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Published: February 8th 2006
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First Week in the UK
Having a Pint of Beer at days end is a part of the English culture that we were happy to embrace On January 3rd 2006 my working year started, awfully premature when compared to every other teacher back downunder. However, no amount of preparation could have adequately readied me for my first day of teaching in the UK. I was told to arrive at what was called a Learning Centre with an open mind, but I had no idea just how open it was expected to be.
I arrived at the school at 7:45am, no one was around and I could have been excused for thinking that Spring term didn’t commence for another day. It was pitch black and the only visible light had been smashed in. At a tick after 8, this plump bloke stumbled up the stairs, and in a strong pommy accent asked “Youalright?” To be honest, I didn’t know whether he was asking me how I was or who I was. I politely informed him that I was here to fill the vacant PE job. Turns out this ill-informed man was the Head Teacher. He showed me in and sat me down. My induction started with “Here we’ve had 4 PE teachers in 8 weeks.” As it neared 8:30 and students began to fill the corridors I was about to find out why.
My first class, saw me greeted with three students, the other 7 were absent. Apparently, two of them are pregnant, another had just given birth, and one hadn’t been sited since last September. One of them wasn’t on my roll so I thought it was reasonable to enquire of her name. To which she replied, “What’s it focken to ya?” I asked again, and her reply was slightly more descriptive this, “I’m your worst focken nightmare, that’s who!” Classy. I simply told her I couldn’t understand her.
I was initially impressed with the space that I, as a PE teacher, had to work with. Although it was probably silly of me to expect that going outside and using this space would be possible. Their refusal to go outside in this weather meant table tennis would be the order of the day. Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, most of the sporting equipment had either been deliberately damaged, vandalized, or quite possibly, is in the process of being stolen as I write this email.
Today two windows were broken, both in separate incidences, thankfully neither involving students in my class. Speaking to the school groundsman, he said that a staggering 5400 pounds had already been spent on repairing windows alone since school started in September. There are certainly no PCW angels here.
At the end of my first day, from what I could gather, Tinshill is basically THE enclosure for kids with little future. The school has a population of 120 students, but there is never more than 50 of them here at anyone time. I am lead to believe that it is the largest special needs school in the UK. I would liken it more to a detention centre, an institution that keeps kids off the streets.
By my second day I had adopted the name Aussie, or from the more creative students, Irwin, after the Crocodile Hunter. I decided to just run with it. One of the perks of the job, and perhaps one of the reasons I had returned, was being served breakfast and lunch everyday. The severe neglect from the families of some of the kids was obvious when food was present; scavenging for food was like something I have never seen before.
Serving these meals, meant only15 minutes breaks for recess and lunch, I was told any longer and students only disappear. This paled into insignificance when students were dismissed at day end at 1:55, which allowed an hour of preparation for most teachers, or in my case internet time.
Each class, be it 6 or 7 students, sees the teacher equipped with a social worker. Their job description is basically to chase down anyone who just leaves the lesson. This is something that really surprised me about these kids… they do as they please. Thankfully, in many cases PE is a subject that they can bear, and by the end of my first week, albeit only 3 days I can proudly say that I’ve only had two disappear from my class. I’m told a pretty good strike rate.
I caught a boy urinating in a relatively inappropriate place, he said he couldn’t hold it in, I told him that even so, the teachers car park was not a urinal. All I can say is thank god my car’s not parked there.
Travel to school is by rail, and going only one stop meant purchasing a ticket was something that wasn’t really a necessity. When asked this morning to see my ticket, I played the dumb Aussie, and as predicted, it worked like a charm.
Thursday and Friday saw the Centre shut down for the day. I arrived to the news that the entire building had been flooded. With little rain overnight it was amazing how wet the school was. Whilst the exact cause was not known, what I did know was those crafty little fockers had provided me with a day in bed on full pay.
As bad as this school is, and at the risk of sounding metaphorical, I figure I’m not here to fix a failing system; I’m here to plug a leak. But, even more importantly, to fund my European holiday. And at 140 pound a day, it really is like printing your own pound. I’ll be there next week… and I dare say, like this week, no two days will be the same.
Embrace Teaching,
The "Aussie" Teacher
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Dames
non-member comment
Good job teacher
Dave....even though for some reason, I'm not on your distribution list!!!...Phil passed your blog. I have enjoyed the read....looks like the teaching is a hoot...take care...The Principal from Colac!!!