because i’ve been working.
i know, it’s only 4 days a week but it takes a while to get back into the swing of things.
i’ve even been going in early! but we, that’s my co-worker and i, have decided that we are NOT going to stay late any more. we are supposed to finish at 3. (cos that's what we get paid to do.) but many times we get swamped and look at the clock and it’s 4.30. THAT's not going to happen again. we only went in early for the first week to get set up. and now we are going to return to our slovenly ways of getting there 5 mins before the students. well actually they are 'keeners' and are usually waiting at the door to GET IN! imagine.
so let me rephrase that. we will return to getting there 5 mins before classes start.
and now we’ve decided to give ourselves a whole morning once a week to devote to paperwork. so that we never become overwhelmed again and have to stay late. we will take turns in taking both classes for the morning and the other person will do the paperwork and return the phone calls and keep us organized.
what a great system!
i’m sure it will last for oh, 5 mins.
(update: I wrote this a few weeks ago. we are now into week 4 or 5 and we are still arriving early and staying late AND the paperwork morning has become a paperwork DAY! och, the best laid plans o' mice and men....)
last term we had a really interesting young fella whom i will name ‘BJ’ because i shouldn’t use his real name. that would be wrong. or illegal, or something.
last term when BJ, who is 21, started with us he told me he was delighted to have an ‘English’ (as in FROM england) teacher because he is a total anglophile.
his parents are english, his grandparents are english and even tho’ he was born here in canada he has a perfect southern english accent. which kinda tickled me.
he loved english this, he adored english that and his life's ambition was to live there! to go to the soccer game on a saturday, the pub for a pint afterwards, fish and chips on the way home and roast beef dinners on a sunday. (the englishman's dream).
well this year he hasn’t returned my phone messages re his start date or acknowledged our letter re the same. so i phoned his guardian, his grandfather, who has the EXACT same voice, dialect as BJ. we chatted about being english, as you do, and i said i was fascinated by the fact that BJ, having been born in canada, had a perfect english accent. ‘yeah’ his grandfather said. ‘he can do that’.
so the other day there’s a message on the machine from someone. i can’t place who it is. he’s apologising for not returning calls or acknowledging our letter but assures me he wants to return to the fold next week.
huh? i go thru a mental list of who’s who. and then conclude. “it’s BJ!” sans english accent. he’s totally canadian now. not even a trace of ‘ow’s yer father missus' or 'ooer dear here’s me hat ‘n coat.’ very strange.
it’s going to be an interesting year.
update: (BJ's back and so is the english accent luv. 'ow are ye?' fascinating.)