The Scribbler

I know that 25th February is probably more recent than it sounds, granted that March started four days later, but I felt that it was time to re-engage my blogging-brain and update this site. I actually blame my wife who complained that my blog was turning into a repository for other people's articles. She has a point, even though I still maintain that the purpose of this site is to inform, entertain and maybe even get someone thinking, irrespective of who is responsible for the content therein. Her comment jolted me a little and although I could see her point of view, I decided that I'd take a little break from posting. So here I am, back and raring to go. In fact, I've been a little coy with you. About a month ago, I saw an advertisement in the Jewish Chronicle for a new teaching post in a Jewish secondary school. After a little hesitation, I decided to go for the post, filled in the application form, went for the interview/observation and to my delight, got the job. I wil...

I sometimes wonder whether I am being either extraordinarily selfish or just petty when I think about all the issues in my own life that aren't working out. Looking at the kind of devastation caused in Mumbai , I really do feel that my problems aren't worth too much. But the problem with taking this approach is that eventually, as callous as it sounds, the attacks in Mumbai will distance themselves from our psyche, in the same way September 11 th and July 7 th have done. I don't mean this with any kind of disrespect, but time has an asynchronous way of cushioning the raw ferocity of emotions that we all feel when we hear about these atrocities and eventually, we find ourselves looking at the events if not with less horror, than with the anaesthetically numbed memory, if you can call it that. I say this because in a week or two, when events will have taken over our minds, my problems - the ones I felt guilty about considering in the first paragraph - will still be there,...

I was a teaching a non computing class earlier this week. The students and I strayed away from the main topic of conversation (as one does in these types of lessons) and for some reason started talking about Judaism. I can't remember what the catalyst for the conversation was, but I won't forget some of the comments for a long time to come. Some of these kids seemed convinced that all Jews are rich (nothing new there then) and that the reason why Charedim/Hasidim wear large hats is solely because they need somewhere to hide their money under. This is obviously an idea that they will have heard from home or in the media or in their place of worship. I ridiculed this suggestion by taking my kipah (skullcap) off in front of them and shaking it a few times to see if any money would come out. I then put my hands into my hair, ruffled it a little and waited for the notes to fall out. Unfortunately, I wasn't successful. My hair was definitely moneyless. The kids then replied that ...

So I was back at school. No kids. Just results. Meetings and results. Lunch and results. Meeting and lunch and results. The good thing about being at school is that it takes your mind off other things that you've probably had too much time to think about when you weren't at school (discussing results). I now have another ten months to take my mind off the life I pertain to lead outside school. I can't work out if this is or isn't a good thing, but having just spent the last three hours preparing for the new term, I've probably already answered the question. The first proper teaching day is on Thursday. Before I know it, the holidays will seem like a luxury that I didn't quite appreciate enough when I was living through them.

What if they don't like me? What if I give a crap lesson (or three)? What if I haven't prepared adequately? What if I screw their lives up permanently? What if I haven't used my holiday effectively? What if the exam results are abysmal? Yes, it's the annual pre-school psyche routine. Another 24 hours and I'll be thrust back into the 80 mph motorway that is high school. Deep breath. Eyes tightly shut. Breathe out. Sharp intake. Breathe out. 24 hours.

The hollow eyes and lipstick. The spiky hair and shallow complexion. This can mean one thing and one thing only...it's the annual school talent show and guess what I went on stage as? That's right my friends. A zombie. But not any old zombie - a zombie doing the Thriller dance, along with five other zombified members of staff. I don't know what possessed me to start doing a zombie dance in front of most of the kids and teachers (and Lord knows how I'm ever going to live that one down), but I've been practicing for the last fortnight. Dancing the lunch breaks away, turning up to afternoon lessons hot, bothered and aching - what more does one need to do to prove total dedication to one's place of work?! It was a lot of fun and although I didn't quite master all of the steps, I don't think I did too badly either. The most important thing was that everyone had a good time - and not just from watching our act (which was the final offering in front of the ...

I've returned from another visit to my beloved city. I first set foot in Liverpool on Friday 22 nd February 1985 (ironically the day on which Dana had been born but fourteen years previously...and Tali wasn't even a twinklet ). I don't remember much of the trip, except for the visit to the Beatle City exhibition (on Sunday the 24 th ), which is long gone. I have a vague memory of walking around Seel Street and seeing the docks....and that's about it. When I bought my first Beatles' tape at Oliver Crombie , a music shop in Golders Green the next day, I really didn't realise that I was on the cusp on developing one of my life's great passions. The tape, by the way, was Please Please Me . Fast forward 23 years and then some... and I've come back from my fourth visit to the city - my third annual trip. To be fair, this wasn't exactly a Beatles event. As you know, I was here on business, although the lads were never far away from either my mind, or t...

I don't know how I managed to wrangle it, but I'm off to Liverpool again tomorrow for a two day trip. My excuse this time (like I need one, eh?) is that I'm accompanying a group of Year 10's, who are taking part in a contest. Ironically, I/we will be staying in the heart of the Jewish area of Childwall, but I don't think I'm going to get much of a chance to meet up with the community this time around. I honestly don't care! It was an excuse to return to my beloved Liverpool once again and I wasn't about to miss the chance. Then again, maybe I'm being a touch greedy as I will be going up again next month, accompanied by my mother and the two eldest girls. Come to think of it, I was only about 60 miles from my destination last Thursday. It was tempting to go up (not that I really considered it), granted that I knew I'd be driving around the same roads in less than a week. It's funny how I've suddenly developed into a long distance driver (...

It has taken almost a year, but I think I'm finally making some in-roads, albeit small, in my school. Today, I saw that my Year 10 class, who are pretty challenging (and whom I see a lot!), are finally starting to produce the kind of results that I always hoped they would. There really is nothing more satisfying than sharing the moment when a student prints out his or work and looks over it proudly, boasting an expression that screams out "look what I've done!" We smiled at one another, the student and his teacher, in united recognition of a printed piece of paper, that meant so much more than a simple piece of manufactured wood. That printout had my blood, sweat and tears ingrained into every atom of it's miserable being. However, at that moment, all was forgotten. The student, the teacher and the paper were united in something indescribable. If you ever wonder why I, or anyone else wants to be a teacher - that piece of paper contains the very essence of why we p...

It has definitely been a bizarre yet productive day at school. The Year 12's were in, but precious few teachers and even fewer kids showed up. I'm one of the teachers whose union is not striking, so although I've had to come in, the day has afforded me the opportunity to catch up with some work and prepare my lessons for the next few days, granted that I won't be able to do so over the weekend, as it is Chag again (the second part of the Pesach festival) and to be honest, I don't feel like starting getting Monday's lessons sorted out after having re-arranged the house, post Pesach, on Sunday night. One's work as a teacher is never complete and I believe that if I spent 24 hours doing school work, I still wouldn't get everything finished! So you go with the ebb and flow, making sure that you work smartly and keep your head above the waves. Sooner or later, all the work does get sorted out - although sometimes, you're up waaaaaaaaaay too late, making...

As it is now official, I'm very proud to report that our school received an "outstanding" grade from OFSTED. I know that my lesson did not play any part in the decision, but it is still very humbling to think that it didn't do any harm either! The majority of people who know which school I am at, have a totally wrong impression of how great a place it really is. I hope that this result will finally bring it home to them that their pre-conceptions are totally wrong. Last year, I was working in a failing school - this year, I'm at an outstanding one. Now, how cool is that?

A university creative writing class was asked to write a concise essay containing the following elements. 1. Religion 2. Royalty 3. Sex 4. Mystery The prize-winning essay read : "My God" said the Queen, "I'm pregnant. I wonder who did it!"

Stress is a funny old thing. I can't believe that it has taken me a week to get over the seven days that constituted my OFSTED hell - from the time we found out on Thursday, through to the moment I left school last Wednesday afternoon. Don't forget that teaching and preparation still went on after the visit and so, although the pressure was off me somewhat, I didn't have any time to sit on my laurels (weekend included). It was business as usual as soon as I entered the car park on Thursday morning, although, to be fair it was a non-teaching day. Throughout the inspection period (i.e. seven days), I went into a state of enforced calm, very aware that the slightest provocation could lead to my seriously "losing it". In fact, I only ended up shouting once at the kids in school when they were playing up on the day before the inspectors turned up. For the rest of the time, I walked around the school looking severely constipated and no doubt, dosed up to the eyeballs on...

The inspectors came and went and in the end, they only saw myself and another teacher from the department. I feel very proud to have been one of the two people to represent the ICT Department, particularly as I achieved a good result in terms of the observation (as did the other fellow). Life goes on and school stops for no-one. I now have to get my Year 8 reports done and dusted by the end of the day. I've done three classes, so I can see the light at the end of a pretty dark tunnel. I can't find the words to express how delighted I am that this relentless week is finally, finally coming to a close.

It is over. I have my life back.

You will be glad to hear that I made it through the first day of the inspection, virtually unscarred ( lol ). I had an inspector come in and observe my Year 12 class (Thank G-d it was them!!) and that went pretty well. He gave me some useful feedback, although the most gratifying bit was the part where he confirmed that he was pleased with the lesson (phew). Wednesday is my heaviest day of the week, as I teach all five periods. There is a chance that I will be revisited again, so I can't relax quite yet, but I've done everything that I could to make sure that the inspector if he/she does turn up will be impressed with what's he/she sees going on in the class. I know that, at the end of the day, its not as though my job is on the line if I give a crap lesson, but there is pressure (both internally and externally) to show my Department and by extension the school, in the best possible light, since people judge a school, wrongly or rightly, by their Ofsted report. I'm c...

Virtually, from the moment Shabbat went out, I was busy preparing for the school inspectors. Three days later and I haven't stopped. Sunday is starting to feel like a blur as I spent most of the day in my classroom, with three of the girls having a whale of time, each one on their own computer. They couldn't have wished for a more entertaining day! Bedtime was 1.45 a.m - because I knew that I had to squeeze out every last damn drop of the time I had available to me to get my preparations completed. Yesterday consisted of a 12 hour shift, from 8 am to 8 pm and then more work when I got home. By the time I hit the pillow, my head was spinning, my body a mass of confusion and my emotions lost in the numbness of exhaustion. The inspectors are coming to school today.

and I've survived my first day (just about)!

No, the title isn't a misprint. Imagine you were looking at me right now (a frightful thought I know). If you were, you would see a face that's been through the scholastic wars. My nose is blocked, my throat went on holiday about a week ago, but was kind enough to leave me with a voice and my eyes are so darkened by their dark southern pockets, that I've started wondering if I'll ever resemble any member of my family. Yes folks. I've survived the first fifteen weeks (or is that weaks) at my new school. However, it hasn't been too bad. In fact, at times, I've even had some fun. The work is at times crushing, the kids, often even more so, but I'm kind of addicted to the place. I don't know why I work so damn so hard, but I feel that it's something I just have to do. Am I making any sense? I am definitely going to do my best to enjoy this holiday and proverbially chill out. I have a lot of take-home work, but I point-blank refuse to let it get in t...

I guess you could call it one of those "unknowns". Tomorrow, I will be starting the second part of this term at the school and I really don't know what lies ahead. I'll be spending the next twelve hours or so preparing, marking and recording in the naive belief (or maybe hope) that I will have adequately covered myself for the next five days. I could go down the road of panicking and chewing my nails off their petrified little fingers, but I choose to face each day as a new challenge and deal with the mass of obstacles as they hurtle towards me at meteoric speed. I know that whatever I do, it probably won't be enough, but that's the nature of the beast we call 'teaching in the earliest part of the twenty-first century'. The paperwork is endless, the deadlines often so close that you can almost touch them with your nose and the expectations higher than the nearest star. That said, I wake up each day with a sort of smile, knowing that I will meet all of ...