Poorly Me

I hate it when your stash of tissue runs out. I'd taken several to class today, but my constantly dripping nose had quickly used them up. There were only remnants of tissues, all shredded and damp.

I realised, when a child had put her hand up for help and I had wearily motioned her over, that I should perhaps put the scrappy pile of tissues in my pocket (rather than on the desk where she'd just put her work down for me to look at).

The word 'clammy' is sometimes perfect.

* * *

Watch Out

Why do we still wear watches? When you think about it they're kinda archaic - not a lot has changed about them over time. They're clunky and generally not a fashion statement. I know at work I have a clock in most rooms I go into, or I can have a computer on. Yet I feel naked without my watch.

And in public, you can have your cell-phone handy to check, but I still often like to have my watch on.

Not in the holidays though. Holidays is watch-free time. It's a symbolic change in my state of mind. No more clock-watching. A few minutes will not make the difference between kids packing up tidily and the bell going and them running off without putting things away.

I wonder how many times a day I glance at my watch.

* * *

Frustrating Blogger Account

Are any other blogger users having trouble copy and pasting into the editing page? The only way I have figured out to do it is go into the edit html bit, then paste, then go back into compose. It's a new phenomenon.

* * *

Teachin' 'em to be Rednecks

I am a wrestling expert. I have given two power points to my class on the history of WWE. They may now think I'm a freak, but I think I'm intellectualising it enough that I won't get phone calls of complaints from parents. I've brought in good trivia stuff like the Chris Benoit murders and Owen Hart's death, as well as showing them Hulk Hogan in his vitamin days versus him in his NWO days.

Today we looked at entrances, leading onto the gimme exam-answer of saying how music ties into the target audience. I started with getting them to think about gladiators (showed them the trailer for Gladiator) and how it was battle for entertainment then, and it was socially acceptable, yet real. Back then we had slaves we could kill off, but nowadays that is frowned up, so we have to just have actors do it.

Then we moved on to how we have brought elements of theatrics into sports, starting with the haka, moving onto the Chicago Bulls' elaborate intros of the '90s (yay for being able to bring another of my favourite childhood things into a lesson) and boxing and high school football matches.

We then watched a really great Undertaker entrance from some Wrestlemania.

Trying to show that in a way, in order to hook into that 12-34yr old male audience, both sports and wrestling have cross-overs. Some of the conventions are the same. It is important to see where those similarities start and finish, and why.

The Gall and the Gumption

The 'Interupting Kanye' meme amuses me. As it does many other people.

What is it about it that has engaged with so many people and united us in shared outrage and agastness?

1. It's Black. It's White.

A lot of people are secretly always looking for reasons to moan about the bad manners of rap and hip hoppers. Rascals. This interaction created a great clashing of the stereotpyes - angry, drunk black man vs pure young country-singing white girl. You can't get a better victim. She's like the virgin in a horror movie.


2. Awkward Silence.

If Taylor Swift had laughed or made some witty remark once she got the mic back, it would've gone down as a weird and wacky moment, but the look of shock on her face once her moment of glory had been stolen and her feeling of recognition ripped away.... that made it unfunny.


It's like the kid who's got an icecream cone .... only a big bully had come and knocked it right off the cone, picked it up and spat on it, then plopped it back and said, 'Here you go - enjoy!'


It's just mean. Bully.


Brain Can't Think Ahead. Shiny Things.


Anyhow, it was quite wrong. You can see that his head just said, 'Oh - Beyonce didn't win. She might be feeling bad - I expected her to win. I'mma go say that I thought her video was the best, so she doesn't feel bad' or something along those lines.


He wasn't thinking, 'I'mma go make that Taylor girl feel like crap and tell her she didn't deserve her award in front of millions of viewers'. The thought process didn't get that far. The alcohol (and whatever else) intervened.


But in no universe was that an even remotely ok thing to do.


Oh Yeah, I know who Taylor Swift Is


One good thing that comes out of it is that Taylor Swift is more of a house-hold name than she used to be. I am hip and with-it and knew who she was beforehand (I accidentally came across an E Channel special on her once), but now a lot of other people who usually avoid soft-pop-country songs with videos of princesses and castles know who she is.


Victory!


Too Good to be True - Ratings Gold!


I like that there are conspiracy theories going around about it being some kind of set-up to get media attention. This is feasible on some levels - award show ratings have been flagging in recent years and it's hard to change the formula and spice things up, when they're so prone to cliche and predictable gratuities. I doubt Taylor was in on it. She did a pretty good breathless and excited act before he came up.

John Key - not popular with Teenage Girls

My Media class was doing work on demographics today, so I had a bunch of general categories and they had to wander around the class getting quantitative data from each other.

Nobody opted to do 'Political Views', so I grabbed that one.

I asked:
1. What party would you vote for if there was an election now?
2. Do you know who the MP for the region you live in is?
3. Do you prefer Barrack Obama, John Key or neither?

The results surprised me. In a class of about 24 only one kid said she would vote for National (and her reasoning was, '... because I like blue.') and a few went for Green, one for the Pacific Island party (if there is one), a few had no opinion and the rest were for Labour, rather resoundingly.

Gives me hope for our country's future! The youth are smart.

Quite a few didn't know for sure who their MP was - they often knew the first name or thought it was Kerry Prendegast ('cause my dad's always talking about her').

And all but one preferred Barrack (that one lone girl thinks John's cute). That was not at all surprising.

I guess I teach in a district that is a Labour strong-hold of late (Rongotai/Central Wellington) and Media Studies kids tend to be a bit radical - the Young Nats are probably doing Accounting and Economics (proper subjects).

Anyhow..... it made me proud. Good kids! (Not that I told them that - my survey was totally unbiased and for audience profiling only.)

Is it wrong...

1. Ready and Willing

Today I turned up to class and there were 8 kids there, out of 24.

And then I noticed that one of those kids wasn't even in the class. That was a humorous moment.

I stared at her for a minute and then said, 'Why...?' though given my low numbers, I didn't want to turn anyone away at this point.

She replied, 'I'm Mary*,' and proceeded to do an impersonation of her friend (who was away and whose regular seat she was sitting in - the girl is known for flapping her hands when she talks).

Deadpan, I replied, 'Oh, I didn't recognise you for a second there,' and continued with the lesson.

Eventually the others realised we weren't in the computer room and turned up to the right class. We did some brainstorming on some topics they'd been working on for about a month (luckily the girl knew what topic Mary was doing and was able to get right on task with some good points).

Once she'd written about a page I was able to say, 'Wow - that's more work than Mary's actually done all term!' and her friends agreed.

Eventually we got onto some work that she wasn't able to do, at which point I suggested she leave, but to make sure she showed Mary her very useful brainstorm ideas.

She left happily.

2. And nobody likes plain crackers for lunch

I had a 500g massive container of cottage cheese in the fridge at work. It was not due to expire until September 23rd (the day of the wrestling trip and my brother's birthday).

I went to use it today and it had gone off with a rather rancid smell. I suspect sabotage.

I must consider who my enemies at work are....

3. Form Time

Form time today went something like this

Me: Nice shoes today. Where's the tie?

Me: Pink forms are due today - who's lost theirs and needs a new one?

Me: No eating. Cell phones away. Stop dancing.




*name changed for ethical reasons

On a Good Day

1. Pretty Stuff

The above photos are from 'He's Just Not that Into You'. It's up there with 'Love Actually' as a romance that I can watch more than once, possibly because it's got a fragmented narrative as well, but also because the characters have nice depth and the director leaves the viewer to fill in some gaps (I watched some commentary which made nice sense). This one's probably not quite as good, and maybe boys wouldn't like it as much either, but I'm looking forward to seeing the projects the screenwriters are working on at the moment.

For me the best moments probably involve Ben Afleck (when he's washing the dishes at the sink, it actually made me catch my breath, even the second time).
I liked the film, but really got it out on DVD just to look at the clothes and set dressing again. The interiors are yummy. I have mashed together some of the details I liked (Scarlett Johansen wore some gorgeous dresses as only she can, Jennifer Connelly had a great corporate wardrobe, the main chick had some great soft looks with puff sleeves and Jennifer Aniston's apartment was gorgeous and chic and arty).
2. Welly Welly Good

I think part of the survival skills for living in Wellington is having a short memory. A few days of spring weather and I'm already forgetting the miserably cold nights in uninsulated flats. I blame the 'You Can't Beat Wellington on a Good Day' campaign. Brain-washed.

Weirdly successful campaign, when you consider it was just a euphemistic look at how crap Wellington weather is most of the time. For a large percent of the year, the best word to describe our outlook is 'grey'. But geez, it really does make you appreciate those rare good days.

.... and Wellington is lovely today!

Today I put on shorts and jandals for the first time this season (leg-waxing was required) and last weekend we had a BBQ. Eating fish and salad for dinner has also put me in the spring mood, as has having daffodils in a vase.

I went with Cass for a walk along the Petone foreshore today. Glistening harbour view, dogs chasing sticks and shaking the sea-water out of their coats, gentle waves lapping up to a frightened puppy being coaxed into the water. The whole time Honey was panting and sending us obvious messages that said 'IwannaplayIwannaplaythrowmeastickIwannaplay'. It was all very still, other than the jetboat and dog-walkers, and unrushed.

I feel like wearing something bright green. Maybe with my new bird earrings. And walking through some tulips. And drinking a mojito in a garden bar.

I gave my banner a spring-make0ver. I was a bit sick of it looking like I was proud of having Dan Brown on my bookshelf (I'm really not).

3. Nana Night Media Reviews

It's funny watching an American cooking show that calls scones 'biscuits'. Buddy, you may be a fancy chef and you may cut them out with a fancy cookie-cutter, but at the end of the day they're just cheese scones.

If you ever watch the film 'Dot the I', do hang on until the ending. The first 3/4 is pretty average, but it all comes together nicely. Me and Carly both had moments that we'd independently thought were odd or badly done earlier on, and it turns out they were 'clues'.

I watched 'The Kiterunner' again last night. That Hassan kid melts your heart.

I Heart Basketball

I knew from the moment a kid at school (the star player on our basketball team) said, 'Hey Miss - that team you're playing tonight is the Wellington Under 17 rep team - I'm in it!' that tonight's game would be a whupping.

But it was still fun. Basketball rules. Netball is for weeners.

I have a weird feeling that I didn't miss any shots tonight - got four from four in. That's a tidy contribution (considering we got 24 points in total). And they were all good shots - two rolling to the basket on a cut, one off a lob when my defender was fronting me, and one that was a couple of dribbles penetration pull-up jumper (ok - that was one a fluke, banked in pretty hard).

Rant 104

Our netball grade is not quite the top one, which seems to mean that we have athletic players, but not necessarily ones who are used to playing netball. We have big, solid rugby league guys playing against us. They're quick and jumpy, but don't know how to go for a ball without nearly maiming people.

I know it's not particularly intentional, but at the end of our last few games all I can remember is a montage of me cowering against the net or sprawling/stumbling/bracing-myself as some big Poly guy shoulder-barges me from the side as I innocently try to catch a pass. I think they often match the female D with Brad back in the circle, and send the sprint-star rugby player guy out to mark me. Neat. I think Michelle handles it just fine, because she's zippy and cunning enough to get around him, but I'm too accepting of my glacial qualities to even try that.

So I just play for angles/space, which means they're always nearby and can't resist trying for an intercept, which (given I call purposely for the ball in a direction I can protect/hold) means a lot of times they come across my body and hit me from the side as I catch it. They're not often going to be able to get the ball cleanly from the angle they're coming from - but they keep on trying. And they're rugby players, so their version of 'trying' is a lot less controlled than an experienced netball player usually is. It's more a free-for-all tunnel-vision attack on the ball.

After getting hit a few times in tonight's game I said to the ref, 'Just watch they don't injure someone.' She said, 'I'm calling the contacts.' I said, 'I know - but it's getting pretty rough - I don't want to end up with a sprained ankle or anything from it.'

She started justifying herself, which I didn't intend - just wanted to signal that I was feeling a bit vulnerable from the heavy contacts. All power to anyone who can intercept the ball off me and in a way I don't mind that they go hard even against a girl, but this guy wasn't usually getting the ball - he was just getting me. And his buddy at centre had hip-checked me pretty solidly last time I'd tried to cut into the shooting circle. Bit of a human pin-ball machine.

It's just one of those things with non-netball players that refs should tell them off for more, so that they learn. They need to start using their judgement to decide when they're not going to be able to get the ball without hitting people, and pull out before that happens. It's the spirit of the game.

Social netball is not worth screwing up your back/ankles for. I have pretty decent control generally and don't get injured. I can take a hit and fall in a controlled way, but when I have 100kg blocks of muscle pounding into me most times I catch the ball in open play I do feel a little vulnerable. If there's a 50-50 ball and I see these guys barrelling in from across the court, to be honest, I'm just going to let them get it. It's not worth the risk.

And the guy got righteous at me. He said, 'Oh - come on. You know I'm faster than you - I got that ball.'

The fact he thought he needed to point out he was faster than me was almost flattering - he said it in a way that he expected me to put up a fight about it. Erm. He had just sent me sprawling, when I had my hands on the ball. His point was odd. Sure, I'd slightly Hollywooded my fall....

Then the ref tried to make out we were contacting each other evenly - 'Both teams are aggressive and physical - you were both contesting equally.' Huh? I wasn't contesting - I was merely putting out my hand to catch a ball. I wasn't silly enough to initiate any kind of contact with a guy who could accidentally knock me out with his elbow and not even notice.

And then in the second half a different guy crunched into me while going for a ball that I'd already caught and had me pinned on the ground underneath him, against the net. That one scraped both my knees and hurt my back. The ref even asked afterward if I was alright.

I was able to haughtily reply, 'That's what I was talking about!' as I got up grimacing (half-wishing I'd actually sprained my ankle and had to be carried off court just to prove my point). I'm not sure if my moment of righteousness was worth it though .... I'll see how the old back feels in the morning.

It's a bit grim to prophecise your own injuries.

* * *

I am looking forward to playing a bit of gentle basketball tomorrow.

Basketball generally is a safer kind of rough - your defender is right behind you, so while they may have a forearm in your back, they haven't got a full head of steam and it's generally not aerial contact until you're shooting it, at which point you're usually both going straight up, rather than being hit from the side.

The refs in basketball are generally pretty strong and wouldn't allow it to get dangerous, anyhow.

And except for some tank-like women from the Trentham Armybase team, there aren't a lot of women I'd be afraid to take on for a ball.

* * *

Post Script

I'm quite possibly grossly exaggerating - if I watched play-back of our game I'd probably cringe and say, 'Stop being a cry-baby, you lazy wussie! Harden up!'.

Just venting a little.

Teaching Rocks

Teaching Media and English means that I can slowly brainwash children and teach them stuff I like. I have, over the years, slowly introduced lots of my favourite things into my courses.

1. The Catcher in the Rye - this was fairly easy as it's one of our Year 12 texts, but also one of my favourites.

2. Education For Leisure (a dark poem by Carol Ann Duffy) - I started a trend there and many other teachers have since taught this little gem at my school. I forced it in there after accidentally coming across it while looking up ways to torture budgies. I used it in a Year 11 poetry unit on sociopathic narrators.

3. Amelie - I have used this for scene analysis in Media and as a film study in English. One of my favourite films which I waited a few years to legitimately squeeze in there - I saw in last year's moderator's report that it was working really well as a Year 12 film study and jumped in there.

4. Heart of the Game - A basketball doco that I showed my Media class as an alternative to the shallow representation of teenage girls we'd been studying. Love forcing kids to watch girls' basketball!

5. Pan's Labyrinth - I used this as my close reading text for Year 12 Media. Love forcing them to watch movies with subtitles! It's actually good for the ESOL kids in that they often can pick out words visually better than they can understand them when spoken with a strong accent.

6. Emoticon Poem - I have shown the Rives visual poem to my Year 12 class when we did love poetry as a unit - they loved it too. Nice example of a really modern take on a genre.

7. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas - We just bought copies of this as an extension book to go with a text we teach at Year 9. I am pushing it onto my kids - such a sweet, accessible book.

8. No Country for Old Men - I got to show this to my Media class as an example of a recent film with noir tones to it.

9. The Music Videos of Michel Gondry - Examples of a director's sense of personal style for a unit with my 13 Media class.

10. Wrestling - And now, I get an excuse to take my Media class to the filming of a wrestling show for TV. I have long had a fascination with live wrestling - the kids just like having an afternoon off and wearing mufti (and I have told a couple of them that this is the one time where they can use their obnoxiousness in an appropriate way).

Larry Baldock is not giving up.

He seems a little (lot) crazy, but he's like a real life Wile E Coyote, clawing his way up the cliff, having just held the ACME dynamite stick as the Roadrunner scooted off down the road.
But damnit, he's back with a new hair-brained scheme. And this time he's pretty confident he's worked out that pesky bird..... this time.... There may just be an anvil involved.

* * *
This is my one purchase from the big Wellington Book Fair. It is a book I already have a copy of (the revised edition). I got the original edition at the fair, with the more psychadelic cover (below).

This is a book my mother had. My copy has her signature in the front cover. It was, I assume, one of her teaching resources. I'm not sure, but someone I got hold of it in my formative years and it became my favourite.
It has lots of lovely poems. There are nonsensical and humorous ones - they were the ones that I liked as a teen. There are more philosophical or reflective ones - they are the ones I like now.

Anyhow, it has long been my very-special-book and I quite like that I now have two copies of it. It is the book I picture when I say 'I love poetry' more than any other, for as much emotional as practical reasons. It has yellowed pages that have been traced by my fingers and gorgeous words that I have wrapped around my tongue a savoured (you talk on tiptoe) (it is the scar on a beautiful young man's face).

I was lucky to have a mother who gave me poetry books written for children every birthday, with beautiful illustrations. As a teenager I had to raid her Roger McGough anthologies and it wasn't until a few years ago that I accidentally fell across Carol Ann Duffy and Simon Armitage.

Along the way I waded through the classics at university, none of which I'd pull out and read for pleasure (though I often think of the messages of some of Gerald Manly Hopkins's works). I have taken some pleasure in the visual elegance of ee cummings and the crispness of William Carlos Williams, and in the almost pop-music catchiness of Robert Frost.

But this book is the one that is familiar and fond - every page.

Cheating

Simple, free, a little addictive

Book Fair in Parts

1. The one time I think I'm the first one there (and on time) it turns out I was late. Janet runs a tight ship!

2. I got one book. I got Richard to be my book trafficker (little does he know that it had illegal substances taped inside it and he was duped into taking it through the check-out for me). I considered asking Mash, but he seemed too straight up to traffick for me.

3. I halved a pizza with Kirsten - the kind of pizza you can fold in half, New York styles.

4. I bought shoes a half size too small for me. But only $60 (down from $210). They might stretch. They are cream pumps with an almond toe and brown heel.

5. At Unity I found 'The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo', which has been recommended. We shall see - I turn my nose up at crime fiction generally.

Bitter Blue and Taking it to the Top

Friday night was my dad's big retirement do. It was held in council chambers and it was packed - 130 people, some of them standing. That was nice. And three present and past mayors were in attendance.
Dad was in charge of the district council's finances, essentially, for 30 years. He did the annual report and decided on what the rates would be (certainly not a job that lends itself to popularity - you can't please everyone). He was pretty much second in charge, after the CEO, for a lot of the time he was there.
Highlights included

• A waiata where they'd rewritten the Bob Dylan classic into 'Hey Mr Treasurer Man'. Dad is a massive Bob fan, so good choice.
• A scripted court case, with bailif, judge, prosector, defence lawyer, affidavits and a jury. Pretty funny - four charges were raised (inciting the strike of 1989, bowing and curtseying to the prince when he visisted, rarking up the nutter who writes letters to the paper every week criticising the council and.... something else). Nice play on our surname.
• Presents - a beautiful tokotoko carved especially (Dad uses a walking stick quite often anyhow, since his feet are both numb) - it has a man and woman (him and his wife) and two families intertwined underneath them (two lines that curve around the bottom of the stick). It feels just right when you hold it. A good nod to the fact that he's fairly well respected and known as being a bit of an orator (loves his speeches).

But the best of all....

• Uncle Peter and Aunty Ann had driven up from Wellington to be there. Now, this is a hullaballoo for the Wellington Judges. They only make the trip once or twice a year, and they always complain about the traffic. They all arrived a little late and immediately started moaning about Otaki and Paekakariki.... and said it took 'one and a half hours'! Erm...... it always takes me about that long.... an hour 20 if it's Sunday morning.... And they left at 5pm on a Friday night - they did bloody well to get there in under two hours!
• Anyhow, I digress. He told me about how Aunty Ann had stopped in Levin on the way through, a month ago. She'd taken Nana to Mr Bun's for lunch. She'd gone to put some money in the meter (40c an hour) and it had said ERROR. So she'd put some money in another meter. Now, turns out that in Levin each meter is for a particular bay of parks, and you have to pay for your number.... so paying on the wrong meter didn't work. She got sent a ticket.
• They were obviously indignant and outraged. Uncle Peter is quite hard-case, so once we were having drinks and nibbles, after all the speeches, he'd figured out which guy the mayor was. He went right up to him and started telling him the story of the parking fine. The mayor kinda played along (gets this kinda thing all the time, no doubt). He thought my uncle was kidding.
• But then he pulled the actual letter they got in the post out of his pocket - they had come prepared! He saw the CEO of the council walking by too, and pulled him into the conversation. It went on for quite some time - it turned into this good spirited debate.
• Meanwhile, the rest of the family were standing nearby, whispering to each other, 'Is he really showing the mayor his ticket? In the middle of nibbles? Nooooo!' But laughing. It was hilarious. His wife was mortified.
• Take it right to the top! It was his last chance to get this ticket sorted swiftly, while Dad was still on the pay-roll.

* * *
We had a good netball game tonight.

• Good in that it was high quality play and you had to earn your points
• Good in that we played ok and were leading for bits of the game
• Good in that the other team generally played in good spirit and were physical, but not dangerous

We had a bad netball game tonight.

• Bad in that we'd asked not to have a certain ref (our first request this season), but he was the very ref we got.
• He lets games get ridiculously physical, which is never going to suit us and frankly isn't that much fun. And we knew that's the way this game would head, if we didn't have a competent ref.
• Bad in that we were there before he'd even started the clock and the other team didn't arrived until 6 minutes left... and yet he refused to give us five bonus points because we didn't have five players on the court in the first minute.
• We were standing beside the court chatting, and three of our players were on the courting shooting around ... thinking it was going to be a typical Sunday-default game.
• There were little kids playing around on our court, so it didn't exactly look urgent that we got on. Grr. Most refs would, if they were going to be so 'by the book' about it, call out to you 'Get two more players on the court if you want your bonus points'. Not a hard thing to do.
• And bad in that we lost by two, on a shot at the buzzer. And did a few bad things ourselves (amongst the good).

A bit rubbish though. I'm of the opinion that you can't really blame the ref for losing - it's a pretty extreme case where the ref has that much impact. A good team can usually just play to the ref, even if they're rubbish.

But it makes me feel a little bitter if they're rubbish in a way that suits the style of one of the teams, but not the other. Like tonight, he let the other team get away with a lot of contact on and off the ball, and man-for-man they were probably stronger than us (but using tactics like holding shirts and pushing you as you went for the ball).

Once it was obvious he wasn't calling them for it, you'd think twice about going for a 50/50 catch where you knew a six-foot-tall-rugby-player of a guy was also flying in for it.

And he was not calling replays very strictly, which seemed to favour them as they often fumbled then recovered (they did a lot of bullet passes that were tricky to catch), whereas we generally catch it or totally mess it up (slower, softer passes). So there were lots of times you just assumed he was about to call something against the other team, so you'd pause for a second.... but play would continue.

That's frustrating - they're running a business and we're paying money for a quality service. I wouldn't complain about the reffing in a school game, where's it's volunteers and nobody's making money out of it.

End of vent.

Jon Key is gonna be on Letterman.

Now all of America, who already watch Flight of the Conchords, are going to think we really are like that. John is a little similar to Murray. Maybe if any of the dozen or so spokesperson Rhys Darby has going at the moment dry up he could try going into the impersonating business. I'd like to see that.

We will come off like yokels. I guess we'll be down-to-earth yokels. Part of the charm.

Wednesday

I've always liked Wednesdays.

Even the word Wednesday is nice.

Good TV night. I have started checking a blog called The Dim-Post. The guy who writes it reminds me of Sheldon from 'The Big Bang Theory', if he cared about politics.

Netball was good tonight. An angst-free victory for Morgan and me playing the D.

My week continues on, with more crossing off of time in the exam-hall and quiet shuffling in my flat shoes. I walk like a ninja ghost.
There was also a lively mock-debate on the topic of whether Michael Jackson deserves our sympathy (after the negating team saying, 'But Miss, we don't want to be mean to him!').

And today

1. Invalid - getting the red pen out

I am that lady at the front of the class in Peanuts cartoons saying 'Wah wah wah wah wah...'.

It was not a good start when the first girl I walked up to before the exam said, 'Miss! I didn't know we had to write about THREE texts! I only studied for TWO!' I replied, 'Good luck then!'

Hit head against wall.

Then someone wrote in their first sentence that Film Noir were made in the 1930s. During revision time I had MADE them write down 1942-1958 (or if you can't remember that, say 'the 1940s and early 1950s'). I had repeated it many many times. I had made them chant it back to me.

Hit head again.

And that Harry Lime does not die at the end of Third Man. His best friend freakin' shoots him. It's a pretty massive part of the ending.

Repeat.

I am marking in reverse order, from the people who left the exam first to the ones who stayed the whole time. It should get better.

I have an eight page epic to look forward to - and it's the girl in the class who has the smallest, hardest to decipher handwriting of them all ('boy writing' if you will).

2. Inept

I, being a lady of leisure this week, went for coffee after lunch today.

I asked the waitor for a latte and piece of ginger loaf. He mumbled for a few seconds then said, 'That was a flat white, was it?'. No. Then he said, 'Oh yeah. And a piece of banana cake?' No. 'Do you want sugar with that?' No.

When he brought it over to my table, there was a packet of sugar on the side of my saucer.

3. Inconeivable - it's not actually Star Wars

District 9 sold out, half an hour before it was due to start. Who knew?

So we went to Sunshine Cleaning instead. I liked it. I may have been alone in that.

It had nice character development and a plucky lead. And a man with one arm. And they never explained how he lost it. There were lots of unexplained story details and sub-plots that were never resolved. I like that.

Life is full of unexplained one-armed men.

... and it had Big Words and no pictures!

I shall pause from demonising our fair country's 'leader'.

* * *

I finished reading my book ['book' being pronounced the way Strongbad would say it, to rhyme with 'nuke'].

I feel like I deserve a gold star or a certificate or something. I read it in one weekend! I really am a sporadic reader. Conditions need to be just right. If they are, I will read a book in a few days. If not, it will take me a year, or I might give up in the interim.

It was good. Not all that much happens, so not one for people who like epics or thrillers, maybe. It addresses some nice human issues of class and culture (and whether they are necessarily the same thing).

Bits of it were like trying to wade through Sophie's World, which I haven't managed to do yet. Other bits went by quite nicely.

Title: The Elegance of the Hedgehog
Author: Muriel Barbery
Country: France

What I liked

• It had a lovely soft cover with a matte finish and a built-in jacket you could tuck around your pages instead of using a bookmark


• There were two narrators - each one was shown in a different font (Times Roman type font for the older lady, Calibri font for the 12 year old - Calibri is the new and superior Arial) - I like it when books use font choice as part of the narrative. Why ignore visual language?


• Both narrators were grammar snobs


• There was a cocker-spaniel in the story (my childhood dog was a cocker-spaniel)


• All of the civilised characters drink tea as a ritual


• Both narrators like reading and watching movies (so do I)


• The ending is somewhat unexpected (the last few pages) - sudden, at the very least


• This quote: 'Tea and mangas instead of coffee and newspapers: something elegant and enchanting, instead of adult power struggles and their sad aggressiveness'


• 'Pschitt' - the onomatopoeic word the narrator uses to describe her mother spraying her pot-plants (it comes up several times as a metaphor for her child-rearing strategies)


• Short chapters


• The use of these words/phrases: dissonance, plebeian effluvia, clandestine, malaise, anesthetize, ephemeral, phantasms, Machiavellian, sanctimonious, esthetic, autodidacts, imbued

Things I didn't Like

• The chapters that were only about philosophical stuff


• The convenience of the make-over (maybe it was supposed to be Cinderella-ish)


• The inaccuracies in how the narrator described a fictional All Black player who leads the haka: 'Somu, the formidable New Zealand fullback - what an impressive player, with a colossal build; six foot eight, and two hundred and sixty pounds, runs a hundred meters in eleven seconds, a fine specimen indeed....' No doubt supposed to be Lomu, but even taller, playing an unlikely position for someone of that size and someone with a Tongan/Samoan name leading the the haka? I guess it happens....

* * *
And I'm happy that natural order is restored by Miss Venezuala winning Miss Universe!
* * *
And I was re-reading some old entries I didn't quite publish on my blog and found this t-shirt site for grammar snobs. Bliss!

Ditto.

The other teacher-blogs mention being busy. I agree.

• Reports to write (oops, I will not meet my first deadline - too bad).


• Open Evening stuff to do.


• Being in charge of two classes' programmes is taxing on me. Lots of tweaking and preparation to do.


• Marking marking marking. Not that I do it very often - but it's hanging over my head very ominously.


• My form class are being **** to all their teachers. All kinds of 'situations' to get on top of there. One of the good girls told me that it took one teacher half an hour to do the roll because they just wouldn't shut up and he kept insisting on quiet. Poor guy! He's a PRT. My girls need a firm hand. They have no self-discipline.


• Running tutorials and catch-ups during lunchtimes.

Might try and go to quiz on Thursday though. Any takers?

That will do.

More blogging in the weekend. Weekdays too busy.

I have always wanted a mobily scooter anyhow.

OLD AGE STORY #1

I drove two girls from my basketball team home tonight after the game. I guess they're both in their early or mid 20s somewhere.

One of the girls said she was going out tonight, once she got home. The other girls was all, 'Goodness - students eh.'

To which she replied, 'Yeah - we honestly are having to force ourselves to do it, though. We don't usually go out. We all actually like staying home and reading books like a bunch of nanas.'

[Note that at this point in the conversation I was thinking 'I can relate, girlfriend']

'... But we're going to make ourselves go out. We honestly act like we're 30 or something, instead of 21, like we actually are.'

If you did not see the cringe bit for me, rewind.

'.... like a bunch of nanas...... like we're 30 or something.....'

And she wasn't being funny, purposely exaggerating the age nana-ish behaviour should start at. She was being quite serious.

I sat in my seat and quietly drove on. Me being 31 and all. And, by her logic, at the age of being a nana.

Oh to be young again and see 30 as some far-off age.

I will pretend, to make myself feel better, that she naturally assumed by my spritely demenor and youthful looks that I myself am closer to 21 than 30. She obviously sees me as a peer and didn't even think that her nana comment would cut close to my bone.

Yeah.... I'll take it as a compliment.....

OLD AGE STORY #2

At dinner, Kyle was talking about some young 18 year old who he works with at the bar. We jokingly said, 'Geez - that's a bit young even for you!' He said that he had figured out he was actually older than her and her twin added together. That's over 36 years old (for those a little slow on the mathematics).

We had a, 'Whoa! When you put it like that you're really old!' moment and laughed at him.

He then said, 'You know you're old when you have to start hoping your colleagues have hot single mums.'
* * *
HOLY COW - NOT ONLY DO PEOPLE THINK I'M A NANA, BUT THEY ALSO THINK I'M AN UBER-GEEK!
You may remember my blog a few months ago about the video-shop-nerd bonding with me over sci-fi films and sharing a binary number joke with me.
I just found the website that has the binary joke t-shirt he was referring to.
And how did I find this site, you ask?
It is a site that SVEND linked to! The video-shop-nerd assumes I'm hard-core :) I would only dare to dream of being in the sphere of nerdiness that Svend inhabits and to be checking out his sites of nerd-products on a regular basis.
It's almost a compliment how hard-core-sci-fi-nerdy he assumed I was capable of being. I could be his elf-princess or something. Next time he role-plays.
I'm just kidding (by the way). In case the internet does not sufficiently communicate my tone. I love nerds. I love Svend. I am a nerd. But I refuse to wear nerdy tshirts with maths jokes on them. Those are purely for the hard-core nerdy lamo maths teachers. I was rejected from their sect years ago and still hold a grudge.... Tshirts with jokes about grammar, on the other hand, are witty and cool.

CLUES

1 - Something in that picture no longer exists. It's not the mug.

2 - My, what long and elegant fingers you have, my precious.

3 - Are those cufflinks you are wearing, Mr Fancy Pants?

4 - About to give a speech - do your best.

5- The Hair.

6 - Who would hold a chocolate penis up in public?

7 - Hmm. You couldn't play the guitar with those hands but you could kill 1,000 flies.

8 - It's hand, not han.

9 - I'll get you a watch just like that for $5 next time I'm in Thailand. Or buy you one on Trade-Me. Bargain!

10 - A rather defensive pose.

11 - My fair lady.

12- My hand is up! Pick me!

13 - So elegant, they're almost feminine.

14 - Holy chop-sticks, Batman!

15 - I estimate there's a t-shirt and jeans hidden under the suit.

16 - A brazen pose.

17 - What's in his hand? Oh - the usual.

18 - Tennis today, eh? Ok - as long as it's not too late.

19 - A flattering angle.

20 - What's that perched on her finger?

ART STUFF

Two Drunken Lushes
Taking Photos of themselves at the bus-stop before going into town (while Ange sings 'Slip Slidin' Away' for some odd reason....)

* * *

I went with Pete the Painter (the guy in our sleepout this summer) to hang his work at Deluxe Cafe last night. If you are there in the next two weeks, check it out!

A couple 0f people were looking at them while he was hanging it up, and they must've seen that I was chatting to him. So they asked me if they were for sale - and I said, 'Yes - for the next two weeks'. I felt like his manager or something. His representative. He was just humbly hanging them up, trying to get them straight and not stand in anyone's coffee while climbing up on chairs and scaling the walls.

I got an iced coffee and boysenberry muffin with oodles of raspberry icing and read some gig guides. I didn't realise there were outdoor movies showing up at the Veladrome in Hataitai. Cool! Apparently they cost the same as a night out at Reading's though.

Personal favourites of Pete's work include the Fidel's one and the Mt Vic tunnel one.

* * *

The sky is blue. I am going to finish reading my book. It's a great book. I borrowed it off Ange. After I finish it I'm gonna read the one I borrowed off Sam. Then there's the one I borrowed off Kirsten......

The Ange book is about a boy named Herman and it's Swedish. Herman is losing his hair, so he has started wearing his rain-hat everywhere. His dad drives a crane and can see America from up there in the sky.

* * *

The cat from next is still popping in and looking for the Englishmen. We are going to continue their long-term plan of catnapping the cat and making it ours.... Don't tell the neighbours.....

* * *

I have to give Fishy something tonight at netball. I hope I don't forget! It's another part of her house-warming present that I came across at the Iko Iko sale. Appropriately themed.