What a beautiful day. The birds are chirping in the trees, the sun's lapping around the streets like a docile house cat and passersby compliment each other on their respective hats. What's that, little Jimmy? Of course I'll push you higher on the swing. Higher and higher we go, Jimski, ha-ha-ha-ha! God it's good to be alive. I think I'll adopt Jimmy and together we'll help each other through the hard times - if only he'd stop obsessing over these bloody bean sprouts? Hang on - bean sprouts? That doesn't seem to fit into all this. I hate bean sprouts, they're nature's nose hairs. Why am I in Germany now having bean sprouts rudely crammed into every hole by Reinhard Burger? Oh, that's right, it's a dream and the radio alarm's headlines are invading my mind like one of those brainy serial killers off of the films. Fucking typical.
This is how I imagine you think of me - a person so unswervingly tied up in his own mission to bring all children to justice that any dribble of positivity may only be experienced behind closed eyes. That's the impression I've got from speaking to a few of you about the blog's contents in the last couple of weeks and it's strange really because I don't actually see it like that. I suppose that while you're in the middle of something - in this case teaching - it's hard for you to imagine that other people don't feel exactly the way you do. It just makes sense. OK, so here's the thing - this week will be a wholly positive experience for all involved. Upbeat doesn't even cover it - by the end of this post you'll be smiling so broadly that the arrival of a beaming Hare Krishna man descending upside down from the ceiling would not only be appropriate, it would be essential (see Airplane for details).
My tutor group are stars. They're only year 7 and, for the most part, they act this age; which makes them fun, engaged, interesting and obsessed with Justin Beiber. Must... Contain... Cynicism... Nearly every day they come to school with a enthusiastic story about how they narrowly avoided a dog attack, did a new dance move at their cousin's (which everyone's copying now) or got ever-so-very-slightly hurt attempting some kind of circus trick. Knee or elbow grazes are presented as a testament to the 'danger' they put themselves in for this last one. They are the top set in the year and produce the most incredible pieces of work which the kids in my last school would struggle to... No... Put-downs... Rest-assured - these are good girls who make childhood look like it should - a massive, trembling balloon of joy just fit to burst.
Over the next few weeks, the humanities departments (English, History, Geography, ICT, Music) have all come together for what's called an 'intergrated project', where year 7 pupils will see how the different subjects link with each other and how one can inform the next. The title of the project is '80 Days Around The World' and my contribution to this was a week-long scheme of work based in India which I taught last week. I actually surprised myself with how much I enjoyed this and, as a classroom experience, it's probably my favourite to date. Given the short amount of time left this term, I'd say this is unlikely to be beaten; unless the final week's project is called '80 Comments Around The Blog'. Hint alert.
Every lesson we journeyed further down the country, taking in the sights and sounds of Amritsar's Golden Temple, Cochin's river villages and, of course, the great Taj Mahal - complete with an almost entirely fabricated history made up by moi. The highlight, though, without a doubt was their visit to Mumbai, where the girls were picked to be in a Bollywood musical and all learned and performed a dance number which I turned into a film - you can see this at http://vimeo.com/24870301
The idea for this only came the day before and relied entirely on my girlfriend's goodwill to come in and dance in front of these kids with hardly any practice. I am a lucky man, no doubt though, because that night we made the whole dance up from scratch and it was at that point I finally got a single, tiny, glow-worm in a cave at night-like pang of regret about leaving the profession. What other job would have you spending a night coming up with a Bollywood dance to teach the next day? There are lots of reasons why I'm leaving this career behind, but when it's good, you just can't beat it. The lows can be all-consuming, but the highs are dizzying too and it's easy to forget that - particularly if you read this poisonous vitriol.
Big props to my girl for having whale-sized testes and giving it her all in front of the girls. You are the glowworm to my cave - although maybe that should be the other way round. Thanks also to Rob for last week's comment - it alludes to a time long past when I used to have a quick temper. These days I'm all relaxed, you see - in a way... Now I'm off to snap a baby's neck and drink the mother's love directly from its spinal cord to address the imbalance occurring as a result of this post. Peace and love. X
And look, I found one! You should know who this is and if you don't we can't be friends anymore. When I saw him he was tugging a granny trolley behind him and looked like something out of one of his own films. I love how 'real' he is. 