T-i-e spells what???

We were doing a spelling activity this morning, unscrambling jumbled up letters to spell a word. Great fun with the interactive whiteboard! Three letters, t-i-e were causing one of the boys a little trouble so I gave him a clue.

"It begins with t."

Still no lightbulb moment so I tried again.

"It's something that men wear," I said.

Immediately another little voice piped up, "Underpants!"

A touch of divergent thinking perhaps?

Teacher? Oh dear.

CBT course is going quite well. We have now completed 4 weeks, so only 6 more to go - not that I'm counting, of course. There is a spare Thursday evening in my weekly schedule just crying out for a short course on mental health - that will be from this week if all goes well, but back to the CBT. The tutor has it registered firmly in his brain that I am a teacher, the only one in the group and, guess what? 90% of his examples of irrational behaviour and dysfunctional thought processes seem to relate to teachers.
Of course, like the gentleman that he is, he turns to apologise to me each time but actually, I find myself having to agree each time that the behaviour he is describing does indeed seem to be common among teachers but... I am beginning to feel got at.
An irrational thought process of my own, perhaps?

Childhood photos

This week's science focussed on growing and changing and as I had forgotten to ask my class to bring their own baby/young child photos in, I quickly grabbed some of Younger Daughter's to use. (Well, you don't think I was going to use my own, do you and have the children wondering what it must have been like in the days when the world was black and white?)
So there they were, in a line along the whiteboard for all to see and I smiled to myself as I imagined how absolutely furious she would be if she knew what I had done.
Good thing she doesn't read the blog then...

On the warpath

My daily journey to Liverpool two years ago gave rise to several posts about the 'foibles' of my fellow drivers, which in turn, have led to that 'deja vu' feeling over these last few weeks when driving back and forth between home and my new school.
So, to the idiot in the red Skoda Octavia who was apparently completely unaware of the fact the the space betwen myself and the car in front was there for a purpose (it's called a safe distance) and decided to overtake and pull in in front of me with heart-stopping disregard for the safety of both of us, I hope you were duly satisfied to discover that, in fact, it didn't buy you a second of extra time as we both ended up waiting at the same red light a few moments later.
Then there were the two twenty-somethings behind me on my journey home tonight who were so busy laughing and chatting that I was convinced I would soon be shaking hands with them in my back seat. I hope you noticed that I touched the brake pedal several times in the hope that the brake lights would alert you to the fact that you were almost hooked up to my back bumper.
And to the rest of the driving population out there, just because I am only driving a Peugeot 106, it doesn't mean I am not a force to be reckoned with.
Don't mess with me folks! OK?

Arachnophobia part deux

Today's CBT course was about phobias and how to develop a programme to deal with them - phobias such as arachnaphobia, that is. Relaxation techniques are important when the client becomes stressed (i.e. standing on a chair, screaming.)
This evening, a giant of the species hurtled across the dining area. I screamed.
"Oh, for goodness sake," said Keith, not moving from his laid back position on the sofa, "It's only a spider!"
I was too busy spraying fly spray under the bureau where the monster had taken refuge to respond in an appropriate way ( a good hard clout) and then I was too busy stamping on it when it reappeared.
You should be dealing with this for me, not just sitting there!" I shouted.
"I can't! I can't do any stamping with my feet," he replied. "Anyway, why don't you do your relaxation exercise?"
My response? Unprintable!
But I'll remember...

Arachnids

There was one there again today. They're definitely stalking me, sitting there in the corner of the sink, black, enormous, hairy, threatening, legs splayed, beady eyes (if I were close enough to see) staring at me, willing me to look down and see them before scuttling off to the other corner of the sink while I charge off round the school looking for some kind soul to come and do the necessary.
I know it's a different one each day because I always insist that my rescuer kills the little beast rather than just putting it outside. If you do that, they just wait till your back's turned and sneak back in again. But what I don't understand is why mine is the only sink they gravitate to? Or maybe I do. It's like I said, they're stalking me...

Just for Dale

Just for Dale I have made the effort to post today. I realise I have neglected the blog lately but, since starting my new teaching job, I have been struggling to find 26 hours in the day. It's ridiculous really but the job, together with the counselling, placement etc. seems to be taking up every spare minute. (And if anyone makes an age-related comment, I will personally shoot them!)
Although I have only been out of full time teaching for two years and thought I was doing well at keeping up with things via the internet, I am amazed at how things have moved on even in that short time. I sit in the staffroom and listen to conversations punctuated with acronyms and initiatives which mean nothing to me. I cart bags full of unfamiliar resources and CDs home to get to grips with the 'in' things to use in the ICT suite and on the interactive whiteboard. The latter is enormous fun, by the way and I am filled with enthusiam and excitement at things which my blase six year olds just take in their stride.
Oh and last week's faux pas? Writing on the (ordinary) whiteboard in permanent marker. It did come off eventually, with lots of elbow grease.
We're getting there...