I'm happy, nay delighted to report that I've finally managed to get my teaching folders into Uni. I drove there for the first time (yes of course I got lost)and was, ahem, surprised to find that although they were due in on Wednesday, I was only the sixth out of seventeen students to add their files to the rather minimal collection.
They sat there, in the lecture theatre, near the middle of the ICT table. Vast empty space to the left, waiting, crying to be filled. And there they are now, in a darkened, locked room, feeling quite sorry for themselves.
The deadline for handing in, is one hour and twenty nine minutes away. There are going to be some awfully stressed individuals right now. But do I care? Well, sort of.
NO! I don't! I'm going to be a smug bastard about this, because I worked damn hard this year to get to where I am this afternoon. I submitted eight files, eight files of blood, sweat and tears (ok I'm exaggerating, humour me) so that I could look back and say "Hah! I've done it".
I've handed my files in and this is closure (assuming that I'm not called back in, to add more information) - my year as a student teacher is over. Bring on the kids, I'm ready.