Down With the Kids

In the past week, I started my new job as a teaching assistant here in Preston.  It's in a part of town called Bamber Bridge which is just a 15 minute bus ride away from our house.  So far, everyone at the school has been welcoming and checks on me daily to see 'how I'm getting on.'  Working in a school, I'm learning much more of the local idioms than I was just crocheting at home watching Judge Judy and listening to the neighbours' quarrels through the walls.  One part of the dialect that kind of irks me is when the teachers say, "Right," after every sentence--about three times.  Usually, it starts with an, "Ah," and then followed by a, "right."  Every single sentence!  I've just been blocking it out and am trying desperately not to pick up the habit.

Working at a school also lets me see inside the minds of the children of England.  Here, there are really strict rules about child safety.  I can understand that there are horrible people in the world who do terrible things to children, but I believe these people are few and far between.  One extreme rule that I've read about relating to sports coaches is that a coach shouldn't even pat a player on the back to say, "Good job!"  With these extreme rules, adults are often afraid to even look or smile at children in public and I've seen many occasions where children or young teens choose a helpless passerby at which to start shouting, "Pedo!" (short for pedophile).  This is so different from how I grew up, so I have found myself disregarding children completely so that they don't choose me as one of their victims to whom they assign this disgusting title.  It must seem like a cold world to children here.  Because I work at a primary school, I do, however, get to speak to the kids and see how they learn.  Within the week or so I've been there, all of the kids are really polite, but there are just as many troublemakers as any school has.  Most of the teachers say exactly what teachers in America say:  "Bad home life."  I have noticed that in this English school, manners are held to a higher standard than in American schools.  Other than that, kids are exactly the same in the UK as in the US.

That is, until you encounter them outside of school.  Now, I don't know which school the kids who I ran into today go to, but they do not know how to apply their manners in 'the streets.'  After an exciting day of coffee table browsing, Lee and I took a walk through the residential zone adjacent to our neighbourhood.  A football (soccer ball, in America) rolled behind us, over the pavement (sidewalk, in America), and across the road.  On such a sunny day, I felt inclined to be overly friendly to the young chaps who were quite far away and kick the ball back to them.  Well, in true Ashley fashion, I kicked the ball across the road, straight into the curb, and it ricocheted right back to my hands.  It looked planned, but it wasn't.  Then, I drop-kicked the ball over to the boys.  They didn't say, "Thank you," but I made sure I shouted, "You're welcome," so at least they knew they were supposed to say it.  Then, I looked down and saw that my hands and jeans were muddy from the ball.  No good deed goes unpunished.  I vowed at that moment that I would never help children again.  But, we know that's not true.

Six minutes later, we found ourselves walking through the dingy park in our neighbourhood.  On our right, there were two men on a bench exchanging something which needed to be rolled and stuffed--drugs, I think?  Then, we saw four thirteen-year-olds ahead.  Dun, dun, dun!  All of them had track suits on, golf clubs in hand, and one of them was smoking--something he probably got from the bench boys.  Since the kids of England know that they are running the show around here and can say anything they want to adults--because of the overprotective laws--I anticipated a showdown.  Now, Lee has warned me before about speaking to children even if they say something rude to me because they will threaten to hurt me, steal something from me, or spit on me.  What Lee has yet to learn, however, is that I'm not really afraid of these kids.  As we passed the boys, one chose to make inappropriate actions with his golf club and sounds with his voice and looked right at us as if he was running some kind of sick show.  I just walked right by him and said, "As if you'd have a clue what that's like."  On the bright side, we weren't threatened, stolen from, or spit on; however, on the downside, the kids didn't stop their crude noises, either.

All of this on one day, in a 10-minute span of time, in Preston.  Enough examples such as these give us the motivation to save up to move to a new town and get away from the unhappy, dark cloud of a city that is Preston.  Now that we're both working, we can move on with these plans sooner rather than later. We have a lot of good things happening in our lives and although these came about in Preston, we'll just take them with us somewhere where the people have some pride in themselves, their property, and their children.

Below are some photos for your viewing pleasure.  In other news, I became a published author with my first research project going to the presses.  When I wrote it with the guidance of my professor, Dr. Jason Ellis, it was the first case study of its kind.  Here is a link to the article:  http://ojs.uwindsor.ca/ojs/leddy/index.php/JTL/issue/view/380

If you see Sammie Miles Davis, Jr. and Bella, give them my love.

Preston at Christmas

The Harris Library in Preston

Even the market shelter was decked out for the holidays.

Our house.  It's safer to keep the decorations inside or else they'll be nicked (stolen, in America).

A decoration sent from my family in Ohio.

Lee's stocking

Ashley's stocking

Our first Christmas tree without presents and below, with presents.

My recent hobby of crocheting.  This hat and these scarves were sent to Ohio as presents for Christmas.

Carolling with our church

Our Christmas feast--chicken instead of turkey since it was just the two of us, deviled eggs,  parsnips, brussels sprouts,  roasted potatoes, swede and carrot mash, creamed corn, stuffing, and Waldorf salad.  

Lee opening presents on Christmas.

Lee's cousin Danny, Aunt Nicki, cousin Sophie, and brother Charlie on Boxing Day at Grandpa Don's.

Lee's cousin Sam (middle) with girlfriend Toni and Uncle Andy on the right.

Lee, Grandpa Don, and Ashley

Our New Year's dinner--peppered steak, yorkshire puddings with gravy, roasted potatoes, and roasted asparagus.  We also had shrimp with homemade cocktail sauce (they don't sell that here). 

Lee and Ashley Christmas 2011 

Keepsake ornament from my parents in Ohio.  They didn't know that we'd been looking all over for one that said, "Our First Christmas," but they sent us one anyway!