/a/muse(d)

I’m here, not dead etc etc and so forth. Happy 2006 to anyone who still lingers hopefully around this seemingly abandoned blogspace! May it be a year of growing, of learning, of laughter and fewer large scale global disasters than 2005.

2006 looks to be a busy year for me, and I am currently enjoying the more relaxing calm before the storm that will inevitably break with the sound of the school bell on the 31st Janurary. Last night I had my first ‘first day of school’ disaster dream, and I’m not talking about thinking I was back in kindy wearing pigtails and a bag that was almost the size of me. I’m talking about the first day of shcool as the teacher, losing most of my children, constructing spelling lists in the most haphazard and non-professional manner, having other staff remark that my toenails were too long to comply with OH&S regulations, and feeling generally that I may explode with the overwhelming stress of it all. As you may imagine, this was disturbingly similar to my waking fears (minus the tonenails bit…that was totally complements of my twisted subconsience), and i woke up feeling that I should ring up and resign before I even start. I think my psyche is trying to tell me that I’m a neurotic mess.

But thankfully, I’m not. Although nervous, and disgruntled that I can’t be more prepared before the beginning of term, I am excited about putting my skills into practice and seeing if I can really swim in the big pool of public education. In moments of self doubt, I rest on others confidence in me, and think about happy things like flowers on my desk at school, art work hanging from the roof of my classroom, and actually impacting the development of a child’s life. When I start to freak out about the fact that my class will span Kindy to year five, I calm myself by thinking that it could be good practise for the day when I potentially teach at a tiny international school in the foothills of the Himalayas, and will be glad of the cross age-group experiece.

Anyway, God knows how it will turn out, so I should really settle down and concentrate on the more immediate tasks in my life, like tidying my desk so I can use it, planning kids church for the next term, making graven images of the bride and groom for a friend’s wedding cake, and seeing some long-neglected friends.

God was wonderfully faithful through all that 2005 threw at us, and I am convinced that he will continue to be so into this new year. As the old hymn so nicely puts it:

I hate to keep happy news to myself, so I’ll say this now:

I got targetted!!

Not in a ‘with a shotgun/arrow’ kind of way, but in a ‘the DET has offered me a permanent full time teaching position in an IO class in a large mainstream primary school in West Blacktown, to start in January 2006′ kind of way.

Woo Hoo!!

Many thanks must go to God - who knows exactly where he wants me to be and when, even when I do not. The cool thing about having to wait to be randomly rung up and told of your appointment to a particular place, is that I can trust that God will put me where he wants me and I have much less chance of potentially making an unwise decision! Mainly because I really don’t have much of a decision to make. I can’t really reject the offer, because I would ultimately be cast to the depths of the waiting list for teaching positions, never to see the flourescent light of my own classroom again; left forever to wander in the purgatory of casual teaching.

Knowing where I’ll be, and a little about what I’ll be doing next year makes me feel more secure, and means we can get on with planning next year a little more thoroughly. More details anon.

I’m excited.

Yeah, I’ve finished my degree. Woo Hoo!

I guess I’m now a qualified special ed teacher, so if you are in charge of a lovely, small SSP with great children and no behaviour problems, please give me a ring and offer me a job. Otherwise, I’m waiting to hear from the Department of Education.

It feels strange to have come to the end of four years of uni and suddenly to have it stop in the most anti-climactic of fashions. No tearful goodbyes, no taking of bazillions of photos, no waves of nostalgia. (Well, I did look over my shoulder at the green carpet, soaring raw concrete walls and upside-down wash tub type ceilings as I left on Thursday, so as to never ever let the beautiful scene fade from my memory…). But really, it all seems like a book that has a kind of ‘nothing’ ending.

I guess it’s partly because I never really got into the uni ‘vibe’. I did the work, I attended almost all of my classes, I got the grades, I did the pracs, I made the friends, but I never fell in love with the social scene. I didn’t spend hours sipping beer or coffee in the cafeteria. I didn’t make any ‘best friends’, and I wasn’t a rabid member of the cheer squad, the chess club, or the inter-varsity fooseball league. I did go to the Christian group in first and second year which was great, but even that managed to get run over by having to attend all those pesky classes. Yes, I know guys. I’ll obviously go to hell for that… I should be ashamed of myself etc.

In some ways I guess I would have liked to have a uni experience which was one great social gathering. But in others ways, I know I came to get qualified and be a light for Jesus at UTS. Both of which I have hopefully succeeded in doing. Uni was ehere God wanted me to be for the past four years, and I’ve done my best to please Him there, which is what really matters in the end. I’ve grown up alot at uni, worked really hard, written lots of papers, heard lots of words, and gotten myself as equipped as possible to be a good teacher. Time will tell how successful I’ll be in that profession.

For now though, I’m happy to do a bit of casual teaching, have a bit of a break and gradually switch my mind out of the uni-student groove into ‘big-wide-working-world’ mode.

Life continues to change at a ridiculous pace. Does it ever slow down?

Made this silly hat for a Mad Hatter’s tea party that I’m attending tonight. I’ve always wanted to go to a Mad Hatter’s tea party!

As I sit here, Ben is in the kitchen cooking dinner for us both - some kind of Bengali delicacy that smells exquisite. It’s part of a master plan designed to get me through the last two days of prac with my sanity intact. I’ve just completed the penultimate day, and Friday will be the last day of unpaid teaching I have to do ever. (I hope!) I’m still in control of all mental and physical faculties, (as far as I can tell), so it seems that his plan is working. I like coming home to random displays of compassion and affection.

Actually, I just like coming home.

Your Hair Should Be Orange

Expressive, deep, and one of a kind. You pull off “weird” well - hardly anyone notices.

Or something like that.

I guess today is special in a few ways.

Today, I taught my first full school day without supervision. Ever. Seems it will be the first of many. I feel slightly proud but mainly exhausted.

More importantly, this seems to be the day when we can celebrate the end of the Mighty Thesis, which Ben has completed and handed in. Finally. The ride has not been without its fair share of hiccups, flipouts and headdesks, but for all intents and purposes, the battle is over. And I am pleased to report that we are both alive and still very much married.

Come to think of it, on this day, 10 months ago, Ben and I woke up for the first time as married people. I recall it was a lovely morning.

Well, last night finally arrived after a month and a half of anticipation. Ellie and I caught the train into Newtown and met Jess and Lucy for dinner at a little Pakistani resturaunt which could actually have been in Pakistan, except for the fact that you wouldn’t get sick from drinking the water or eating the lettuce. It was inexpensive and the food excellent. You could watch them making naan in a tandoori oven…thrills!

After dinner came the highlight of the evening…a birthday present of tickets to see ‘Merchants of Bollywood’ at the Enmore theatre!

It was in every way Bollywood, except without the excessive violence and bad special effects. A singing, dancing spectacular, complete with lip-synching, brilliant costumes, colour, comedy and amazing choreography. Set in the context of a succesful young Bollywood choreographer’s reminiscences and journey back to her hometown to reconcile with her dying alcholholic grandfather (who was once also a brilliant choreographer), the history of the Bollywood phenomenon was traced from its more traditional dance style beginings in black and white film, to the high-energy, disco-style, revealing outfit-wearing dance of Hindi movies today. It was very funny in parts, melodramatic in others, and made a point of openly admitting that all Bollywood films are essentially the same, simply set apart by their individual dances and songs.

I was amazed at the dancers, the costumes and the sheer volume of choreography and practice that must have gone into making the dances (of which the show was almost totally comprised) so seamless. It was fun to hear well known songs from Bollywood films, and hear the reactions of Indian members of the audience when well known actors or dancers came onstage. It was the sort of show which you hoped would not stop, but keep trailing you along in it’s sparking blur of colours and movement, which made you want to dance too. At the end, the cast made the audience stand up and ‘dance’ for them, beginning with a traditional Indian arm and shoulder movement and moving to the John Travolta style ceiling-floor move. That’s one way to ensure a standing ovation!

As is the case with many Bollywood movies, this show was sweet, entertaining escapism. Five very enthusiastic thumbs up.