As I took my seat on Monday it was impossible not to feel both a sense of nostalgia and of time standing still; after all, nearly 11 years previously I had sat down in the very same room (Chemistry Lecture Theatre 1) for my Undergraduate Philosophy lectures. Where did that decade go?!?! There I was again, a Bristol University student, for the third time, this time to begin a PGCE in Secondary English.
It's been a great first week; challenging, but not too intense. I seem to be in a reasonably privileged position of having a background in literature, a very solid grounding in English grammar and also teaching experience; few of my 29 course mates can say the same, it seems. I've been surprised at the range of backgrounds - some did degrees in Drama, others in Linguistics. They are a lovely bunch, though the demographics would surprise nobody - 1 male student to every 5 female ones, with only one student being obviously of a BME background. Across the wider PGCE course - 200-odd students studying to be teachers in Science, History, MFL, Geography, Maths, RE and Citizenship - this seems to be the case too. I've met a couple of other parents, though there are none doing English. However I did run into an old classmate, Susa, who is studying to be a German and Spanish Teacher - she only got a place on the course recently and it came as a complete, but very pleasant, surprise to met her at the lecture.
So far most of the lectures have just dealt with the 'admin' side of the course, plus getting to know you style activities within our subject groups. The real work begins next week I suspect, and already we've got piles of reading to get through. What work we have done - lesson planning, grammar analysis - hasn't seemed all that far away from techniques I'm used to in a TEFL context, all guided discovery and CELTA style planning proformas. We'll be in schools though from the first week of October and that will be a huge difference. I can't wait actually!
Sunday, 25 September 2011
Saturday, 24 September 2011
Starving the little tykes into submission... By Kate
My mum tells me that at the age of two, I ate everything and anything put in front of me. By the age of five, I was Little Miss Picky. Not to an unmanageable or unhealthy extent, but my fussiness was exasperating for my mum, who was - and is - a wonderful and imaginative cook. In time, my food foibles also cast a blight over my own enjoyment of social eating and I suspect it's partly for this reason that by adulthood I had pretty much trained myself out of it.
Not surprisingly then, I am keen that Rosie will not be a finicky and unadventurous eater. I want mealtimes to be enjoyable, family occasions rather than battlegrounds and I want her to grow up appreciating good food. Nor do I want to have to faff around giving Rosie separate meals from mine and Theo's. Life's too short.
So I felt a tad dismayed when it became clear that Rosie, after a promising start, had become a vegetable refusenik and developed a deeply suspicious view of any unfamiliar ingredients. And what's more, her repertoire was shrinking rapidly. Something Had To Be Done.
With a bit of analysis, it occurred to me I was making it a piece of cake for Rosie to refuse her main course by always offering plain Greek yoghurt and fresh fruit (which she adores) as a follow-up. My reasoning had been that it wasn't a major disaster if she didn't eat much of her first course because she would at least have had something nutritious to follow it. But in fact, it was an own goal. Why bother making the effort with a strange new concoction if there's a Sure Thing on the horizon?
So I changed strategy. If Rosie refused to more than play with her main course, there was no alternative option on the menu. My reasoning being that if she was truly hungry, she would eat whatever was put in front of her - or at least some of it. If she's not really hungry, then she clearly doesn't need more food.
We also started making an effort to have family meals every day - bringing our own suppertime forward to accommodate the change - in the name of "monkey see, monkey do". And if Rosie is fiddling with her food, we try not to draw attention to her and likewise try not to make a meal of it when she does deign to put something new into her mouth. Furthermore, if Rosie decides she doesn't want what's on offer, we try to curtail the meal with the minimum of fuss - no scolding or cajoling (although she gets re-offered the food if she indicates she wants it back again) - we just clean her up and get her down from the table . Oh, and we've also cut down on snacks between meals. Apart from occasional treats, she's only allowed a bit of fresh fruit, and nothing too close to mealtimes.
Rosie hasn't become The Incredible Scoffing Toddler overnight, but the good news is that the Get Tough Starvation Strategy is getting results. Rosie is now usually willing to at least try the things in her bowl and her repertoire is widening again. She's also surprised us (and probably herself) on several occasions by doing a last-minute volte-face and suddenly stuffing her face with a previously despised food and asking for seconds. I'm hopeful that in time we'll even get her on friendly terms with undisguised vegetable matter, but I'm not kidding myself that will happen any time soon.
"You won't actually let her starve, will you?" one concerned relative asked me after I'd outlined my new eating plan for Rosie. Of course not. And I'm even more confident that Rosie won't let herself starve. The only real drawback is that a supper refusal will tend to result in a horribly early start the following day. Rosie wakes up, can't get herself back to sleep because she's ravenous and in a neat piece of toddler revenge, ensures that Theo and I eventually give up our warm bed for a bleary family breakfast on the wrong side of 07.00.
You can't win them all. Still, at least Rosie retains a sense of style during her meals. After all, it's far easier to tackle a potentially threatening foodstuff while wearing the appropriate accessories.
Not surprisingly then, I am keen that Rosie will not be a finicky and unadventurous eater. I want mealtimes to be enjoyable, family occasions rather than battlegrounds and I want her to grow up appreciating good food. Nor do I want to have to faff around giving Rosie separate meals from mine and Theo's. Life's too short.
So I felt a tad dismayed when it became clear that Rosie, after a promising start, had become a vegetable refusenik and developed a deeply suspicious view of any unfamiliar ingredients. And what's more, her repertoire was shrinking rapidly. Something Had To Be Done.
With a bit of analysis, it occurred to me I was making it a piece of cake for Rosie to refuse her main course by always offering plain Greek yoghurt and fresh fruit (which she adores) as a follow-up. My reasoning had been that it wasn't a major disaster if she didn't eat much of her first course because she would at least have had something nutritious to follow it. But in fact, it was an own goal. Why bother making the effort with a strange new concoction if there's a Sure Thing on the horizon?
So I changed strategy. If Rosie refused to more than play with her main course, there was no alternative option on the menu. My reasoning being that if she was truly hungry, she would eat whatever was put in front of her - or at least some of it. If she's not really hungry, then she clearly doesn't need more food.
We also started making an effort to have family meals every day - bringing our own suppertime forward to accommodate the change - in the name of "monkey see, monkey do". And if Rosie is fiddling with her food, we try not to draw attention to her and likewise try not to make a meal of it when she does deign to put something new into her mouth. Furthermore, if Rosie decides she doesn't want what's on offer, we try to curtail the meal with the minimum of fuss - no scolding or cajoling (although she gets re-offered the food if she indicates she wants it back again) - we just clean her up and get her down from the table . Oh, and we've also cut down on snacks between meals. Apart from occasional treats, she's only allowed a bit of fresh fruit, and nothing too close to mealtimes.
Rosie hasn't become The Incredible Scoffing Toddler overnight, but the good news is that the Get Tough Starvation Strategy is getting results. Rosie is now usually willing to at least try the things in her bowl and her repertoire is widening again. She's also surprised us (and probably herself) on several occasions by doing a last-minute volte-face and suddenly stuffing her face with a previously despised food and asking for seconds. I'm hopeful that in time we'll even get her on friendly terms with undisguised vegetable matter, but I'm not kidding myself that will happen any time soon.
"You won't actually let her starve, will you?" one concerned relative asked me after I'd outlined my new eating plan for Rosie. Of course not. And I'm even more confident that Rosie won't let herself starve. The only real drawback is that a supper refusal will tend to result in a horribly early start the following day. Rosie wakes up, can't get herself back to sleep because she's ravenous and in a neat piece of toddler revenge, ensures that Theo and I eventually give up our warm bed for a bleary family breakfast on the wrong side of 07.00.
You can't win them all. Still, at least Rosie retains a sense of style during her meals. After all, it's far easier to tackle a potentially threatening foodstuff while wearing the appropriate accessories.
Wednesday, 21 September 2011
The Battle of Sleepy Corner IV By Kate
Rosie hit that golden milestone of "sleeping through" the night at the age of thirteen months. Hoorah, I thought, we're there at last and I don't have to bother with control crying or anything upsetting like that to transform my formerly wakeful baby into a Good Sleeper.
Wrong. Of course.
Rosie continued to sleep through the night from that moment on....but only intermittently. Theo and I would have four or five uninterrupted nights followed by two or three night wakings then a quiet night then a fragmented one....and so it went. Rosie seldom woke more than once when she did wake in the night, but those wakings could last a gruelling two and half hours if we were really unlucky.
Eventually it got to the point when my resolve hardened. In Madrid, I'd been able to keep Theo relatively insulated from the night time shenanigans, but back in the UK, Rosie's bedroom is opposite ours and there's no escape. Now, a wakeful Rosie and a sleep-deprived me was something to which I had become accustomed, but living with a sleep-deprived Theo is insupportable. Something had to be done.
By eighteen months, both Theo and myself, while not enjoying the sound of our small daughter howling her eyes out about something or other, had also become reasonably inured to it. So we were ready to toughen up our stance on overnight waking.
Our plan was simple: I would offer no more comfort breast feeds (in any case, they had lost their effectiveness at getting Rosie back to sleep) or early morning snuggly breast feeds in our bed to buy us more time before having to get up. In fact, I would no longer tend to Rosie's overnight needs at all - Theo would take charge of resettling her until she had got the message that parental attention would be kindly but fleeting during the night. Rosie had to learn to roll over and get herself back to sleep.
So that's what we did. The first night involved about an hour and a half of on/off protesting on Rosie's part, with Theo making frequent trips into her room to soothe her, but at lengthening intervals. The next night she slept through. Since then, we've had maybe two or three other occasions when Rosie's needed attention overnight (including when she was in the throes of a cold) but otherwise, I'm happy to report - and with the minimum of angst - she is now generally sleeping through. And waking up later in the morning too, which is an unexpected bonus.
As a former post outlines, I have now ceased to offer the bedtime breastfeed as well and that change has also been accepted by Rosie without too much complaint. The need for subterfuge has thankfully passed and instead of pretending to leave the house at bedtime, I simply give Rosie a kiss good night and leave Theo to put her in her cot.
It all seems so simple and a non-parent would be forgiven for asking why it's such a big deal. All I can say in reply is after more than a year and a half of interrupted and foreshortened sleep the feeling of freshness and good humour that accompanies a half-decent bit of snooze cannot be understated. It really can't. Amen.
Wrong. Of course.
Rosie continued to sleep through the night from that moment on....but only intermittently. Theo and I would have four or five uninterrupted nights followed by two or three night wakings then a quiet night then a fragmented one....and so it went. Rosie seldom woke more than once when she did wake in the night, but those wakings could last a gruelling two and half hours if we were really unlucky.
Eventually it got to the point when my resolve hardened. In Madrid, I'd been able to keep Theo relatively insulated from the night time shenanigans, but back in the UK, Rosie's bedroom is opposite ours and there's no escape. Now, a wakeful Rosie and a sleep-deprived me was something to which I had become accustomed, but living with a sleep-deprived Theo is insupportable. Something had to be done.
By eighteen months, both Theo and myself, while not enjoying the sound of our small daughter howling her eyes out about something or other, had also become reasonably inured to it. So we were ready to toughen up our stance on overnight waking.
Our plan was simple: I would offer no more comfort breast feeds (in any case, they had lost their effectiveness at getting Rosie back to sleep) or early morning snuggly breast feeds in our bed to buy us more time before having to get up. In fact, I would no longer tend to Rosie's overnight needs at all - Theo would take charge of resettling her until she had got the message that parental attention would be kindly but fleeting during the night. Rosie had to learn to roll over and get herself back to sleep.
So that's what we did. The first night involved about an hour and a half of on/off protesting on Rosie's part, with Theo making frequent trips into her room to soothe her, but at lengthening intervals. The next night she slept through. Since then, we've had maybe two or three other occasions when Rosie's needed attention overnight (including when she was in the throes of a cold) but otherwise, I'm happy to report - and with the minimum of angst - she is now generally sleeping through. And waking up later in the morning too, which is an unexpected bonus.
As a former post outlines, I have now ceased to offer the bedtime breastfeed as well and that change has also been accepted by Rosie without too much complaint. The need for subterfuge has thankfully passed and instead of pretending to leave the house at bedtime, I simply give Rosie a kiss good night and leave Theo to put her in her cot.
It all seems so simple and a non-parent would be forgiven for asking why it's such a big deal. All I can say in reply is after more than a year and a half of interrupted and foreshortened sleep the feeling of freshness and good humour that accompanies a half-decent bit of snooze cannot be understated. It really can't. Amen.
Monday, 19 September 2011
Round the sun again - By Kate
After all the excitement of having not one, but two 40th birthday celebrations (the party was held a year early for reasons of pregnancy), it's only fair and reasonable that my 41st would be a much quieter affair with no official celebration as such. Plus, neither Theo nor I are actually earning any money at the moment, so cheap and cheerful is the way to go.
So my modest requests for marking my birthday included takeaway pizza, some heart-attack ice-cream, a DVD rental of The King's Speech and a pair of slippers. Well, I am in my fifth decade, after all.
I'm happy to report that all my requests were granted with bonuses of a homemade cake (sister-in-law Hermione made a delicious jam and cream sponge), not-too-early awakening (from Rosie) and a card with a photograph of a cat (also from Rosie - she chose it personally).
The cake, pizza and ice-cream provided suitably artery-clogging deliciousness; the film was a delight (and even managed to pass the Bechdel Test); the slippers are very comfy; the morning calm and cuddly and the card with the cat rather cute.
That'll do nicely, thanks. It might not have been the most spectacular of birthdays, but I enjoyed it very much. In any case, at my age, it's about all the excitement I can handle.
So my modest requests for marking my birthday included takeaway pizza, some heart-attack ice-cream, a DVD rental of The King's Speech and a pair of slippers. Well, I am in my fifth decade, after all.
I'm happy to report that all my requests were granted with bonuses of a homemade cake (sister-in-law Hermione made a delicious jam and cream sponge), not-too-early awakening (from Rosie) and a card with a photograph of a cat (also from Rosie - she chose it personally).
The cake, pizza and ice-cream provided suitably artery-clogging deliciousness; the film was a delight (and even managed to pass the Bechdel Test); the slippers are very comfy; the morning calm and cuddly and the card with the cat rather cute.That'll do nicely, thanks. It might not have been the most spectacular of birthdays, but I enjoyed it very much. In any case, at my age, it's about all the excitement I can handle.
Saturday, 17 September 2011
the lies we tell our children - by Theo
As the Spanish author Elvira Lindo says in the book I've just finished reading: "Todos los hijos mentimos, pero todos los padres queremos que los hijos nos cuenten la verdad." We all lie to our children, but all parents want their children to tell us the truth.
We're just the same, telling deliberate lies to our daughter; we're hardly setting a good example.
For instance, Rosie really enjoys her bath but hates having her hair washed, which happens every three days. So if I want Rosie to get out of the bath on the other nights because ice is forming on the surface and her fingers resemble raisins, all I have to say is "Vale, voy a limpiar tu pelo ahora" ("Right, I'm going to wash your hair now") and she immediately stands up with arms outstretched crying "Out! Fuera!"
That's quite a simple one, but our deceptions get even more complex. We're weaning her off her last breastfeed, the one before bed, so it's easier if I'm the one to put her down to sleep. Now, at first this resulted in Rosie screaming for Mama at length, so we hatched a plan. About 10 minutes before Rosie's cot-time, we make a big show of saying "adios" to Kate, waving to her from the top of the stairs as Kate goes out the front door. After a small protest Rosie realises that there's no point in screaming for Mama, as Mama has left the building and the rest is relatively straightforward. Except Mama hasn't really left, she's just come in through the back garden gate and slipped into the kitchen.
Still, it's all good practice for when we have to swiftly replace a deceased hamster with a near-duplicate.
We're just the same, telling deliberate lies to our daughter; we're hardly setting a good example.
For instance, Rosie really enjoys her bath but hates having her hair washed, which happens every three days. So if I want Rosie to get out of the bath on the other nights because ice is forming on the surface and her fingers resemble raisins, all I have to say is "Vale, voy a limpiar tu pelo ahora" ("Right, I'm going to wash your hair now") and she immediately stands up with arms outstretched crying "Out! Fuera!"
That's quite a simple one, but our deceptions get even more complex. We're weaning her off her last breastfeed, the one before bed, so it's easier if I'm the one to put her down to sleep. Now, at first this resulted in Rosie screaming for Mama at length, so we hatched a plan. About 10 minutes before Rosie's cot-time, we make a big show of saying "adios" to Kate, waving to her from the top of the stairs as Kate goes out the front door. After a small protest Rosie realises that there's no point in screaming for Mama, as Mama has left the building and the rest is relatively straightforward. Except Mama hasn't really left, she's just come in through the back garden gate and slipped into the kitchen.
Still, it's all good practice for when we have to swiftly replace a deceased hamster with a near-duplicate.
Friday, 16 September 2011
Why I don't want to be a Primary School teacher - by Theo
I have had the privilege to have spent the past two weeks observing in Elmlea Junior School up in Westbury-on-Trym. As part of my PGCE I was obliged to do this, but it didn't feel like an obligation. I really enjoyed it, in no small part thanks to the staff and students at Elmlea, especially my friend Stu, a Year 6 Teacher there who arranged it all and whose classes I was mostly observing.
However, no matter how nice a time I had there, it made me realise I had definitely made the right decision to choose secondary education over primary. I had been having doubts as, after all, primary is so much more important; if students don't get off to a good start, the gap between them and their peers has widened to such an extent by the time they reach secondary school that it is very hard to narrow it and help them catch up. In a class of 30 students, all demanding your attention, it's probably nigh on impossible. But it's not for me.
For starters I'm rubbish at Art. Stu really likes the fact that he gets to teach all the subjects - Literacy, Maths, History, PE, Geography, Music, PSHE and Science - but I would have never managed to get a class to produce masks like these.
I'd be pretty rubbish in singing class too!
Plus, as nice as Stu's Year 6 class were, it would drive me crazy to have the same class all the time. I don't mind teaching the same material, but I like changing students every hour or so, shifting the dynamic and allowing me to go more in depth into the topic.
So, big thanks everyone at Elmlea, but it's secondary for me. The PGCE starts Monday - here we go!
However, no matter how nice a time I had there, it made me realise I had definitely made the right decision to choose secondary education over primary. I had been having doubts as, after all, primary is so much more important; if students don't get off to a good start, the gap between them and their peers has widened to such an extent by the time they reach secondary school that it is very hard to narrow it and help them catch up. In a class of 30 students, all demanding your attention, it's probably nigh on impossible. But it's not for me.
For starters I'm rubbish at Art. Stu really likes the fact that he gets to teach all the subjects - Literacy, Maths, History, PE, Geography, Music, PSHE and Science - but I would have never managed to get a class to produce masks like these.
I'd be pretty rubbish in singing class too!
Plus, as nice as Stu's Year 6 class were, it would drive me crazy to have the same class all the time. I don't mind teaching the same material, but I like changing students every hour or so, shifting the dynamic and allowing me to go more in depth into the topic.
So, big thanks everyone at Elmlea, but it's secondary for me. The PGCE starts Monday - here we go!
Monday, 12 September 2011
Friends and family - by Theo
After lots of dashing around the past few weekends, it was a relief to spend Saturday and Sunday relaxing in the company of friends, family and friends' families.
Rosie obliged us both with a lie-in on both days.... she woke up at 7.25am. Hey, anything after 6.30am counts as a lie-in in this house. The weather didn't look very promising, but it brightened up enough for us to head out en famille to St George's Park for Redfest. A very local event, there were live bands, stalls, the Bristol playbus and graffiti artists among the attractions. It was very pleasant and although Rosie was mostly interested in eating plums and running after her ball, we did spend some time hanging out with Kate's new mum-chum, Claire, her daughter Selma and husband Mark.
Later that evening Kate and I benefited from some outstanding generosity from some former gig-going buddies, Steve and Ruth, who babysat for us so we could enjoy a meal out with my sister, her husband and my parents, who were celebrating their birthdays.
When went to Bordeaux Quay on the Harbourside, touted for its use of organic ingredients. It was a lovely evening and, although Kate and I both found the food a bit too salty (couldn't really taste anything else) the desserts more than made up for it. Nice to have a treat every now and then.
On Sunday Obaro and his lovely daughter Nola joined us in the morning for lunch - both the girls and us. It was a fun, if messy affair. Nola was a bit shy to begin with, but she relaxed soon enough and joined in with Rosie's gabbling.
Ah, the joys of play dates! Makes me wonder what we've been missing all these years. ..
Rosie obliged us both with a lie-in on both days.... she woke up at 7.25am. Hey, anything after 6.30am counts as a lie-in in this house. The weather didn't look very promising, but it brightened up enough for us to head out en famille to St George's Park for Redfest. A very local event, there were live bands, stalls, the Bristol playbus and graffiti artists among the attractions. It was very pleasant and although Rosie was mostly interested in eating plums and running after her ball, we did spend some time hanging out with Kate's new mum-chum, Claire, her daughter Selma and husband Mark.
Later that evening Kate and I benefited from some outstanding generosity from some former gig-going buddies, Steve and Ruth, who babysat for us so we could enjoy a meal out with my sister, her husband and my parents, who were celebrating their birthdays.
When went to Bordeaux Quay on the Harbourside, touted for its use of organic ingredients. It was a lovely evening and, although Kate and I both found the food a bit too salty (couldn't really taste anything else) the desserts more than made up for it. Nice to have a treat every now and then.
On Sunday Obaro and his lovely daughter Nola joined us in the morning for lunch - both the girls and us. It was a fun, if messy affair. Nola was a bit shy to begin with, but she relaxed soon enough and joined in with Rosie's gabbling.
Ah, the joys of play dates! Makes me wonder what we've been missing all these years. ..
Monday, 5 September 2011
Forty Years - by Theo
Yesterday my parents celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary. An epic achievement that is just one of the many reasons why we're all really proud of them.
They had a lovely garden party for friends and family in Cirencester. The sun shone, the bubbly flowed, and the cake (made by my talented sister) was cut. Friends arrived from nearly all the stages of their lives - school, their early married life in Cheltenham, their time in Kenya and Tanzania, and the nursery school my mother now runs in Cirencester. A testament to the affection that so many people have for them. Kate and I can only hope to do so well.
They had a lovely garden party for friends and family in Cirencester. The sun shone, the bubbly flowed, and the cake (made by my talented sister) was cut. Friends arrived from nearly all the stages of their lives - school, their early married life in Cheltenham, their time in Kenya and Tanzania, and the nursery school my mother now runs in Cirencester. A testament to the affection that so many people have for them. Kate and I can only hope to do so well.
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