Skip to main content

That Blank Look

Are you alone?
Are you reading this carefully?
I have a confession to make (shhhhhhhhhhhhhh  don’t tell anyone)

In my last post, I ever so slightly exaggerated the amount of time I have to wait until I get to see my next holiday. I mischievously wrote that I won’t be getting a break for another three months. This is, in fact, a downright lie because in just over a month, I’m going with Dassi and my parents to the US for a whole week.

Let me let myself (slightly) off the hook by telling you that it seems as though the holiday is three months away (you’re not convinced are you? I can feel it from your cold stare).

Another tough day at school didn’t help and I was observed once again - I think I gave a totally crap lesson.  The kids in Year 9 were pretty unruly and I could clearly see that dreaded “blank look” covering their little faces as I tried to explain the concept of using a formula in Excel, to carry out a straightforward calculation - the glazed, pained and frankly bored expression of kids who don’t want to think of the “M” word when they walk into a computer room (I’ll give you a clue, it begins with Maths).

I gave the same lesson again to the next class and they seemed to get it. Let’s not fool ourselves though - by next week, both the concepts and the lesson will be but a distant memory in their ever-expanding minds.

Days like these don’t inspire me to teach but then again, if the little darlings did understand concepts first time around, I’d probably run out of things to teach them. My day improved somewhat when I taught the Year 7’s (so little and cute!) how to use Publisher to create a poster about Health and Safety. At least they seemed to comprehend something I was teaching them….(groan groan groan moan moan moan).

Tomorrow is a training day, which comes just at the right time. I need a few days away from the kids to re-enthuse myself.

I love teaching, but by Thursday night, I’m happy to face the weekend in the company of adults – which is interesting, because the average age in our household is 5.

Kids. Don’t you just love ‘em?

Comments

C'mon, there must be at least little math/computer geek in the making who gobbles up every word you say!

Popular posts from this blog

Ten Jewberry Muds

To get the full effect, this message should be read out loud. You will understand what 'tenjewberrymuds' means by the end of the conversation. This has been nominated for the best email of 2005. The following is a telephone exchange between a hotel guest and room-service at a hotel in Asia, which was recorded and published in the FarEast Economic Review: Room Service (RS): "Morrin. Roon sirbees." Guest (G): "Sorry, I thought I dialed room-service." RS: "Rye..Roon sirbees..morrin! Jewish to oddor sunteen??" G: "Uh..yes..I'd like some bacon and eggs." RS: "Ow July den?" G: "What??" RS: "Ow July den?...pryed, boyud, poochd?" G: "Oh, the eggs! How do I like them? Sorry, scrambled please." RS: "Ow July dee baykem? Crease?" G: "Crisp will be fine." RS: "Hokay. An Sahn toes?" G: "What?" RS: "An toes. July Sahn toes?" G: "I don't think so."

Our City

Tomorrow night, we will be celebrating the thirty-ninth anniversary of the return of Jerusalem into Jewish hands. Many people around the world continue to deny the Jewish people the right to claim the city as our eternal capital. On the Temple Mount, the Arabs do what they can to destroy any evidence of our ancient presence, yet, despite their efforts, they cannot erase the basic fact that Jerusalem has, is and will always be - ours. This is not to say that the city is less important to persons of another faith. What I am stating and categorically so, is that Jerusalem is accessible to anyone who wants to worship therein, but never it let be forgotten that, at the end of the day, we, the Jewish Nation are the only people who, since time immemorial have chosen this very special place as a destination for all our prayers - she belongs to us. Every time we pray to G-d, we face towards Jerusalem. Every single Ark in every single Synagogue faces towards the city. It’s presence in our psyche

Oh, To Be Loved

I confiscated a tub of Vaseline from a Year 8 student today. The same kid admitted to throwing a stub of paper at me from the back of the room. After the end of the lesson, I refused to return the Vaseline to him, whereupon he curtly told me to “drop dead”. When he approached me at lunch and asked me again for his precious tub, I told him that he could have it back if he wrote me a letter of apology. His response - “shut up”. Sometimes, I wonder why I bother teaching these children. I know that moaning about it here won’t help in the slightest, but at least it makes me feel a little better by getting it out of my system