Dear Darl, it’s 24 July, 2011. Satisfaction.

510 days….

After becoming increasingly frustrated with the other, young (stupid, insensitive) teacher last week, I decided that I. Was. Done. helping her out.

This came after she brought her class down to our (enormous) oval about 20 minutes after us and set up within 10 m of my class for her fitness session.

I was winding up our science experiment which involved an unfair relay (easiest way to show kids that we need to be fair when we test in science is to make a game unfair).

She starts shouting instructions to her class WHILE I am talking to mine.  THEN she told some boys in my class to move because they were in the way.

FUCK it love – you have an entire oval to do your shit on and you bring your class within a few metres of mine and THEN complain???

…when I went over to ask her to give us some space  to finish up (quietly so the kids couldn’t hear) she said “it doesn’t really matter what you get done because you are only the supply teacher”.

Rioght.  It’s on Biatch.

I was civil to her for the rest of the week, but also  supremely unhelpful.
“So sorry, we are still using that equipment (that I brought from home), you’ll have to find something else to use”.
“Oh darn it, we finished up the remaining (resource I brought from home), you’ll have to find your own”.
“So sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted that – I only photocopied enough copies for my class”.

All done in my patented passive-aggressive style.

While I hate having to work like that, I felt so much freer and better.  I wasn’t frustrated.  I wasn’t feeling angry.  I wasn’t feeling upset. I was feeling on top of everything and I was flying!

… meanwhile, my class shone like the diamonds that they are.

….meanwhile, my kids begged me to stay until the end of the year.

….meanwhile, we got on with the business of  teaching and learning.

…..and meanwhile, the special ed teacher who works with some students in my class casually mentioned that the spec. ed unit was really happy with the work I’ve been doing with their kids.

….and meanwhile the spec ed aide that works in my class mentioned my work with the head of spec ed.

…. and meanwhile, the head of spec ed has passed on his recommendation that I be given my own class next year to the principal.

 I know.!!!!!

Nothing is set in stone.

I still might not get the job I want.

I still might get stupid, nasty, bullshit crap pulled on me from young idiots who think they know it all.

But that doesn’t matter to me, because it feels like my work has been noticed.

It feels like I have come out shining despite what seemed to be two deliberate attempts to disrupt my teaching*.

…and it feels like you had a hand in this.

…. it feels like you did some whispering for me.

Thank you.

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

 

 

*There was another incident earlier in the week involving a photocopier, me trying to be helpful, and a wild goose chase that could have put me in the wrong place at the wrong time were it not for a fabulous aide).

 

Dear Darl, it’s 19 July, 2011

505 days…..

I’ve been on class last week and this week.

The class is made up of a mixture of “my boys” from last year and some kids from the other class I spent quite a bit of time with.  Plus some awesome year 5s.

I love it.

I want to keep them.

….and at least some of them want to keep me.  (So lovely to have a beautiful Yr 5 girl beg me to keep teaching her for the rest of the year).

But …

on the down side, I am working along side one of the 20-somethings.

She’s quite good, this girl.  I give her a lot of time which she happily absorbs.

but then proceeds to shit all over me at other times because she is 25 and still knows everything.

about everything.

My natural instinct is to help others.

she likes my help.

I have some default setting that demands that I help where needed.

But she has a happy knack of pissing me off just as we wind up for the day by uttering the dumbest and most condescending crap.

stupid things like:

“At the end of the day, you are the classroom teacher and you can do whatever you want”.

Ummmm … no.  I can’t actually.

Nor can you, love.

These people called kids have opinions on what we do in class and so do their parents, despite you thinking they are all morons (some are but most just want to see their kids educated).

Not to mention that I am technically a supply teacher who is duty-bound to stick as closely as possible to the prescribed activities set by the actual classroom teacher who is currently having a few weeks R&R.

I guess this really isn’t a big deal.

It’s nothing really.

But I miss downloading the shite to you each evening.

I miss talking to someone who understands how frustrating some people can be.

Someone who can remind me to laugh off the pompousness that some of our young teachers are so good at.

You would have made a joke about it.

You would have made me laugh.

and I miss that.

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

Dear Darl, it’s 11 July 2011. I felt you here….

497 days….

Pupil Free Day saw me go back to work while the kids spent the day with Julie and her girls.

Julie *really* is a godsend … she Gets This Shit in a way no other non-widowed person does.

…and she is just loving and helpful.

Always.

Work was fine, but for some reason, the powers that be planned a whole day of meetings which left very little time for 30+ teachers to use the single (1) photocopier during lunch break.  Thankfully, I have the power of the TA of Awsomez (Michelle) who sorted my photocopying for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tonight, I heard Megan Washington sing “Underground” for the first time and wept ….. she has such a beautiful voice and the lyrics Really Got Me….

…maybe because the kids asked me some hard questions on whether I wanted to be cremated or buried and I honestly couldn’t tell them.  I don’t want to be buried under the ground and I don’t want to be burned to a crisp.  I honestly don’t know…

But those poignant words with the beautiful voice and acoustic guitar drew tears from my eyes which ran down my cheeks in rivers…

… and I felt that tingle, that sense that you were holding me, that you were standing behind me, engulfing me in your arms…

…when the lightbulb above me blew and I knew it was you.

thank you.

I needed that hug.

I miss you.

I love you.

XA

 

Dear Darl, it’s 8 July, 2011. Burying Nana.

494 days…

Today started out wrong.

Really wrong.

I Did Not Want To Go to another ceremony centred around death, yet there we were, travelling up the highway (ugh) to meet with the rest of the fam at the cemetery and go inter Nan’s ashes with Pop’s.

But…

It was OK.

Nice even….

We met with Pete and kids, Mum and Dad, Uncle and Aunty, cousins and their spouses and kids at the beach where we lazily picnicked amongst the elitist snobbery that inhabit beach-side resorts during holiday season…

except there were no elitist snobs there, just nice families and tradies having lunch at the beach.

The kids (all 7 of them) played at the playground before wading into the river to catch soldier crabs and find shells.

I convinced Pete’s middlest girl to hold a crab in her hand and she beamed.

Then

Mum and I picked up Nan’s ashes from the crematorium.

She was heavy for a waif.

…and a big surprise when we finally made the cemetery …. the new plaque with both Nan and Pop’s details had been placed when they were sure it couldn’t have been done in time while all the family was in the one country.

The groundsman had dug a hole and told us how to placed the ashes before discreetly leaving us and the minister to our task.

Nobody was really sad, I mean Nan was 94 years old and more than ready … but I teared up when I saw her little box being placed next to Pop’s slightly weathered one.

Finally together again … in body anyway.

….and I hoped that you were standing next to me, standing in the warm winter sunshine with my whole family as we said our final goodbyes to Nan.

I hoped that you took a handful of dirt to place on the grave (and what great topsoil it was – Pop would have been well pleased, no doubt wanting us to plant something in it).

I hoped that you stood with the kids as they wondered about the differences between cremation and burial and worried about what it was like inside your grave (the topsoil isn’t as great, that I can tell you).

I hope you are there, standing right next to me now as I type.

Because I’ve really been missing you quite badly this week.

I love you.

XA

 

 

Dear Darl, it’s 4 July 2011.

490 days…

After a week of holidays, I’m still sick but on the mend .. I hope.

Being sick has meant that we’ve spent more time at home …which has been rather nice.

We’ve cleaned, we’ve done minor redecorating of bedrooms and wall art, I’ve reclined in luxury on a deck chair whilst reading a novel, Andrew came to visit for lunch, we watched movies, we baked, we played, we rode scooters, we gardened…. very relaxing …

Your sister J and her hubby came to visit us twice during the week.  I have to admit, that J has been wonderful to us of late.  She really misses you and I can tell she is so sad that you died when the family were at odds.|
…and now I am seeing that your brother GC is really only using me.  He needs to keep me on side because he wants the farm.  So when he called at 9pm last night, I knew it wasn’t a social call.  Of course he wanted something ….

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pete and the girls arrived on Saturday afternoon, so we spent Sunday here on the deck … eating, crafting, talking …. very relaxing.

Then today Pete took the 4 littlest ones to see Cars 2 whilst the biggest one came with Mum and I to do girlie shopping …

It’s really been so nice to be with my brother and my nieces … they are having a hard time at the moment so it’s great for us all to be together.

…and it’s nice when family come together because they WANT to be together.

Not because they need free accommodation and childcare interspersed with long periods of no communication whatsoever ….. (no, I’m not cynical at ALL about your brother’s motives).

I wish you were here.

I *felt* you here a lot this week.

I’m almost sure I rested my head against your hip as you stood beside my deck chair.

Maybe it’s because I miss you so much.

Or maybe you can tell how sad I feel and you let me know.

I love you.

XA