Posts Tagged ‘teacher’

h1

something’s missing.

May 1, 2010

I like this song:

(Brandy – “A Capella (Something’s Missing)”)

The last 8 months have represented the happiest period in my life that I can remember.  I’ve grown so much as a person, I have made some terrific friends, I have started the longest relationship of my life to date, I have lost weight, I have tattoos (it’s my most recent tattoo‘s one-month anniversary today!) and I have finally started learning to drive again. It’s like I was in a chrysalis up until this point, and now I’m finally starting to spread my wings.

However, I can slowly but surely feel that happiness starting to fade a bit.  Perhaps it’s growing pains, because in December I had a tough couple of weeks – maybe I just need to ride it out.  I still have all the things I named above, so I can’t really complain too much.  But my growing discontent I think is largely due to the fact that I’ve not had instant success when applying for jobs.  I haven’t had an interview out of the six jobs I’ve applied to so far.  I won’t give up – I am committed to this new careers guidance career, I want to make a difference in other people’s lives, to young people.  And I want to carve out my own life, get a car, get a job, get a place to live.  I can’t do any of those things without the finances that come from a well-paying job.  So I really need this, and although I’ve had my applications checked and approved my tutors, and my CV was given a glowing review by the UWE Careers Service, I guess it won’t come that easy.

So here’s the part where I start to connect my life at the moment with the song above.  Listen to the words, and things will make more sense. I was complaining to Mike about the fact that I have yet to secure an interview for any jobs, and he said to me “Well, I am sure there’s nothing wrong with your applications and it’s probably bad luck, nothing personal, but I don’t know if we have the skills for some of the jobs you applied for”.  In other words, try not to worry, but don’t apply for such weird stuff.  But I thought that I had a good shot at being capable of the jobs I went for, and the fact I was able to fill out the application without really questioning it means that I didn’t really think that the jobs I applied for were that leftfield.

Then I bumped into Henna (from the Perfume Shop) and her friends in the uni café, and after chatting for a while, one of them turns to me and says “So you did languages at Oxford, why on earth aren’t you becoming a teacher?” I explained that even after my teaching assistantship in Spain, and enjoying teaching more than I expected to, I’d never gravitated towards teaching and it wasn’t ever on my radar. Even though I’m now working towards becoming a careers guidance practitioner and working with young people, it feels quite different to me because I’m instrumental in helping a young person shape their entire life and future, rather than wholly responsible for one component of that.  I just feel that this fits me better, but perhaps I’m missing a trick?  Then I start to think that perhaps I am just running away from the one true vocation I’ve always wanted: music.  Ever since I was a child, I wanted to sing, dance, perform, record and entertain.  I’m good at it; I’ve won prizes for it.  People loved what I did at high school, sixth form and university, and since then I’ve grown as a musician, performer and person.  Why aren’t I following my heart?  Although I release my music online and I have very positive responses, will that ever truly be enough?  By keeping total control, am I sacrificing my dream of making it big?  Is being spurned by employers left right and centre a subtle hint that I can’t really avoid my destiny?

I keep wondering if I’m missing something.  I’ve had other reasons to lately wonder what the hell is wrong with my brain (read my previous post for some of that), and I don’t consider myself so eccentric or out of the ordinary to have made it to age 24 that I haven’t realised.  But sometimes, I look at the way things are and just think, what is going on? Am I on another planet? I do often think I’m an alien, from another galaxy: in Kingswood, I seem to dress like nobody else, have desires for things that just pass everyone else by.  In my family, I have different aims, different values.  I seem to have been only partly informed by my upbringing, and a lot by the media, and my parents say that I am 10% of them, and 90% of something mysterious and random.  Where do I get it from, who am I, and when I find out, where do I go from there? I am glad I am my own person and I wouldn’t change that for anything, but sometimes it gets a bit lonely out here.

Advertisements
h1

dream / nightmare – smurf exercise class.

February 26, 2010

I just woke up, and although I have work in a bit (I need to be dressed, teeth brushed and on the bus stop in 45 minutes, ideally), I just had to blog this dream, it’s made me feel really strange.  What’s worse is that it’s the closest thing I’ve had to a nightmare, and you will all probably think it is the most hilarious dream out of all of those that I’ve blogged.  Yet it’s left me with a really uneasy feeling… :S

I was the same age as I am now, but it was like we were back at school, and we were all in changing rooms getting changed back into our clothes after what was ostensibly a swimming lesson.   I was keeping myself to myself, but in the same changing room there was a group of 3 or 4 guys from my year group at school, one of whom was R whom I used to have a massive crush on back in the day.  Anyways, it was meant to be his birthday, and he was having some sort of party, and they were talking (the group of guys were all twats, essentially) and discussing how much they were going to drink, what they were going to do, who they were going to try and sleep with etc. I kept my head down and tried to get changed, but for some reason they were looking at me and asking why I was getting dressed so slowly, did I like being naked with them, I had no chance of anything happening, I should hurry up because I was keeping them all waiting.  I was getting changed as quickly as I could, but when I looked up, they were all dressed and suddenly a teacher came in and informed us that if we didn’t hurry up, the last 6 people might not be able to fit on the bus as there was limited space.

After that, I remember some sort of classroom game, but only vaguely.  What happened next was that my school colleagues appeared to vanish, and were swiftly replaced by the people on my careers guidance course at uni.  Our tutor, Mary, came out and split us into our two practice groups (which is how we’re split up for quite a few of the activities on the course) and told us to go outside, where we’d receive details of the task we would have to prepare.  We all crowded outside, a lot of people were chattering excitedly but I was feeling somewhat melancholy after my earlier experience, so I was still quiet.  Outside it was a replica of my patio at home, but a lot larger in order to be able to fit 23 people sitting around the edge.  Mary stood in the middle and told us that one member from each group had to be a Smurf and entertain a group of youngsters while also doing some sort of exercise instruction class.  I was immediately horrified, while several members of the group laughed.  Then Mary announced that she had chosen one person from each of the two groups to perform this task, while everyone else was going to role-play being the children and watch in the audience.  I don’t remember who she chose from the other group, but from my group she chose me.

I was mortified, and I sat still as the group became more excitable.  I wandered around the outside of the patio trying to evade the task, but the group of my friends started heckling me and told me to be a good sport and have a go.  I was so uncomfortable, I didn’t want to dress as a Smurf, and I didn’t want to expose my body. I didn’t want anyone to laugh at me. Plus, it was also a ridiculously stupid activity, and would be of no value to the kids, and I don’t know why Mary would have selected people (let alone me) as normally she would let us come to a democratic decision. So this made me feel pretty upset, and as I stood in front of the group of my friends, I had to fight back tears, and I started to dance awkwardly before abruptly stopping and pleading with someone to swap with me.  Mike got up and stood next to me and put his arm round me and told me it was going to be alright, that it was just a bit of fun and not to take things so personally.  I felt a little better for that, but I still really didn’t want to be a Smurf. I asked if someone would please swap with me, but the group was too busy talking and laughing, or watching the other group’s Smurf, to really pay attention.  Finally, my friends started paying attention to me, and I repeated the idea of swapping out of being a Smurf, since I didn’t feel up to it. My friends started going “aww” and “it’s only fun!”, but then I realised that Mike was volunteering to swap with me.  I was not happy about this, because I would have liked to sit and gossip with Mike (as we usually do), but since he was the volunteer essentially saving me from a fate of wearing a nappy and being giant and blue, I let him take over and sat in the corner.  Immediately, Clare put her arm around me and told me not to worry and just to relax and enjoy myself, but I felt somewhat disappointed in myself that I didn’t have the strength to perform a task I had been chosen for.  I looked up and was again horrified by what I saw: Although Mike’s face was normal, he was now stripped to his underwear, grinding while my group were all heckling, laughing, whooping, trying to reach out and touch his body which was ridiculously thin, muscled and tanned to a deep bronze like that of a body builder (but slim) – in reality, I have not seen Mike naked but I am quite confident his body is not like this! I was horrified and as Clare and some of the women in the group started to grope his underwear (which seemingly fell away), I began to cry with embarrassment that I had been chosen for such a task, that I couldn’t do it, that Mike had had to save me and yet was enjoying being naked and playing the clown in front of the group (which I thought was utterly humiliating and sorta disgustingly prurient), and then I woke up.

Very bizarre. 😦

h1

dream. (f/ Mr. Clarke & Tenerife (nearly))

August 31, 2009

At first I was in some sort of computer game with a red blob where I had to collect coins around this gothic castle.  Mario much?

Then I was packing my suitcase to go on holiday to Tenerife with my father.  My mother and father were wandering around the house trying to help me, but I was doing an okay job by myself.  We were also watching television at the same time, and I remember the weather in Bristol was pretty nice – sunny and picturesque in the view outside over our patio.  I then had visions of walking around Spain taking photographs (which reminded me of another dream I’d had when I was staying at a hostel in Spain with schoolfriends, which began collapsing around us as we ran around inside looking for things to collect / explore).  Anyway, my father informed me that I would have to make my own way to the airport (I guess maybe he wasn’t coming with me after all?), which pissed me off somewhat.  But I was sitting in front of the television, which sometimes showed a programme and at other times would be off.

Then I remember I was sat in the back corner of the school classroom I was in in Year 7 (aged 11-12) in the middle of a maths lessons with Mr. Clarke.  Mr Clarke was my maths teacher for 4 out of the 5 years that I took maths in secondary school; he was pretty nice (we organised gifts for when he returned to school after paternity leave) and also very sexy – my mother had/has a big crush on him (he was gorgeous, to be fair).  So he was teaching this maths lesson, and I was sitting the back corner, and I had somehow acquired a dark blue napkin, which I was folding like origami.  Somehow, I made a paper aeroplane (which I can never do in real life) so I held it in my hands, but the temptation was to great so I let it fly.  It sailed across the classroom and landed in the opposite front corner of the room.  Mr. Clarke stared at it, then pretending to ignore it, while I went to the front of the room to pick it up and put it in the bin. I then sat down in a seat at the front corner, behind one of my friends Ben Conrad (who was a skinny boy I was pretty good friends with around that age).  We were trying to copy things off the board, and Mr Clarke had written a list of things. However, my eyesight made them really blurry, and he’d written them in a green pen which meant that I couldn’t read his writing properly.  I asked Ben what the penultimate word said, and he replied “it’s hydration”.  I thought that he was wrong and told him so, as I could make out too many loops in the word for it to be “hydration”.  Mr. Clarke heard us disagreeing and said “instead of asking him, why don’t you put your glasses on?” and pointed at the glasses sitting on the edge of my desk, which I hadn’t noticed until this point.  So I put my glasses on, and I saw that the word said “H500000”, and Ben had been right. (Apparently, in my dream, “H500000” was equivalent to “hydration”, because that’s obviously the correct formula!)  I just remember Mr Clarke looking at me and smiling, and then I woke up.