BeatleWear

knitting and the life I almost have around it

Sunday, October 21, 2007

twelve-year-olds are crazy

just sayin', they might be making me a bit more that way too.
of course, the unseasonable warmth isnt helping my sanity along any. there is a small range of temperatures within which i remain composed and happy. sadly this range is between about 18 degrees celsius and... about 22. this 31 business, right in the middle of october? just plain rude.
add to that the care of 80 or so insane 12yos, buses that consider themselves on time if they arrive 7 minutes either side of their scheduled arrival time, uni work that is making my brain bleed and a Monkey who is taking to sleepwalking on a regular basis (not that he does anything particularly worrying.. he just walks into everything and wakes me up. and tackles me.).. it's fair to say i am a little stressed. and tired. i feel like i havent slept in a week.

My classes are.. interesting. There's a certain amount of power struggle whenever there's a new teacher.. always. even if you know 'em. i expected that. what i am constantly surprised with is their incredible range of bizarre behaviours designed to drive me out of my skull. half of one of my french classes launched into an extremely loud and proud rendition of the school song the other day, halfway through an explanation of verbs and why you need to say them right. top points for creativity really. then there are the two girls who ask to go to the bathroom together.. every lesson. straight away. and they ask and ask and ask until i decide that whatever they are going to do has got to be better than them annoying me and interupting my lesson. and sometimes, when they get back after 15 minutes or so, they'll say they forgot to go get a drink. They certainly found my achilles heel quickly - i take issue with this whole 'dont let them leave, they need to learn to pee/drink/get belongings at lunch/recess' thing. because, basically, stopping someone from going to the bathroom when they need to is a violation of basic human rights... and i stand by that.
i cant explain these girls in any more detail, they are nice and they like me... they just frustrate the hell out of me and clearly dont think they need to be doing any work at all.

In knitting: went to snb for a while today :) was a good turn out, lots of newbies! left sort of early with monkey to help him get some new work clothes (and because of the reasons i listed above, i'm tired and stressed and reached my fun quota for the weekend). saw three kids i've taught and they saw me. kids seem highly diverted when they discover that their teachers actually have lives outside of school, there was much pointing and whispering. If that's the reaction from a SnB sighting, i am very tempted to plop myself down outside Kingo's after school one day and have a few bevvies! maybe even bring some clubbing clothes with me and change... yeah. i know. it's sick. i just find it sooooo funny.
Finished monkey's Opal socks today too. He loves them, and is SO excited they are finished. Of course.. the heat-wave thing. oh well. (this photo brought to you by the miracle that is air-con... and he's doing a crazy foot pose. don't ask me why).
and my new Pomatomus sock is chugging along. I like the way the stitches pop out - it's a very pretty pattern indeed. I'm just not enjoying knitting it that much. I'm not sure if this is because the sock yarn i'm using is scratchy and bleeding blue dye onto my fingertips.. or the pattern itself. i find all those twisted stitches slow me down and as a rule.. i dont like being slowed down. But really.. i think it's the yarn.

Wish me luck for tomorrow. i have all three classes on!

Peace out,
Ms Spider

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1 Comments:

  • At October 21, 2007 8:26 pm, Blogger Taphophile said…

    12 year olds - strangle 'em - that way they don't reach 15.

    I'm assuming it was some of your kids who joined us briefly and use the F word? Speaking to me of feathers scarves in pink! Begone spawn of satan.

    My gift was perfect, BTW. Just perfect. Off for another weep now.

     

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