Oh to be a teacher....

Here are two news articles, released almost simultaneously on CNN.



http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2009/03/10/pn.student.two.teachers.cnn
http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/europe/03/11/germany.school.shooting/index.html

Regarding the first clip, it actually kind of irritates me - there are thousands, upon thousands of teachers in the world, and you end up with a couple of idiots who tarnish the entire profession. The worst part about it - there are teachers who have actually dedicated their lives to the profession, gone above and beyond their duties, been heroes, motivators, etc - and these teachers are long forgotten. Then enter the Mary Kay Letourneau's (sp?) of the world, who will forever remain famous (and who profit from their fame) for tainting a profession...

But I guess the same is true in every profession. Unfortunately teachers, like doctors, are under the microscope more than the average professional.

London Looming

There comes a point when you have to be honest with yourself. I have zero desire to return to London. I think I have crossed the threshold of comfort and complacency. Actually, it’s not London – it’s teaching. I have said it before, and I will say it again – if I were in a profession that I absolutely loved, it would different. But I’m not. There are so many deadweight teachers occupying the profession, that I can’t just be one more. I can still fake my enjoyment for it; there are many who can’t. I am tired of seeing those teachers, obviously miserable in their career, sticking it out because of the financial perks, benefits and vacation time. It’s not fair to the students.

Then there are the travel teachers – they drive me crazy too. It is like a whole other scale of deadweight. You know – the individuals who think they qualify as a “teacher” because they took a weekend TESOL/TEFL course. And why? For the opportunity to have bragging rights. If you want to be a teacher, go and get some formal training. Many formally trained teachers have spent ample time working in schools (in positions other than teaching) and/or volunteering. Then there was the additional commitment of teacher’s college. Afterwards there are the additional professional development obligations. If you want something to compare it to: think of the office gopher being promoted to CEO of a multinational corporation after a week of gophering. Yes, weekend teaching courses irritate me. It’s unfortunate that the international market doesn’t have higher expectations.

Along with having spent a ton of time working in schools, and a moderate amount of time volunteering, I have also taken a fair amount of Professional Development. My interest in teaching jumps back and forth, and yet I know I still have no long term aspirations to remain in the profession. Maybe I just haven’t found my niche in teaching? Maybe there is just something inherently wrong with me and commitment? Maybe I have just spent too much time listening to and observing disgruntled teachers, that my illusion has been ruined? While in London I was irritated by teachers who were miserable but in love with their daily pay rate (£) – isn’t there something more to this profession? I came home just as our provincial teaches were voicing their discontent – again. Today my cousin said to me “Well you know teachers – they don’t want to work or teach.” And no – I don’t believe that, but our continued complaints can certainly be perceived that way.
Yep, I’m ranting because I’m overtired. What am I going to do? Who knows….

Sleep deprived & Murky

As I sit here, attempting to thaw out, I realize that I am completely exhausted. I am tired of dealing with a mind that never, ever shuts off. I have trouble going to sleep at night, because my brain is in overdrive. Last night I could barely stay awake – I finally went to bed, and felt no inspiration to sleep. Finally somewhere around 4:30 I willed myself to sleep – only to wake up a couple hours later thanks to a nightmare. Sleep deprivation is giving me bad dreams that I wake up from, even more tired than when I went to bed

I’ve spent the past couple of days at Lakehead, working at the Education Fair. Recruiting teachers to go to London. I’ll admit that I have kind of enjoyed it – I think I would rather talk and recruit than actually teach. It’s nice to be able to talk to teachers who still have an idealized perspective of teaching, are clueless as to the behaviour management issues in London, and are generally naïve. It is kind of refreshing – I never had that over-exuberant teaching stage, because I had already been working in school for so long. I already knew some of the realities that a lot of NQT’s are not aware of. In some ways it was good, and in other ways it has been detrimental to my wanting to remain in teaching.

It has been two years since I was in the Faculty of Ed. and there now seems to be a better understanding about the state of education. Two years ago, we all had great plans of being hired by school boards in Ontario (and Faculties of Education will give you the impression that there are plenty of jobs out there – in space). These new teachers seem to know that teaching jobs are few and far between. I kind of joked about it at the fair yesterday; I would tell potential candidates “The great thing about a teaching degree, is that you can work anywhere in the world – except for Ontario.”

I miss Café Nero’s hot chocolate. I’m drinking Starbucks right now, and it’s not the same. That has nothing to do with anything…

Honestly I have a bucket of complaints at the moment, an things that I could go on about, but I really don’t have it in me right now.

The state of employment in Thunder Bay is becoming increasingly bad. No surprises there. I have lost the majority of my motivation regarding my thesis. Also not a huge surprise. I guess I’m feeling a little bit disillusioned with education – not teaching, but education in general. Other than teaching, I’m not sure that I have any employable skills. I had been considering grad school, but it seems like a huge commitment that doesn’t necessarily guarantee a job. I’d like a job.

Ok, I’m beating a dead horse that the moment. If you don’t mind, I need to retreat back into my murky head.

London on London

I have been in London a month and a day. Today I found myself wondering, if I left would I miss it? Yes and no. Sometimes I find myself actually enjoying the life here – lots of people and activity. Most of the time, I struggle to find my silver lining. When it is dark by 4:30, when it is raining (which it has been doing for most of the last week), when I am continually getting get cut off by despondent Londoners…well the list could go on…then I don’t know that I would miss it. Actually I spend a great deal of time despising it. Today I was tempted to look through the job postings back home. Here’s a troubling thought: I am qualified for basically nothing, and will be making next to nothing.

The trouble is, I still have no aspirations to take a full time teaching contract, nor do I want the hassle of renting a flat, paying council tax, utilities, signing leases, etc. I have no desire to lock myself in here. Why? Because locking myself in is a scary thought – once I am locked in, I can’t just go home. Right now, my safety is knowing that if it gets too difficult, I can leave. I have spoken with many individuals who are transplant-Londoners. In fact, it seems that most people living in London are transplanted. It doesn’t matter how long they have been here, they all have the same complaints and misery. I still can’t get over the look of sadness that most Londoners possess. I do not want that to be me. London is not a long term aspiration for me.

My realization, is that next week will either make me or break me. Once I move into a hostel, and am forced to deal with 18 year olds who are in London to party every night, and other individuals who think it is ok to go to bed at 2am and wake up at noon – well, that will be the real test. Part of me is relieved to be around other people. Part of me is worried to be the person who has to get up at 6am daily, whereby disrupting the other people in my room. But I have a plan.

I have decided to stop applying makeup in the morning (it will shave time off my morning, as well as recover my skin). I hate wearing makeup anyways. By the end of the day I feel like a I am wearing a plaster mask. Also I have decided to stop straightening my hair on days I have to work. Not that it takes me long, but I am going to blow dry it (5 minutes) and wear it partly up. Again, I don’t really like straightening my hair, and given that my hair is breaking off, I figure I will live with bad hair until Christmas. I will be the teacher who doesn’t care about her appearance. No, not true – I will still dress nicely. I have taken to wearing heals all day; I will continue that painful sojourn while giving up my beautification regime.

As I have previously mentioned, my return home date is December 22. Initially I had considered changing my date until March or April, but given my misery I will go home at Christmas for some recovery and think-time. This is kind of a double edged sword though. Knowing that I am going in 5 weeks makes every day a little harder, because I am so lost in my misery that I can’t wait to leave. Christmas seems so close, yet so far. In some ways it is sort of impeding me from actually settling here. The only upside is knowing that there is an end in sight. But again – knowing that there is an end, only makes each day longer. As I have said before, if I were in a city I loved, in a profession I disliked then it might be doable. If I had a profession I loved, in a city I hated, then it would be doable. Right now, I am so uncertain about teaching, and miserable in London…

In the New Year, it is highly unlikely that I will return to London. I need to find a place that works for me. This is not it. Banbury definitely wasn’t it. So far I have been impressed with the north – is it doable? Maybe after I find a secure agency. Maybe after I spend some more time in the communities up there. Maybe…maybe…maybe. Between the I-don’t-knows and the “maybes” it just never ends. What I would like, is to get through a day where I don’t feel as though I am being suffocated, and where my heart doesn’t thump with anxiety…just one day where I don’t have tears in my eyes or spend part of the day with a stress-related headache, worrying about money, or fearful over the future. Just one day.

London on a Thursday

Oh thank goodness, Friday is in sight. I realize the whole goal about living one day at a time, but Thursday hits, and I’m more than willing to see things on a two-day scale. Last night I actually got some sleep – amidst the fireworks. Actually, by the time 9:30 rolled around, I was absolutely exhausted. The only downfall to getting sleep? Probably won’t sleep tonight . Not really the most positive outlook, but that is reality.

Today saw me back at Carshalton. It was a rough day – I had the same group of girls for two periods, and they were….challenging…Follow this with a double period of cooking, and it was a long day. Here is my day in a nutshell:

Registration:
I don’t usually talk about registration. Today I will, as it was particularly bad. There was an assembly that we were ten minutes late for. And why were we late? I couldn’t get the girls to settle.
“But Miss, we are late. There is no point in going now.”
“Oh we are going to assembly.”
“But Miss, we are late.”
“And you can explain to the Head why you are late.” (that’s called, being a b*tch).
*this was followed by disgruntled sighs and angry glares – which was fine; anyone who p*sses me off first thing in the morning, generally needs to watch out.

Child Birth & Safety
We will call this “Period of Hell Part One”. Every class has these students – unfortunately there were girls in this class who, if tempted, could potentially beat me up. I’m sure they wouldn’t – but I wasn’t taking my chances.

“Oh my goodness! Look at the picture on page 57! Ouch!!”
“The baby comes out of there…oh my god!”
Leanne: “Oh yeah….its fairly common for the baby to rip you open. You get stitches afterwards, then it is all good.” (don’t say I don’t preach contraception!)
“My mom told me that when I was born that I ripped her open to her bum hole.”
Great. They can traumatize me more than I can traumatize them.

And some examples of forethought:

“I plan on planning my pregnancies. I will be pregnant in the summer and the baby will arrive in November.”

“I only plan on being pregnant a couple of times.”

“ will be the father of my children” (*does he know that?)

Child Birth & Safety Two
I had a group of girls who wanted to discuss my preferences in music, my prediction for the winner of X Factor and hair breakage. Somewhere in there was child birth and safety. I liked this though:

“Miss, were you happy with Obama winning?”
“Yes, I suppose I was” (might as well be honest)
“I think that the UK and USA should form one government so that we can all get along better.”
“Hmm…I think the US already kicked out the UK. They might not like joining the UK again.”
“No Miss! Really?!?!?!”
“Pretty sure.”
“Well the US is too patriotic anyway.”
This led to a discussion of the war in Iraq. This is a topic that I really don’t want to discuss with students, due to my strong opinions. Naturally, we then ended up discussing Canada.

“You do realize that Canada is still technically apart of the UK?”
“Really, Miss??!?!? You have the same Queen?”
“Last I checked.”
“Do you pledge allegiance to her?”
“Never personally, but they do in Parliament.”
“Is it true that Canadians like the Queen more than Brits do?”
*I couldn’t answer this.

Home Economics – double period.
Leanne shouldn’t cook. Ever.
Leanne shouldn’t teach others to cook. Ever.

Child Birth & Safety (Period of Hell Part Two)
There were problems. I had to fill out paperwork. Fill in the blanks.


And now it’s back to Starbucks to recuperate. Again…thank goodness tomorrow is Friday.

London...remember remember...

What a day, what a day. It started at midnight, which technically means that yesterday never ended. And really, it didn’t. Due to the thin walls in my hotel, the rather LOUD couple in the room next to me, kept me up for hours (Talking – get your mind out of the gutter!). I tried knocking on the wall to shut them up – they didn’t get the message. I had my redemption though – I went out of my way to be noisy at 6am when my alarm went off. I’m not usually that much of a wench, but today, I felt I deserved it.

I was back teaching in Carshalton – can I say that I dreaded it? Between the exhaustion and never ending financial stress I’m presently under, teaching is the furthest thing from my mind. It was so tempting to climb back into bed and forget today. I didn’t though.

My day was supposed to begin by teaching textiles. The supervisor quickly realized that having someone who couldn’t sew, teach textiles, would likely not be a good idea. Truthfully I didn’t even know what textile class would entail. So…I was switched to history. History I understand. Given the monumental political outcome of yesterday’s election, I was also able to discuss history in the making. Here is my day:

History - Periods One & Two: The Roman Empire & British History:

“Miss, miss…is Barack Obama the same person as Obama?”
I was a bit confused because the room was decorated with posters supporting Obama.

“Miss, why did the Americans put their election at the same time as a holiday that is so important to the UK?”
“What do you mean? It’s Wednesday?”
“Remember, remember the fifth of November.”
“Ok??”
“Its Bonfire Day.”
“That can’t be good.” (all I could picture was the school alit with fire)
“It celebrates this time, when a guy decided to blow up the Parliament buildings. Tonight there will be a ton of fireworks and bonfires.”
“He tried to blow up Parliament? And you celebrate this?”
“Yes.”
*mental note: explains a great deal to me about the Brits.

“Miss, the Romans went to war with the Italians and killed them.”

“The similarity between early Britain and present day Britain is cheese. They had cheese then, and they have cheese now.”
“Good to know.”


Technology – Double Period
This was the equivalent of a Canadian shop class; Home Ec. & Shop are not my subjects by any stretch. Luckily the students had some pre-assigned work, but were more concerned about my accent.

“Miss, what do you call this?” – points to a garbage can
“A bin.”
*student looks disappointed; ok I will humour her…
“A garbage can.”
*student looks more satisfied

“Miss what do you call a jumper?”
“Miss, what do you call a rubber?”
“Miss what do you call a coloured pencil?”
“Miss what do you call a ruler?”
*Another student interjects, much to my relief:
“Stop it, she can speak English.”

“Miss, I heard that Canadian girls like British boys because of their accents. Is it true?”
“I don’t really know.”
“But do you like British boys because of their accents?”
I just walked away from this one. For the record, I have preference for Irish accents.

“Miss, do you know Ms. Smith? She lives in Canada.”
“Talked to her yesterday”

“Miss my aunt lives in Canada. Do you know her?”
“Ya, we had dinner right before I left for England.”


Childbirth & Child Safety
Here we go again…Leanne in childbirth and child safety class. Luckily there was a previously assigned project. Not that the students were interested in doing the project. Truthfully I understand – I always preferred to do my schoolwork at home, and spend class pursuing conversation. Maybe this makes me a moderately bad teacher.


So at the end of the day I have staggered back to my local Starbucks, unsure what tomorrow will bring. For the record – Starbucks is officially celebrating Christmas.

London Absolutely Exhausted

I would like to say that I successfully saw every hour last night. Wait..no…I did have a brief moment of sleep between 12:15 and about 12:45, during which I recall having a rather in depth conversation with a friend back home. Yes, the conversation was an illusion, and was quite odd (if I recall correctly, it was a full conversation regarding Jeremy Shockey of the New Orleans Saints). I did momentarily fall asleep again – except that the hotel was LOUD last night. As soon as I started to doze off there would be a crash, a siren, or any other sundry of things that kept me up. Sleep was just not happening for me. It’s time to move.

I officially began my day at 5:30am – wasn’t sure what time registration was, and wanted to make sure that I made my train. After a brief, groggy sojourn to Surrey, I arrived at the school. I waited. And waited. And waited some more. Apparently I had beat most the of the staff by about an hour. I told one of the teachers what time I had arrived at – she started to laugh…
“Why did you arrive so early???”
“My agency didn’t tell me what time school started.”
More laughter.
“So would I be safe to assume that I can take a later train in the future???”
More laughter.
“Ummm…ya. And get a coffee when you get here.”

In actuality, taking a later train only guarantees me about an addition half hour to forty-five minutes of sleep, but it’s a start right? Oh wait…and that is only if I can actually get to sleep.

So that was the prologue. My initial assignment required me to teach health; truthfully I taught a little bit of everything. Here is a synopsis of my day:

Periods 1 & 2: Pregnancy & Child Safety --> probably not subjects that are my ideal. Luckily I have taken enough Sex. Ed to adequately get me through conception and birthing. I can say vagina in the classroom without blushing. I can talk about HIV and herpes without faltering. Here is a sample of my conversations:

“Why do you think it is important for a woman to have a blood test for HIV?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well do you think it is possible to give HIV to a fetus?”
“No. A baby can’t get an STD.”
“Don’t ever have sex. Ever.”

“Can you think of any other STDs that can be passed to a fetus?”
“No. They can’t be passed.”
“What about herpes? Chlymydia?”
“Nope. They can’t be passed.”
“What about when then baby rips through the birth canal?”
“Nope.”
“Huh. Don’t have children.”

Student to Leanne:
“Did you see that documentary where the baby comes through the birth canal and rips the woman open from here (*picture a rather inappropriate drawing*) to here?”
“No….but using contraception would have prevented that.”


Period 3: Home Economics (AKA Cooking)-->In terms of subjects I should not teach, I would like to add Home Ec. to my list.
“Miss, miss…does this look normal?” (keep in mind, I had just come from childbirth).
“Umm…that depends…what is it supposed to be?”
“An apple pie.”
“huh…then no.”

“Miss, miss…I’m baking a fruit pie. Do I have to cook the fruit first?”
“Cook the fruit?”
“Ya…I don’t know how to cook fruit.”
“Me neither. Don’t cook it, throw it in the shell and see what happens.”

“Miss! My dough is dry.”
“Yes it is.”
“What do I do?”
“Ask someone else.”

Period 4: Phys. Ed. --> Initially I was supposed to teach dance. I got away with having the students write journal entries. Crisis averted.

Period 5: French à Je suis Canadienne. Je parle Francais tres mauvais. Luckily I could get through Grade 10 French. When in doubt, I consulted a dictionary. I hope I never end up teaching German.

By the end of the day I was fully exhausted, and hungry enough that I could eat anything in sight. Luckily I don’t have the money to eat what I want! Coming out of the school I seriously doubted my want to continue, and doubted whether or not I could do this on a daily basis. Now, after a Starbucks coffee, I think I could at least go a second day. Luckily I won’t know until Wednesday. Leanne needs sleep and more perspective. Or at least a stiff drink.

London Continually Lost

It is October 31, and normally I would be excited. I love Halloween! If I were home right now, I would likely be going out for my friend’s pre-birthday celebration. She is amazing when it comes to making costumes; most people slap together a costume in the last week. My friend on the other hand, knows months in advance what she is going to “be” for Halloween. And her costumes reflect her careful attention to detail. Today I would be perfectly happy to be someone else.

I’m actually a bit relieved to be in a city that celebrates the occasion. Since I arrived in London, I have seen people dressed up in costumes – or else they were just outwardly eccentric. I still appreciate the man, dressed in a white suit, covered in black arrows; he was “Northwest”. (yes, as in the direction.). Clever. Several years ago my friends and I purposely headed to Amsterdam for Halloween, thinking that it would be a hotbed of entertainment. Unfortunately, as it turned out, Halloween in Amsterdam was relatively dull. After spending an evening in a local “coffeehouse”, we continued our celebration to a square in the center of town. We were disappointed, but we somehow managed to numb our pain. Maybe I need to go back to Amsterdam?

Today it occurred to me that I am dangerously close to my first month in London. Six days away, in fact. I decided to go to Carshalton and find the school that I will be teaching at next week. It was a 50 minute round trip venture, but I have to admit, that I was pretty impressed with the town/suburb/whatever. It was quiet (and I was there in the middle of the afternoon), and had…wait for it….TREES!! I had lunch, and I didn’t spend a fortune. It was overwhelming, life changing, earth shattering (I have tapped into my sarcasm). If I didn’t think that I would go stir crazy, I would actually move there. This is not the point though.

On my commute, I was forced to reflect on the past near-month. That’s what us teachers do, right? Reflect, reflect, reflect. We reflect on the good and bad, and see where we can improve. We write about our reflections, modify our styles, re-reflect, modify, and eventually find something that works for us; once it works we reflect again and find out that it needs more modification . Here is my reflection:

In the past 3.5 weeks, I have successfully:
1. Learned to cross a street with traffic coming at me from the wrong direction; related to this I have also learned to dodge traffic, jaywalk, and dash across busy intersections.
2. Only had one bus/coach honk at me for maybe waiting too long to cross…
3. Gotten the nerve up to cross the Vauxhaul Bridge, venture into an unknown area, and find London’s greatest sights; all within spitting distance of my hotel. That’s a big accomplishment for a girl from a small town.
4. Gotten the nerve to venture into the unknown after dark.
5. Gotten hired & fired all within 3 hours (and I’m still bitter about that).
6. Learned how to use an Oyster Card.
7. Ventured out of London, because I can recognize I need to find my sanity.
8. Made it through a full day without crying – that was yesterday.
9. Made through 2 full days without calling home.
10. Learned to be demanding when the situation calls for it; and to scowl at the a**hole who cuts me off on the sidewalk.
11. Gotten hives, and finally identified the source of the hives.
12. Come to terms with that fact that I have to let go of the comforts that I appreciate; doesn’t mean I like it, just means I have to accept it.
13. Found my addiction to the X Factor; Go Diana! (oh and Simon is less popular here than in America)
14. Learned the importance and necessity of having someone who can take some of the pain away. Whether it is 6000 miles or 10 miles, there is a difference between being independent and being reclusive.
15. Learned to ignore the daily reports of shootings and robberies. It’s life.
16. Accepted that I need to let go of what I know because I know absolutely nothing here.
17. Accepted that I periodically screw up so badly that it can’t be fixed overnight. Apparently problems can’t be fixed in half an hour, like on television?
18. Traded in terms like soccer, bus, silly, check mark and parking lot for words like football, coach, daft, tick, and car park. When in Rome (errrrr…London)….
19. Discovered London shopping…risky!
20. Slept for 12 straight hours (granted that was in Leeds, and now that I’m back in London, I’m back to not sleeping!)
21. Learned to interpret the tariffs on my mobile phone.

And what I still need to do:
1. Learn what a tariff actually is.
2. Accept that I need to move into more affordable accommodations.
3. Accept that I can’t always control the outcome.
4. Let go of more, and stop looking for the parallels.
5. Get through a second day without crying.
6. Stop second guessing, over analyzing, and thinking.
7. Learn how to sleep.
8. Stop praying that this will be over soon, and learn to love it.
9. Classroom management – London students aren’t the same as Ontario students.
9.5 Behaviour management – ya, the same as above.
10. Learn to take it one day at a time, not one year at a time.
11. Learn to keep the stiff upper lip of the Brits.

12. Learn that if I leave my umbrella at home, it will definitely rain.
13. Find all of the answers to the questions that are driving me up the bloody wall.

I’ve already outlasted Banbury. And to be honest – for as horrible as I have felt in London, I still feel better than I did when I was in Banbury. Maybe I can make this work? One day at a time…

London Education

Today came and it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Or maybe it was. Prior to leaving for the UK, I debated the decision on a daily basis – should I, shouldn’t I? Again, I now find I’m debating myself daily – should I go home or shouldn’t I? And like then, I find I go in spurts throughout the day. At certain times I feel that I can deal with this; being here, continuing to make a go. It can’t be that bad, can it? Then enters that plaguing thought: can I afford to stay? (no) can I picture myself getting up everyday to confront classroom life? (sometimes yes, sometimes no).

After a lengthy meeting with my recruiting agency, I have discovered that I need to tap into my inner b*tch. I have no doubt in my mind that I can do that – I can be that person at the best of times. Heck – London does an excellent job of dragging that aspect of my personality out. When I get cut off the sidewalk now, I resist the temptation to tell the other individual to J off. Another week and I’ll be a full blown nutcase (along with many other dispondent Londoners). Because I am still new to London, I still look at other individuals, and often wonder why so many people look so sad. Even so, with all of the temptation to return home, I find that when I go for a my nightly stroll, I suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to try and make this work. Tonight I walked down to the Parliament buildings/Big Ben and Westminster Abby – and at that moment, I couldn’t help thinking – I have to make this work. And then my stomach started growling, and I can’t help remembering the financial situation I am currently in. Financial implying that I have money, whereas in reality I am so far broke that I don’t know how I will ever surface again. Then I start to think “well I’m this far invested, I need to make a go of it”. And so the arguments continue.

The hardest decision I faced today was the impending flat. I have opted not to rent, and continue to live out of a hotel. In the long run this is more expensive option, but right now, given that I really can’t afford to outfit a flat, the hotel seems like the cheaper option. It also provides me with an easy-out mind game: if things get too difficult, I won’t have to “get out” of having a flat. If I can make a go of teaching in the UK, and if I do opt to take a northern contract (which my agency guaranteed me they were looking for), living out of the hotel is really the best option. As I watch money going down the drain, I will just have to keep reminding myself of that.

Again I am caught in that moment where I need to figure out how to mesh London Leanne with Canada Leanne. I want to hang on to my old life – what happens when it no longer needs me? My friends, mom, dogs – what happens when I’m eliminated from all of that? Maybe that is the hardest part of being here – realizing that my life can go on without me. Part of me has been reluctant to find new friends here, or get involved in new activities. Yet I realize, if ever I want to achieve any of my goals, I need to let it go. Even my agency told me today: “You need to let your Canadian classroom experience go. Forget it. It doesn’t apply here.” And they are right. Shaping a new life isn’t as easy as it seems. UK Leanne needs to let go. I’ve never been good with letting go though.

Now for the bigger pain in my *ss. I spent well over $40,000 to go to school Actually…wait…my mom spent a good chunk of that – OSAP covered the rest (yes, I will pay it back! F*king student loans). My teacher education YEAR (single) was by far the most expensive of those years. Basically, all of those wonderful, idealized classes that I took while in teacher’s education, need to be forgotten. That would be $8, 000 out the window. Does that p*ss me off? Yup, you bet. Unbelievably so. We would joke in the program, that the program was useless. In truth, it really was. Everything you learn about teaching, you learn in the classroom. The curriculum classes deal almost exclusively with the Ontario curriculum. So really, when it comes to teaching in England, teacher’s college really was fairly unnecessary. Bitter, bitter, bitter.

While it might be my personal motto – I just don’t know anymore. Ultimately though, London is about my own education - not the education of the students.

London Unscripted

Today is one of those days that just won’t end. It has been a long and tiring – and altogether emotionally draining. I had a terrible day in the classroom. Wait…no…I didn’t…I was informed that I had a terrible day in the classroom. I am at a loss to understand this world that I have entered. Never have I seen what I am being exposed to in London. Do I feel any moderate levels of support? Not really. The only people who are supporting me are the people furthest removed from the situation – my mother and my friends (including a poor guy in Leeds who doesn’t deserve my daily breakdowns).

I keep asking myself – wouldn’t it just be easiest to pack it in and go home? God yes, it really would. That’s a given. But what do I go home to? A minimum wage job that won’t pay my bills? Two minimum wage jobs that won’t pay? How about three part-time minimum wage jobs that don’t pay? I don’t think I have a choice – I need to make this work, or die trying. My hometown has just lost another 300 jobs – what the hell am I going to do there?

Recently I told my friend – we don’t need to know the end result, we just need to deal with the present. I’m the one who isn’t dealing with the present though. I keep looking at this whole situation from the long term – keep thinking that I can’t do this for 3, 6, 12 months. I’m not seeing this from a daily perspective. I can fairly easily get home - its not impossible. Home is a mere plane ride away and therefore not insurmountable. I need to deal with this.

I have spent my afternoon reading blogs written by other Canadian teachers struggling in London. I’m not alone. These teachers have had objects thrown at them in the classroom (Oh what I have to look forward to!). I have read news articles on the record number of British teachers leaving the profession because it is too difficult to be a teacher in England. I am not alone then. I think the problem is, is that I am not used to outright failure. And today that is how I feel – like a failure. I am failing myself, the people close to me, my agency – everyone. It would just be so easy to give up right now.

I don’t understand it though. In a country that prides itself on its “stiff upper lip” and “high standards of behaviour” (buzz terms that you will hear repeatedly), I am at a loss to understand why things are the way they are. It makes virtually no sense to me. I have heard recruiters compare teaching in London to teaching in Toronto. I have friends who teach in Toronto – I have never heard the stories that I hear out of London. Is this an example of the deviousness of recruiters? I don’t know. I’m at such a loss. I trained for 8 years in Anthropology – I’ve tried to look at this from a cultural perspective. I realize that culture plays a huge part of this. I’m still too new to understand it though. Maybe I am just better off in anthropology or archaeology. I want to make this work though. How can I do that? That brings me to tomorrow…