The Top However Many UK Road Trip Moments I Can Think Of In No Particular Order (TTHMURTMICTOINPO)

This post has been a long time in the making, but mostly because I have had a crazy few weeks. So it's nice to think back to a few weeks ago, when my only care in the world was whether I would ever see a Highland Cow in the flesh (fur?).

Over half-term, my two friends and I went on a road trip across the UK -- they started in London, met up with me in Salisbury (near Stonehenge), and came to stay for a couple nights in Bristol. Then we made our way through Liverpool, up to Glasgow, then onto the Isle of Skye, before finally ending in Edinburgh.

Instead of the tiresome process of explaining the whole trip in order, I thought I would pick out some highlights to share. So here it is, a semi-exhaustive list of The Top However Many UK Road Trip Moments I Can Think Of In No Particular Order. Or, TTHMURTMICTOINPO. Catchy right? Here goes.

1. Reuniting With Friends
   Taylor and Nicole are two of my dearest friends, so I greeted them in the only way appropriate for our reuniting -- by banging on their car window and scaring the crap out of them. I know they would do the same for me, because that's what friends are for.
2. Stonehenge
   We shelled out the big bucks in order to get up close and personal to the mystical stones themselves. When you arrive, a shuttle bus takes you a couple kilometres down the road to see them -- and the driver briefs you on the rules. However, we sat at the back of the bus and had no idea what he was saying for the most part. The only rule we heard was "don't touch the stones". Of course, I wasted no time in accidentally breaking this cardinal rule when losing my balance during a particularly "animated" Stonehenge-photoshoot pose. I am pretty sure I can never go back there again.
   

   

   Before I touched the stone.. so innocent, so naive.

3. Being a Tourist in My Own Town
   I've basically got my "Bristol Experience" whirlwind tour for visitors down pat. It involves some sightseeing (Cabot Tower and/or the Suspension Bridge), some "authentic" British cuisine (you will eat beans on toast and you will enjoy it), some local pubs, and cats. How could there not be cats? Our team also won at our local Pub Quiz, which would be really impressive if not for the fact that there was only one other team. Still proud of us.
   

   

   We all wore our most summery outfits

   

   Bag of Nails aka Cat pub aka My Happy Place

4. The Playlist
   With this being a road trip, we spent a lot of time in the car. So we spent a long time leading up to the trip virtually screaming song suggestions at one another in a Facebook group chat. We thought that we had crafted the perfect mix of cheesy karaoke jams, British inspired tunes, and what we called "Majestic mountain driving music". However, we forgot to take into account that these songs were in no way separated by "genre". So we would be driving through the gorgeous, breathtaking Scottish Highlands, when suddenly "My Humps" would come on and RUIN EVERYTHING. Like, damn it Fergie, can't you see this is not the time?? Takeaway point here -- make sure to categorize your playlist. However, some happy accidents did occur -- like the time we were racing against time to see the "Hogwarts Express" train passing over the famous viaduct from the films, and Hedwig's Theme came on. You win some, you lose some.
   

   

   But we missed the train anyway.

5. The Weird Conversations
   When you hang out with anyone for long enough, the conversations tend to take a turn for the weird, as you run out of "normal" topics to talk about. Somehow we ended up planning the plot of an entire novel about the three of us being stuck in pods and imagining our whole lives up until this point, while evil sheep scientists performed experiments on us. Other conversational highlights included the birth of Lady Baa-Baa, and the writing of several of her greatest hit songs such as Baa Romance, Baa-barazzi, and Shepherdo (to the tune of Alejandro). There were a lot of sheep around, okay? What else were we supposed to talk about??
6. Getting Beatle-Mania
   When we went to Liverpool, we planned on seeing the famous destinations behind Strawberry Field and Penny Lane. And of course, we played both songs on repeat on-route to said destinations. As a result, I never want to hear either song ever again, thanks.
   
    
7. Encounters with the Locals
   While wandering Liverpool near the Cavern Club, a lady came up to us and struck up a conversation in hopes of luring us into whatever club she was promoting. However, she had the thickest Liverpool accent you can imagine. We are pretty sure she complimented Nicole's eyebrows, but we're not 100% sure...
8. Living the City Life in Glasgow
   Much of our time in Glasgow was spent just wandering around this modern, art-filled city and taking in the sights. However, the best part was discovering the green spaces that were hidden among the busy streets. Near the People's Palace, we lay out in the grass and enjoyed the uncharacteristically sunny weather, resting our feet from a long day of walking. A detour after a lovely brewery dinner took us to the Necropolis -- a towering and sprawling cemetery. We climbed up winding paths that led us to the top of the steep hill and watched the sun set over Glasgow. It was a welcome sight after Nicole and I were forced to unwillingly stare at some guy's butt crack at the table in front of us during dinner.
   
   
   
                                             
9. The Wildlife
   Somehow, seeing adorable sheep frolicking the hills of Scotland just didn't get old. But I was on a mission... I needed to see a Hairy Coo (highland cow). So when we were driving up a terrifying single-track road on the Quirang mountain range, and spotted a glimpse of brown fur and horns, we immediately made Taylor pull the car over. This was it, this was my moment, it was a real life Highland Cow. But it wasn't facing the right way and we NEEDED photos. So we did the only logical thing -- we started mooing at it. At first it didn't work, so we switched up our moo-ing strategy: from sounding like an angry cow, to attempting to mimick a baby cow in trouble, in hopes that the cow's parental instincts would kick in. Well, somehow it worked and we managed to get this beauty of a photo. Sometimes it pays to look like an idiot.

   

   So glorious, so free.

10. The Views
    As we drove further North through the highlands toward the Isle of Skye, we got increasingly excited as the hills got bigger and more majestic. I'll let the pictures speak for themselves here.
    
    

    

    How is anywhere allowed to be this pretty?

    
    

    

    Just some casual sheep.

    
    

    

    Views from the Quirang

11. Dipping our Feet in the Fairy Pools
    If you ever plan to visit the Fairy Pools of Skye (which you should), I would suggest doing so in the early evening. As the sun begins to set, the landscape becomes drenched in gold and the light catches and sparkles in the clear blue water. It's truly magical. However, I nearly ruined this magical moment by slipping on one of the rocks while wading through one of the pools. I nearly fell into the water -- and even scarier, I nearly drenched my camera. Luckily, I caught myself in some kind of weird push-up position, my arms locked to save my precious camera, and only like eight people saw me wipe out. It's cool.
    
    
    
    
12. Our Stay in Skye
    We stayed in Dunvegan, a tiny town on the Isle of Skye. Disappointingly for me, this name has nothing to do with actual vegans. We called a cute little cottage our home for two nights. It was a relaxing and cozy stay -- I already miss having crumpets and coffee made by our lovely host, while watching sheep frolic outside. While in Dunvegan, we took the chance to experience the beauty of some of Scotland's most breathtaking parks. And by breathtaking, I mean we couldn't breathe from laughing when Taylor fell off the see-saw in a playground made for children. We are totally mature adults. 
    
    
    

    

    Before she fell. So innocent, so naive.

    
                                     
    
    
    We also saw Dunvegan Castle --the oldest continuously inhabited castle in Scotland. However, my favourite part was definitely the gorgeous gardens that surrounded it. (Though I mean, they were a bit underwhelming after that exceptional childrens' playground...).
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
    
13. Going Home
    We drove from our Air Bnb in Skye to Edinburgh, about a five and a half hour journey. It was here that I said goodbye to Nicole and Taylor, and started my equally long train ride back to Bristol. I got a little bored on the way, and started illustrating some of the nearby town names that I passed. For example:

    

    When you're on a train for 5.5 hours, this is the height of comedy.

    
    Our UK road trip was definitely one of the most amazing things I've experienced in my 24 years on Earth. But there's something comforting about arriving back to the city you've grown to call home, devouring two bowls of porridge, and crawling into your own bed. But the thing about travel is, the more of the world you see -- the more you realize there is to see. And what better way to see it than stuck in a car for endless hours, making up songs about sheep with your best friends? In my opinion, probably none.
    
                                        

Until next time,

C.

Why Is She Doing This to Me??: The Girl that I'd Given Up On.

As one might expect, taking over a struggling, difficult Year Two class three quarters of the way through the year has not been easy.

There have been days where once the last student has gone home, I've sat at my desk, fighting back tears of frustration. These are the days where I need to just sit for a while, to regain my composure before marking the students' work. Is it easy to sit after school, writing positive comments for students who have talked over me and bickered with one another all afternoon? No. But that's part of the job.

Another part of the job is attending staff meetings. On these occasions, all of the teachers pile into one of the classrooms after school. Someone struggles to gain control over an error-prone Smart Board that seems irritable after a long day of use. A box of biscuits is usually passed around to help quell the feelings of "I could be getting so much marking done right now". But it's not all biscuits and fancy Powerpoint effects. Sometimes, something really valuable can be gained.

During this particular meeting, we talked about Attachment Theory. In the most basic sense, this is the idea that a child's early bond with their caregiver, or lack thereof, can have a huge influence on their behaviour. Essentially, if a child doesn't have a secure attachment (e.g. a loving, caring relationship with a caregiver), they may display what may appear to us as "problem" behaviours.

We were asked to recall a specific child from our class, and discuss what their challenging behaviours are. Then, we were asked to think about what the child may be trying to communicate through their actions, or what might be causing them to behave in such a way.

My TA immediately suggested a particular girl in my class, lets call her Carly, for no particular reason. I begrudgingly agreed -- my feelings of frustration with her already swirling around in my head. It was difficult to open up and talk about this girl, I now realize, because I had already developed somewhat of a mental block towards her.

Carly was only in my class for part of the day. She attended a special group for children who need a little extra emotional or behavioural support, often times due to troubles at home. But it was difficult to feel as empathetic towards her as I should have, as from the moment she walked into my already chaotic classroom in the afternoon, she did nothing but escalate the chaos.

She was rude. She would do something to provoke another student, and then laugh or grin mischeviously at me when I told her to stop. She would take off her shoes on the carpet, throw bits of paper, and turn around the wrong way to distract the students behind her. It's hard to be patient when your lesson is being derailed (for the fifth time in the past hour) by three students having various dramatic reactions to Carly picking her nose, who is grinning and remorseless at the reaction she's earned.

So I followed the usual steps. I paused and looked. I warned. I warned again. I sent off the carpet. I sent out of the room. And yet, every day, there she was. Waltzing into my classroom, a tiny time bomb ready to explode at any minute.

Someone who may or may not have been Albert Einstein once said: "The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results". But in my mind, I was like: "Who cares what Albert Einstein says. I am the teacher, damn it, and I will not let this girl get away with doing this to me!" At this meeting, however, my perspective slowly changed.

Carly wasn't doing these things to deliberately make my life more difficult. It was evident that she could have been dealing with some difficult things. It was also very obvious that she craved attention, badly. But what if she had never learned how to get attention in the right way? What if the only way she knew how to get it was to act out? Then the obvious solution would be to teach her how to get attention in a positive way. A shift in perspective required a shift in approach.

The next day, when I walked into the school, who should I see but Carly. "Hi Miss!!" she said, excitedly. "How could she be so happy to see me, when I feel like all I do is tell her off?" I thought. But then I remembered the discussion from the previous afternoon at the meeting. Her greeting made sense within the context of an attention and approval-starved little girl. I made note of it again when she brought me a handful of wildflowers after lunch.

                                               

That afternoon, I focused my attention on her (as much as one can in a class of 23). She came in, and immediately sat down in my chair. "I'm the teacher!!" she cried, looking to see my reaction. I held back the urge to immediately scold her for being silly and invading my personal space. But I took a deep breath:

"Actually, I'm the teacher, and I need my chair back." I said, in a light tone. "But how would you like to be my helper teacher this afternoon?"

 Carly nodded with a big grin on her face.

 "Okay, well as my helper teacher, you need to help me make sure that all of the other kids are behaving, and set a good example for them. Can you show all of the other students how to walk back to their desks properly?"

 To my surprise, she did walk back to her desk properly, and got started on her handwriting. As I walked around getting the students to settle in, I took special care to praise her and to give her a sticker and a smile for being on task.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, it felt like somehow, Carly had picked up on my change of attitude towards her. It was a little eerie. I continued praising her, giving her behaviour tickets, or picking her for the privilege to come up and answer a question on the Smart Board when she was sitting nicely. All afternoon, I made the effort to acknowledge her, notice her good behaviour, and speak kindly with her. For the first time in what felt like ages, I didn't have to send her out of the room, or even off of the carpet. I made sure to tell her support teachers and her mother what a good afternoon she had. This all may seem a bit overboard for simply following classroom expectations, but for this little girl, it felt groundbreaking. I felt like I was finally taking steps toward connecting to her, when before, my brain would just shut down at her rude behaviour.

Of course, I was skeptical of how long this would keep up for, and I have no illusions of her suddenly becoming a perfectly behaved little angel overnight. These things take time and effort. But it wasn't the rude, disruptive Carly that walked into my classroom the following Monday, and I noticed.

So yes, my class still frustrates me to no end some days. And no, I can't turn all of their behaviour around for the better. I still spend most afternoons putting out metaphorical fires. But I've learned that only looking at the big picture can make you feel like a failure, and can be destructive to both yourself and your class. Every behaviour is communication, and every student is a person with something to say. It's our job as teachers to listen.

Until next time,

C.

A Day in Primary School.

Hello everyone,

As mentioned in my previous post, I have recently made the leap from day-to-day supply, to a long-term position in the same primary class for the remainder of the year. While there are several really nice things about this (Continuity! Getting to know the kids! No early morning supply calls!), it's definitely been an adjustment.

As a supply teacher, there were so many things that I could just leave at the door on my way out of a classroom. But now, I take them all home with me: work to grade, planning to fill out, the stress of knowing that the education of these little humans is currently resting on my shoulders... That kind of thing.

This afternoon, I saw an infographic on Facebook about how many hours are REALLY in a teacher's day, since apparently, some people think that it begins at 9:00 and ends at 3:30. Honestly, it surprises me that people are still so disillusioned (or perhaps just uninformed) as to believe this. Seeing this has inspired me to create my own little "log" of how an average day might go for a teacher in the crazy little bubble that is the Primary classroom.

6:15 AM: Alarm goes off.

6:20 AM: Alarm goes off again. I actually get up this time. Grumble and groan, but bribe myself out of bed with the promise of coffee and breakfast. Shower, get dressed, eat.

7:25-7:40: Depending on how much I have to accomplish in the morning and how proactive I'm feeling, I hop on my bike anywhere between 7:25ish and 7:40ish. Luckily, my new place is situated along the railway path, so I speed alongside the spandex-clad commuters for about 10 minutes until I am at school.

7:35-7:50: Arrive at school. Write the date on the whiteboard. Connect laptop to Smart Board and load up the interactive slideshows and online activities for the day. Print anything that needs printing. Photocopy anything that needs photocopying. Potentially sort out any technological issues that may occur. Consult with TA about the day.

8:30: If it's a Monday or Friday, teachers have to attend a "briefing". If not, I am probably still starting to panic a little about where the time has gone, as the kids will be arriving soon.

8:45: Go outside and greet the children and parents. Answer parents' questions, take names down for the parent-teacher conference, act really excited over the toys and jewelry that the kids brought to school and want to show you.

8:50: Bring the kids inside, collect signed letters from home, corral the kids into putting away said toys/jewelry/that weird piece of string they found outside and tell them about 5 times to sit down with their reading book.

8:55: Once again panic because somehow it's 8:55 and you need to take the register and line the kids up for assembly, quickly enough not to face the shame of showing up late. Spend the assembly watching my class out of the corner of my eye, ready to shoot the "evil eye" at anyone misbehaving.

9:30: Bring the class, who are now super chatty, back to the classroom. Somehow, manage to restore some semblance of order and begin teaching for the morning. It's English and Phonics. Deliver lessons that account for the fact that some kids can write a detailed story using adjective and adverbs, and some can barely string together a sentence in English that makes sense.

10:50: Break time for the kids, and possibly for me... though more likely, I am out on duty, dealing with someone who has lost 5 minutes from their playtime for their behaviour, or hurriedly setting something up for the next lesson as I scarf down an apple.

11:10: Go outside to fetch the class. Arrange the boisterous clump of children into something that resembles a line. Walk about 5 steps with children in tow, but stop because someone has run off to go pick up a hula hoop and begin rolling it. Sternly tell this individual to come back to the line. Meanwhile, someone has come up to you, crying because "so-and-so- pushed in front of me in line". The culprit is now arguing back, and the rest of the line begins amassing itself into a blob again. I begin to feel like I am herding cats.

11:15: Begin teaching maths, or more likely, spend about 15 minutes dealing with behaviour issues and praying that they will finally settle down. Comfort a child who has "hurt themselves" on the playground (if I squint, I can see the scrape). Deliver a maths lesson, and sort out which children are getting which set of questions -- once again, the class ranges from high to very low ability. After about 5 minutes, some kids are complaining that they don't get it. After about 10, some kids are complaining that they're finished and have nothing to do while I'm busy trying to help the ones that don't get it. WHY DOES THAT KID HAVE THE WEIRD PIECE OF STRING AGAIN??

12:15: Lunch time AT LAST. Once again, make the all-important line and bring the kids into the dining hall. Over the next hour, I will cram food and coffee into my face, potentially deal with more behaviour problems, and run around setting up for the afternoon. Walking through the playground to the main part of the school is like walking through tall grass in Pokemon. If a kid in my class spots me, I will more than likely be pulled into some argument about who had the skipping rope first.

1:15: Go outside to fetch the kids again. Deal with same lining up issues.

1:20-3:15: "Teach" afternoon lessons. This week, I had to plan a week's worth of afternoon activities to do with France. By the afternoon, the kids are extremely rowdy. On top of this, the TA (who has been there the whole year and who the kids listen to better than me) is in and out doing various assessments with children. So it generally ends up being half sorting out behavioural issues, and half actual teaching. Students keep talking over me. Someone has crawled under a desk. Someone is sticking a coin to their forehead. I stop the lesson and wait, again and again. I send disruptive students to the back of the room, and try to carry on. I'm not proud of it, but I will likely raise my voice a lot. It's rough.

3:15: Make sure the kids go home with the right parents. Send some kids off to after-school clubs (run by other teachers). Do a bit of tidying up -- barely making a dent in the messy classroom that I have inherited.

3:30: Begin marking the students' work for the day. There may be some other after-school responsibilities. Today, I had to let parents visit the classroom to see what the kids had been working on for Global Week.

3:45: Get pulled into a meeting with the other teachers about targets. We have to track whether each child is achieving targets that we have to come up with for them, as we mark their work.

4:30: Return to the classroom, Finish marking/target tracking and other odd jobs.

5:00-5:30: Pack up for the night, and head out to my bike. I'm getting emails from the other teachers about SATS, expectations, special activities scheduled for the week, etc, etc. By 5:30, I tend to make myself leave, even though there are about 1000 other things I could be doing in the classroom.

5:30: Run any errands that need doing. For instance, this evening I ran out to Tesco to pick up groceries for myself, and some special French treats for the students to end off Global Week -- making sure to pick up some dairy-free cookies for a student with dietary needs.

6:00- Some Time: Home. Dinner. Possibly eat a third of a dark chocolate and hazelnut bar in bed. Whatever. FINALLY STOP MOVING. I'll do the phonics plans on the weekend. My bed and I become one.

This dragon's expression accurately sums up how I feel upon being home, in my bed.

But the next day, it begins again at 6:15: Once again, I will spend my day as a nurse, a counsellor, an IT "specialist" (a specialist at googling "Smart Board sound wont work" anyway), a referee, a cheerleader, a performer on stage, a curriculum planner, a police officer, and somewhere among all of that, I am a teacher.

So can we talk about those holidays again please?


Until next time,
C.

Edinburgh: Haggis, Hikes and Hairy Coos

Hello everyone! I am coming to you live from my sofa, on the final day of half-term break.
Tomorrow it's back to school for me -- specifically, back to the Year Two class that I will be teaching for the rest of the school year. More on this later. For now, I'd prefer to dwell on the break for a little bit longer before thinking about the reality of working life again.

It's been a pretty exciting half-term for a couple of reasons:

 1. We moved to a wonderful new house that was a huge step up from our previous place, and:

 2. Beth was able to get time off work, meaning that the two of us could finally have a good old fashioned adventure together again. Note that this has not happened since we went to London for Halloween, so basically forever ago.

This time around, our adventuring took us to Edinburgh, Scotland. This excursion had been a long time coming. Beth has a friend who lives there, and we had been vaguely discussing a visit pretty much since we got to the UK.

I'm going to try a bit of a different format to talk about our trip, as I find that going through the whole thing chronologically can be a bit tiresome. So instead, I'm gonna sum everything up under some nice, neat little subheadings. Here we go:

Travelling

• We decided to fly out at night, and arrive to our hostel around midnight. This way, we could check in, have a nice sleep and then have a full day the next morning to explore. I would reccommend this system -- the flight is generally cheaper without having to book it for 8 AM or some other ungodly hour. Yes, it means paying for an extra night's accommodation, but it's worth it, as you don't waste half a day napping off your travel exhaustion.
• Somehow, Beth and I always end up getting stuck beside a really chatty individual when we are travelling and really tired. I mean, it's great that people are friendly. However, when it's 11:30 PM and you're falling asleep on the airport shuttle bus, you're not neccessarily in the mood to explain your whole life story and clarify that bears don't just walk into our houses all the time in Canada and casually eat our food.

Hostel Life

• When choosing our hostel, we took many important factors into consideration. Is there an all-female room? Do the beds have outlets beside them to charge our phones? When you step outside, are you immediately looking up at a huge castle perched on top of a massive rock formation? We chose one that fit all of these criteria. It was called, appropriately, Castle Rock hostel. It was pretty much everything that you could want from a hostel: cheap but filling breakfast, nice rooms with lockers for your valuables, several cozy lounges, close to all the touristy things. It pays to read the reviews on Hostelworld.
  
  

  

  View from my room.

  

  Medival Times?

  
  

  

  Well. There it is.

  
  

  

  The "Groovy Lounge"

• When you are staying in a room with multiple other people, you have to account for the fact that sometimes, people are the worst. I was all tucked into my bed on the first night, exhausted, ready for a solid night's sleep. And then it began. It sounded like someone was sucking the last bits of soda out of a McDonalds cup. Or perhaps a baby elephant with a sinus infection attempting to blow its trunk. But it was neither of these things, no, this horrible noise was actually being produced by someone's nose. Look, I know that sometimes people can't help snoring, but this fact didn't make it any less awful. By the second night, I couldn't take it any more and stormed down to reception in the middle of the night to ask if they sold earplugs. I think I must have looked really pissed off, because they just handed me a pair for free. Bless them.

Touristy Things

• Edinburgh Castle: When we first tried to go, they were closed due to an IT issue that prevented them from printing tickets. So like the technological geniuses that we are, we followed the castle on Twitter and subscribed to live updates so that we would see when they tweeted about opening again. The castle was, in not so eloquent words: really really cool. I expected it to mostly be an indoor experience, but I was wrong. There were some indoor exhibits, but the coolest part was probably the way that the castle walls seemed to emerge from piles of stone, as if it were a naturally occurring part of the landscape.

• Arthur's Seat: "What a perfect day for a hike!" we thought. "The sun's out, the weather is mild!" we remarked. But as soon as we started making our way up the steep incline of this ancient volcanic peak, the clouds rolled in. The wind began to grow stronger, and we started feeling raindrops. Also, just a note that getting to the top of Arthur's Seat is not just a gentle stroll. We were definitely "feeling the burn" (in the 'my calves are on fire' sense, not in a "voting for Bernie Sanders" kind of way). But it stopped raining almost as soon as we reached the top, and we were rewarded with an incredible view of Edinburgh and the ocean. We then "mountain goat-ed" it down the opposite side to reach The Sheep's Heid Inn: the oldest pub in Edinburgh. Then, like the 21st century girls that we are, we decided against the 40 minute walk back to the hostel and hopped in an Uber instead. Don't judge us.

• The Scotch Whiskey Experience: We were unreasonably excited for this one, and not because we are whiskey connoisseurs. Not even close. However, we are big fans of riding in a giant barrel while the ghost of an old dude teaches us about how whiskey is made. We are also fans of swirling our glasses and pretending to detect hints of banana, when really, it just smells (and tastes) like booze. We never claimed to have refined palates.

•  Underground Vaults Tour: This was extremely interesting. Our guide took us beneath the South Bridge, into the damp, cold vaults that were apparently once a hive of activity -- both legal and not. Note that we very specifically sought out a "non-scary" and strictly informative tour because we are babies. No ghost tours for us, thanks.
  
  
  
  
• The Royal Mile: This is where all the touristy shops live. Want to buy a kilt, or perhaps a stuffed highland cow (or as they call them, "hairy coo")? Fancy some shortbread? Want to hear a bagpipe cover of "Fix You" by Coldplay? This is where you'll find it. Lots of tacky fun. I don't usually buy a lot in the way of souvenirs, but the cool and windy weather encouraged me to buy an Edinburgh bobble hat. I later realized that due to the seam placement, the front of the hat says "EDINB", which is not a word, but the back very clearly says "URGH". Also not a word, but it is a frustrated grunt. I think if I'm having a particularly grumpy day, I'll wear the hat backwards.

  

  Typical sight on the Royal Mile.

  
  

  

  Just a casual invisible man.

  
  

  

  Why are these so funny and passive aggressive?

  
  

  

  URGHHHHHH

• Princes Street: The main shopping street with the usual high street type shops, and some cool monuments along the way. But I mostly included this so that I could add photos of the random dog we saw in a Union Jack sweater carrying a flashlight. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

Food:

Beth and I have determined that we suck at eating like normal human beings.

•  Example 1: Before I left, I found a Buzzfeed list of the best vegan food in Edinburgh, and we planned on hitting up a few of the places. However, I somehow overlooked the fact that going for GIANT JACKET POTATOES for lunch and THE BIGGEST NACHOS EVER for dinner is maybe not the best idea, and definitely does not scream "I am a responsible adult who knows how to eat in moderation". Post-nachos, we waddled back to our hostel rooms and pretended to be "just laying down for a bit" before going to watch a film in the hostel's movie room. We did not leave our beds for the rest of the night.

  

  Vegan curry "medium" potato. It was actually one big potato and one baby one beside it.

  
  

  

  We tried.

• Example 2: The day after the potato/nacho incident, we decided that we would have breakfast, just grab a light lunch from Sainsburys before hiking Arthur's Seat, and then stop into The Sheep's Heid Inn for a snack before heading back into town and getting a light dinner later. What happened instead was: We had breakfast, grabbed a light lunch from Sainsburys, grabbed some starters and a pint AND a dessert each at the Sheep's Heid Inn, and then decided to try haggis and veggie haggis with all the fixings for dinner before joining our hostel's pub crawl. Tottering up the stairs to our hostel, post-haggis, we realized that we had failed once again to eat responsibly and were a hopeless case.

  

  Veggie "haggis", neeps and tatties (turnips and potatoes).

All in all, Edinburgh is a beautiful city with tons of history, lots to do, and even more to eat. Exploring a new city is my favourite, but travel is exhausting. I'm glad that I left myself a weekend to rest and recover before heading back to work, because I've definitely needed it. That being said, I'm off to go do nothing in particular -- and I'm very happy about it.

Until next time,

C.

Teaching is a Rollercoaster.

Sometimes, supply teaching can be a real rollercoaster. I know, it's a pretty cliched saying, and part of me doesn't really think it makes sense in the context that most people use it. I mean, sure, I get the whole "ups and downs" bit, but I mean... isn't the "down" part of the rollercoaster the best? Isn't going up the hill still pretty thrilling? Maybe I'm overthinking it, but it just doesn't quite match up.

What I guess I'm trying to say is: teaching is a rollercoaster in that there will probably be a lot of screaming for some reason. Someone might throw up. And no matter how much you have to pee, you can't until the ride is over (or until the bell rings for break). At the end of it all, you're frazzled, your hair is a mess, your voice may be sore...and yet, you get right back on and do it all over again.

Last week started with a much less thrilling kind of ride: an hour long commute on the good old Bristol bus. I don't have too much to say about that which hasn't already been expressed in a very sassy email to the bus company, so let's just go with "it sucked". I was placed for the whole week in Year Six at a school on the outskirts of town, so getting there was more of a chore than normal.

When I showed up, I was greeted with the bane of every supply teacher's existence: no plans. On top of that, the TA (teaching assistant) was off on Monday. The deputy head hurriedly helped me to photocopy some worksheets for the morning and I scrambled to remember the difference between an adverb and a preposition and to mentally sort out the various methods of division. Put simply: last minute prepping for Year 6 is much more difficult than say, Reception. I mean, I generally don't have to remind myself what sound "ch" makes. Anyway, the morning was somehow sorted just in time, and I was able to slog my way through.

For the afternoon though, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. I was given a very brief "week at a glance" type schedule that essentially listed subjects and times but nothing else. I was told "They have RE (religion) and then Music... usually the TA helps with those but she's not here obviously. I wouldn't do music with them as a supply. You don't have to stick with this though, you can do whatever you'd like."

Great. 20 minutes left of lunch to figure out an entire afternoon, and all I've got is "do whatever" basically?

Naturally, I chose art. By some miracle, I was able to find an art lesson online that used a concept from their maths (rotational symmetry) and that didn't require many materials. It went okay... but I still left that day feeling like I had just come off of the metaphorical rollercoaster after eating too much funnel cake. It's not that the kids were bad. They were your standard Year 6 class -- noisy, obsessed with internet humor, a bit "too cool for school"... but nothing that I haven't handled before. It was just the uncertainty and stress of coming into a day with minimal planning, combined with a stressful commute that really threw me. And it was my birthday.

Luckily, the week did get easier. The TA showed up and was an absolute lifesaver. I saw the kids all dress up as book characters on World Book Day. I got to do another really fun art lesson with the students. The commute was still killer though -- I was often so tired in the evenings that I would be falling asleep before 10 PM. And the kids weren't always perfectly behaved. They seemed to have no concept of a noise level between "absolute silence" and "absolute chaos". But when Friday rolled around, it all became worth it.

One of the quirks of Year 6 is that it's hard to tell whether the kids actually like you or if they think you're the worst teacher that has ever walked the planet. Kids in Reception or Year One will give you hugs or outright declare their love for you, whereas Year 6 is a little more subtle. On Friday, I'd had to give a few talks -- about working quietly, about not passing notes in class, about not standing up and bugging someone else when they're trying to do their maths. That kind of stuff. But at least the afternoon was more relaxed -- I gave them time to finish their art and even put on some (school appropriate) song requests on the Smartboard.

At the end of the day, as everyone packed up, three of the boys came up to me a bit bashfully. "We actually had something to tell you" one of them said. "When you told us to stop passing notes around class, well, we were actually passing this around:" They handed me something from behind their backs.

I couldn't believe it. They had somehow managed to make and pass around this card, unnoticed by me, and get everyone in the class to sign it. Shows how observant I am. "We thought you were really good" one of the boys said. "We don't always like supply teachers. Mr. Jones (name changed) treated us like dogs, he had this little clicker that he would click at us when we were being bad." Note to self, do not use a clicker on the children. The impact of their little gift was not lost on me. "You guys, thank you so much, this is amazingly sweet" I told them, and I meant it. "I'm going to keep this and look at it whenever I have a bad day". And yes, bad days will happen again, but this was not one of them. I felt appreciated and proud. This was one of the days that makes it all worth it.

Let's return to our cliched carnival ride metaphor one more time: Sometimes, rollercoasters have those little cameras that snap a photo of you at the very top of the very highest hill, so that you can laugh at it afterwards. Well, if this week were a rollercoaster, I think that photo would be of me with a ridiculously goofy smile on my face.

Until next time,


C.