Tag Archives: education

Your dead!


No. That wasn’t a typo in the title.

A photograph popped up on Facebook and it made me howl with laughter – mostly because I’m a total nerd.

Here’s the very picture:

Source: http://www.teamjimmyjoe.com/2013/01/bad-tattoos-13/#.VIRVBN64Qzk
Source: http://www.teamjimmyjoe.com/2013/01/bad-tattoos-13/#.VIRVBN64Qzk

Now that I’ve wiped the tears from my face I can tell you about the time when I went into our local sandwich emporium, or as they call it round here, the butty shop.

There was a sign on the counter announcing the fact that they were selling Pie’s.

Well, being the nerd that I am it was too good a gift to turn down. When it was my turn to be served I asked nonchalantly as I pointed to the sign;

“So. Who’s Pie? What is it of his that you’re selling and does he even know you’re selling his stuff?

Blank looks all round. The words ‘lead’ and ‘balloon’ spring to mind and that amused me even more.

Kept me tittering like schoolboy all day, that did. I am so easily amused.

Having said that, while I make fun of spelling and grammar mistakes, I am genuinely appalled by the standard of education in this country. It seems that not being able to spell or put a simple sentence together is the norm these days. The standard of the graffiti these days is dreadful!

Bearing in mind that my education was severely disjointed, I attended nine different primary schools, two secondary schools and missed  almost two whole years of schooling entirely due to truancy ( I’m not proud of that by the way) by all of the yardsticks that they use to measure likely academic success or failure I should be totally illiterate.

The fact that I’m not illiterate in spite of my disjointed education but so many of our children these days are teetering on the brink of it tells me that there is something seriously wrong with our education system.

Wow. Where did all that come from? I was only going to post a funny picture of a mis-spelled tattoo.

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The Enormous Crap


I imagine after a title like that, (well done for progressing past the title if you’re still here),  you’re starting to read this with a certain amount of trepidation about what’s to follow.

Well, fear not, dear reader, it’s not as bad as you might be thinking.

As you know, Munki has been at ‘big’ school now for some months and has taken to it like a duck to water.  If ever a child needed to go to school it was that one . The structure , the discipline and  the mountain of knowledge just waiting to be uncovered have made this an exciting time for her. It turns out that the child is a bit of a mathematical genius and can’t wait to get home from school to log on to  ‘Mathletics’ on her computer and earn herself a few hundred more points. Long may that continue!

Somehow, the teachers took a long time to notice that she is also a very good reader, mostly down to the fact that Lashes has read to and with her almost every day since she was born.  Day after day Munki has been  coming home from school with books  that had a  single word on a page and complaining, “They’re BORING!”  They aren’t  even the beginning of a challenge to Munki who’s reading age is far above her years.

Lashes continued to quietly read to and with Munki on a daily basis, from books far in advance of the ones coming home from school and eventually they realised at school that they might actually be holding Munki back a bit and so now they give her books from the junior readers.  They have at least four words on a page. Still no kind of a challenge but a move in the right direction.

In their defence I imaging they are trying to establish that she is actually understanding  what she’s reading before giving her works of literary genius to have a go at.

One day last week, Munki came home with another book from school.  Lashes duly read it through with Munki, it was an engaging little story about an enormous crab. After the story was finished Lashes picked up the reading record book to sign and therefore prove that Munki had done her homework.  Imagine her surprise when she read what the teacher had written earlier in the day when she wrote the title of the book:

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Lashes, didn’t know if she should laugh, cry, complain or ignore it.  In the end she decided to laugh and then have a word with the teacher about it. Me, I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Yesterday I spent some time with Dangerous and Batty. We went for a lovely walk through the woods and had a fantastic time climbing over all the trees that had blown down in our recent storms. Of course Douggie the doggie came along as well. Why can’t I just have a nice little dog who doesn’t like to get dirty? I think it’s fair to say he enjoyed his walk. here are  the before, during and after photos.

Copyright

Copyright

Copyright

Copyright

To be honest, if you’d  have taken a picture of me after that walk I’d have looked a bit like that last picture as well.

Word camp sheffield anyone going?

You stink!


Not you, dear reader. The dog. We’ve just been for a lovely long walk in the pouring rain and as we all know, wet, muddy dogs really STINK!!!!

It’s quite taking my mind off what I’m doing. Normally I’d take her home to stink her own house out but as it’s doggy boot camp night I’ll be keeping her here till after her lesson. Excuse me while I get a peg for my nose.

Aaahh, das bedder!

Loads to tell you, so much I don;t know where to begin so I’ll pick a spot in the middle (ha! pick a spot!) and work out from there.

Me and E were out the other day, chatting away as normal and it suddenly struck me that she speaks using the same speech pitch, key and intonation as chinese people. So funny to listen to and of course the more I laugh the more she does it. Aaah so.

Talking of aah so or ‘arse ‘oles’ me and B were watching a new tv programme, ‘Embarrassing Bodies’. Oh dear Lord, why would anyone go on a programme like that, are they so desperate for their fifteen minutes of fame that they are prepared to expose their warty, fungus ridden bits on national tv?

Apparently, yes.

One woman was having trouble ‘down there’, “lets take a look then” said the over jovial and rather good looking male medic. Next thing you know, this woman’s upturned fanny is larger than life on my tv screen!! WHAAAAATT!!!

It put me right off my liver and onions, I can tell you.

So, there it was in all it’s glory this huge, poorly fanny. For the benefit of our American friends, in the UK ‘fanny’ means va – gi – na not backside, as it does in your part of the world.

Why, did they show that?

Why did we have to see that?

Could they not have screened off the ‘bits’ so we got the gist of what was going on?

Why did she not just go to her own GP and say that the treatment she was getting wasn’t working rather than go on national tv?

Most importantly, how is she ever going to look her butcher in the eye again having bared her manky fanny for the whole world to see to see?

Finally, why was I still watching?

Moving on:

Driving home yesterday I realised that we could host our own winter olympics in the metropolis of Cranberry Bottoms. The track down to our house looked amazingly like a bobsleigh run, all the snow had turned to ice. I could have just set the car off rolling down the track, stamped on the brake and just jettisoned it down the track, the bend at the bottom of the hill might have been tricky but the rest would have been fun.

***

You know sometimes you get on a proper downer. The whole world seems to be conspiring against you and no matter how hard you try things are just tough. Well, I had one of those days the other day. Driving along feeling sorry for myself, business is way down this year. (Thanks, recession!!), I can’t get a teaching job for love nor money. I felt like I was on the verge of unemployed and unemployable.

So tell me again. Why exactly did I spend six sodding years at college getting an ‘eddykayshun’? Was that not meant to be the magic formula for a perfect life?

I’ll tell you why.

Because to people like me, from working class backgrounds where education wasn’t valued highly, those who went to university (posh folk) got on in life. A degree seemed to us to be the unattainable key to success.

Aside: { It reminds me of when B and me were in Florida a few years ago. We made a three hour round trip to go to a spiritualist church in a ‘psychic village’. It was bitterly disappointing. The so called ‘medium’ started at the front row and gave what is laughingly called a message to everyone in the church. The ‘message’ in 99% of cases amounted to: “Do you have a degree?” You need to get a degree.”

B and me were of course, being English and shy, sat on the back row. We worked out it would be another hour before the ‘medium’ got to us, so we left because we had a pretty good idea what the message was going to be.} I would have put all that in different colour font but I haven’t worked out how yet!)

So, why did I get my degree and PGCE?

I did it all because I didn’t want to be feckless. I want to have feck – and lots of it!

However, I’ve discovered that it’s hard work, determination and tenacity in conjunction with a good education that makes people successful. I’m not saying my education was wasted time, I loved my time in college and it has stood me in good stead. I’m saying it can’t relied on to open doors on its’ own. You have to open them yourself. Now get out there and kick arse!!!

That little rant was me kicking my own arse.

You’ll be glad to know my despair was shorted lived and I found some feck!

***

Driving to Preston to pick B up from the station after his trip to London to see a couple of clients, I was listening to our local radio station, 107 THe Bee.

‘God, there isn’t half some crap on evening radio’, I thought, as I listened to a Cleo Lane type, boopedy boopedy boopboop bippedy boppedy boo jazz tune ( I hate jazz).

Switching to Radio 1 and Radio 2 I discovered they were no better, so back to local radio it was. Actually, the music perked up tremendously, I really enjoyed a few blasts from the past. Now if only they could get the presenters to stop speaking such slovenly English. A regional accent is one thing but please try to pronounce at least an occasional ‘T’.