Stuff

I’m still here – just doing “stuff” and not posting much.

I’m still waiting for the results of my course so far – and I hate waiting.

I got a dodgy (but passing) mark in a recent assignment which I wasn’t expecting – and am a little miffed that I can get 7s for my “writing style and APA referencing” in Every Other Assignment I’ve done and yet only ranked a 5 in the current assignment … and I can’t figure out how my writing or referencing style has changed that much.

On the plus side, I feel very proud of my prac results – the reports were glowing.  This has cheered me somewhat as I imagine that my ability to actually *teach* will count for more that my ability to crap on about some educational research which I didn’t have time to do because I was *teaching* full time for about half my prac  – so much more than the recommended 1.5 hours per day we were meant to building up to, leaving no time to actually gather much data (which we didn’t have ethical permission to collect anyway).  Let’s just say that the course coordinators need a bit of a reality wake-up call on what real teaching is like as they appear to have forgotten.

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The farm continues to be the bane of my existence – yet another farm motorbike has arrived home for the husband to fix while “he’s not doing anything else” (like anything that needs to be done at *our* home).

…and I’m also sooo over people *telling*me “so you’ll be moving to the farm now” like we’ve suddenly lost our marbles, decided to forsake being able to feed and clothe ourselves adequately while working our fingers to the bone for pittance for the rest of our lives.  I’ve taken to answering that statement with one of my own … “the only way the husband could get me to permanently stay at the farm would be in a pine box buried under the water tank”.  Shuts the fuckers up.

If I sound a bit flat – I am, despite not having any good reason to be… but I’ll get over it (I’m very good at  at Sucking It Up And Getting On With It).

school cake stalls….

I am not a domestic diva.

While I can bake cakes and biscuits, I rarely do … unless its something super quick like ANZAC biscuits or date loaf because I really just can’t be bothered going to that much effort for something that we don’t really eat that much of anyway.
So it drives me completely bananas when I get the ninety-third request this term (I’m sure) for a cake for my daughter’s school.

I don’t begrudge the bakers their stall, I just wish they wouldn’t cast me side-long glances when I turn up with no cake for the stall …. again.

I know some people think its a complete doddle to whip up another confection to “help” the school, but I see it as an exercise in torture.

You see, I much prefer spending time as an unofficial teacher aide IN the classroom and helping out with maths and literacy.  Not many parents are able to do this due to lack of time, and I feel its something that I can do for the kids (and teacher – she’s tied me down for literacy groups as soon as uni finishes).

I don’t expect everyone to give up their time and help out the teacher, but at the same time, I’d like to be let off catering duty.

Maybe I’m still scarred from my failure to bake the perfect sponge in Year 8 Home Economics class, but baking just ain’t my thing.

So close I can almost taste it

I finished my teaching practical yesterday – and…

(drumroll)

I got straight “excellents” on my report from my supervising teacher. She tells me its the first time she’d ever given straight “excellents” in 28 years of teaching. (me proud much?)

Too bad it will still only count as a “satisfactory” in my official results … and that’s providing I can decipher the next assignment’s requirements and write something vaguely intelligent  within the next 3 days.

Best not to count chickens before they hatch ….but I know I’ve got a 7 (high distinction) for my multiliteracies subject and am hoping for at least 6s in my other two subjects.

But I’m soooo tired (really – teaching is a very tiring job) and am quite miffed that the university boffins have the hide to ask for another 2 assignments the week following  field placement.  Don’t they know that we need to spend a week in recovery after prac?????

One more week and I’ll be a free woman … at least temporarily.

Now, can someone tell me what the “key educational issues facing teachers today” ?…. in 200 words or less…

Stupidy McStupid (rant) or why I bloody well HATE rugby league.

So I’ve stopped off at the local Woollies on my way home this arvo to collect some vitals and also some nurofen for our feverish small girl and I’m going through the check out when I look up to see idiot-boy on the checkout again today.

I curse the fact that of the two available check-outs, I pick Stupidy Mc Stupid’s check out.

“Hi” I say as he starts swiping my goods through the machine.

“Whoareyagoingfor” he mumbles.

“Pardon?” I say.

“State of Origin – cockroaches or cane toads” he says.

“Oh – I don’t follow the football” I say and hope he leaves it at that.  I *really* dislike rugby league and the “charming” men who play the game.

“Why not” he says.

“Well – lets just say that I really dislike the sport in general … but you enjoy it”.

Not good enough for Stupidy Mc Stupid.  He still wasn’t picking up the fact that Rugby League is  something that I Don’t Like.  So he says “Whynot?”

So I told him:  “I really dislike the sport because a) I find it the most boring sport invented and b) find the off field behaviour of the players truly appalling and their general disrespect for women is not something I could ever support.”

Well – apparently “Shewazaskingforit” (I believe he was referring to the poor young woman who was in all probability gang raped by a team of professional footballers a few years ago … apparently unproven, but  when 19-yo girl agrees to sex with one player an it is then interpreted as an invitation for a team of players to join in seems like a fairly clear moral and ethical distinction to me, even if mature men can’t see the difference).

but I digress…

The fucking stupidy bloody stupidy mc stupid checkout bloke basically stood there, scanning my groceries and telling me that “the chick was asking for it” and went on to tell me that he’d done a “forensics” course at *high school* so he “knew” that the girl hadn’t been raped because they use *swabs* to magically tell if semen is from consensual sex or rape … or some crazy mixed up shite suggesting that he could somehow prove that the girl was  “just a slut”.

Shoulda slapped the bugger and told him he was “askingforit”.

….and am thinking of doing an old-lady-style  “I’ve got a good mind to write a letter about that” complaint to the local Woolies.