In mid-February this year the TDA announced that English PGCE students would no longer receive a bursary. This week the Government has announced that next year's English PGCE students will receive a bursary of up to £9,000.
We should have spent another year in Madrid.
Friday, 11 November 2011
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Teaching as Parenting - by Theo
On the Bristol PGCE course many demands are made of us as trainee English teachers. We have to have a wide-ranging knowledge and understanding of the literary canon (and alternative canons). Our knowledge of English grammar and morphology must be sufficiently strong to teach English Language A level. We may be called upon to teach Media Studies and Drama classes, and so must be well grounded in both the theory and practice of those subjects. We need to keep up to date with the latest strategies, guidelines and statutory requirements issued by the Government, LEAs and exam boards. On top of all this, we have to understand how children learn to speak, read and write from a baby's earliest days through to adulthood. It's this last aspect that, as a parent to 21 month-old Rosie, I find most fascinating.
Most parents teach their children to speak more or less unconsciously: they talk to their child, and the child learns. Kate and I have of course made the conscious decision to teach Rosie to speak Spanish - neither of us are native speakers yet I speak to her in Spanish and we try to expose her to the language through books and a playgroup. So, having researched bilingualism, we were already slightly more aware of the processes by which children acquire language, but we are even more so now. I feel that as a parent I've got a huge advantage over my peers as I can see, day by day, the theory being put into practice as Rosie's vocabulary and syntax expands. As a parent it's amazing understanding (more or less) what is going on, and it'll be even more amazing once she starts to read (the alphabet: she already 'reads' images), to be able to understand how she is doing it and why she makes the mistakes she will inevitably make.
However, in other ways being a student teacher and also a parent are not so great. This week my lesson planning and marking workload suddenly exploded, so this weekend has been mostly spent in front of the computer writing lesson plans. Indeed I haven't left the house since I got back at 5pm on Friday. Poor Rosie has been at a loss as to why Daddy hasn't been able to take her to the park, as he usually does at weekends, or why he hasn't been keen to let her bang the keys on the laptop. For the first time on the PGCE (and sadly I suspect not the last) I've felt that being a teacher and a parent don't mix, as trying to do both simultaneously simply meant I did neither as well as I would like.
On the last point though I may well be wrong. One of the many essays (Teaching as assisted performance) I've read for my PGCE assignments concludes that in order to be better teachers, we must be more like parents. The authors (Tharp & Gallimore) make the point that the vast majority of parents are extremely successful teachers, instructing their children, usually unconsciously, in language, social skills, spatial awareness, movement and many other things. While acknowledging that behaving like a parent is rarely, if ever, possible within an educational system that crams 30 students into a single classroom, there is definitely something to be said for this approach.
So perhaps I should walk into my new Year 10 class on Wednesday wielding a couple of snooker balls stuffed inside a sock yelling "Who's your daddy now!?"
Maybe not.
Most parents teach their children to speak more or less unconsciously: they talk to their child, and the child learns. Kate and I have of course made the conscious decision to teach Rosie to speak Spanish - neither of us are native speakers yet I speak to her in Spanish and we try to expose her to the language through books and a playgroup. So, having researched bilingualism, we were already slightly more aware of the processes by which children acquire language, but we are even more so now. I feel that as a parent I've got a huge advantage over my peers as I can see, day by day, the theory being put into practice as Rosie's vocabulary and syntax expands. As a parent it's amazing understanding (more or less) what is going on, and it'll be even more amazing once she starts to read (the alphabet: she already 'reads' images), to be able to understand how she is doing it and why she makes the mistakes she will inevitably make.
However, in other ways being a student teacher and also a parent are not so great. This week my lesson planning and marking workload suddenly exploded, so this weekend has been mostly spent in front of the computer writing lesson plans. Indeed I haven't left the house since I got back at 5pm on Friday. Poor Rosie has been at a loss as to why Daddy hasn't been able to take her to the park, as he usually does at weekends, or why he hasn't been keen to let her bang the keys on the laptop. For the first time on the PGCE (and sadly I suspect not the last) I've felt that being a teacher and a parent don't mix, as trying to do both simultaneously simply meant I did neither as well as I would like.
On the last point though I may well be wrong. One of the many essays (Teaching as assisted performance) I've read for my PGCE assignments concludes that in order to be better teachers, we must be more like parents. The authors (Tharp & Gallimore) make the point that the vast majority of parents are extremely successful teachers, instructing their children, usually unconsciously, in language, social skills, spatial awareness, movement and many other things. While acknowledging that behaving like a parent is rarely, if ever, possible within an educational system that crams 30 students into a single classroom, there is definitely something to be said for this approach.
So perhaps I should walk into my new Year 10 class on Wednesday wielding a couple of snooker balls stuffed inside a sock yelling "Who's your daddy now!?"
Maybe not.
Monday, 31 October 2011
Clocking On by Theo
Changing the clocks is a nightmare for parents. When, like us, you've got a toddler that habitually wakes at 6.15am putting the clocks forward by an hour has obvious disadvantages.
I'd been having to get up at 6.15am for my school placement anyway, but with half-term upon us and my University seminars not starting until 9.30, it seemed like a good plan to start trying to move Rosie's timetable back a bit later. A steady delaying of her meal, bath and bedtimes over the course of the week resulted in her going to bed at 9pm (and hour and a half later than normal) on Saturday night and Kate and I getting, joy of joys, a lie-in until 8.20 the next morning. Rock and roll!
Of course this does have a downside: we changed Rosie's timetable so effectively that she was still asleep when I left for work this morning at 7.30, so I didn't get to see her until 5pm. For all that her contrary ways usually slow me down in the mornings, I really missed giving her a morning cuddle.
I'd been having to get up at 6.15am for my school placement anyway, but with half-term upon us and my University seminars not starting until 9.30, it seemed like a good plan to start trying to move Rosie's timetable back a bit later. A steady delaying of her meal, bath and bedtimes over the course of the week resulted in her going to bed at 9pm (and hour and a half later than normal) on Saturday night and Kate and I getting, joy of joys, a lie-in until 8.20 the next morning. Rock and roll!
Of course this does have a downside: we changed Rosie's timetable so effectively that she was still asleep when I left for work this morning at 7.30, so I didn't get to see her until 5pm. For all that her contrary ways usually slow me down in the mornings, I really missed giving her a morning cuddle.
Saturday, 29 October 2011
Illuminate by Kate
Before I lived here, the Redfield area of Bristol barely touched my personal radar. Apart from unwittingly driving through it several times on route to the office in Bath and visiting friends in the area once or twice, I scarcely knew it existed. The M32 is hardly an insurmountable barrier (although it sometimes feels that way during rush hour) but I lived on the opposite side of the traffic flow for more than ten years and rarely did I venture into the uncharted (by me) territory beyond.
It's just possible I also had a bit of North Bristol sniffiness about the Eastern hinterland beyond, er, Easton. Nothing much happened there, did it?
Which just goes to show how wrong you can be about a place. Redfield may be unassuming in some ways, but it's a friendly neighbourhood with useful transport links, houses that are almost affordable and a rather splendid park. St George's Park is remarkably well kitted out. Not only does it have a thoughtfully designed play area, tennis courts, a small cafe and a popular skate park, it also has a generous expanse of duckpond complete with an array of bread-begging wildfowl. Rosie and I go there almost every day and only the most inclement weather will keep us away.
Arguably, St George's Park is the jewel in Redfield's modest crown and the community makes good use of the facility. Since we arrived here at the beginning of July there have been three decent-sized events held in the park: Redfest, the Relax Up Jam and tonight's Illuminate Festival.
Pheonix52 is the collective responsible for organising the festival, which combines an appreciation of Hallowe'en, the Mexican Dia de los Muertos (Day Of The Dead) and Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights.
Thus, we arrived to find an array of lanterns in trees, projections of fantasy skeletons, a flower-bedecked archway and homemade pumpkin soup (which was free and very tasty). Workshops in rangoli (Indian folk art) and lantern-making had taken place during the afternoon and the products of these were on display near the play park when we arrived to watch the lantern parade at 6pm.
We took Rosie along to the spectacle and although she showed a passing interest in the various cultural diversions, I think it's fair to say her main highlight was the novelty of being allowed a go on the swings in the dark. Theo and I enjoyed it all, though.
It's just possible I also had a bit of North Bristol sniffiness about the Eastern hinterland beyond, er, Easton. Nothing much happened there, did it?
Which just goes to show how wrong you can be about a place. Redfield may be unassuming in some ways, but it's a friendly neighbourhood with useful transport links, houses that are almost affordable and a rather splendid park. St George's Park is remarkably well kitted out. Not only does it have a thoughtfully designed play area, tennis courts, a small cafe and a popular skate park, it also has a generous expanse of duckpond complete with an array of bread-begging wildfowl. Rosie and I go there almost every day and only the most inclement weather will keep us away.
Arguably, St George's Park is the jewel in Redfield's modest crown and the community makes good use of the facility. Since we arrived here at the beginning of July there have been three decent-sized events held in the park: Redfest, the Relax Up Jam and tonight's Illuminate Festival.
Pheonix52 is the collective responsible for organising the festival, which combines an appreciation of Hallowe'en, the Mexican Dia de los Muertos (Day Of The Dead) and Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights.
Thus, we arrived to find an array of lanterns in trees, projections of fantasy skeletons, a flower-bedecked archway and homemade pumpkin soup (which was free and very tasty). Workshops in rangoli (Indian folk art) and lantern-making had taken place during the afternoon and the products of these were on display near the play park when we arrived to watch the lantern parade at 6pm.
We took Rosie along to the spectacle and although she showed a passing interest in the various cultural diversions, I think it's fair to say her main highlight was the novelty of being allowed a go on the swings in the dark. Theo and I enjoyed it all, though.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
First classes - by Theo
While not quite as swift as the CELTA, which had us teaching on the very first day, the Bristol PGCE course does whip us into classrooms pretty quickly, and today I taught my first full lessons to a Year 7 class & a Year 8 one.
Rosie obviously knew something was up. She must have caught the general buzz of excitement and anticipation, and was clearly thrilled for me. So much so that she felt she had to wake up at 1 am to let me know just how excited she was. And then again at 2 am. And again at 4.30 am. So, thanks to my darling daughter's enthusiasm for my fledgling secondary school career, I went into school on about 3 hours sleep.
Great.
The first class, the Year 7s, were third period after break. Having been in the school for nearly three weeks now they've got to know me a bit. I've been observing in their classes across the curriculum and had helped out in their class earlier in the week delivering sections of the lesson. So I figured it would go OK. And I guess it did. It was no shining triumph, but no disaster either. The class looked at the construction of character through dialogue in Skellig, particularly through the use of types of questions. The problem was that I was too ambitious in what I was trying to teach them and, being a mixed ability class, this meant that some of them were very confused by the end. I hope this won't have put them off - classroom management is a lot about the students trusting you and the activities you set. Too many activities which they just don't get and I'll lose that trust.
Year 8. Period 5. The tiredness was starting to bite. We were looking at Holes by Louis Sachar, and I had another ambitious lesson planned involving identifying literary devices (alliteration, onomatopoeia, etc), creative writing and textual comparisons. All in an hour during the last lesson of the day with a class who had become convinced I was stalking them. I threw myself at it. It felt great. We whizzed along taking nearly everyone with us, and many of the students going way beyond what I'd hoped for. We were flying, ahead of time. A couple of students, who through laziness rather than lack of comprehension had barely written a word, could have perhaps done with more time, but with ten minutes to go we'd basically finished what I'd planned. So we quickly whipped out the book and read through another chapter before the bell went and the adrenaline faded. Phew. What a high.
Afterwards my tutor commented that she felt the ending lacked a little something. It needed a chance for the students to talk about what they'd learned. That's when I turned over my four-page long lesson plan to realise I'd left out half of my final activity, which would have done exactly that.
Bugger.
You live, you learn. At least that's what I hope my students will do.
Rosie obviously knew something was up. She must have caught the general buzz of excitement and anticipation, and was clearly thrilled for me. So much so that she felt she had to wake up at 1 am to let me know just how excited she was. And then again at 2 am. And again at 4.30 am. So, thanks to my darling daughter's enthusiasm for my fledgling secondary school career, I went into school on about 3 hours sleep.
Great.
The first class, the Year 7s, were third period after break. Having been in the school for nearly three weeks now they've got to know me a bit. I've been observing in their classes across the curriculum and had helped out in their class earlier in the week delivering sections of the lesson. So I figured it would go OK. And I guess it did. It was no shining triumph, but no disaster either. The class looked at the construction of character through dialogue in Skellig, particularly through the use of types of questions. The problem was that I was too ambitious in what I was trying to teach them and, being a mixed ability class, this meant that some of them were very confused by the end. I hope this won't have put them off - classroom management is a lot about the students trusting you and the activities you set. Too many activities which they just don't get and I'll lose that trust.
Year 8. Period 5. The tiredness was starting to bite. We were looking at Holes by Louis Sachar, and I had another ambitious lesson planned involving identifying literary devices (alliteration, onomatopoeia, etc), creative writing and textual comparisons. All in an hour during the last lesson of the day with a class who had become convinced I was stalking them. I threw myself at it. It felt great. We whizzed along taking nearly everyone with us, and many of the students going way beyond what I'd hoped for. We were flying, ahead of time. A couple of students, who through laziness rather than lack of comprehension had barely written a word, could have perhaps done with more time, but with ten minutes to go we'd basically finished what I'd planned. So we quickly whipped out the book and read through another chapter before the bell went and the adrenaline faded. Phew. What a high.
Afterwards my tutor commented that she felt the ending lacked a little something. It needed a chance for the students to talk about what they'd learned. That's when I turned over my four-page long lesson plan to realise I'd left out half of my final activity, which would have done exactly that.
Bugger.
You live, you learn. At least that's what I hope my students will do.
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
30 years - by Theo
I am, of course, a smug married, and a very proud parent to boot. If I wasn't I doubt I would have faced getting up at 6am on the day of my 30th birthday to cycle through driving wind and rain to my school placement with such equanimity.
As it was, there was no way I couldn't have a big smile on my face when I arrived home to find both my girls dressed up to the nines, a modest pile of cards and presents, and a table laid with homemade cupcakes decorated by my daughter. It was very touching and made me feel even more smug than usual!
Rosie got me a water bottle to take into class, my sister Hermione got me a cookbook and some posh new cake tins, while my parents splashed out on a scanner/printer combo to replace our old Spanish one which broke. There were also lovely home-made cards from Kate and Rosie, plus biscuits and an "In the Thick of it" box set from my darling wife. Plus, not forgetting my birthday bike, which my lovely mother-in-law Cathy had contributed to. So, all in all an impressive haul.
However, it was a work night, so there was no way I couldn't do some work. So, after Rosie had gone to bed, Kate and I snuggled down to watch the DVD of Skellig, one of the set texts from school. It was pretty good and I even managed at times to NOT think about how it might be used in class.
As it was, there was no way I couldn't have a big smile on my face when I arrived home to find both my girls dressed up to the nines, a modest pile of cards and presents, and a table laid with homemade cupcakes decorated by my daughter. It was very touching and made me feel even more smug than usual!
Rosie got me a water bottle to take into class, my sister Hermione got me a cookbook and some posh new cake tins, while my parents splashed out on a scanner/printer combo to replace our old Spanish one which broke. There were also lovely home-made cards from Kate and Rosie, plus biscuits and an "In the Thick of it" box set from my darling wife. Plus, not forgetting my birthday bike, which my lovely mother-in-law Cathy had contributed to. So, all in all an impressive haul.
However, it was a work night, so there was no way I couldn't do some work. So, after Rosie had gone to bed, Kate and I snuggled down to watch the DVD of Skellig, one of the set texts from school. It was pretty good and I even managed at times to NOT think about how it might be used in class.
Sunday, 9 October 2011
Birthday Bike - by Theo
After months of dithering and changing my mind, I finally decided to buy a new bike. This wouldn't be cheap, as I would need all the gear as well - helmet, pump, lock, pannier, pannier bags, lights and so on. As it's my 3oth in a few days Kate suggested it should be my birthday present.
Buying a new bike wasn't quite so simple as I imagined. There was no waltzing in and just grabbing one off the rack. I had to get one in my size. It shows my ignorance about cycling that I didn't realise adult bikes came in sizes. In the end it took about 10 days to get a Barrosa Monaco made up at the Bristol Bike Workshop, which ended up being the cheapest option. Worth the wait though as it's very comfortable and leaves me no longer at the mercies of Bristol's public transport system. Well the trains anyway - I'm sure the buses will intimidate the hell out of me as I pedal laboriously along Bristol's streets.
Thanks to all those that contributed to my lovely present!
Buying a new bike wasn't quite so simple as I imagined. There was no waltzing in and just grabbing one off the rack. I had to get one in my size. It shows my ignorance about cycling that I didn't realise adult bikes came in sizes. In the end it took about 10 days to get a Barrosa Monaco made up at the Bristol Bike Workshop, which ended up being the cheapest option. Worth the wait though as it's very comfortable and leaves me no longer at the mercies of Bristol's public transport system. Well the trains anyway - I'm sure the buses will intimidate the hell out of me as I pedal laboriously along Bristol's streets.
Thanks to all those that contributed to my lovely present!
Saturday, 8 October 2011
NO! - by Theo
"No! No! NOOOOOO!"
Yes, Rosie has finally learnt the word "No!" She could of course express a negative opinion beforehand, but up until Friday this was usually done by shaking her head and arms and saying "da da da", which was, frankly, endearingly cute.
There is nothing cute about "No". In fact it is a hideous word. Sadly, of course, it's a very important one, in both English and Spanish. In fact it's probably more important in Spanish, as it's just put in front of the verb for a negative (whereas English puts "not" after) and is used as a general, often affirmative, question (E.g. "Te gusta el parque, no?" - you like the park, don't you?) So, we definitely brought this one on our own heads.
We are now both thinking of as many ways as possible to get "yes" into our sentences.
Yes, Rosie has finally learnt the word "No!" She could of course express a negative opinion beforehand, but up until Friday this was usually done by shaking her head and arms and saying "da da da", which was, frankly, endearingly cute.
There is nothing cute about "No". In fact it is a hideous word. Sadly, of course, it's a very important one, in both English and Spanish. In fact it's probably more important in Spanish, as it's just put in front of the verb for a negative (whereas English puts "not" after) and is used as a general, often affirmative, question (E.g. "Te gusta el parque, no?" - you like the park, don't you?) So, we definitely brought this one on our own heads.
We are now both thinking of as many ways as possible to get "yes" into our sentences.
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