regularly instead of 'dollars' and 'cents', when someone threw in a 'quid' and I was all like "Woah there pal. Now you're just making up words to confuse me". But it means 'pounds' in the same way that we would say 'five bucks'.

Potatoes: *A separate illustrated section is required on potatoes, both because of their personal importance to me, and also the sheer number of potato-related words that are different here.

• Jacket Potato:

No.

Yes. Delicious.

• Chips: Fries, but more specifically, thick cut fries.

True, natural beauty.

• Fries: Not as commonly used but can refer to thin, long cut potatoes such as good old Micky D's. 

  

  I am salivating.

• Crisps: Chips. Like the kind you get in a bag, or the kind that people put out in a bowl at university residence parties, and then accuse you of eating all of them and knock on your door demanding a dollar. Purely hypothetical example.

                                        Love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections.                                           

Lucky Dip: A kind of raffle-like draw where you can win prizes. I am including this in here for Beth's sake. At her work, she was told that there would be a lucky dip later. Naturally, she anticipated some sort of magical guacamole. There was no guacamole, but she did win a men's shower gel so there's that.

Although there are many more small differences between Canadian and British English, I will leave it at that for now. Those photos of potatoes are making me really hungry, so I think I'll go grab some fries. I mean chips. I mean crisps. ...Can someone pass the lucky dip??

-- C.

Why is Nobody Clapping?? -- My First Week as a Supply Teacher.

Imagine: You are a newly qualified Elementary school teacher. You have folders on your laptop overflowing with successful lesson plans from your student teaching placements. You know your way around a rubric and have learned to harness the power of "If you can hear me, clap once". You know so many teaching acronyms that you feel you've achieved second-language fluency. You feel armed with knowledge, ready to teach engaging lessons and make a difference in students' lives. You feel totally prepared to walk into your first day of teaching with a smile on your face and the best intentions in your heart.

But it is on that first day, that you will realize that you are completely and utterly wrong.

You are standing at the front of the class, register in hand, trying to accomplish the seemingly simple task of getting 25 small humans to sit down on the carpet quietly. There are children running around the classroom. Children yelling across the room to their friends. One is tugging on your sleeve asking to use the toilet. Another stands in front of you complaining: "Miss! He's calling me names!". "I AM NOT!", the culprit protests from across the room, adding to the growing noise level. You've tried clapping once, twice, three times. They can hear you. Why aren't they clapping back?? "Miss, do you want me to write the names of everyone being silly on the board?" asks a well-intentioned girl, but you don't even know where to start -- it would be much easier at this point to write a list of who's not being silly. You don't want to yell. You told yourself you wouldn't be the kind of teacher who yells, but what choice do you have? "EVERYONE, PLEASE SIT DOWN OR WE ARE ALL STAYING IN FOR BREAK!" you shout, vocal chords straining to be heard amidst the chaos. A few children yell out in protest, but the noise continues, and you wonder to yourself -- out of all of the professions in the world, why did I choose to become a teacher??

On Monday, I began my first full week of supply teaching in Bristol, UK. The scenario described above was my first day in a nutshell. I didn't imagine that I would need to call the Head Teacher in to discipline the class on my very first day of teaching, but I did. I felt disheartened and inadequate, and I questioned whether I was really cut out for this whole teaching thing. But I thought to myself, it's just one day. Maybe it's just a bad day. Tomorrow will be better.

And by some miracle, it was.

That's not to say that there haven't been ups and downs since then, but I'm learning. I'm learning that not every classroom is as chaotic as the first, but some are. I'm figuring out strategies to deal with behaviour, to motivate students...and to hold myself together when these things occasionally, but inevitably fail.

Supply teaching is not an easy job: You are a stranger with no authority coming into a classroom and trying to tell students what to do. But it can be a rewarding job too, as I've found out over the past week.

Never underestimate the power of the
 "mystery prize box".

I've been drawn pictures, given lots of hugs, and greeted by name in the hallways. I've learned that five year olds don't quite get the concept of knock-knock jokes, but their attempts are more hilarious and adorable than the actual punchline would have been anyway. I've gotten to witness Year One boys performing an impromptu song and dance routine to "Uptown Funk" without fully knowing the words, but they tried really hard and that's what counts. I've answered many a curious question about Canada, and discovered that reward stickers are truly magical in their power to silence a noisy classroom. I've taught Spanish with no knowledge of Spanish whatsoever. I've tied shoes, sang songs, and comforted a little girl who was crying because her pet cat was "in the sky" now.

In summary, I've survived. And for a new supply teacher, I think that's an accomplishment in itself. And for now? It's enough.


-- C.

Boats, Banksy and Beese's.

It's been exactly two weeks since Beth and I arrived in the UK. I'm not sure what it is, but it already feels like we've been here much longer. Perhaps an overload of new experiences can mess with a person's head and expand their sense of time? Either way, we've now moved into our Air BnB in Bristol (which we've booked for a month), and things have begun to feel a little less hectic... okay, things are still hectic, but at least we don't have to wear flip flops to shower anymore.

Our Air BnB:

• We quickly realized that we were very lucky to find this place when we did, and book it before anyone else. There's already someone else booked to stay here the day we are supposed to leave. I have nothing but good things to say about the place and host. From the collection of feminist magnets and signs around the house, to the herb garden that we're free to use in our cooking, to our experienced host's helpful advice about the city, we've really felt quite comfy and welcomed here.
• We are only a 25-30 minute bus ride away from the city centre, and within walking distance of a little grocery store (and an Indian takeaway, which I've drooled over from afar, but have yet to try).
• The area is lovely. Walk five minutes, and we've reached a nature reserve that is home to Beese's Tea Room and Pub. It's only open until the end of September, but we got a chance to sit on it's patio overlooking the Avon River and enjoy a traditional cream tea. (Hint: cream tea is not just tea. It is also scones, jam and some strange butter-like substance called clotted cream. I stuck to the jam). We've also met many animals in the surrounding green areas -- cats and dogs of course, but also pigs, and a very friendly and curious pony. I may have gotten way too excited over the last two. And we definitely did not have a "whimsical forest" photoshoot because that would be silly.

An example of the many wonderful women-empowering signs around the house.

The front hall featuring a sneaky selfie.

                                   

The view from Beese's patio.

This is cream tea. All of it. Not just the tea.

Eastwood Farm Nature Reserve

Obligatory photo of pig best friends.

Since I've gotten here, several people have asked me "What made you decide to come to Bristol?". The answer involves a combination of being intimidated by London and it's housing market, the fact that my teaching agency has an office here, and the results of several google searches that brought up words like "artsy", "green spaces" and "friendlier than London". What's more interesting than me trying to concisely sum this all up to whoever's asking, is their inevitable response: "Oh, well, you picked a great city!" Everyone I've talked to here seems to genuinely really like living here, which gives me hope that once the "honeymoon" phase of being somewhere new passes, I will still be glad to call it home.

Some notes on Bristol:

• It's definitely not London. We get around on buses rather than the tube (and yes, people do sometimes say "cheers, drive" rather than "thank you" when getting off the bus). Things are more spread out, but the city centre is definitely walkable if you want to check out a few cool places, Rush hour is still really busy -- it's still a city of nearly 500,000 -- but I haven't yet had to fight my way through four rows of shoving people to get onto public transit yet, so there's that.
• Hills. So many hills. It's also not San Fransisco, but you get the idea. The University of Bristol, as well as my teaching agency, are at the top of a big hill that tends to be full of students at various parts of the day. There are many cool vintage shops, cafes, and bookstores on your way up (or down). There's also Cabot Tower somewhere near the top, This is an 105 foot tall tower that was built in 1897 to commemorate John Cabot's voyage from Bristol -- he's believed to have "discovered" parts of Eastern Canada, in an attempt to reach Asia. That's why there's also a Cabot Tower in Newfoundland. We climbed up a narrow, winding staircase to reach an amazing panoramic view of the city at the top -- well, Beth went to the top. I stopped at the first viewing area because I am a claustrophobic baby.

  

  Like, come on, this is kind of terrifying when you're 90 feet up.

  
  

  

  But the climb was so worth it.

The university is absolutely beautiful. There's an area called the College Green -- picture your stereotypical college movie scene of students laying in the grass on blankets, playing frisbee, studying together, and so on, and surround that with a cathedral, a very old library, a city hall with fountains out front and patches of colourful flowers.

Bristol Cathedral by College Green, further down is the library.

Looking onto the waterfront.

• There really is a lot of street art here. Banksy is obviously the most famous street artist around here, but he's not the only one. Pretty much anywhere I turn in the city, there's a mural of boy riding a turtle wearing a strainer on his head, or a man in a bowler hat pouring paint down the side of a building, or some other crazy, larger than life piece of artwork staring down at me. I'll have to actually bring my camera downtown some time and capture some of it.

Anyway, that's a pretty basic overview of our first impressions of Bristol. I expect to have some more specific posts later, but I figured it needed an introduction. The past week has been a whirlwind of house hunting, sorting out logistics with my agency, and a couple voluntary days at schools before I get my police check in and can start work. But I'll leave off here for now for fear of rambling, and say cheers for now! (Did I use that right? I'm pretty sure I did. Whatever. I'm committed to saying it now).

Cheers,
C.

London Lessons

Hey world! So we have been in London for about three days now, and I feel I have already learned so much about being a clueless Canadian newbie here.

Our Flight:

• We flew to London Gatwick via Iceland. One perk of flying Iceland Air is that they give you free Iceland water upon boarding the plane. It tasted more glacial than normal water, as far as I could tell, and almost made up for the whole "no free meals on the plane unless you're a kid" thing.

• My "in flight entertainment" consisted of a frozen screen. Luckily, Beth somehow found headphone splitters so we could both fall asleep to Mockingjay Part One.
• Descending down to London meant flying through about four layers of thick clouds, and I asked myself why I even bothered to bring my sunglasses.

Notes on Hostel Life

• Beth's program booked her a hostel for the first two nights, so we both stayed in different ones at the beginning. Hers was in a nice part of town, over a fun, lively pub. My area could essentially be described as very "Brantford". My hostel pub plays depressing classic rock ballads, and is usually populated by a mix of young people, and greying men watching football and singing along to said depressing ballads.

• When I arrived, all I wanted to do was nap and shower. The nap went great, but apparently I signed up for the ice bucket challenge as there was no hot water at all. It was... invigorating.

Some notes on London life:

• Walk as far from the road as you can when it rains. I got splashed by a double decker bus, and although I felt like it was a sort of initiation into London life, I would not recommend it.
• Blow drying your boots with a hostel hair dryer is not an effective way to dry them. Sure, it makes them warm and wet as opposed to cold, but then it just kind of feels like something peed in them. 
• Cars on the wrong side of the road = weird. Drivers on the wrong side of their cars = weird. Beth and I keep having minor freakouts when we see a "ghost car" with "nobody driving it".
• The tube/public transportation in general is so straightforward and convenient. Avoid rush hour though, unless you want to wait for four trains to pass before you can squeeze into one.
• Beer pong tables and beer pong being played at bars = normal? Also, as I type this, a bulldog is casually chilling on the floor of my hostel pub. London bars are weird.

Cool Places:

• Okay, so I am generally apprehensive about super "touristy" attractions. Maybe it's just because it's off peak tourist season, but the crowds at Big Ben/Buckingham Palace were not awful at all, and seeing the sights was totally worth it. It's not like other tourist attractions I've been to where it's a kind of crappy area surrounding the attraction, which you can barely see due to the crowds. The whole area surrounding these tourist spots is beautiful and definitely worth a look.

• Camden Town/Markets: I could write paragraphs on how cool this area is, but I will spare you the novel. Basically, it's like Queen Street West in Toronto times 10. Hipster/artsy/gothic/raver type shops, an entire outdoor street food market, and our FIRST CAT SIGHTING, YESSS.

Pretty banners at the market.

This cat sat in the doorway of the shop and silently tolerated people petting him and 'aww'ing at him.

A maze of shops.

Coolest food stand by far: "Cereal Killer", a custom cereal bar.

Crazy glow in the dark two-level raver shop with life-size robot people on the walls.

Your average Wonderland picnic.

All of this happened to be beside the river.

Well, that's it for now. Upcoming adventures include a Rugby World Cup party, and heading off to Bristol. But now, we are off to find some snacks.

Until next time,
C.

Hello World.

Hello world,

I am currently laying in bed, making a blog. Is it cliché to make a travel blog? Probably. But tomorrow I am uprooting my life to England for potentially a long time. I am coping with this by blogging instead of getting a good night's sleep. Whatever. We all have our coping mechanisms.

First up I will answer some frequently asked questions. Nobody has actually asked me any of these questions, but I imagine they will once I am a famous blogger, and it will probably be annoying with them being asked so frequently and all. So let's get them out of the way now, shall we?

1. Who are you?: I'm a 23 year old girl with a boy's name. I like cats, coffee, photography, and trying to be an un-pretentious vegan. I am a recent graduate of Laurier Brantford's teaching program, specializing in Primary Junior education, and you are probably falling asleep already so let's move on.

2. What does your blog name mean?: About 4 years ago, I went to Israel for the first time. Upon returning, my friend (and current travel buddy) Beth commented: "You went all the way to Israel...and half of your photos are just of Israeli street cats...Why am I not surprised?". So the blog name implies that while some English cats may be photographed at various points in time, I will also attempt to capture other important aspects of English life.

3. Why are you going to England?: So basically in Ontario, everyone's like "what teaching jobs??" so a ton of young teachers are going abroad because of jobs actually existing there. I'm one of them. I also really want to gain some travel experience and teach children with adorable British accents, so there's that.

4. What grade are you teaching?: I am starting on a supply contract, which means I don't have my own class, but I am guaranteed a certain number of teaching days per week. I will be living in Bristol, so I could be at any number of Bristol elementary schools on a given day. It just depends where the need is. I expect lots of frantic Google Maps-ing ahead.Okay, MTV,  you've seen my blog, now it's time for you to get out. For real though, time for bed. Lots of travel ahead, so strap yourselves in for some sarcasm, mishaps, shenanigans, and possibly even some high-jinks!

Goodnight (Canadian) world.
-- C.