Pink Day

We had our 'pink' day (Breast Cancer Awareness) yesterday. The children and the staff were all asked to wear something pink and contribute to the cause. I'll pass over the reactions of some of the boys when they first heard, but they were all good sports and came up trumps. Some of us even had bright pink streaks in our hair - but then some of us love any excuse to dress up and act the fool!
"Will I be OK going round Sainsbury's like this after school?" I pondered.
"What do you mean, will you be OK?" asked the Head, who has brunette hair with very stylish red streaks, "I do it all the time!"
So at the end of the school day, I duly dragged my weary bones to Sainsbury's and began to load my trolley. The shop was busy, mostly with annoying people standing in my way gassing to other annoying people, so at one point, I parked said trolley while I went off in search of the pizzas I had previously forgotten.
Back I came, clutching the pizzas to find ...
no trolley.
Up and down I wandered, unable to believe that anyone would have simply walked off with it. What was the point?
Now I was beginning to get a little fraught. I spotted a likely-looking male employee.
"Excuse me, you haven't moved a trolley that I left here a few minutes ago, have you?"
He gave a startled glance in the direction of my head and backed away nervously, shaking his head.
"No, I haven't see it, no, no."
Then the penny dropped.
"You don't work here, do you?"
He looked slightly relieved as he agreed that no, he didn't work here, and continued to back away.
It was at that point that I decided that I'd had enough. Whoever had my trolley was welcome to it. I dumped the pizzas and went home.
Sometimes, it's just better to give up and try again another day.

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...