What am I learning, what am I teaching...? By Kate

When you make a cock up, ask yourself, "What did I learn from that?"

Somebody far wiser than I suggests this as a more constructive way to deal with own-goals than guilt-ridden self-flagellation. It makes a lot of sense. It's a way of accepting that we all make mistakes and those mistakes can actually be useful opportunities to grow as a human being.

As first time parents, we make a lot of mistakes. After all, it's a huge, new, intricate area of human relationships we're navigating. No one gets it right first time. Which is bad luck for Rosie. A friend of mine put it this way: "Your first child is the practice one."

It's just as well Rosie doesn't require us to be perfect. Good enough will do fine for her, luckily. Although I expect we'll come in for a bit of a hammering for certain things she reckons we did or didn't do when she hits her teenage years and early adulthood. That seems to be par for the course.

So we're learning all the time. And so is Rosie. How to use and understand her body, how to talk, how to socialise with other people, how she fits in with the world....and that's before she starts on things like reading, writing, arithmetic, sport, music etc. etc. The sobering thought is that as her parents, we are Rosie's Number One teachers. She learns the nuances of handling human relationships by observing and mimicking Theo and I primarily. There's nothing like that knowledge for putting your own behaviour in the spotlight.

Every day I find I'm asking myself, "What are we teaching Rosie in this situation?" For example, if Rosie refuses to touch the food we have given her and instead insists on something different, our acquiescence to that request would teach her that she doesn't need to make an effort with unfamiliar or less-favoured foods as she can rely on getting an alternative.

If Rosie throws a wobbler about something we regard as important (having her teeth brushed, for example) if we were to give up on what we were doing, we would be teaching Rosie that tantrums are a good tool for getting what she wants (or stopping something she doesn't). A recipe for more tantrums, in other words.

That doesn't mean we should ride roughshod over all Rosie's personal preferences. She might be tiny, but she's still a human being and deserves to have her opinion heard. So we try and offer her choices - okay, the choices are limited to outcomes we find acceptable, but at least she's being offered some toddler-sized autonomy. "Rosie climb in the buggy, or Mummy put you in the buggy?" is one we often have just before she settles into her pushchair for her lunchtime nap. (The answer is almost always, "Rosie do it!")

And one more piece of sage parenting advice I'm coming to fully appreciate: "Pick your battles." Some things just aren't worth a fight. Whether or not Rosie wears her slippers indoors really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. If she doesn't, her feet may be a bit colder than otherwise, but it's no big deal. On the other hand, if she doesn't allow us to help her clean her teeth, there's a very real risk of tooth decay, so that one is non-negotiable.

Navigating life with a feisty toddler is a huge learning experience, that's for sure. For all of us.

the most collectible book in the world? by Theo

Searching for suitable Christmas presents for Rosie I found several version of Maisy Mouse in Spanish, including Los Mejores Amigos de Maisy.

A bargain at a mere £243.33.

Yep, you read that right. £243.33 (I love how it's so precise!) for a translation of a children's book. It wasn't the only one; Juan y Tolola (that's Charlie and Lola) for £200.52. What's going on? Either some computer's algorithms have gone haywire, or these are clearly the most collectible works of fiction in the world: forget first editions of Tolstoy, these are the real deal!

Nice day for a strike - by Theo

Despite the fact that I don't yet have a pension, nor a job to go on strike from, I figured I should show solidarity with my future colleagues and join in the Bristol demo. I am in fact a member of all three main teaching unions (NUT, ATL, NASUWT - PGCE students join free), so even more reason to turn up.

Today was, conveniently, a study day, so I was in the library anyway having taken my QTS numeracy test that morning (more of that later), and only had to wander down Park Street. I managed to time my exit from Berkley Square perfectly so I could tag onto the UCU members as they marched down from Senate House to join the swelling ranks of protesting public sector workers gathering near the Occupy Bristol tent city on College Green.

It was perfect weather: clear blue skies, little breeze and warm sunshine. Loads of kids (well, the schools were on strike!) and lots of colour, with various flags and banners waving back and forth. The Ambling Band, dressed in resplendent pink, had turned up to provide a welcome jaunty accompaniment and there was also a samba band further down the procession. I bumped into a couple of old pals (Richie, Tom) as well as most members of the English Department at my first placement school. The school where I'll be next was also closed today, so I guess some of my future colleagues may well have been there too.

Honestly it is such a shame that the so-called progressive parties in the UK seem to be terrified of fighting the corner of the public sector, for fear of affronting all-powerful private interests presumably. There was meant to be 2 million-odd people on strike across the country today; that's a sizeable chunk of the electorate. If only somebody at Westminster was brave enough to say "Yep. We're with you."

look who's talking NOW - by Theo

"All gone! Finished! NOW."
"Mama viene. NOW."
"Mas leche. NOW."
"Carry cuddle! NOW."
"Daddy up! NOW."
"Mas pan! NOW."



Rosie is rather imperative. It's unsurprising as regardless of the language most of the sentences we model for her are imperatives - "come here", "pon lo aqui", "hold my hand". So naturally as she begins to string sentences together from individual words, they are often orders, made with a sense of impatience and awareness that others may not have the same priorities that she clearly gets from her father.

She does descriptions as well, often related to clothing ("slippers off", "lleva gafas", "Rosie tired/cansada") and even has a few anecdotes that, with prompting from Kate, she can recount. One goes like this:

Kate: Rudy (a fellow toddler) tried to cuddle you.
Rosie: Mummy say "No kick!"

It's all astoundingly endearing (she had the museum attendant enraptured by her ability to say "cardie on" at the M Shed) and totally fascinating the way Rosie is acquiring and structuring language. Naturally her English is far more developed than her Spanish; though I suspect this is in part due to the fact she is trying to use verb phrases which is far easier in English ("he/she" form aside, the present tense and imperative are the same) than in Spanish, with its multiple endings and irregularities. For example she has been experimenting with the verb "ser" (to be): sometimes she gets it right by saying (to Kate) "es Papa!" ("it's Dad!"). But when she tells me "soy Papa", that's the wrong form - it's what I would say to her: Rosie needs to say "eres Papa". OK, the English version of this (am/are/is) wouldn't be much easier, but most English verbs don't change so dramatically.

Time warp - by Theo

"It's just like being at a gig from 4 years ago" said Suzy as we filed out of the Croft's backroom after an ear-drumming splitting set from Big Joan. With Kate and I not the only Bristol emigres returning to the gig-going fold, and many familiar faces on stage, last Saturday's line up of Bravo Brave Bats, Big Joan and Glis Glis really did make us feel like we were partying like it was 2007.

With my parents kindly staying over to babysit Rosie, Kate and I managed to get out for the weekend and see some live music at one of our early flirting grounds: The Croft. Arriving early, we hung out with Obaro and Suzy from Glis Glis before they sound-checked. My old promoting partner Anna arrived with Lou in tow, Annette from Big Joan joined us, and over the course of the evenings we managed to see more old pals than we had time to properly catch up with. Must. Get. Out. More.

The bands were all ace, as usual. I say that as, although we had only seen Big Joan before (many, many times), between Glis Glis and Bravo Brave Bats there were 3/4 of the sadly missed You & the Atom Bomb on stage. So it felt a bit "as usual". I really should write a gig review.... but I've got two lessons to plan for tomorrow, so I guess I'd better stop procrastinating and write those instead.

first observation - by Theo

Today I had my first observation by my University Tutor, a man who has trained at least one person in every English Department west of Reading (or so it seems - he's been at the University's Education Department for 25 years). This was a formal observation which would count towards my final grade. So no pressure then.

Actually I wasn't feeling too much pressure. I'd been observed by somebody in the 15 or so classes I had taught prior to today (plus loads as an EFL teacher), so wasn't feeling too unnerved at the prospect of having somebody commenting on my every utterance. Plus I always try to keep in mind that it is through being observed and reflecting on the comments you get back that you learn. So, bring it on.

I was teaching a Year 10 class that I had taught twice before. Their aim at the end of the unit is to write a review of the film, Jaws, and after two classes looking at how film makers use camera angles and sound to create tension, we were now looking at effective language use in reviews. The class went well. Not brilliantly, but a bit more than OK. It wasn't inaccessibly hard, but it wasn't a stroll in the park for them either. They behaved. They learned (something). We finished on time. It was alright.

I've still got loads to do. Both my Associate Tutor (who was quite nervous as it's her first year as an AT and she had to give her feedback first - so essentially she was being observed too!) and University Tutor were complimentary and thought I was doing better than they might expect at this point in the PGCE course. They were really pleased with my planning and consideration of the needs of individual students; I've my EFL experience to thank for that I guess. But there is plenty of room for me to improve, with a few of the things being:

• I need to think about how to get the students to reflect on their work, to realise what they have learned.
• I need to cut down the amount of Teacher Talk and build in more steps to the tasks so the students can guide themselves through with minimum input from me.
• Leaving space for individual work and only doing group work if there is a real point to it.

It's that last point where my EFL background isn't helping. "Discuss with your partner" is such a CELTA staple - language is communicative, and when teaching English as a Foreign Language, just getting students to talk to each other and convey meaning can be a learning objective and outcome all on its own. In contrast, times when EFL students write in silence for 15 minutes or more are rare. So changing what my view of what learning looks like is going to be crucial.

What a difference a year makes... by Theo

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.

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.