So Here It Is...

I've done it....I made it through my first year of teaching.

God, I thought this day would never come. (Now that it has, though, it's a very strange feeling.)

This year was such a hard one, and I learned more than I did during my teacher training. Nothing like being thrown into a lake and figuring out how to swim in the process. That's kind of what it was like for me at Malcolm Arnold. When I first arrived, I didn't think it would be all that bad. My teacher training in Canada had been good, my internships had been successful (barring one heinous and horrific cooperating teacher at my first school--my wonderful colleagues at my second school made up for that in a big way), and I thought I knew all the little tricks in the book.

Day one ended in tears. Day two ended in tears. I think it took 4 or 5 weeks before I made it through the week without crying at some point. I started counting down to Christmas before I had even taken off from Halifax the day that I moved over. Throughout the first term, I struggled and tried to figure out if this was what the hell I even wanted and, if it wasn't, what the hell did I want and how the hell could I get it?!

Joel moved home at Christmastime and, on my return, I was flying solo. Coming back to the empty apartment, knowing I wasn't going to be home for 7 months meant lots of homesick moments and a few teary conversations with home. 

Throughout the spring and into the summer term, there was a distinct change in my feelings towards work. It wasn't so bad most days...then I started looking forward to going to school...and by the end of the day today, when 30+ student were beating and chanting out We Will Rock You on 20 tables, I realized that I loved my job.

I love my job, I love my students.

Please don't get me wrong. There are still days that make me want to pull my hair out. Days that make me want to go back to Canada. Days that make me want to drop-kick a kid or two (am I allowed to say that?) and make them understand how horrific they are actually acting.

All that aside...I still love it here.

Over the last year, I have learned so much and I have made a lot of progress. I'm very proud of myself and have gotten praise from the headmaster, which I'm also quite proud of. It was strange to pull down all the work I had displayed on the walls and to see my Canadian flag, which has been hanging proudly in my classroom for the past 10 months, folded up and put away in my cupboard (it better still be waiting for me in September).

I imagined this post to be long and full of self-reflection and all the thought-provoking moments that occurred over the year. Apparently not. I think I'm just tired. I'm weary and I want to go back to Canada...this time tomorrow, I'll almost be home. My body knows that it's time to be back home, I know that it's time to go back. I definitely am ready for this holiday.

I will end this with a huge thank-you to all my colleagues from Malcolm Arnold, with a special thanks to a few in particular.

Helen(s), Leigh, Angela, Lucy, Emma, Zoe & Debbie--supportive and comforting, you all helped me through a tough year and helped me cope with what seemed like an impossible task. Without all of you, whether going out for meals, going to the opera (what a night!), going out for coffee, giggling through the final Harry Potter movie and ruining the experience for a very disgruntled 8-year-old, or just laughing in the staff office, you all helped me through this. It was a wonderful department and I can't wait to see what comes next for all of us.

Kate, my mentor--wonderful and supportive, you always helped me through the really tough 'learning curves' and helped me have a fantastic year. It has been wonderful to spend time with you, laugh and work together. I'm so happy you are my faculty head next year.

Going Out With a Bang

It's finally the last week of school and it's been a busy period between updates to all my devoted readers (ha). There is so much to look forward to in the next couple weeks--going back home (less than a week away now!), seeing all my family again (and meeting my new niece for the first time!), Sarah & Krisitan's wedding and just loving summer holiday.

So, before I have to get to the full-of-self-reflection-and-amazement-that-I-survived-my-first-year-of-teaching-post, I have lots of updates:

The Night at the Opera

The sponsor for our school, David Ross, puts on an annual opera at his estate out in the country in his lovely English manor. This year, I was lucky enough to be invited (twice, but that's a different story). We got to his estate and parked our car--next to a Rolls Royce, complete with chauffeur. That just set the tone for the evening.

Walking into the gardens, there were silk tents and a big marquee set up for everyone to sit in and eat before and during the intermissions of the opera. We walked to one of the (several) buildings where there was a theatre set up for the show. The opera performed was Tosca, a tragedy set in 19th century Rome about an escaped prisoner, Angelotti, his friend Mario and Mario's jealous lover, Tosca. Joining us in the audience was an actual lord, Lord somethingorother, and David Ross, the academy sponsor.

In between the 3 acts, there were 2 intermissions so we could eat dinner. While walking around the gardens, I got such a kick out of listening to all the posh accents--the type of accents that American shows use to portray British people--and it made me slightly hesitant to talk for fear my accent would be offensive in some way or another. I was one of the youngest people there and wanted to (hopefully) blend in with the background.

After the show was finished (after being performed in Italian), David Ross invited all of the Malcolm Arnold staff back to his house for drinks. Suddenly I found myself walking into his mansion and drinking champagne by the fireplace. It was such a surreal experience...I have never been in such a fancy house, never been on a proper estate before and never met someone that was as rich as David Ross. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience and I'm so glad that I got to go. As we were walking out the door, Mr Ross said that he'd see us all next year...sign me up!

The 10 Year Wait...Over

I pre-booked tickets to see the final Harry Potter movie and asked my colleague Leigh to go watch it with me. While it was different from the book in really important scenes which slightly let me down, the movie was good and it was worth seeing...it's funny to think that this has been a 10-year-process and now it's all over. The next movie that I'm going to be really excited to see is the film adaptation of The Hobbit. Either that or the next Narnia movie.

Through the Looking Glass

Leigh, my Potter pal (ahaha, I hope that nickname sticks...) asked me to help out at her theatre school, Looking Glass Theatre, to help them prepare for their production called Welcome to the West End. It featured all kinds of selections from musicals performed on London's West End (as the name may have suggested). This past weekend saw me back at school (LGT was renting out the academy's theatre) for 10-13 hours each day...and it was so worth it. The kids were great and the production that they showed yesterday was awesome. There was lots of talent and I had lots of fun being involved.

The Countdown

5 days left until I go back to Canada. That is all.

Of Mice & Men...and Skin Colour

While writing his controlled assessment, one of my students asked for clarification about why Curley's wife bothered to talk to Lennie. This is how the conversation went:

Me: Well...why did she talk to Lennie? What was Lennie like?

Student: Mentally disabled..he was different than the others.

Me: Exactly. They were both different than everyone else, both outcasts.

Student: But they're both white!

Me: ...What? Outcast, not half-caste!

The best part of the whole story...the class, writing under silent exam conditions, heard the entire conversation.

For those of you not in the know, half-caste is an out of date (possibly not very PC?) term referring to someone of mixed race.

Where to Begin.

I'm sitting here, looking at what I have written so far for my maid of honour speech and I can't help but think "where do I start?" I have about 5 minutes to try and explain how much my sister means to me and express all of the blessings and love that I have for her and Kristian.

It's a lot of pressure!

I don't even know where to begin. Looking back on all my earliest memories, Sarah is there. As she always has been. Throughout all of the good, bad, stable and chaotic moments, Sarah has been constant. She is one of the most wonderful and amazing people that I know. I tell my students that they will truly love their brothers and sisters--someday. I've come to realize this now. I consider Sarah to be one of my best friends and I'm so lucky that she's my sister.

What do I include in my toast to her? The story of Sarah telling me to take my Flinstones vitamins when we were kids? Her telling me what clothes to wear, sending me back to my room to change until I was wearing something that wasn't cringe-worthy? About how, until around the age of 13, she could intimidate me by using the "don't make me count to 3. Ok...1...2...." routine? All the times we laughed until my stomach hurt? All the times she was the one to hug me and comfort me when I was crying--whether it was because of a boy, bad dream or anything else?

I better get started now...don't want to give away all the good stuff before the big day! To end this post (and bout of writers block), I'll just say that if my speech conveys just how much I love my sister and if I get a few laughs along the way--and if I make it through without crying like a baby--then I'll consider that a success.

And it Happens, Yet Again...

Being put in incapacitatingly (it's a real word...as of now) socially awkward situations?

Story of my life.

Stay tuned for further detail and humiliation.