Little Red Corvette (well, Polo actually)

Had a brisk start to the day. We were woken up by someone banging on our front door and ringing the doorbell. It seems our neighbours (bless their cotton socks) had noticed one of the local scrotes trying to steal my dad's car. He (the scrote) had managed to get into the car but was stopped from actually starting it up or driving it away. He did steal the front of the radio/cassette (a device so old it was kept in place with blutak) and the service record. He also left a mess in the front passenger well of papers that he'd gone through in his haste to find something worth stealing.

The estate my parents live on is not the best area in the town and there is a pretty much constant police presence, so when my dad dialled 999, the local patrol was there within a few minutes. They took the details and will be looking on the local CCTV (I said it wasn't a good area), while the lads from SOCO (the British equivalent of CSI) covered the car in fingerprint powder. At least it got us up early this morning.

In other news. I am still applying for jobs, left, right and centre. I had an interview today for a school in Puglia and I'm in two minds. The school sounds lovely but it's very small (three teachers) and in a town that shuts in the afternoon! It would also mean teaching young learners (ie. between 8 and 13) which is something I'm not at all sure about. I have to make a decision tonight, if only to allow the school to look elsewhere if necessary.

And I hate making decisions.

When you're smiling...

This is the last stretch of the last week of my time in Hampshire. I am up to my eyeballs in essays to be marked (done), marks to be input (done), grades to be agreed (tomorrow), reports to be finalised (tomorrow), bags to be packed (tomorrow), new job to be found (and have I been trying), goodbyes to be said (on Friday) and the future to look forward to (on going).

This week has been hard, not only physically (my eyes and brain are still bleeding), but also emotionally. As with all intensive courses, you get to know your students and you start to care for them. You want the best for them but you can't promote them beyond their abilities. This means that, sometimes, they are disappointed. I really don't like seeing disappointment on anyone's face, especially those who've worked hard but haven't quite got there.

I'm hopeful that the grading meeting tomorrow will sort out the wheat from the chaff (and there's not much chaff) and everyone will go home on Friday with a smile on their face.

Come on baby, light my fire...

A little excitement this evening...

There I was quietly sitting mucking about on my computer, winding down when suddenly all hell let loose.

An extremely loud howling, wailing, concussive noise started without warning. The Fire Alarm!

Stopping only to turn off my computer, grab my handbag and a fleece, out I went. The three of us huddled outside the front door (luckily it wasn't raining), protecting our ears and wondering what the blue blazes was going on.

About one hour and one technician later we were allowed back in. In that hour we'd sat in the wardens' kitchen, tried to watch television in the paint-smelling common room and ended up hanging out in the laundry room.

The reason for the alarm - it was faulty!

Back to my peaceful evening then...

Feeling good...

Holy, moly. What a week and it's only halfway over.

I've finished going through my students' essays and my eyes are so crossed, I can't see straight. You want to know how bad it is? I went out to take some photos of Winchester today and I could not get it together. I did take some pics but I have no idea what they are like.

Still, I found a manicurist to sort my nails out. I now have a French Polish and my hands look GOOOOD!

Next step, an early night (after a very disturbed night last night) and a hair rescue pack. I may even put a face pack on, who knows?

Bits and pieces...

Since I've been in Winchester, I've noticed that I'm falling to pieces. To be specific, my hair is falling out, the false nails I had put on in Melbourne have fallen off and my eyesight has deteriorated so much that I want a guide-dog.

On top of that, this week has been rather stressful with so much reading to do (hence the eyesight problems), and of such a poor quality (hence the hair falling out) that my digestive system is playing up.

I don't know what's wrong with me but at least it'll all be over soon and then I'm going to catch up on my hugs.

You have been warned!

Words, words, words...

I have been ploughing my way through my students' essays over the last couple of days. There are thirteen essays each of approximately 700 words. Really, they should only take about 20 minutes each to correct and mark but...

I feel sorry for my students. Without in any way criticising the place I work for, my students should not be here. Their level of English in not high enough for them to be able to take full advantage of what's on offer here. On top of that, they have no idea how to study. They've told me that, in China, they have many more hours of lectures, they learn what the lecturers have told them and then regurgitate it in the form of essays.

Here they only have a few hours with each of us, in which they are given a skeleton upon which they have to build. In fact, rather than giving them the essay titles to which they must write, we demand that they decide what they are going to write about, construct a title and then write the essay. This has left almost all of them totally perplexed. They have gone from being almost continually spoon-fed to being thrown in the deep end. In addition, most of them have never written more than a 250 word essay in English.

So, almost without warning, last week they had to write a 700 word essay. We did negotiate their titles but that didn't mean they fully understood what was required of them. And now I have been trying to mark them. I can only deal with one essay before my brain starts screaming for pain relief (preferably in the form of chocolate) and my eyes start bleeding.

And the worst thing is that next week they are going to give me their 1200 word essays. Is there enough chocolate in the world?

Thinking about a revolution

I'm kind of getting used to this academic life. Which is a pity as it all comes to an end in less than three weeks. I've settled into a rhythm and found my feet in this new scary classroom.

The odd thing is, though, even though I'm teaching in the UK, it feels like I'm abroad. I don't know anyone locally except those I work with, my students all speak a foreign language and those of my colleagues I don't live with have families and whole other lives. Still, at least all the magazines are in English and the on-line tv is available.

And I'm still devouring text books - next stop 'Critical Thinking'.