I should be applying for jobs, because the theory I developed in France (you remember it, right, the don’t apply for jobs go to parties one) has stopped working. And believe me I tried. I drank for 6 hours straight one night and then gatecrashed the 40th birthday party of a Music HOD I’d only met once, brought three other people he didnt know in the slightest, and danced til 1 am, at which point I left but they didn’t. Smooth.
So, instead of furthering my career I’m blogging. It’s a more creative outlet for my now certified litteracy levels. (They gave me a letter which says I can count - too.)
(I’m also dancing too much and going to filthy parties in railway arches. Fun. Check out Blues Dancing. NOW)
At first I really hated changing schools, but now it’s at that point in term, where I’m so tired I eat five meals a day and four of them are granola and all my markings got coffee stains on it and I’m wearing my boyfriends tshirt under my ubersmartboughtthisforinterviews jacket and my noticeboard is covered in promises I have failed to keep to myself, where I’ve had a chance to settle, think, and laugh about my kids.
Yeah, MY kids.
It’s a girls school, it’s catholic, they’re obviously all sweet and calm and from lovely lovely families…
…It is just like any other comprehensive school might be
Funny stuff that’s happened.
We went on a trip to the south bank one day, and one of my girls just gang-busts the street performers and starts to dance to their song. The street performers weren’t stopping her - she got them the best audience they’d had all year. Neither were we, she got all the girls interested in something, at once. Well done Zoe
I’m accompanying all the GCSE music exams - as you should, when you’re the music teacher. I asked them all to bring in their music.
“Its on my USB miss”
“Ok go and print it.”
“No no, it’s like, someone telling you what to play, and if you put it on your headphones, you can play what they tell you to play.”
She has apparently confused accompanists and airline pilots. I explain, gently, that musicians read quite far ahead of the notes they are playing, and can she write it out for me. That was a mistake too. I give up and learn it by ear from a youtube video.
They are all obsessed with God. God even made it on to a poster I asked one of them to make about Skryllex. (“Review of this homework: I wrote out all of the lyrics for GOD”).
Fair enough, it would take a lot to survive this sort of education if you weren’t at the very least interested in practicing religion. Entire days are spent off timetable doing catholic stuff. Like, standing in corridors down the street to welcome, I kid you not, the body of a nun-governer of the school to her funeral.
But: The nuns even come on a recruitment drive at the end of each term. These adorable, slightly delerious old ladies are apparently oblivious to the possible implications of smirking.
I’ve even had my first punch up in a lesson. Two twin sisters just started ripping each others hair out in front of me. I reported them like you’re supposed to. it was pretty harrowing, though.
Parents evenings. I don’t want to work anywhere posh. The posh parents, too interested. The Not posh parents, lovely. Just so nice. So happy to hear EVERYTHING, ANYTHING you might have to say about their daughters. Even if all you have to say is “Do you like music?” and they say “oh yes!” and nod ferociously because they want their parents to like them more, so then you say “I’m so glad in that case you should contribute more to our lessons,” because you don’t actually know who they are.
I’ve had moments this week where I’ve remembered why I like this job. They’re funny, they don’t ever run out of energy. About 5% of the time you’re somewhere in the vicinity of a musical instrument, if not making some noise with some of them. So there you go.
Back to the application forms.