mothwing | School

I have not been killed!! Wheee!

Called the local grammar school at which I am doing a month of work experience today and apparently I have not made any mistake at all. My "boss" told me he had wanted me to call this week to talk over the next week.

He has given me a provisonal time-table for Monday and told me we'd talk the thing over next week. That is sooo exciting!

I start on Monday, 8:00 with watching a lesson of the littluns (5th grade, all 10 or 11). I know the teacher, Mr.H., already, that is a big plus - I'll be able to identify him in the staff room, and I have also heard that he is a very good teacher. Not surprising that he doesn't object to having an annoying student watching him - he is one of the nicest teachers at that school.
It'd be great if I could somehow convince Mr M., the school's definitely un-nicest teacher, to let me watch. The difference must be amazing, because for some reason the students love Mr. H., the nice teacher, and despise Mr M., who is apparently very. strict. and also apparently very. cruel sometimes.

What scares me is the feeling that I don't really have anything to share. Yes, I know a few or maybe more than a few things about my prospective subjects, and a few things about things children ought to learn, but I don't feel that I have any really important things to tell them.

As a student I have always loved the teachers in whose classes we didn't only learn something about their subjects, but some things which seemed important in general, the teachers who shared their 'experience of life' and their views with us.
Well, some did that in too great an extent, I am not interested in their divorces or their love life, but in some of those lessons learned which appear on no curriculum I will never forget.
I don't think I'll ever be like that, that I'll ever know enough to teach them things worthwhile.

Ah, well, that might also just be a wave of very unhealthy idealism I might want to switch off before actually going into a classroom.

Anyway. I hope everything will be alright.

Love to all! :)

My teacher wasn't half as nice as yours seems to be.
His name was Mister Unsworth and he taught us history.
And when you didn't know a date he'd get you by the ear
And start to twist while you sat there quite paralysed with fear.
He'd twist and twist and twist your ear and twist it more and more.
Until at last the ear came off and landed on the floor.
Our class was full of one-eared boys. I'm certain there were eight.
Who'd had them twisted off because they didn't know a date.
So let us now praise teachers who today are all so fine
And yours in particular is totally divine.

This poem has only very recently been discovered. Source: http://www.roalddahlfans.com/poems/myte.php#text