Well... I'm not sure yet...
God... hello again B3ta... long time no see and all that.

So, way back in September I decided that with a daughter to feed and ambitions of scraping a living I'd do a teacher training course. A PGCE to those in the know.

Now, many months later I am within three weeks of finishing it and my will to live is evaporating daily. I hate the kids, I hate the planning, I hate the school, I hate the person it makes me when I'm at home, I hate feeling sick every day and night, I hate the headaches. I am not enjoying it.

It is my final observation from the college tomorrow to decide if I pass or fail, and here I am, reading the QOTW on B3ta.

I don't know if I'll finish it yet, but dear God I'm starting to think I might not. I don't even know what the alternative might be, and frankly, right now I'm not sure I care.

Ahem. Rant over, normal service will be resumed shortly. :)
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Thu 24 Jun 2010, 22:42, 7 replies)

All the teachers I know say that once the first 12 months are done
you'll be starting your second year.

(EDIT: Hello! Welcome back...)
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Thu 24 Jun 2010, 22:57, closed)

Ha ha ha
Well summed up I'd say.

*doffs cap in general direction*
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Thu 24 Jun 2010, 23:05, closed)

oh man I feel your pain
I did two and a half terms of my NQT year before having a rather embarrassing 'nerves' thing. that was eight years ago and I never actually made it back.

Having said that, if the job was actually teaching, I would have really enjoyed it. The problem was that the job involved a lot of needless paperwork and about eighty percent of my time was spent babysitting troublesome pupils.

That, and the fact that no-one wants to learn French any more...
( b3th Not shit. Not mod., Thu 24 Jun 2010, 23:01, closed)

It's all about Spanish these days in Primary classrooms...
Which is a problem when you can only say some very surreal things in German...
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Thu 24 Jun 2010, 23:09, closed)

German. What a language...
To paraphrase Spike Millingtoon (I think), even a "good morning" in German sounds like a declaration of war... and it usually is.

Once, in the early 80s, sitting in the pub in Great Barford, just to the East of Bedford, getting ridiculously drunk on the finest ale, I met an American lass of similar age, who had just returned to Blighty after a few years in Germany. Now I know a little German [*], and one of the phrases my aged step-mother (RIP) had taught me swam to the top of my ale-sodden brain.

"I'd like to rest my head against your chest, like a cow against its manger" tripped off my tongue (only in German), and was still hovering in the air when she punched me in the face, causing me to slip slowly to the flag-stoned floor in a daze.

Didn't spill a drop of beer, though. From the glass or my then-cavernous belly.

Good times.... I now live in America. She made quite an impression on me. Physical and metaphorical.



[*] "I was quite tall before he did", said Adolf Hitler
(IHaveComeAmongThee__Twice Tissues on the left. Self-esteem on the right., Thu 24 Jun 2010, 23:31, closed)