Oh, there’s no place like home for the holidays,
For no matter how far away you roam -
When you long for the sunshine of a friendly gaze,
For the holidays - you can’t beat home, sweet home!
I met a man who lives in Tennessee, and he was headin’ for
Pennsylvania and some homemade pumpkin pie;
From Pennsylvania folks are travelin’ down Dixie’s sunny shore;
From Atlantic to Pacific -
Gee, the traffic is terrific!
Oh, there’s no place like home for the holidays,
'Cause no matter how far away you roam -
If you want to be happy in a million ways,
For the holidays - you can’t beat home, sweet home!
This was the first Christmas piano song I memorised and one of my dad's favourites to hear me play. I am so excited to be going back to Ohio--especially at this special time of the year--to spend time with my family and friends. There are so many things about home that I can't wait to see again. We'll be spending two weeks 'home for the holidays' hopefully making enough memories to fill the year and a half I've been away.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
Monday, 17 December 2012
Sunday, 4 November 2012
Movin' On Up
Hello Readers! Much has happened since the last post and I will try to update you to the quite exciting details of our England adventures.
In August, Lee was contacted by a company in Southport to have an interview for an illustrator and motion graphics designer job. He quickly got the job and plans were made to leave his place at Kukri. As you read in the past posts, we really wanted to change our location for various reasons. Although we both tried to make this happen by applying to various jobs across the country, the move we were waiting for came about because of a business social network called LinkedIn.
On October 6, we moved to our new apartment in Southport. The apartment is called a 'bed sit' or a 'granny flat' in England, but it's basically just a four room, self-contained flat on the side of a family's cottage. The moving process was extremely trying for us. On the outside, it looked easy: pack boxes, place in truck, drive, and unpack. But, once we started packing and throwing odds and ends away, we realised exactly how much we accumulated over the past year. The process was also a bit emotional as that was our 'first house' even though we only rented it, but overall the pros outweighed the cons and we knew the relocation would be beneficial.
Luckily, there have been no unpleasant surprises thus far at the new house. The town is so much more motivating and when we leave the house, we have an ample amount of choices. Within a 30 minutes' walk, we could be walking along the ocean and the 1950s carnival themed pier of Southport. Or, the thriving downtown has much to offer with tons of stores, shopping centres, a cinema, and restaurants. There are also a lot of nature trails from which to choose around our neighbourhood. We feel a lot safer and more relaxed here. The scenery is more uplifting and the people are friendlier in town.
At Wyzowl, Lee's new company, the progress is good as Lee gets to use up-to-date equipment and work with other people who studied motion graphics. He walks to work, so he can stay in later and arrive home earlier than he used to do.
On my end, I still have my job in Preston as a teaching assistant and two weeks ago, the head teacher told me that the school could keep me until March 31st. This is good news because my temporary contract was supposed to end on December 31st and I didn't know if I would be able to find another job for the new year. Also, the deputy head hired me to be a math tutor for seven year four students (third grade) beginning this week. Two nights a week, I'll get to teach the kids and I've found a boost of energy getting to plan lessons again. The job title has shifted a bit because now I get to teach French to the year five and 6 students once a week, as well.
My commute is not as easy as Lee's. I board the bus for Preston at 6:40 and after one bus change, I get to the school around 8:30. So far, I have read three books on the bus rides and now I'm reading through Charles Dickens' Hard Times, a book based in Preston.
September and October brought about big changes for us. We are very grateful for what is happening--all of the prayers from home must be working! At the end of this term, we'll be travelling back to Ohio for a Christmas visit. This will be the first time back since the wedding. The anticipation is growing on this end to see all of our family and friends again, to play in the snow, and to eat all of that great American food.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
Friday, 10 August 2012
Looks Like We Made It
On July 15, Lee and I celebrated our first anniversary together. Although we haven't actually lived together for a year yet, we have experienced more than a year's worth of events in our new house and this new city of Preston.
Some days have been quite challenging and Lee has been such a strong supporter for me through the 'rubbish' times. I remember vividly frantically unpacking all of the household items that flew with me from Ohio. It was fun putting everything in its proper place in our brand new house and finding nooks and crannies where future furniture may go. I stood in the middle of the bedroom, with an air mattress pushed against the wall--a placeholder until the mattress and bed arrived--and suddenly felt like I was all alone. Lee was just downstairs, but the realisation that I had just abandoned everyone and everything I had known 3,600 miles away hit me with a harsh gush of emotions. From downstairs, I heard Lee calling for me to make sure I wasn't hurt and then he came clambering up the stairs to console me, confused at what had happened. These slight panics of fear came intermittently, but quite frequently, during the first months, but have now tapered out to a degree where I can control them.
After two unsuccessful interviews (one to be a teaching assistant and one to be a teacher, which were the first rejections I have faced in my professional career), Lee was very comforting and encouraging. It seems like such a long time that I've waited to fulfil my desire to be a teacher and any delays in this hopeful process are such a disappointment. Lee is gifted with looking at the bright sides of situations and made sure I kept my dream alive, discovering new options for how this future teacher can make her dream happen. Currently, I am applying to get an English 'teaching equivalency' which will allow me to teach in England without gaining another degree and also, we are looking at international schools where I can apply using just my American degree.
For our anniversary, my gift was tickets to see Frankie Boyle, a favourite comedian of Lee's. For weeks, Lee asked me what I wanted, but I couldn't really think of anything that I needed. He certainly surprised me when he planned a day at the Chill Out Spa in Prescot just for me. Talking to the employees, I found out that this is where the t.v. celebrities and footballers' wives go to have a day of rest and relaxation. What a gift!
Our first year together has been full of surprises--I'm still checking for any signs of a mouse--and I am so happy to have Lee by my side for all of the years to come.
Although the song doesn't exactly exemplify our situation--because obviously, we are happy together--you may use this song as background music to see some of our favourite moments over the past year:
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| Our first house. We're still renting this house here in Preston, and things have quieted down a bit from our first months. |
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| A weekend trip to Formby on the last 'hot day' of 2011. |
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| Off to the races! This is a shot from the Aintree race grounds. In October, t was my first time at the race track and also my first time 'placing bets.' Lee and I were unsuccessful in winning any of our bets, but it was much more exciting than I expected. At the end of the day, I decided that I probably won't go back just because I felt really bad for how hard the horses were hit to go faster and when they fell, it was heart wrenching to be a bystander. |
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| A snapshot of the place we met. In November, we went back to Liverpool to relive the memories. |
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| In November, we learned that I would finally be a working girl again at the start of the new year. This is a photograph of the entrance to St. Mary's and St. Benedict's Roman Catholic Primary School in Preston. |
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| Our first Christmas dinner with just the two of us--although there was food enough for about eight people. |
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| Lee's trip to Hong Kong was a tough week for me having him so far away, but he learned a lot and made new friends in China. |
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| My brother came to work in London for a month in the spring. We were lucky to get to visit with him and his girlfriend in the capital as well as be blessed with good weather on that very special trip. I wish we could see my family more often! |
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| An unforgettable trip to York in May renewed my love for this country. This family vacation set the bar high for where we may go next year. |
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| Still enjoying the celebrations of the Olympics which have delivered momentous sports gems over the past two weeks. |
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Lee took me to my first cricket match to see Lancashire County Cricket Club play Derbyshire (pronounced DARbey-SURE). I didn't know the rules before the game, but afterwards I found myself a fan of this sport.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
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Friday, 27 July 2012
Olympics and Jubilation
Today is the day England has been awaiting for seven years: the opening ceremony of the 'twenty-twelve' Olympics! England can boast that it is the first country to host the modern games three times. This is also the first time that women can compete in all of the men's sports (but not the other way around due to synchronised swimming). I found myself in goosebumps two days ago when the first official game (women's football) was played and last night as the men's football matched-up. This is truly an exciting time for England and for the world.
Like most big events here--the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, for one--the English remain incredibly subdued until the day of the celebration. BBC news has been reporting on the Olympics for months, but socially, the Olympics weren't discussed. Early this morning though, the country joined in ringing bells at 8:12 for three minutes to commemorate this huge undertaking. Of course not everyone gathered their children together, linked arms with their neighbours, or jigged in jubilation, but a real sense of joy could be felt with the promise of hearty, fun competition that only the Olympics can bring.
The next two weeks will most likely be treated as a big party by England--these people know how to have a good time. At all major holidays and any days in between, people will find an opportunity to celebrate and crack open bottles of alcohol. Every night in big cities can resemble a New Year's festival as streets fill with shameless teens and adults alike. It's somewhat calming knowing that as a majority, I'm in a country with people who are always 'up for a laugh.' The next two weeks will surely be full of celebration.
Lee and I did not acquire tickets for the Olympic games much to the dismay of our American friends who say, "You're so close; It's a once in a lifetime opportunity." These statements are very true; however, we are choosing to save our money for a trip back to Ohio at Christmastime and we are happy to watch all of the events from home. I called Wills and Kate to see if we could bunk with them if we attained tickets to the swimming events--£3,000 per ticket--but their line was busy. Now, there were more inexpensive ticket choices left for the less financially fortunate, around £20, for the nose-bleed section seats at games such as netball, hockey, football, and basketball. Our compromise to be a part of the Olympics firsthand was to see the torch being carried through Preston. (Another 'goosebumps' moment.) We managed to see two torchbearers and both were inspiring: one man who carried his torch while in his wheelchair and one woman who formerly competed in the Olympics.
Many people have written into the BBC complaining that the Olympics will not go well and that it is a waste of taxpayer's money, but as far as I can tell from the footage thus far, these naysayers are in the minority. The first day did have its hiccups: 1) the South Korean flag was shown as the North Korean women's football team prepared to play (they refused to play their match), 2) the £45 million cable cars built to carry people directly to Olympic Park broke down while passengers waited for 30 minutes in the air until the problem was fixed, and 3) the aquatic centre's roof is discovered to be too low for some spectators to see the diving events, so ticket holders of these seats will be reimbursed their money.
England has transformed even from the time I arrived last year to get ready for these games. I've seen the kids at school be inspired to try new sports from Wimbledon and the Euro football games and their chatter of the Olympics inspired relay-type games to be mimicked at playtime. The excitement in the air is already inspiring, motivating, and bringing a sense of pride to England that it needs. I hope the rejuvenation and positivity lasts longer than the next two weeks.
Below are our photos from the torch relay through Preston's main street.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
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| The logo--at least £4 million for a company to brand their products with this. |
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| The road is very narrow and the buses rode right past our noses. |
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| The people in grey made sure the roads were clear and the torchbearers remained safe. |
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| First glimpse of the torch! |
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| Second torchbearer waiting for the hand-off. |
Friday, 8 June 2012
Rediscovering England
In my past posts, my views of England have been quite tainted from when I first arrived in the hardened world of Preston. My previous experiences of England were endearing enough to make me want to move here--comprising mostly of the rural, small town, friendly feel of Ormskirk. Lee and I went on our first real holiday (vacation) during the last weekend of May to the extremely enchanting city of York. I had waited three years to go to York and Lee had never been there before either, so our expectations were neither high nor low. Luckily, this trip revitalised my faith in the people of England and the stunning sights this rich country has to offer.
To ensure that we didn't miss anything, I planned a detailed itinerary--including where we'd eat each day and walking directions to each landmark. This may sound like over-planning for a carefree vacation, but in the end this system guarantees that no time is wasted walking around asking, "Where do you want to eat?" "What are you hungry for?" "How do we get to that museum?" "What time does the so-and-so close?" When I visit a city, I want to make sure that I see everything that I can. I checked with Lee before making up the itinerary and he gave me free range of what we could see and do. Thankfully, he was entertained by it all and even the things that I thought would bore him, he actually counted as his favourite attractions.
My reasoning for falling in love with York rests solely on two major components: the city is heaped in history and the people are Midwest-level friendly. (Note of importance: The Midwest is a geographic region of the United States, including Ohio, and has nothing to do with the Middle East.) Within this walled city, there are obvious levels of people who have left their mark on York--Romans, Vikings, Normans. In every nook and cranny, there are secrets of a pretty dark past and every cobble-stoned path leads one to tread through history. Everyone here asks, "How are you?" and goes out of their way to have phenomenal customer service. I'm also pretty sure that everyone working in the city is a local. This is very much appreciated when visiting a new place. The accent is a bit different even though the city is close on the map to Preston and the people were able to help with any questions because they have grown-up in York.
An initial reason that I was intrigued to visit York was the fact that it is 'the most haunted city in England.' We didn't encounter any paranormal activity; however, every morning at breakfast, all of the women staying at the hotel, including myself, felt very ill. I didn't mention it the first morning to the staff, but as two elderly women showed up to breakfast and just asked for toast and water because they weren't feeling well, I thought it was a bit eerie. The next two mornings, the same feeling overcame me as well as the other women, so I concluded that our hotel was probably inhabited by a scornful ghostly woman. It's really the only explanation.
As we boarded the train to leave York, the sky started to open up and release a few sprinkles. For the four days we were there, we had nothing but clear skies and hot temperatures (25-27 degrees C). The change in weather mimicked my feelings. I didn't start crying at the train station, but I really didn't want to leave. If I could have, then I probably would have rented the closest available apartment and called back to Preston to end my contract early for my job. At this point, I realised that the reason this city may be filled with old spirits could be that people--living and dead--never want to leave. There have been sightings of Roman soldiers marching in the Treasurer's House and even sitting in the Roman Baths. Fortunately, Lee felt the same affinity for York and we both said that we would move there in a heartbeat if it was at all a possibility.
I am so thankful that we were able to save up enough money for a holiday to York and we had perfect weather whilst we were there. Please enjoy these photos from our trip. Hopefully they will inspire you to plan a visit of your own one day!
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
If you are friends with me on Facebook, then check out more photos on there if this interests you! https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.633811834432.2072345.59102651&type=3&l=b523fd1590
To ensure that we didn't miss anything, I planned a detailed itinerary--including where we'd eat each day and walking directions to each landmark. This may sound like over-planning for a carefree vacation, but in the end this system guarantees that no time is wasted walking around asking, "Where do you want to eat?" "What are you hungry for?" "How do we get to that museum?" "What time does the so-and-so close?" When I visit a city, I want to make sure that I see everything that I can. I checked with Lee before making up the itinerary and he gave me free range of what we could see and do. Thankfully, he was entertained by it all and even the things that I thought would bore him, he actually counted as his favourite attractions.
My reasoning for falling in love with York rests solely on two major components: the city is heaped in history and the people are Midwest-level friendly. (Note of importance: The Midwest is a geographic region of the United States, including Ohio, and has nothing to do with the Middle East.) Within this walled city, there are obvious levels of people who have left their mark on York--Romans, Vikings, Normans. In every nook and cranny, there are secrets of a pretty dark past and every cobble-stoned path leads one to tread through history. Everyone here asks, "How are you?" and goes out of their way to have phenomenal customer service. I'm also pretty sure that everyone working in the city is a local. This is very much appreciated when visiting a new place. The accent is a bit different even though the city is close on the map to Preston and the people were able to help with any questions because they have grown-up in York.
An initial reason that I was intrigued to visit York was the fact that it is 'the most haunted city in England.' We didn't encounter any paranormal activity; however, every morning at breakfast, all of the women staying at the hotel, including myself, felt very ill. I didn't mention it the first morning to the staff, but as two elderly women showed up to breakfast and just asked for toast and water because they weren't feeling well, I thought it was a bit eerie. The next two mornings, the same feeling overcame me as well as the other women, so I concluded that our hotel was probably inhabited by a scornful ghostly woman. It's really the only explanation.
As we boarded the train to leave York, the sky started to open up and release a few sprinkles. For the four days we were there, we had nothing but clear skies and hot temperatures (25-27 degrees C). The change in weather mimicked my feelings. I didn't start crying at the train station, but I really didn't want to leave. If I could have, then I probably would have rented the closest available apartment and called back to Preston to end my contract early for my job. At this point, I realised that the reason this city may be filled with old spirits could be that people--living and dead--never want to leave. There have been sightings of Roman soldiers marching in the Treasurer's House and even sitting in the Roman Baths. Fortunately, Lee felt the same affinity for York and we both said that we would move there in a heartbeat if it was at all a possibility.
I am so thankful that we were able to save up enough money for a holiday to York and we had perfect weather whilst we were there. Please enjoy these photos from our trip. Hopefully they will inspire you to plan a visit of your own one day!
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
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| A gorgeous view from the York Museum. |
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| Our own personal tour guide of the York Brewery--also, Lee's new best friend and favourite person in York. |
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| The houses are miraculously still standing! |
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| Inside the Castle Museum--actually has nothing to do with castles! |
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| This is in the basement of the Castle Museum and is a complete recreation of York's old streets. |
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| The National Railway Museum was really a delight and had numerous, real trains inside its buildings. |
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| A view of the Minster from the wall that surrounds the city. |
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| York Minster Cathedral |
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| The Shambles is a road with timber dating back to the fourteenth century. There are many snickelways (dark alleyways that were used for criminals to hide in and add to the shady, somewhat gruesome, past of York) leading off of this narrow street. |
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| The sanctuary inside the York Minster. |
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| The choir at the back of the sanctuary. |
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| Inside the Treasurer's House with everything just as the last owner left it. He threatened that he would haunt the house after he died if anything was moved! This is supposedly the most haunted house in York: a worker in the 1950s saw a Roman army marching by him in the cellar and a little girl spoke to a 'woman on a chair' in one of the bedrooms. |
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| Buildings from 1644 and beyond! |
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| Our amazing storyteller from the Original Ghost Walk of York. He told of a very bloody past surrounding Clifford's Tower. |
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| Last view of the York Minster before leaving the city. |
Thursday, 7 June 2012
Seventy-six Trombones
Three Sundays ago, I decided to go back to the first church that I tried when I first arrived in Preston. My decision was based purely on the fact that my current place of attendance, although full of friendly people, has a permanent pastor who is only present every other week and for four months straight, every sermon has been based on prayer. The sermons became so repetitive that going to church became an irritant and I disliked going, which is unhealthy for both Lee and I.
I knew that this church's service began at 10:30 and as I approached the entrance at 10:20, I got extremely nervous as two rows of twelve armed servicemen lined the walkway to the stone arch. Hurriedly, I walked to the car park (parking lot) and asked the first person available, "Good morning. Is it alright if I go through the front entrance?"
"Yes, that's fine."
"Well, it's just that there are servicemen lining the entrance." I thought at this moment that I had accidentally arrived for a funeral.
"It's the mayor's outgoing service, isn't it."
"Oh, that's right. Thank you!" I had no clue what he was talking about, but it sounded harmless, so I went in as a usual attendee would and waited in the narthex.
I did go by myself this week because Lee wasn't feeling well. As I waited in the narthex, I looked into the sanctuary and there were about 300 chairs set up for this particular service. Now last time I was there, 30 chairs were awaiting 13 people to attend. At 10:30, I was the only non-employee waiting for church to begin. Still at 10:45, I was the only person waiting to get a seat and upon noticing my looks of worry, a lady who was quite obviously a coordinator of the event asked, "Are you the soloist?"
"No, I'm nobody; I'm just here for church." As we exchanged civil smiles, and I remained confused as to why I was the only person there, I asked, "Are the seats assigned today?"
"You can sit in any of the chairs beginning behind the last row of wooden chairs."
"Thank you."
As I sat down, I noticed a very expensive-to-print programme for the morning's service--which was to begin at 11 o'clock. Around 5 to 11, people finally began flooding in to the church and to my surprise, the ladies and gentlemen were dressed as if they had just returned from the royal wedding. There were hats and fascinators (fancy tiny hats that are all the rage in England for important events) for the women and very rich suits for the men. Luckily, those were the people who had to fill-in the first ten rows. When the elderly lady with bright red lipstick, a bedazzled butterfly hair clip, and bursting blue ensemble arrived who took a seat by me, I felt more at ease.
At 11 o'clock, everyone stood up to welcome what seemed like an endless line of caped and draped important people of the city. The mayor, who was a woman, wore gold chains, a regal hat, and carried a sceptre! The throngs of people who followed her all carried flags and were dressed with jewelled accessories which to me, could have rivalled any scene from a Harry Potter movie. Throughout the service, I didn't feel too out of place because the Father is very skilled at preaching and bringing everyone to the same level.
When I did feel out of place, and probably one of the most awkward moments of my life, was to come after the service. After the mayor and her city councillors led the procession out of the church, each row of people was released one-by-one like in a wedding. I had plans to stop at the grocery store when church was over, but these plans were halted as I walked with the crowd out of the arched doorway, through the tunnel of servicemen, and into the streets for a parade! To break the line and just jet off to the grocery store would have been blatantly obvious and appeared a bit rebellious, so I stayed with the train. The sidewalks were lined with people and I was praying that none of my students were present. I have experience walking in parades with the marching band and girl scouts (guides, in England). But, those were times when I was with a group--not walking by myself using my Elvis handbag to shield as much of my body as possible. To make it look like I was meant to be there, I tried to interact with the couples in front of and behind me, but they were being very British and having nothing to do with someone whom they've never seen. A troupe of bagpipes were leading the way to the Guild Hall where I heard a "reception was being held for Bobby"--I think her real name is Roberta. At this point, I realised just how out of place I was walking with people who called the outgoing mayor by a nickname and following a procession into a reception to celebrate her work. Did I need a ticket? Was there going to be a host checking names off of an RSVP list? Would we have to say something to the mayor? All of these questions combined with the local on-lookers helped me make the decision to jump ship before the walk up the steps to the Guild Hall reception. The only thing I had was my mobile phone to help me out of this situation and so I grabbed it out of my purse and acted like I was getting a phone call. A few steps before the staircase, I flanked to the right and put the phone to my ear and just started making up a conversation. I hid in the shadows of the staircase until the rest of the parade passed me by and the bagpipes stopped blowing.
Lee picked a good day to stay at home, but at least I can add this to my list of life events that have happened in England within just my first year of arriving.
To illustrate, the day looked like this
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
I knew that this church's service began at 10:30 and as I approached the entrance at 10:20, I got extremely nervous as two rows of twelve armed servicemen lined the walkway to the stone arch. Hurriedly, I walked to the car park (parking lot) and asked the first person available, "Good morning. Is it alright if I go through the front entrance?"
"Yes, that's fine."
"Well, it's just that there are servicemen lining the entrance." I thought at this moment that I had accidentally arrived for a funeral.
"It's the mayor's outgoing service, isn't it."
"Oh, that's right. Thank you!" I had no clue what he was talking about, but it sounded harmless, so I went in as a usual attendee would and waited in the narthex.
I did go by myself this week because Lee wasn't feeling well. As I waited in the narthex, I looked into the sanctuary and there were about 300 chairs set up for this particular service. Now last time I was there, 30 chairs were awaiting 13 people to attend. At 10:30, I was the only non-employee waiting for church to begin. Still at 10:45, I was the only person waiting to get a seat and upon noticing my looks of worry, a lady who was quite obviously a coordinator of the event asked, "Are you the soloist?"
"No, I'm nobody; I'm just here for church." As we exchanged civil smiles, and I remained confused as to why I was the only person there, I asked, "Are the seats assigned today?"
"You can sit in any of the chairs beginning behind the last row of wooden chairs."
"Thank you."
As I sat down, I noticed a very expensive-to-print programme for the morning's service--which was to begin at 11 o'clock. Around 5 to 11, people finally began flooding in to the church and to my surprise, the ladies and gentlemen were dressed as if they had just returned from the royal wedding. There were hats and fascinators (fancy tiny hats that are all the rage in England for important events) for the women and very rich suits for the men. Luckily, those were the people who had to fill-in the first ten rows. When the elderly lady with bright red lipstick, a bedazzled butterfly hair clip, and bursting blue ensemble arrived who took a seat by me, I felt more at ease.
At 11 o'clock, everyone stood up to welcome what seemed like an endless line of caped and draped important people of the city. The mayor, who was a woman, wore gold chains, a regal hat, and carried a sceptre! The throngs of people who followed her all carried flags and were dressed with jewelled accessories which to me, could have rivalled any scene from a Harry Potter movie. Throughout the service, I didn't feel too out of place because the Father is very skilled at preaching and bringing everyone to the same level.
When I did feel out of place, and probably one of the most awkward moments of my life, was to come after the service. After the mayor and her city councillors led the procession out of the church, each row of people was released one-by-one like in a wedding. I had plans to stop at the grocery store when church was over, but these plans were halted as I walked with the crowd out of the arched doorway, through the tunnel of servicemen, and into the streets for a parade! To break the line and just jet off to the grocery store would have been blatantly obvious and appeared a bit rebellious, so I stayed with the train. The sidewalks were lined with people and I was praying that none of my students were present. I have experience walking in parades with the marching band and girl scouts (guides, in England). But, those were times when I was with a group--not walking by myself using my Elvis handbag to shield as much of my body as possible. To make it look like I was meant to be there, I tried to interact with the couples in front of and behind me, but they were being very British and having nothing to do with someone whom they've never seen. A troupe of bagpipes were leading the way to the Guild Hall where I heard a "reception was being held for Bobby"--I think her real name is Roberta. At this point, I realised just how out of place I was walking with people who called the outgoing mayor by a nickname and following a procession into a reception to celebrate her work. Did I need a ticket? Was there going to be a host checking names off of an RSVP list? Would we have to say something to the mayor? All of these questions combined with the local on-lookers helped me make the decision to jump ship before the walk up the steps to the Guild Hall reception. The only thing I had was my mobile phone to help me out of this situation and so I grabbed it out of my purse and acted like I was getting a phone call. A few steps before the staircase, I flanked to the right and put the phone to my ear and just started making up a conversation. I hid in the shadows of the staircase until the rest of the parade passed me by and the bagpipes stopped blowing.
Lee picked a good day to stay at home, but at least I can add this to my list of life events that have happened in England within just my first year of arriving.
To illustrate, the day looked like this
and felt like this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8QER1ddSINY&feature=endscreen.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
Tuesday, 1 May 2012
Football
It's that time of year again: six football teams across the country will either be relegated or promoted. For me, however, this is the first year I have been invested and surrounded by such tradition. In the big scheme of things, football relegations and promotions in the premier league are predominantly trivial. But in England, to undermine someone's faith in a team, it seems a sin. Football is their religion, their life.
Sacredly watching once or twice every week for their team to win, or at least draw, fans follow rituals in order to bring their team luck. While pub-watching, I notice the quiet, encouraging types who can actually sit through an entire game subtly sipping a few pints without uttering a single word. Then there's the swearing machines who flood the air with their vulgarity, which soon turns into an almost inaudible hum when the brain unconsciously blocks it out. And lastly, there's the Lee, and everyone else like him.
Lees are fans who have child-like belief that until the 90th minute, their team can win--whether the team is up, down, or tied. In our specific situation, Lee is a fan of the Blackburn Rovers and they are in the bottom three of the premier league, which means that they will most likely be relegated down to the championship league (which is similar to AA baseball). The teams who are promoted are the top three teams in the championship. Their promotion or relegation depends on how many points they acquired throughout the season--3 points for a win, 1 for a draw, and 0 for a loss. Imagine if every year the Cleveland Indians ended up in the bottom of the league they were 'punished' by being driven down to AA ball. Outrage would ensue because not only do they just move to a new league, any highly talented players who are left on the team will be traded to stay in the premiership or just stop playing altogether. With these consequences, the brand of Rovers, or Indians, would have a very slim chance of ever working their way back up to the premiership and it would never hold the same acclaim as it once did.
Not only do the team members suffer career-wise, but the manager (coach) is highly scrutinised for his performance and oftentimes ridiculed harshly for the failure of the team to maintain premiership status. Fans all look for someone to blame: the owners, the manager, the team, or specific players. The manager does have a tricky job because he has a budget for each season. All of the players get paid a different amount and paid additional amounts if they make an 'appearance' in a game. When I first heard this term, I thought that if they appeared anywhere--for a charity event or otherwise--then they were paid their thousands of pounds, but it only applies in match situations. So the manager needs to carefully plan who he wants to play and for poorer teams, like Blackburn, his choices are limited by the talent-level of the players and also who he can 'buy' for his team. Trades and loans are made between teams a lot (with people, not money). These limitations put the manager in a tough spot and when his team loses, the fans are brutal.
Loss after loss can be difficult to watch for the Lees because they have been life-long fans and when their team is headed toward relegation, all the rest of us can do is just pat them on the back and point out the positives in their team. I can see the relegation coming just as clear as Lee can, but I haven't followed this team my whole life. Although, the sympathy comes easily since I am an Indians fan after all.
The relentless following of a team--no matter which end of the league tables they stand--isn't anything new and definitely isn't a characteristic of only English culture. The extra risks involved, for instance the haunting relegations waiting in the wings, put the fan support on another level. I may not understand much about the football leagues here, but I can see the emotion that the fans carry with them to each game. This may not be Blackburn's year to stay in the premiership, but hopefully they can climb back up from the championship next year.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
Sacredly watching once or twice every week for their team to win, or at least draw, fans follow rituals in order to bring their team luck. While pub-watching, I notice the quiet, encouraging types who can actually sit through an entire game subtly sipping a few pints without uttering a single word. Then there's the swearing machines who flood the air with their vulgarity, which soon turns into an almost inaudible hum when the brain unconsciously blocks it out. And lastly, there's the Lee, and everyone else like him.
Lees are fans who have child-like belief that until the 90th minute, their team can win--whether the team is up, down, or tied. In our specific situation, Lee is a fan of the Blackburn Rovers and they are in the bottom three of the premier league, which means that they will most likely be relegated down to the championship league (which is similar to AA baseball). The teams who are promoted are the top three teams in the championship. Their promotion or relegation depends on how many points they acquired throughout the season--3 points for a win, 1 for a draw, and 0 for a loss. Imagine if every year the Cleveland Indians ended up in the bottom of the league they were 'punished' by being driven down to AA ball. Outrage would ensue because not only do they just move to a new league, any highly talented players who are left on the team will be traded to stay in the premiership or just stop playing altogether. With these consequences, the brand of Rovers, or Indians, would have a very slim chance of ever working their way back up to the premiership and it would never hold the same acclaim as it once did.
Not only do the team members suffer career-wise, but the manager (coach) is highly scrutinised for his performance and oftentimes ridiculed harshly for the failure of the team to maintain premiership status. Fans all look for someone to blame: the owners, the manager, the team, or specific players. The manager does have a tricky job because he has a budget for each season. All of the players get paid a different amount and paid additional amounts if they make an 'appearance' in a game. When I first heard this term, I thought that if they appeared anywhere--for a charity event or otherwise--then they were paid their thousands of pounds, but it only applies in match situations. So the manager needs to carefully plan who he wants to play and for poorer teams, like Blackburn, his choices are limited by the talent-level of the players and also who he can 'buy' for his team. Trades and loans are made between teams a lot (with people, not money). These limitations put the manager in a tough spot and when his team loses, the fans are brutal.
Loss after loss can be difficult to watch for the Lees because they have been life-long fans and when their team is headed toward relegation, all the rest of us can do is just pat them on the back and point out the positives in their team. I can see the relegation coming just as clear as Lee can, but I haven't followed this team my whole life. Although, the sympathy comes easily since I am an Indians fan after all.
The relentless following of a team--no matter which end of the league tables they stand--isn't anything new and definitely isn't a characteristic of only English culture. The extra risks involved, for instance the haunting relegations waiting in the wings, put the fan support on another level. I may not understand much about the football leagues here, but I can see the emotion that the fans carry with them to each game. This may not be Blackburn's year to stay in the premiership, but hopefully they can climb back up from the championship next year.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
Sunday, 25 March 2012
A sign?
Today in church, I flipped the hymnal pages to the second song, and what was it?
What a Friend We Have in Jesus!
Just wanted to include this strange happenstance to follow yesterday's post. I hope it's a sign that there are good things to come for us.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
What a Friend We Have in Jesus!
Just wanted to include this strange happenstance to follow yesterday's post. I hope it's a sign that there are good things to come for us.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
Saturday, 24 March 2012
Walkin' on Sunshine
The past month has been somewhat trying in the lives of Mr. and Mrs. McRae. I experienced my first National Health Service dentist appointment, discovered news about my job, and Lee left for Hong Kong on his business trip.
My trip to the dentist office required two different buses to make it from the school to the door of our appointed dentist. In September, Lee and I applied to the NHS for a dentist. In February, we were finally assigned a specific dentist's office here in Preston and then were required to make an appointment within two weeks of receiving our acceptance letter. In the UK, people also have the choice to go to a private dentist--which we also looked into back in September due to a severe toothache Lee was experiencing. When the privatised dentist's secretary sent us an information pack, we learned that we would have to pay a monthly fee as if we were subscribing to a magazine. This fee would reserve us a spot at that specific dentist, but the visits would be normal (every six months) and those visits would also need to be paid for separately than the monthly fee. Also, any emergency dental work that would be needed would be an additional cost. We didn't see the point in this--that is, until I experienced the NHS dentist.
The second bus I hopped onto couldn't travel its usual route because a road was closed so I knew I was going to arrive about 10 minutes late to my 4 o'clock appointment. Lee rang ahead for me from work (because I didn't write down the office's number) to let the receptionists know that I might be running behind. When I got off the bus, I ran to the building and checked-in two minutes late. After I apologised for my tardiness, I turned to see the waiting area that wrapped around into an L-shape: about fifteen people were waiting for their appointment as well. This may be one difference between a privatised dentist and the NHS in that the appointments are scheduled more precisely to reduce waiting time. After 35 minutes, my name was called and I walked into a room with 1980s colours, decor, and equipment. The appointment lasted no more than 10 minutes and my check-up merely entailed the dentist poking every tooth, running a tool along my gum line, using a spinning drill-sounding grinding machine, and recording an image of my teeth with the x-ray. I was streamlined through these steps and told to wait for the results of my x-ray. For fifteen minutes, I sat in the waiting room, jamming internally to the blaring music (coming from a radio with a sign that read, "Do not adjust the volume of the radio"). A girl in a Star Trek-like grey uniform came out to tell me that my x-ray was fine and I was allowed to go. I paid the £17 basic fee and left for the bus stop.
From this experience, I was mostly surprised at the outdated tools and rushed protocol once I finally got into the office. I do appreciate the a la carte payment choices because I don't feel cheated paying a lot of money for a basic check-up; however, the extra money might make an impressive difference in the technology and treatment found in private dentists' offices. Until we win the lottery, then I guess we'll never really know and can only dream of the possibilities.
When I got my job in November, I was well aware that it was a temporary post lasting until the end of August. Since I've been in the school and getting to know the other teachers better, almost all of them said that when they were hired, their post was also listed as temporary, but then it changed to permanent as the school saw fit--some waited two and a half years to move to the permanent category, though. With this realisation, I started to have confidence that I might be staying at the school longer than I thought and kept doing my best every day to earn the respect of the head teacher and deputy head. The kink in my journey toward permanency is that another person was hired at the same time as me and although he was supposed to be finished with his post at Easter, another teacher's decision to leave left a need for him to stay until August as well.
Looking ahead at next year's budgets, the head teacher was informed that she could only keep one teaching assistant permanently and the other one had to go in August. This meant that an interview had to be held to determine which of us wanted the job and who could have it. Well, on March 16, I learned that the school decided to keep the male teaching assistant because he can handle boys with bad behaviour better than me and taught them rugby. I was completely devastated. The school, staff, and students are all wonderful and that was the first interview where I didn't get the job. I'm a quietly competitive person, so the past week working alongside someone who 'beat me,' essentially, has been quite the challenge. (An Ashley example: When I was at my best friend's birthday party in 1995, all of us girls were sitting around the dining room table eating cake and ice cream. Someone asked my best friend in what year she was born and she said, '1987.' I said, 'I was born in 1897,' because I knew I was older than her, and obviously, wanted to have that little edge up. Her mom pointed out that my statement was an impossibility.)
After a long talk with my mom (mum), and a lot of praying, I am now comfortable with the decision that transpired. I realised that this freedom at the end of the summer gives Lee and I a chance to break out of Preston, move to a more idyllic town, and start fresh in a place where we feel safer. Also, this teaching assistant post wasn't all for nothing because an English working experience should help me get my foot in the door into the next set of schools to which I send my resumes (CVs). All of the bits and bobs I've learned about the English school system will only be a head-start to wherever I am working next and I'll have more knowledge of English proprieties that I wouldn't have learned otherwise.
Four days after learning about my employment fate, Lee left for his trip to Hong Kong. A week doesn't seem that long, especially when we've been apart for a year before, but the nights seem to come to a halt. Everything stops! Television shows drag on, people move at a snail's pace, and the house is motionless. Is there anything lonelier than a single toothbrush by the sink? Well, besides the person using the toothbrush. There's reminders everywhere that I'm the only one here--one towel on the door hooks, one side of the bed always tidy, and the single set of fork, spoon, knife, dish, and cup. I'm very happy for Lee and this opportunity he has, but I'm also astounded at how easily loneliness can invade when I thought I'd be comfortable being independent for a week.
A song that keeps replaying in my head lately is What a Friend We Have in Jesus. On the bus ride home from the interview, the lyrics just started singing in my thoughts and have carried me through the times where I just want to break down and feel bad for myself.
"What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear. What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer. O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer."
On Sunday, the preacher and a girl named Vicky also had this same message come to them in the last week: our home is in Jesus and He is the only place we will always find love, because He is love. He's always here for us--when we feel we're not good enough, when we feel alone, or even when we're being rushed through a crowded dentist's office, feeling somewhat unimportant. Only when I refocused my thoughts to what God has planned for me, and that I must listen and be patient to this plan, then I started to feel much better and realise that the opportunities could be much greater now. I'm really excited to see what God has in store for me and Lee in the next few months and I will definitely keep you updated.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
My trip to the dentist office required two different buses to make it from the school to the door of our appointed dentist. In September, Lee and I applied to the NHS for a dentist. In February, we were finally assigned a specific dentist's office here in Preston and then were required to make an appointment within two weeks of receiving our acceptance letter. In the UK, people also have the choice to go to a private dentist--which we also looked into back in September due to a severe toothache Lee was experiencing. When the privatised dentist's secretary sent us an information pack, we learned that we would have to pay a monthly fee as if we were subscribing to a magazine. This fee would reserve us a spot at that specific dentist, but the visits would be normal (every six months) and those visits would also need to be paid for separately than the monthly fee. Also, any emergency dental work that would be needed would be an additional cost. We didn't see the point in this--that is, until I experienced the NHS dentist.
The second bus I hopped onto couldn't travel its usual route because a road was closed so I knew I was going to arrive about 10 minutes late to my 4 o'clock appointment. Lee rang ahead for me from work (because I didn't write down the office's number) to let the receptionists know that I might be running behind. When I got off the bus, I ran to the building and checked-in two minutes late. After I apologised for my tardiness, I turned to see the waiting area that wrapped around into an L-shape: about fifteen people were waiting for their appointment as well. This may be one difference between a privatised dentist and the NHS in that the appointments are scheduled more precisely to reduce waiting time. After 35 minutes, my name was called and I walked into a room with 1980s colours, decor, and equipment. The appointment lasted no more than 10 minutes and my check-up merely entailed the dentist poking every tooth, running a tool along my gum line, using a spinning drill-sounding grinding machine, and recording an image of my teeth with the x-ray. I was streamlined through these steps and told to wait for the results of my x-ray. For fifteen minutes, I sat in the waiting room, jamming internally to the blaring music (coming from a radio with a sign that read, "Do not adjust the volume of the radio"). A girl in a Star Trek-like grey uniform came out to tell me that my x-ray was fine and I was allowed to go. I paid the £17 basic fee and left for the bus stop.
From this experience, I was mostly surprised at the outdated tools and rushed protocol once I finally got into the office. I do appreciate the a la carte payment choices because I don't feel cheated paying a lot of money for a basic check-up; however, the extra money might make an impressive difference in the technology and treatment found in private dentists' offices. Until we win the lottery, then I guess we'll never really know and can only dream of the possibilities.
When I got my job in November, I was well aware that it was a temporary post lasting until the end of August. Since I've been in the school and getting to know the other teachers better, almost all of them said that when they were hired, their post was also listed as temporary, but then it changed to permanent as the school saw fit--some waited two and a half years to move to the permanent category, though. With this realisation, I started to have confidence that I might be staying at the school longer than I thought and kept doing my best every day to earn the respect of the head teacher and deputy head. The kink in my journey toward permanency is that another person was hired at the same time as me and although he was supposed to be finished with his post at Easter, another teacher's decision to leave left a need for him to stay until August as well.
Looking ahead at next year's budgets, the head teacher was informed that she could only keep one teaching assistant permanently and the other one had to go in August. This meant that an interview had to be held to determine which of us wanted the job and who could have it. Well, on March 16, I learned that the school decided to keep the male teaching assistant because he can handle boys with bad behaviour better than me and taught them rugby. I was completely devastated. The school, staff, and students are all wonderful and that was the first interview where I didn't get the job. I'm a quietly competitive person, so the past week working alongside someone who 'beat me,' essentially, has been quite the challenge. (An Ashley example: When I was at my best friend's birthday party in 1995, all of us girls were sitting around the dining room table eating cake and ice cream. Someone asked my best friend in what year she was born and she said, '1987.' I said, 'I was born in 1897,' because I knew I was older than her, and obviously, wanted to have that little edge up. Her mom pointed out that my statement was an impossibility.)
After a long talk with my mom (mum), and a lot of praying, I am now comfortable with the decision that transpired. I realised that this freedom at the end of the summer gives Lee and I a chance to break out of Preston, move to a more idyllic town, and start fresh in a place where we feel safer. Also, this teaching assistant post wasn't all for nothing because an English working experience should help me get my foot in the door into the next set of schools to which I send my resumes (CVs). All of the bits and bobs I've learned about the English school system will only be a head-start to wherever I am working next and I'll have more knowledge of English proprieties that I wouldn't have learned otherwise.
Four days after learning about my employment fate, Lee left for his trip to Hong Kong. A week doesn't seem that long, especially when we've been apart for a year before, but the nights seem to come to a halt. Everything stops! Television shows drag on, people move at a snail's pace, and the house is motionless. Is there anything lonelier than a single toothbrush by the sink? Well, besides the person using the toothbrush. There's reminders everywhere that I'm the only one here--one towel on the door hooks, one side of the bed always tidy, and the single set of fork, spoon, knife, dish, and cup. I'm very happy for Lee and this opportunity he has, but I'm also astounded at how easily loneliness can invade when I thought I'd be comfortable being independent for a week.
A song that keeps replaying in my head lately is What a Friend We Have in Jesus. On the bus ride home from the interview, the lyrics just started singing in my thoughts and have carried me through the times where I just want to break down and feel bad for myself.
"What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear. What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer. O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear, All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer."
On Sunday, the preacher and a girl named Vicky also had this same message come to them in the last week: our home is in Jesus and He is the only place we will always find love, because He is love. He's always here for us--when we feel we're not good enough, when we feel alone, or even when we're being rushed through a crowded dentist's office, feeling somewhat unimportant. Only when I refocused my thoughts to what God has planned for me, and that I must listen and be patient to this plan, then I started to feel much better and realise that the opportunities could be much greater now. I'm really excited to see what God has in store for me and Lee in the next few months and I will definitely keep you updated.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
 |
| Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. |
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| Bella |
Tuesday, 14 February 2012
Reading, Writing, Arithmetic
Happy Valentine's Day everyone! Over the three and a half years that Lee and I have known each other, this is the first time that we get to be in the same country on Valentine's Day. We'll probably spend less money, too, since we won't be sending three pounds of chocolate and gifts to each other across the Atlantic.
This week is what England's schools call 'half-term' and now I already have my first week of holiday (vacation, in America). Roughly every six weeks, the schools have at least a week break which is a nice change from the schools in the U.S. I suppose it is a hassle for any parents who aren't affiliated with a school here and who have to find childcare for a week at a time. Most parents I've spoken with use their children's grandparents as babysitters or take time off of work to spend quality time with their kids. This is also a great time for the teachers to rejuvenate and prepare for the next weeks leading up to Easter. The more frequent breaks and reliably short school terms are healthier for the students and teachers than the seemingly endless days on end of which I experienced.
School days at a Catholic primary school of course differ from my school memories because we are allowed to say prayers and teach religion in school here. Children generally act the same at this school as any school I've visited in the States or Ireland--a few squirrely (cheeky, in England) children, but overall, very polite youngsters. There is also the small percentage of very high ability learners and rather low ability students and then the rest who fit somewhere in the middle in every classroom.
For a student, a typical day at this school starts at 9 A.M. with coats and bags hooked in the cloak room and then filing into the classroom at tables of six or eight children. All of the children wear red jumpers (sweatshirts or sweaters depending on what the parents purchase), white collared shirts, and dark blue trousers, dresses, or skirts with black shoes. Each child's presence is recorded in a very official book and the teacher says, "Good morning, _____," to each student and they must respond, "Good morning, Mrs. _______." Silent reading begins the day for 15-20 minutes and during that time, a break is held to watch the morning broadcast which is written, produced, and directed by year six (aged 10-11) students. During the broadcast, two prayers are said before starting the school day. After wrapping up reading, the numeracy lesson begins for an hour of working in groups with other children who match one another's ability. A short playtime (recess, in America) is held from 10:30 to 10:45 in which the children play outside while the teachers drink tea or coffee and chat. I use this time to mark numeracy books since it takes about 10 minutes to fill the electric kettle and boil the water for the senior teachers and then re-fill and boil it for the rest of us to get a drink.
After break, everyone convenes for literacy and works in levelled-ability groups again for about an hour until the children wash their hands and use the toilets (bathroom, in America) to prepare for dinnertime (lunch). Dinnertime is quite different from what I remember: the children are placed in their seats by dinner ladies by the order in which they enter the hall (cafeteria) so there is no wandering around, spending time to choose a seat. Two children a day are assigned to wear checkered aprons and chef's hats to serve the salad at the salad bar--the mini-chefs look charming and incredibly humorous at the same time. Two jugs, one of water and one of milk, are set on every table for the children who buy a hot dinner to fill-up their cup. (No bags or cartons of milk exist at my school and only 1% white milk is offered--no 2%, chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry here. I mentioned these options that exist in Ashland, Ohio to my students and there was almost a riot.) Upon finishing their dinner, the children are allowed to go to a club or out to playtime. Some of the clubs include cricket, oragami, choir, around the world, and street dance. From sitting down for dinner to returning to class, an hour passes.
Once returning to class at 1 P.M., the day varies each afternoon until 3:15 when the children are dismissed. First, the afternoon attendance is recorded and follows the same pattern as the morning routine, but this time it begins with, "Good afternoon." The main classroom teacher will teach the topic (currently the Seven Wonders of the World), P.E. (focusing on gymnastics right now), Art, or Science. On Tuesdays, however, two separate teachers come to the classroom to teach French and Music.
When the children leave for the day, they meet their parents in the yard (playground) or walk home on their own if they are old enough to do so.
These first five weeks, most of my learning has been new vocabulary for everyday things: talking back in America would be 'answering back' in England; looking or sounding disappointed is called being cross here; a student who is acting like a brat is called being 'cheeky' in England--I've been told that 'brat' is a bad word here; and a 'madam' is a title given to a little girl who is trying to rule the roost. I'm sure there is much more vocabulary to be learnt and sometimes, my biggest headache at the end of the day is just trying to replace words I've used for 24 years with the English terms.
I would much rather tire my brain learning new words than exhausting it dealing with incredibly rude children as a substitute (supply, in England) teacher--which is exactly what happened everyday I was assigned days at Ashland High School and two of the primary schools in the upper grades. Those days seemed longer than weeks sometimes and I'm very happy that my life has moved on from that debacle. Children here are taught to hold doors open for adults and are expected to greet visitors to the classroom--often one child is assigned to be in charge of the door. "Please" and "thank you" are required words to get and receive anything that is given to you if you are a child, but of course the adults model these expectations as well. Whenever a child does act out, they are spoken to by an adult calmly and then a letter of apology is written to the adult and anyone else who may have been harmed in the incident. Words of the week are focused on for the entire school--last week was compassion--and time is given each day to reflect on how one can demonstrate this character word. The best difference about teaching in this school than being a supply teacher in Ashland is that if you demand and model respect, you get it back from the children--in Ashland, you get laughed at by the students.
Below are a few photos to illustrate a day in an English school that I found online--we're not allowed to take photos in school--and also some recipes for you to try of which Lee and I have put on our favourites list.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
6 small deep short crust pastry cases
This week is what England's schools call 'half-term' and now I already have my first week of holiday (vacation, in America). Roughly every six weeks, the schools have at least a week break which is a nice change from the schools in the U.S. I suppose it is a hassle for any parents who aren't affiliated with a school here and who have to find childcare for a week at a time. Most parents I've spoken with use their children's grandparents as babysitters or take time off of work to spend quality time with their kids. This is also a great time for the teachers to rejuvenate and prepare for the next weeks leading up to Easter. The more frequent breaks and reliably short school terms are healthier for the students and teachers than the seemingly endless days on end of which I experienced.
School days at a Catholic primary school of course differ from my school memories because we are allowed to say prayers and teach religion in school here. Children generally act the same at this school as any school I've visited in the States or Ireland--a few squirrely (cheeky, in England) children, but overall, very polite youngsters. There is also the small percentage of very high ability learners and rather low ability students and then the rest who fit somewhere in the middle in every classroom.
For a student, a typical day at this school starts at 9 A.M. with coats and bags hooked in the cloak room and then filing into the classroom at tables of six or eight children. All of the children wear red jumpers (sweatshirts or sweaters depending on what the parents purchase), white collared shirts, and dark blue trousers, dresses, or skirts with black shoes. Each child's presence is recorded in a very official book and the teacher says, "Good morning, _____," to each student and they must respond, "Good morning, Mrs. _______." Silent reading begins the day for 15-20 minutes and during that time, a break is held to watch the morning broadcast which is written, produced, and directed by year six (aged 10-11) students. During the broadcast, two prayers are said before starting the school day. After wrapping up reading, the numeracy lesson begins for an hour of working in groups with other children who match one another's ability. A short playtime (recess, in America) is held from 10:30 to 10:45 in which the children play outside while the teachers drink tea or coffee and chat. I use this time to mark numeracy books since it takes about 10 minutes to fill the electric kettle and boil the water for the senior teachers and then re-fill and boil it for the rest of us to get a drink.
After break, everyone convenes for literacy and works in levelled-ability groups again for about an hour until the children wash their hands and use the toilets (bathroom, in America) to prepare for dinnertime (lunch). Dinnertime is quite different from what I remember: the children are placed in their seats by dinner ladies by the order in which they enter the hall (cafeteria) so there is no wandering around, spending time to choose a seat. Two children a day are assigned to wear checkered aprons and chef's hats to serve the salad at the salad bar--the mini-chefs look charming and incredibly humorous at the same time. Two jugs, one of water and one of milk, are set on every table for the children who buy a hot dinner to fill-up their cup. (No bags or cartons of milk exist at my school and only 1% white milk is offered--no 2%, chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry here. I mentioned these options that exist in Ashland, Ohio to my students and there was almost a riot.) Upon finishing their dinner, the children are allowed to go to a club or out to playtime. Some of the clubs include cricket, oragami, choir, around the world, and street dance. From sitting down for dinner to returning to class, an hour passes.
Once returning to class at 1 P.M., the day varies each afternoon until 3:15 when the children are dismissed. First, the afternoon attendance is recorded and follows the same pattern as the morning routine, but this time it begins with, "Good afternoon." The main classroom teacher will teach the topic (currently the Seven Wonders of the World), P.E. (focusing on gymnastics right now), Art, or Science. On Tuesdays, however, two separate teachers come to the classroom to teach French and Music.
When the children leave for the day, they meet their parents in the yard (playground) or walk home on their own if they are old enough to do so.
These first five weeks, most of my learning has been new vocabulary for everyday things: talking back in America would be 'answering back' in England; looking or sounding disappointed is called being cross here; a student who is acting like a brat is called being 'cheeky' in England--I've been told that 'brat' is a bad word here; and a 'madam' is a title given to a little girl who is trying to rule the roost. I'm sure there is much more vocabulary to be learnt and sometimes, my biggest headache at the end of the day is just trying to replace words I've used for 24 years with the English terms.
I would much rather tire my brain learning new words than exhausting it dealing with incredibly rude children as a substitute (supply, in England) teacher--which is exactly what happened everyday I was assigned days at Ashland High School and two of the primary schools in the upper grades. Those days seemed longer than weeks sometimes and I'm very happy that my life has moved on from that debacle. Children here are taught to hold doors open for adults and are expected to greet visitors to the classroom--often one child is assigned to be in charge of the door. "Please" and "thank you" are required words to get and receive anything that is given to you if you are a child, but of course the adults model these expectations as well. Whenever a child does act out, they are spoken to by an adult calmly and then a letter of apology is written to the adult and anyone else who may have been harmed in the incident. Words of the week are focused on for the entire school--last week was compassion--and time is given each day to reflect on how one can demonstrate this character word. The best difference about teaching in this school than being a supply teacher in Ashland is that if you demand and model respect, you get it back from the children--in Ashland, you get laughed at by the students.
Below are a few photos to illustrate a day in an English school that I found online--we're not allowed to take photos in school--and also some recipes for you to try of which Lee and I have put on our favourites list.
If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.
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| This is a very close illustration to what the children wear everyday, minus the neckties. Girls have more options to mix-and-match, but at least they aren't getting ridiculed for what they wear to school--which is what can happen in America. |
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| All of the kids do change to their "p.e. kits" which consist of white t-shirts, blue or black shorts, and "pumps" which are lace-less black shoes. It's just like teaching with Poitier, but without the boxing battle. |
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| A similar depiction to what our salad bar looks like and the kids' expressions are similar as well. |
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| Every school subject (numeracy, literacy, topic) has its own book in which the children record their work. There are even exercise books for homework. The books are sometimes different sizes and some have blank pages, lined pages, and grids, but they make grading and marking much easier to keep track of for the teachers. Recipes North African Harira A soup that is really filling and a perfect blend of tasty spices. |
2 tbsp. olive oil
225g boneless lean lamb, cut into pieces
1 onion, chopped
115g chickpeas, drained
1.5 litres (2 ¾ pints) vegetable stock
115g (4 oz.) split red lentils
2 large tomatoes, peeled, deseeded, and diced
1 red pepper, deseeded and diced
1 tbsp. tomato puree
1 tsp. sugar
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
½ tsp. ground turmeric
½ tsp. ground ginger
1 tbsp. coriander
1 tbsp. parsley
55g (2 oz.) long-grain rice
salt and pepper
Heat the oil in a large saucepan. Add the lamb and cook over a medium heat, stirring frequently, for 8-10 min., until lightly browned all over. Reduce the heat, add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, for 5 min., until softened.
Increase the heat to medium, add the chickpeas, pour in the stock, and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat, cover and simmer for 2 hours.
Stir in the lentils, tomatoes, red pepper, tomato puree, sugar, cinnamon, turmeric, ginger, coriander, and parsley and simmer for 15 min. Add the rice and simmer for a further 15 min., until the rice is cooked and the lentils are tender.
Season to taste with salt and pepper and remove the pan from the heat. Ladle the soup into warmed bowls, sprinkle with coriander and serve immediately. Raspberry Tarts
Not too sweet, but still a great dessert.
6 small deep short crust pastry cases
1 egg
100g ground almonds
100g butter
90g golden caster sugar
1 orange
1 tbsp. vanilla
125g raspberry jam
crème fraiche
Preheat oven to 190 deg. C
Put 6 pastry cases on a baking tray. Make a frangipane mixture by cracking the egg into a mixing bowl an adding 100g of almonds, 100g of butter, and 90g of sugar. Grate over the zest of ½ an orange and add 1 tbsp. of vanilla. Use a spoon to mix together.
Spoon a small tsp. of jam into each pastry base. Top with a heaped tsp. of frangipane, add another small tsp. of jam, then finally another heaped tsp. of frangipane. Put the tray in the oven on the middle shelf and set the timer for 18 min.
Serve the tarts warm when golden and cooked. Add a dollop of crème fraiche on the side of each one. Enchiladas Always a hit and tastes just like a restaurant's.  1 chicken or 3-4 chicken breasts 2 qt. chicken stock 2 tbsp. olive oil 1 onion, halved, cut into 1/4 –in. slices 2 green or red peppers, seeded and cut into ¼-in strips Enchilada Sauce (see below) 12 tortillas (6 in.) 2 c. grated Monterey Jack cheese 2 c. grated sharp cheddar cheese Preheat oven to 177 degrees C. Place chicken in a large pot, and pour chicken stock over it. Add enough water to cover if necessary. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook until chicken is cooked through and very tender, about 1 hour. Transfer chicken to a bowl to cool, and reserve the stock to use for enchilada sauce if desired. When chicken is cool enough to handle, remove meat from bones, and shred; set aside. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add onion, and cook until the slices start to soften, about 5 min. Add peppers, and cook until tender, about 7 min. Transfer to a bowl, and set aside. Place enchilada sauce in a medium saucepan over medium heat. When hot, dip tortillas into sauce, one at a time, to soften, and place side by side on two baking sheets. Divide the shredded chicken and pepper mixture among the tortillas. Place cheese in a bowl, and toss to combine. Top each tortilla with 2 tbsp. grated cheese. Roll up tortillas, and place snugly seam side down in a 9x13 in. ovenproof baking dish. Top them with the remaining enchilada sauce and with the remaining grated cheese. Bake until the enchiladas are heated through and the cheese is melted, about 30 min. Serve with salsa, sour cream, or both. |
Enchilada Sauce Can be made a day or two before. 5 long, fresh red chiles 1 c chicken stock 2 c water 2 cans of crushed tomatoes ¼ c olive oil 1 white onion, cut into ½-in. dice 2 scallions, chopped 3 cloves garlic, minced ½ c tomato paste 1 tsp. cumin 1 tsp. oregano ½ tsp. salt Cut chiles in half lengthwise; remove and discard seeds and any ribs. Set aside. In a small saucepan, bring chicken stock and the water to a simmer. Add chiles; simmer until tender, about 15 min. Set aside. Heat olive oil in a large high-sided skillet over medium heat. Add onion, scallions, and garlic; sauté until translucent, about 10 min. Add tomatoes, tomato paste, red chiles and liquid, cumin, oregano, and salt. Stir to combine. Simmer gently for 15 min. Transfer to the jar of a blender/food processor; puree until smooth. Return to pan; keep hot if assembling enchiladas. |
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