What I Did In The Holidays…

With The Man being off work for 6 glorious weeks, not only have I been able to pee alone and freely, but I have also felt compelled to try out more baby-related activities.

The Big Scream – Cinema City

SUMMARY: If you have a baby under 1, you can go to the cinema and see the current adult films and it doesn’t matter if your baby screams, shits, rubs rice cakes into the seats etc., because everyone in the room understands and is experiencing similar issues. You also get free tea, coffee and biscuits. DREAM.

What a bloody glorious idea. I love movies. The Man loves movies. We miss movies. Any movie we have watched in the last 8 months has been in no fewer than 7 parts, interspersed with trying to get The Baby to sleep, trying to get The Baby back to sleep, trying to keep ourselves awake during the film and trying to remember what happened in the last 6 parts, then just giving up. This is sad, because we used to LOVE movies.

Then I produced The Baby…. Who for this section will be referred to as The Foghorn. She is RIDICULOUSLY loud. She doesn’t really even cry that much… she is just LOUD.  She shouts at animate objects, inanimate objects, empty space, random old ladies, walls. Whilst doing so, she gesticulates wildly with her hands or pumps them in the air as though she is at an illegal rave.  It is not necessarily a short-lived shout either…. She can go for hours. Because of The Foghorn… I have been genuinely anxious about going to The Big Scream. Even though the whole idea is centred around not having to worry about the noise… The Foghorn truly does take it to the next level.

With The Man off work and Mission Impossible being shown.. we thought ‘fuck it’; packed up The Foghorn, some rice cakes and Boris Bear and gaily looked forward to actually being together in a cinema once again.

In short, this is what happened:

• ·      The Foghorn decided that she wanted to have a proper nap in her cot (AKA more than 30 minutes) on the day (specifically just before the film), because she could sense we were excited and wanted to screw it up by doing the thing we’ve been trying to get her to do for 8 months.
• ·      Arrived late.
• ·      Bought 2 mini Gnaw chocolate bars (Peanut Butter and Salted Caramel). JOY.
• ·      The Man maneuvered The Foghorn, The Chariot and himself up to the screen whilst I acquired 1x free Tea, 1x free Coffee, 1 x free Malted Milk (YES!) and 1 x free Bourbon (YES!)
• ·      Plenty of free seats and you could sit where you liked.
• ·      Lots of baby-related noise (Thank god)
• ·      Set up camp on a whole free row of seats.
• ·      The Foghorn completely enamoured with giant screen, colours and noises.
• ·      The Foghorn stood on our laps bouncing her bum on our chests with excitement, holding her arms up in the air in celebration for 90% of the film.
• ·      The Foghorn had a 30 minute nap in the sling. Next to a speaker while there was a really loud motorbike chase.
• ·      Despite watching the film through The Foghorn’s head and missing quite a crucial plot point so I wasn’t 100% sure who certain people were for most of the film… we watched a WHOLE film.
• ·      At one point, we even got to hold hands for a minute.
• ·      Another baby scream-cried through the whole thing, whereas The Foghorn only went off 3 times. Smug.
• ·      Loved it.

BlocTots – Highball Climbing Centre

SUMMARY: My brother, who wishes to be known as Terry Powerballs (a lean, climbing machine with tiny nipples who is single and ready to mingle) works at this pretty super climbing centre. During normal hours, it is full to the brim of lean climbing-types performing acrobatic feats to get to the top of multiple walls. Once a week they open their doors to babies and toddlers to enjoy a mini version of such activities, along with some baby staples such as tunnels, squidgy mats and wooden cars. There are also ridiculously good cakes and coffees. Plus it only costs £1. Epic.

Why sit on the floor of your own living room watching your baby chew stuff, when you can do it in a climbing warehouse whilst eating moist brownies? I also think it is character building for The Foghorn to have to fend off over-enthusiastic toddlers for an hour. Of course at the ripe old age of 8 months, The Foghorn can’t climb the mini climbing wall, but she tends to be quite happy sitting on a mat eating a wooden block, so I just go with it.

It is also a pleasant opportunity for Terry Powerballs to spend time with his niece. Historically an avid hater of babies, since acquiring one in his own bloodline, he has taken well to the role of Uncle. Unfortunately, this has brought with it a relatively aggressive and protective set of behaviours. These have included:

• ·      Shouting swear words at passing cars for driving too fast or too close to the pavement when pushing the pram.
• ·      Shouting ‘MIND MY BABY’ at innocent pedestrians if they walk too close to the pram. Or just happen to be near the pram. Or are not near the pram at all.
• ·      Openly criticizing the looks, behaviours, parents of other babies or small children. At times, to their faces.
• ·      Telling passing parents that ‘my baby is better than your baby’ whilst walking down the street with the pram.
• ·      Almost fronting up to any toddlers that come near the Foghorn whilst at the baby climbing group.

Despite this, he can display an excellent array of strange noises that keep The Foghorn amused for hours and doesn’t seem to mind the inordinate amount of drool that she deposits on him, whilst simultaneously and relentlessly pulling his glasses off his face.

Whilst this is all occurring, I can focus my attention fully on the moist brownie. What a morning.

Going to Quiet Country Pub Lunch with Important Work Colleagues

SUMMARY: Get over confident and smug with 2 x available parents to look after Foghorn. Decide it is an excellent idea and completely achievable to enjoy a calm pub lunch at v. middle class pub with important work colleagues.

Despite the 40 minute drive, providing 40 minutes worth of opportunity to nap prior to the event, Foghorn stayed awake for the first 39 minutes, then dozed off 1 minute prior to arrival at the pub. So The Man and said work colleagues sat in the glorious sun enjoying a beer. Meanwhile, I sat in the hot car, staring at a bush, awaiting nap completion. Luckily, my Squeezy app went off, so I was lucky enough to also enjoy some pelvic floor exercises.

Upon nap completion, Foghorn was in the worst mood ever. Threw smoked salmon from the middle class pub on the floor. Ate a leaf.

Good.

GCSEs: The Calm Before The Storm.

I always feel slightly nervous as results day approaches for a number of reasons… Will the school do well overall? Will we have done enough to avoid the attention of Ofsted for a while? Will my department have done well? Will my classes have done well? Will my predicted grades have been good enough?

Mostly though, there are always a handful of pupils who I feel particularly nervous for. They may have worked really, really hard for their entire school career and deserve the best grades available. Will they get what they deserved? A few may have had a very turbulent year outside of school and struggled to keep on top of things, but still deserve a good grade. Will they get it? There may be a few with a boatload of potential, but very little self esteem. Will they receive a grade that finally proves to them that they COULD do it?

This year is particularly poignant for me, because it’s the first year group that I have seen all the way through the school. I joined the school when they did. We were new together. Also, quite unusually, I have taught the same 2 sets (and therefore mostly the same 60 students) all the way from Year 7 to Year 11. It’s very difficult to not become emotionally attached to these students when you have seen them so much.

Additionally, I rudely abandoned them half way through their final year to have a baby (which I did and do still feel horrifically guilty about), although they have assured me that I am now forgiven. But as a complete and utter control freak, this has just made me all the more nervous about the grades they will receive next week. I possibly ruined the continuity of their teaching and progress. Of course in reality, these are hormonally charged teenagers and the majority of them probably didn’t notice that it wasn’t me teaching them anymore. Or thought I had suddenly aged substantially overnight, when a more mature teacher took over their lessons.

The thing is, without meaning to seem over the top, I have watched these young people grow up. I have watched them grow physically and emotionally. I have watched them make best friends, lose friends, fall out with friends. I have witnessed the soap opera of them discovering the opposite sex, gaining and losing girlfriends and boyfriends. I have seen them have the best times of their lives and I have seen them crying their eyes out. I have seen them and their families experience some truly terrible times and I have seen them achieve some truly incredible things. I have watched them work extraordinarily hard, even when the tide is against them. I have seen them not have a care in the world and I have watched them try to make important decisions that could govern the direction their lives will take. I have met all of their parents multiple times. I have laughed with them and I have yelled at them. But overall, I have seen them become delightful, polite, mature young people.

I don’t consider myself to be anything special in terms of education. I teach to the best of my ability and I genuinely want the very best for each and every student in my class. But I don’t know the detailed ins and outs of education. I don’t keep up with new educational developments by following inspirational educational people on Twitter. I don’t know much about politics, only the basics and can’t argue in any depth with anyone about what’s right and wrong. But I know that something – a lot of things – are wrong with education at the moment. I know that for an absolute fact because of all the things I have written here. I have seen it. I have lived it. I have tried to overcome it and I have tried to fill in the cracks created by the government so that those students don’t feel the brunt of these crazy, ill-informed decisions that have plagued their high school career.

I also know this because I work with countless incredibly intelligent, talented, driven and committed people. People who DO know an incredible amount about education and politics and whom I admire greatly. People who are greatly under valued, but continually fight to the bitter end to ensure the best for these young people. I know that if they are pissed off, then there really is something to sit up and pay attention to.

I have seen the devastating outcomes of this political craziness in previous years on results day, when students that deserve so much, have received so little. Not because they haven’t worked hard, but because something/someone completely out of their control has thought them worth so little. Those people making those decisions should be in schools on results day. They should be watching these young people crumble when they haven’t got their D, C, B, A, A* that they have worked so incredibly hard for. They should be the people having to answer their questions about why this has happened. They should have to talk to their tearful parents and give them a pat on the back.

Perhaps more importantly, they should also be there to witness the absolute joy of the students who have achieved what they set out to. And they should see how this makes them want to learn MORE, to move onwards and upwards and make the best of themselves.

So before the media hype begins next week… before the league tables…. before the papers decide that the exam papers aren’t hard enough and the students are too dumb… before teachers and schools are tarnished as the bad guys, as ‘coasting’, as letting students down…. before the political debates begin,  I just wanted to give a bit of time to those lovely young people who, whilst all this commotion is going on, have tried their very best for the last 5 years. Have undergone enormous pressure, countless exams and the never-ending turmoil of being a teenager. Who are PEOPLE and deserve to be treated as such. I hope that you have been treated kindly and that you receive all that you deserve.

Good luck.

Pre-Baby vs Post-Baby: A 10 Step Guide.

PRE-BABY	POST-BABY
You will buy everything. Babies R Us will have nothing on the volume of baby related items you have purchased. Other people will also buy you everything. You will then worry that you do not have enough baby related items and are not adequately prepared.	You will use 1% of what you have bought. If that. And that 1% will be composed of sleep suits, sick rags and nipple cream (which you hadn’t bought).
You will completely underestimate the severity and duration of sleep deprivation.	There are no words.
You will talk confidently about the type of baby you are going to have. And it is OBVIOUSLY going to be happy, content and compliant. And without a doubt, the baby ‘will fit into our lives, not the other way round.’	Your baby will be happy, content and compliant. For a few moments. Of certain days. In no particular pattern. These moments will be interspersed with your baby being unpredictable, unhappy and quite frankly, terrifying. At times, in public, for no reason at all, your baby will behave in such a way that means everyone around you thinks you are mistreating your baby. The baby will dictate every single aspect of your lives. Hitler will have nothing on your baby.
You will claim that no processed, refined or shop bought foodstuff will pass your baby’s lips.	After the 27th mealtime whereby your baby throws your carefully crafted handmade food creation onto the floor (whilst you eat frozen fish fingers and microwave rice), you will look at Ella’s Kitchen packets with a renewed enthusiasm.
You will be seduced by hundreds of different tiny baby outfits. You will hang them delicately in the little baby wardrobe in the nursery.	You will dress your baby in 5 sleep suits on rotation for the first 4 months of life. You won’t even bother putting the sleep suits back in the baby wardrobe between washes; you will just fish them out of the tumble dryer as required.
You will eat a super healthy post-baby diet to make sure your breast milk is as nutritious as possible.	You will eat a strange concoction of foodstuffs, entirely dependent upon what happens to be in your cupboard at whatever time of day you can make it to your kitchen with a spare hand. Cake will be a staple and, some days, your reason to live.
You will spend hours researching which baby bouncer/sling/cot mattress/ comforter to buy.	Whichever one you buy, your baby won’t like it. It will like the other one.
You will watch adverts/films/TV programs with picture perfect baby/family scenes… turn to your partner and have a loving squdge at the mere thought of such family perfection. (e.g.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CY3kcR3H7Mk)	Such adverts/films/TV will now make you laugh hysterically. You will share such clips with your baby friends so they can laugh hysterically too. You will all refer to them as 'f***ing ridiculous'.
Talk with enthusiasm about how having a new baby won’t stop you going out as a couple/with friends and doing all the things you used to do. You can just leave the baby with any one of the willing family members or friends.	The baby thinks it is some sort of Booby God, in control of the Boobs and requiring the Boobs to be nearby at all times, particularly if the baby has heard you planning an outing without the baby. The baby will sometimes take a bottle. But sometimes won’t. If it does, the bottle must be a particular type, delivered at a particular angle with milk at a very specific temperature, delivered by a very specific person. Generally NOT the person you have asked to look after the baby. Attend a grown up social event and spend the entire time worrying about the baby, worrying about the chosen baby-carer following your very specific instructions and at some point, spend a significant amount of time in a toilet pumping milk. Go to bed late. Spend a year trying to claw the late night back, as you temporarily forgot you don’t sleep anymore.
Think about how much you are going to love your baby.	Be entirely unprepared for the amount that you love your baby. Laugh every day. Marvel every day. Forget about Points 1-9.