"Well, howdee doodee everyone. My lovely fellow teaching students! Have a good summer? Mine was average."
Anyway, that conversation didn't take too long.
Though I did ask one guy how his summer had been and he told me about the birth of his son that he had fathered with a lesbian who had wanted to share parenthood. That put my *nice week in north Wales* into perspective. Not that he asked me, actually. One of these people that don't return the question when you ask: how was your weekend - they tell you - then that's the end of that. You're meant to bat the question back over the net - so I can pat it back with a *fine, yeah. Took it easy
Ahh, the rules of small talk. Anyway. That was pretty much it. Lots of admin. Lots of forms. Needing ID. Brief discussion of what modules we are going to be doing. If I was ever going to miss a week, this was probably going to be the one. Dull times 10, if I'm honest. Sometimes it's hard to be here. You don't feel you're getting anywhere or achieving anything. But I guess it's the same for everyone. Jump through hoops, innit?
Next time I will explain more about the class and the two tutors, but...
So there we are. A first meeting with the head of department. A man that looked as louche and laid back as it is possible to be. And still be a functioning, stand-up (and standing up) member of the teaching profession.
Unlike one of the other English teachers, Mr North, who I had worked with last year doing some creative writing sessions. Mr North is very smart and formally dressed in tie, jacket and sensible haircut. He is more accountant/Kraftwork.
The H.O.D. (is that the right acryonym for head of dept? - it looks good - so I'm sticking with it: The HOD) looks like a retired rock star. Or a crumpled playwright. Which is nice. Informal. Non-threatening... Although you sense a rage exists within him if needed. I'll try not to bring that out though, of course.
And with The HOD in charge it means that I get to dress somewhere inbetween the two poles - accountant/rock star - without feeling too self-conscious about slightly creased trousers or the fact that I can't be bothered wearing a tie.
I queued and waited and signed in at reception at Porringo College. Behind the many young people getting paranoid about their lack of EMI record contracts. EMI? Have I got that right? REM? ERM? One of those. They want money and they want it now.
The HOD came to meet me and gave me a brusque handshake. You get the feeling that handshakes are a little beneath him. *He really can't be bothered.*
We go and sit and chat in an empty classroom. He apologises for the smell. "I keep opening windows..."
It smells like a 1000 years of school changing rooms compressed into one little classroom. Fuggy. Muggy. Dingy. Grimy.
But once you've sat there for a few minutes you forget about it.
He asks me how many hours I want to do. Gives me an overview of what happens in the college: it's results orientated, has a varied social mix; they're good kids really etc.
But they can be a bit boisterous... And a bit smelly too, it seems. Or else that's the staff...
It's not a subject I really want to get into.
I smile, say yes whenever appropriate and we're both quite anxious to just get the chat done and move on to other things. I want to go & take my library books back. See if I can find the mythical text book that might tell me all I need to know about *How To Teach*.
The HOD wants to have his dinner or sleep or cry or whatever it is that HODs do during their lunch break.
I get home & 30 minutes later The HOD is on the phone. I can start Tuesdays. All day Tuesdays. GCSE in the morn; A2 apres matin. I will be working with another member of the English dept. A teacher - tutor? lecturer? - at F.E. level - everyone's still called a teacher, right? A teacher called Bev. So, they could be male, they could be female. It doesn't seem polite to ask.
I say how delighted I am. I am delighted. Except as I only - *only* - need to do 75 hours teaching at the coalface, I don't want to end up doing 1200 - if only cos I'm not getting paid. And the not getting paid to work thing does still stick in my craw a little.
*On the job training.*
That's the positive way to look at it. It's just a pity that all my part-time PGCE student *buddies* are getting paid while they learn. Hey ho...
Hurrah!!! It's all *almost* happening. It's almost scary. But only almost. Not actually...
Well today is Wednesday (wed-nes-day) as I like to spell it out in my head to remind me how to spell it right - and tomorrow is Thurs-day.
<<<- Me - positively raring to go, tomorrow
First day back at North Brassington College. For the start of the 2nd year of my PGCE. Apparently the 2nd year is a lot easier - that is the skinny from a friend of someone who is on my course. It's mainly doing your teaching hours and filling in the miles and miles of evidence that you've done it. Well I did it last year and in true Chad Logan style - i think I got 95% for my portfolio - well, i got a mark through the post that said 95 - though it didn't state what that was out of. I don't think I'll ask. I'll just go on believing the best of myself. I did spend ages on it. Like a swot. So let's believe that, huh? Chad rocks!!!
Yeah, back to college. Though I guess it has been an enormously long summer (though weatherwise: not). The only small fly in the ointment is that I've also arranged to visit Porringo College at 9.30am tomorrow to discuss my teaching of Ingerlish & also some lunchtime Creative Writing sessions there. So - a bit of a conflict. O well. I'll go to Porringo and then arrive unfashionably late at North Brassington College. C'est la vie. And the exciting events will be recounted here for my as yet unimagined reader...
Toodle pip. And keep tuned for more - something. Hopefully good things. Worth blogging about...
I'm almost nervous. Hopefully, just enough to get myself out of bed on time and up to West Fulchester in time for my appointments...
These days, when I am asked, “So what do you do, young man?” at some jovial cocktail party, I tell them, “I’m training to be a teacher.”
Which leads to a variety of further questions about who, where and what: post-16 learners, Nincomport College (last year) Porringo College (this coming year, all being well) subject = English. Then the conversation starts to tail off or starts to reveal some prejudice or other of the questioner, usually to do with disruptive pupils, the rise of txt msg Ingl1sh or else the inordinate length of the school summer holidays. Yawn, yawn and yawn again.
However, a Scottish doctor did ask me a follow-up question last week that made me think and struggle for an answer. Apparently, in Scotland, English lessons are just that: English lessons. There is no distinction between language and literature. I have not been able to ascertain if this is actually true, but the question still seems valid: what is the difference? Should there be a difference? Don’t you have to read to write, and then write to prove you understand what you’ve read?
The emphasis in modern teaching (or should I say, the emphasis in teaching-teachers-teaching) is increasingly focused on active learning. That was certainly true at Nincomport College where I did my 1st year's professional practice. The emphasis was also on getting students to set and answer questions of each other – something that was particularly true on the Access to University course.
What's the answer? Well what do you think the answer is? What would you do? If that was you how would you write that? How would you deal with that problem, Mrs Macbeth?
These sorts of techniques helped provoke debate and a deeper understanding of the use of language and the appreciation of literature. In my ighumble opinion they did anyway.
But back to the Scottish doctor, wanting to chat to me at a very inopportune time... The only answer I could come up with was that, “Literature is about reading books, Language is about writing… things.”
Which is both profound, clever and a bit duh-brained all at the same time...
QAA (Quality Assurance Agency for Higher Education) in their benchmark statement, describes the subject of English as being, “characterised by the rigorous and critical study of literature and language. It is concerned with the production, reception and interpretation of written texts, both literary and non-literary; and with the nature, history and potential of the English language. The study of English develops a flexible and responsive openness of mind, conceptual sophistication in argument, and the ability to engage in dialogue with past and present cultures and values.”
And to anyone still awake... Like I say, reading good books and writing good sentences.
Words, and the English language in particular, have never been more popular.
We are living in a Golden Age, possibly in the final years of the printed word and the well-thumbed paperback. The children of Harry Potter are arriving at Further Education colleges with cheap laptops tucked under their arms. As English teachers we need to go with the flow and share what we know. Inform the students with the simple blunt message: you can’t survive in this world without words.
If asked by a student what the point is, I would be tempted to write a simple quote on the interactive white board:
“There’s more to life than books you know, but not much more, not much more.” [Hand in Glove by The Smiths, 1983]
A song quoting from Shelagh Delaney’s play, ‘A Taste of Honey’, written in 1958.
And now a phrase that brings back 99,500,000 hits on Google. More pages and words than anyone could ever hope or want to read. There is something for everyone when it comes to reading, and nowadays something written by almost everyone - including idiot bloggers like me adding to the word count.
But from cave drawings to carrier pigeons, from Morse code to MSN messenger, it’s all about the communication of ideas and emotions.
Ours is the language of love, laughter and elliptical loquacity. There is still no better way to connect and understand than by writing and reading in English.
Everything on this blog is true, but the names have been changed to protect the innocent, and the guilty.
So my name is Chad Logan. I am in the 2nd year of my part-time PGCE in post-compulsory education at North Brassington College. I teach English to people doing their GCSE re-takes, AS & at A2 level. Last year I taught in a different college. But they didn't ask me back. And you know what, I'm missing it. I think I didn't know how well off I was. Now I'm doing my hours at Porringo College and it's proving difficult. A *challenge* is the positive way to look at it.
O, I also do some creative writing sessions, given the chance.
I live in Fulchester. It's a city in Northern England. It rains a lot. Figure it out...
"Well, howdee doodee everyone. My lovely fellow teaching students! Have a good summer? Mine was average."
