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Published: October 9th 2006
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Telecommunication
Although most Londoners can afford to own a mobile Strangely enough, after 7 weeks off, I welcomed September’s start to the 2006/2007 school year. The travel I had done had managed to burn a rather large whole in my wallet; and if my liver was worth salvaging, it was going to take time.
Finding day-to-day supply teaching in London was easy, and thankfully
ensured a return of steady cash flow - essential in this stupidly expensive city. Ive opted against permanent work since the fulltime position I held in Leeds drew all the longterm responsibilty that came with it. And report writing would only get in the way of weekend travel.
For the first four weeks my work has been interspersed between two North London Schools, both uniquely different.
One of my workplaces is a “nice” Boys school in an otherwise rough area. Epic tales of what goes on at neighbouring schools simply blow my mind. One incident in particular transpired last week, explaining why dozens of police on horseback combed the area at 3pm. The story has it that a school yard riot broke out between two asian gangs, and 9 staff were injured trying to break it up. What I found most entertaining was that
Louisa
Landlord and girlfriend one red-necked staff member went in throwing punches (defending himself) and “taught a thing or two” to (hospitalised) 5 students. I won’t be putting my hand up to work at that place in a hurry.
My days at work fly by, particularly those that feature lunchtime yard
duties. I love them. Gone are the days where the worst ordeal imaginable was telling a PCW girl to lower her dress, or cease tanning her legs. Last Monday a scuffle broke out between two kids in the yard. Apparently one kid said to another “I’m going to rape and shoot your Grandmother.” Enter Alexander. In a bid to separate the two I had little choice but to throw the wannabe rapist to the ground (my throw ensured the student experienced a bit of air time). Needless to say my heroics received school yard applause. Thanks to me the Year 8 (and his Grandmother) are now fine.
The other school I work at is a Specialist Sports College. And whilst the
sports grounds and facilities are special; the students are anything but.
The bulk of my teaching happens in a brand new Gym, decked out with the latest weights equipment. So
London Eye
With Ben in the Background my working day is spent ensuring I have trained all my major muscle groups come home time. Basically, as long as the kids don’t interrupt my sets/reps on the Bench Press I don’t mind what they do.
Like any good PE teacher, after a heavy workout I stress to my class the importance of re-hydration, fluid retention, and the potentially damaging consequences of not drinking enough water. However, apparently, Allah forbids it. After delivering my spiel I learnt than more than half of my class are actually Muslim - and for some ungodly reason, fasting - preventing the consumption of anything during the day. Whoops.
The vast majority of my students hail from somewhere in Asia. Many hail from India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh… so the pathetic-ness of their countries respective cricket teams is often subject of conversation. Role Call is an absolutes mess. I fumble around names not having a “Scooby do” how to pronounce them. In every class I have at least three Mohamed’s, an Anwar, an Abu, a Mustafa, and at least one kid with a name that makes me publicly piss myself… today, a boy named Ma-boob. Classic!
Most of them speak another language;
Portobello Market
The Dingley Market has it covered well, at least I think they do, because most of the time I can’t understand them. Bangoli, so I’m told, is often their chosen tongue. In all honestly since working there my Bangoli hasn’t improved one bit, so having a translator in my lesson is not unusual. It is quite cool having every word you say translated, so I often say things to see how it will translate into their lingo… I have already had a few bewildered looks from the lady trying to make my life easier. God Bless her.
The beauty of teaching in London is, everyday sends you a curve ball you don’t expect. Something not even my precise preparation could plan for. You do your best to deal with it, and then laugh at the prospect of that ever happening back in Australia. I’m not sure the students have learnt anything in my time here… but, I sure as hell have.
Living in Fulham means living in an area dominated by Australians. The Aussie novelty factor has certainly vanquished. Many of the famed sights of London have been seen. Ben was Big, and the London Eye has Mooba's ferris wheel well and truly covered.
Photo worthy
A scene out of Fast and the Furious Several Galleries and Museums have been skipped, but Azz's infactuation with photography has meant he has every single artifact on his camera anyway. Harrods was overrated, but money was spent. The tube is amazing and runs like clockwork - given the clock is often broken. Shopping in Soho was awesome, as was Piccadilly Circus and Oxford street. Live football has been seen - and I remain convinced that this code has nothing over AFL. Portobello Market has nothing over the Dingley market. And finally the club scene of which LOndon is famed for still hasn't been properly explored... but give it time.
It is defintely cool calling London home.
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