Something to read that's not a book

Oh my days.

I got a parcel in the post yesterday from my Mum. She had hinted to me that there was a wee treat winging it's way to Wales from the US. Her clue was It is something to read that's not a book.

What could it be? She also said that in no uncertain terms that I would love it.

She was right. I opened it on my way to work and laughed out loud the whole way to the shop. Not just a titter, but a loud guffaw like this:

Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Admittedly, several people stopped and stared and looked upon me most curiously, but I could not stop myself.

So what was it, you ask? Oh best beloved it was this:

Do I love Doctor Who? Hells yeah. Do I love Mad Libs? A resounding HELLS YEAH!

I had not thought about Mad Libs for years--decades even. They were a huge staple of my childhood. Do you remember Scholastic? If you grew up in the States then you probably got a leaflet full of enticing, reasonably priced books sent home from school on a Friday and if you were lucky you got to bring it back on Monday with some money and order some books. Then came the delicious anticipation of waiting two weeks until the Scholastic box arrived in your classroom and you waiting impatiently for your teacher to find a moment to sort the right books to the right person. Would they manage it by the end of the day or would you have to agonisingly wait the whole night before your new books were put into your hot sweaty hands the following day? They never would give you the new books first thing as they (rightly) knew little sods like me would be sneaking a peek under their desk rather than paying attention to the lesson at hand. You had to wait until right before the bell. It was exquisite agony!

I was always blessed. My parents always, without fail let me order books from the leaflet of dreams any time it was ever sent home. I still have a few books that I ordered as a child such as my copy of Clifford the Big Red Dog which includes my name in a childish pencil scrawl.

When I was teaching in Louisiana we got several leaflets from Scholastic and various other companies which I dutifully sorted out all the $1 books and photocopied them onto one page so my kids could choose good quality books at affordable prices and not be tempted into sadness by books they could not afford. They could pay in instalments if needed. A few pennies here and there, a quarter every once in a while and soon they had the money. I also paid the difference if they were a few pennies short of their goal as I know the value of having books to read that belong to you.

But I digress.

Mad Libs. I ordered one every single time Scholastic had them in the leaflet. Every. Single.Time. I found them hysterical. I loved the randomness of the way they came out--sometimes silly, sometimes hilarious, sometimes dumb, sometimes weird.

I had special, favourite ways of doing certain clues.

A liquid was always pee or nitro glycerine (because bodily functions and blowing stuff up is funny) and a female's name was always Farrah Fawcett (because I was obsessed with Charlie's Angels. C'mon--it was the 70's) and a male's name was always Shaun Cassidy(because I was in lurve with him. Again--it was the 70's--although a few years later I decorated his album cover with a green marker giving him green measles and snot because I was showing my distain for him and all he stood for!) A number when I was alone was always a google because my dad told me it was the biggest number--a 1 followed by 100 zeros. We used to say to each other I love you a google. Other less educated friends used to say I was making it up so I just used to say a billion or a trillion when playing with others to avoid being beat up.

Now, as an educator, I can really see that they are sneakily educational. I mean--you have to know the parts of speech to fill one out properly.

If after all my rhapsodising you are thinking--what in the world is she talking about--then I will explain. Basically, they take a mundane passage and leave out words. you randomly fill in the missing parts of speech (no peeking!) and read it out and pee your pants laughing.

So you might get something like this:
One of the Doctor's oldest foes are the depraved jaguars known as the Daleks. The Doctor has chased these terrible and curly creatures from the North Pole to Wales.

This Doctor Who themed one is particularly funny with titles like The Ood One Out (geddit?) and Judoon Platoon.

Thanks Mum! This has made me relive my childhood--all the best bits--not the being beaten up by people who couldn't understand my genius bits.

Now all I need is a blue raspberry slushie while I do my Mad Libs and I am transported back to the days of my childhood.

Who needs a TARDIS when you have these?  

  

Llyfrgell dydd Llun

Which basically means--Library Monday, but doesn't sound nearly as nice in English as it is not alliterative like it is in Welsh.

I am a big fan of the public library.  I will admit that when we lived in Louisiana I did not use it as much as i should have. I mean, you had get in the car and drive there which was a right pain in the arse.  Though there were closer branches, i preferred the Main Branch downtown, but it was far away and involved navigating those weird one way streets of downtown Alexandria. 

Not fun.

So in the summers when I worked for the public library, i used it a lot. In the years where Spiderman worked for the public library, i used it a lot, too.

But since we have moved to the UK it has become my lifeline. Literally. Now that we live car-free and walk everywhere I got to the library several times a week. Not only to get books but also too read the newspaper and use the computers for lesson planning and printing. I love it there and everyone on the staff knows me  by name.

it's a bit like the bar in Cheers except without the alcohol. 

I am always interested in what other people are reading. When i talk to children it tends to be the first question that I ask. Every day at my old school in England I had at least half a dozen children come to me voluntarily before school, on the playground etc to tell me all about the book they were reading. many children kindly said, "I can let you borrow the book when i finish it, Miss."  

Good times. 

Even now, on Wednesdays when i tutor H *always* bring me his latest book to share. 

It warms my heart.

I am an eclectic reader. i like fiction and nonfiction, cookbooks and craft books. Science and religion books as well good old fashioned who-done-it mysteries. I thought it would be fun to see what I checked out this week:

I was intrigued by the book called The Carmarthen Underground because that is where we live. I finished this book last night. it was alright--not brilliant by any means, but a fun romp about a secret undercover intelligence agency right here in our town with lots of familiar landmarks (The entrance to the headquarters was next to the (now defunct)  Wimpy Burger and one character lived on Little Water Street) plus it was peppered with Welsh--lots of "Sut mae'r mynd? (how's it going?) and the affectionate tag bach meaning little one used in speaking. Our friend Arwen says that all the time to me,  hello bach, come give me a cwtsh. Which basically means--Come here darlin' and give me a hug. 

I just started on the book A is for Arsenic. it is a fascinating book about all poisons used in Agatha Christie books  What the poison is, it's chemical make-up, how and when and by whom it was discovered, what the effects are, how it features in her stories, other stories where the poison features and any real murder cases where it was used. Fascinating stuff!

Spiderman was a bit worried when i brought it home as I do all the cooking thinking I might be trying to poison him to get all his money and then we had a laugh because he has no money! 

The other books I am not ready to start yet. One is a Mitch Albom book--I have liked everything i have ever read by him. I highly recommend Tuesdays With Morrie and The Five People You Meet in heaven. 

The other is an autobiography in pictures by author and illustrator Michael Foreman.

What are you reading?

A Very Special Birthday

Hello peeps! it has been a long time since I wrote on the blog. I could use some lame excuse, but I know you won't fall for it.  Basically, I have been busy and lazy.

But today is my 46th birthday and though I have been super busy, i wanted to take a moment to say what I am grateful for.

What started out as a joke has turned into reality--I am having a week long birthday celebration.

Last weekend, our dear friend Karen came to visit us from Newcastle. Although she lives in New York, she and her family often visit the UK and so we have seen them many times, but this year she is living and working in Newcastle on a Leverhulme fellowship. She kindly spent eight hours on a train to spend a weekend with us. It is always such a joy to spend time with her. I had a 24 bug for the first day and spent most of Saturday lying on the floor because sitting up made me dizzy, but by Sunday I was right as rain and we had a lovely nearly seven mile walk together through town.

from abitofthegoodstuff.com

Yesterday we met with 12 vegan friends and had Christmas lunch at the local cafe. It was good food, good friends and good fun. I am so thankful we have managed to form such deep friendships in such a short time.

When we got home there was a hilarious message on our ansaphone of my mum pretending to be my Aunt Icy. For those of you not in the family, Aunt Icy used to phone you up and sing Happy Birthday in a slow, melodramatic, operatic voice.  The message cracked me up because it was an uncanny likeness and it was a day early which is a testament to my grandmother on my other side. Every year she would phone me on the 10th and say, "I cannot recall whether your birthday is the 10th or the 12th so i am phoning today." In reality--it was neither. it is the 11th. But try and tell her that and she would turn up her hearing aide and pretend she could not hear you.

Today (my actual-smactual birthday) was spent with those munchkins that I tutor. I adore these funny vegan kids and love being their home-education teacher once a week. I was gifted with lots of beautiful homemade gifts.

They were all handmade including the wrapping although M asked me if she could keep some of the wrapping because she wanted to reuse the sparkly paper.

Here they are together. Sorry for the accidental selfie--i can see myself reflected in the glass.

Here are the gifts from M aged 7--a bracelet that she made me and a little angel made from a clothes peg. Also a lovely card with lots of flowers and fairy cakes sellotaped on.

Here is the gift from H aged 9--a haiku poem written on the back of a cereal box (because he couldn't find any paper) and put into a frame. Please excuse the accidental selfie reflected in the glass.

If you can't read it it says:
Now it's your birthday
the best teacher in the world
Heather, that is you!

These gifts have won my heart. Who doesn't love homemade gifts?

So today was our home education Christmas party. We made some Snowman Snacks. 

Snowman Snacks
You need:
2 rice cakes
vegan cream cheese
raisins
a bit of carrot
some fruit leather like Yo Yo bears

1. Spread the rice cakes with cream cheese.
2. Use raisins for the eyes and buttons. We also used raisins to make a smile.
3. Use a bit of carrot for the nose.
4. Cut some fruit leather to make a scarf.
Eat and enjoy!


They were easy enough to make that their little brother A was able to join in and help.  Then A went to play downstairs and we made some ornaments.

it basically involved sewing on a button and then sewing around the edges and stuffing with fibrefill. They came out really cute and the kids were really proud. M sews a lot but H had never done so.. He sometimes has very specific gender roles in his head (don't know where he gets it--not from home) and i think sometimes *wants* to do certain things but if they are perceived by society as *girl* things he is not too sure. I said sewing was for everyone and sewing on buttons is a lifeskill. By the end he was really enjoying himself and muttering, "Sewing is for everyone. Anyone can do sewing."

We had a brilliant time. Tonight when Spiderman came home from work he brought me a pressie. I wasn't expecting a gift and he wasn't planning to buy me a gift, but he saw it in the window of a wee Five and Dime shop in Lampeter. He knew I would love it.

OMG! A spirograph! It's the 70's all over again!!!!! Back to my childhood!!!! There was also a badge which reads it's my birthday which I refuse to take off. 

 Tomorrow we will decorate the tree, make leek and potato soup and watch the Muppet's Christmas Carol.  Sunday we will go to see the pantomime of Sleeping Beauty and then out for a Chinese meal at our friend Soong's restaurant.

A big festival of me! With friends, food and fun. What more could a person ask for?

How do you measure a year?

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments, so dear
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets
In midnights, in cups of coffee
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, a year in the life?

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.
--from Seasons of Love by Jonathan Larson from the musical Rent.

Well, my friends. It has been a year since we left England and moved to Cymru. Can you believe it? It has been a rollercoaster of a year with many ups and downs. Many things did not turn out the way we had planned and many things are better than our wildest dreams.

I am still not permanently employed, after a year of searching and applying for all sorts of jobs. Interviews--oh I've had 'em. Feedback? Well it was awesome. Aparently I am passionate and fascinating--just not what they were looking for.  For a while (a rather long while) this was incredibly hard. I was homesick. We were worried about money. I had nothing to do with my time. The winter was cold and we were trying to save on heating bills. I was home alone, cold and bored, frustrated and angry, sad and confused. It was only when i realised that I needed to stop fighting and give in that I began to relax. Maybe what was required of me was rest.  Maybe what was required of me was faith. Maybe what was required of me was trust in the belief that it would all be ok.

Then things started to get better.

My friend Priya who owns a two clothing boutiques in town needed some part time help. It wasn't regular, but it was work. I found that I really enjoyed it and it felt good to have something to do again. But not too much to do.

Then recently some friends asked me if I would be willing to tutor their two children as they were taking them out of mainstream school and were planning to homeschool them. Their children are (nearly) 7 and (almost) 9 and for one day a week i will go to their house from 10:00-2:00 and teach them literacy and maths. It is another part time paid job doing something I like and may lead to other opportunities. Or it may not.

And I am cool with that. Because this year has taught me that I don't need as much money as I thought to make me happy. We need a food and shelter and i need to be able to buy some craft supplies here and there and maybe a day out every once in a while, but mostly what I need to make me happy is friends. 

This was the part of my life that I was the most concerned with. I make friends really slowly. We lived in England for 11 years and took me most of that time to go from being a friendly aquaintence with people to a "Come over for dinner or let's go somewhere together"  sort of thing. It was only in the last few years of out time in England where i felt a sense of belonging and feeling like I was forging real, deep friendships. I had become very active in our local Quaker Meeting and had finally begun to find the sort of friendship I had dreamed of and now we were moving away. How was I going to cope far away with no friends and no job and nothing to do with my time?

This is where our lives have become more than I could have ever imagined. On our second week here we met Kathryn and Peter who were running a vegan information stall in town. They were so friendly and welcoming and the following Saturday we were at the Waverly cafe meeting other vegans, eating delicious food and chatting like we'd known each other forever. Straightaway we were invited to go on some day trips with the offer of a lift from Priya and we spent the day in the great outdoors hiking and picnicking--first to Caldey Island and then to Llansteffan where we picnicked in the shadows of a ruined castle by the sea.

The rest is history. Nearly every weekend we have something fun to do with friends. Outdoors if the good weather and indoors when the weather is too wet. We eat, drink, laugh and talk about serious subjects. We sing and dance and run a vegan outreach with free food 4 times a year. We discuss deep subjects like spirituality and then make corny jokes and groan.  We spread the vegan message by being healthy, happy people.

Last week a big group of us hiked from Stepaside to Saundersfoot.  You walk in the green of the woods then through some old rail tunnels that were dark and scary out to the glorious view of the sea.

It's a good life.

We are happy living here. We may not have what we expected to have but we have everything we could wish for.

We have each other and we have love.

Dau ddeg tri

Dau ddeg tri. Twenty three. Literally two-ten-three in Cymraeg.


That is how long the Amazing Spiderman and I have been married.


Friday was our 23rd anniversary so what did we do to celebrate?


Sat our welsh exam, of course! We have just finished 30 weeks of Cwrs Mynediad (entry level course) in Welsh, going faithfully to the college for three hours every Monday night and then working at home in our spare time on the homework for the next week. We covered two chapters a week and now are on our way to learning a new language. Bendigedig! (brilliant!)


Welsh (or Cymraeg as it is known) is a bit of a tricky language. Things mutate. Like zombies with a chesty cough, Cymraeg involves mutations and lots of guttural ch sounds like you are coughing up phlegm.  But we are getting there!


It is amazing after only deg mis (ten months) of living here how much we know and understand. The exam consisted of four parts--Reading, Writing, Listening and Speaking.


The Reading portion had you read a series of adverts for things like concerts, classes and school fairs and then answer questions about them e.g. when does the concert begin? What is the class teaching you? Who will be teaching the class?  How much does it cost to get into the school fair? Then you had to read a dialogue between two people and answer questions e.g. How did they each get to work that day? What did they each do Saturday night? Where are they going tomorrow? Then you had to read a series of sentences and fill in the blank with the missing word. It was usually a grammar thing like subject/verb agreement or conjugate the verb in the past tense or write the word with it's mutation. like the word car meaning....duh! car, if you want to say my car  the word my causes a nasal mutation making car turn into fy nghar. That's right. The C turned into NGH.


Then the Writing portion where you had to write a postcard using five words such as beach, last night, tomorrow, rainy, hotel.  You didn't know what the words would be until the test. We were surprised with the words the sea and busy which we had ever encountered on past papers before, but we coped. I forgot to mutate the word for busy as I was trying to work out how to use it in a sentence but that will only lose me a half point.  Here is a sample writing using those words.




Annwyl ffrindiau,
Wel, dyma ni yn Sbaen. Wedi cyrraedd yn saff Dydd Sul. Mae'r gwesty yn fawr ac ar bwys i'r traeth. Roedd hi'n bwrw glaw ddoe ond mae hi'n heuog heddiw. Neithiwr, bwyton ni cawl a bara ac yvon ni win coch. Mae'r  gwin coch yn fendigedig! Yfory dyn ni'n mynd i'r traeth yn a bore a dyn ni'n mynd i'r cyngerdd yn y nos. Bydd hi'n heulog, gobeithio.  Gwela i chi wythnos nesa.
Heather


That translates to:
Dear friends,
well, here we are in Spain. We arrived safely on Sunday. The hotel is big and near the beach. It rained yesterday but today it is sunny. Last night we ate soup and bread and drank red wine. The wine was brilliant! Tomorrow we are going to the beach in the morning and a concert in the evening. I hope the weather will be sunny. See you next week.
Heather


It's not Shakespeare, but I can write it with ease and play around with the words.


The other bit is the writing test was writing in the third person from a picture prompt. So you wrote things like Nyrs yw hi (She is a nurse) and Aeth hi i'r sinema neithiwr. (she went to the cinema last night) Easy peasy.


Then the Listening test. You had to listen to a radio announcement about a variety of activities and write what time they started the price it cost to attend the activity. Then you had to listen to a dialogue and answer questions. The answers were multiple choice and had a picture clue for each one. A cool bit of trivia: English numbers their multiple choice as  A, B, C, D but Cymraeg numbers theirs as A, B, C, CH. Because that is the order of the letters in the alphabet. And yes, before you ask, CH is ONE letter. Then we had to listen to a weather bulletin and listen for what the weather was yesterday, today, tomorrow and next week.


Then it was lunch time.  Hoorah! We ate, stretched our legs, chatted with friends, quizzed each other from our flashcards for the oral exam.


Then it was the oral exam. We were called one at a time into a room with a very friendly lady who gave you plenty of time to silently read over the words before saying them aloud. First you had to read a dialogue with her. Easy. Then answer questions in the third person about a picture. Pretty much just like the writing test, but spoken. easy peasy.  Then answer some questions that she asked you. We had a list of 20 questions such as where do you live, what do you like to do in your spare time etc that we were able to prepare answers for--we just didn't know which questions it would be on the day. Lastly, ask some questions to the examiner. We were given a list of five words you had to use in your question. If you got the word byw (live) you could ask Ble dych chi'n byw? (where do you live?) if you got hoffi (like) you could ask Beth dych chi'n hoffi i wneud yn eich amser sbar? (what do you like to do in your spare time?) All in all, not too bad.


We did a great deal of eat and drink and be merry cyn ac ar ol (before and after) the test. Thursday we went out and had a delicious meal at the local vegetarian café. Hyfred! (lovely!) Then Friday after the exam we were tired and could not be arsed to cook so we got Chinese takeaway which was also delicious. Da iawn! (very good)


Spiderman treated me to a pedometer --something I have been wanting for ages. Expect a blog post about my goal of walking 10,000 steps a day! I am currently at 9498 steps and it is only hanner awr wedi chwech (6:30) so I know I will make it today.


So I will say goodbye and goodnight! Hywl a nos da!

Curses, foiled again

I had another very successful interview. Upon entering the room I was congratulated on being short listed as there were 45 applications for the job. That of all the applications mine was the most interesting. They were so looking forward to meeting me. The air was electric as we talked and I was radiating love and kindness and positive energy. The panel kept saying what a pleasure, a genuine pleasure, it was to meet me. I was told the headteacher would be phoning late afternoon with the results.

The headteacher didn't phone until nearly 8pm. She sounded sad and weary. Almost tearful. She said they had been so looking foward to meeting me. That my application had stood out like a beacon from the others. That in all her years of being a headteacher, she had NEVER had such glowing references. They were so keen to meet me  and I did not disappoint. She used the phrase "we were fascinated by you" at least five times and the phrase "we were simply captivated" twice.

I didn't get the job. 

She explained ever so regretfully that the position was foundation/key stage one (ages 3-6) and my experience was with key stage 2 (ages 7-11) and they had someone who was not nearly as dynamic as me, but who had many years experience at that level and they felt they had to go with them. The reason she was phoning so late was they had been trying find a way to hire me as well. She was heartbroken as they were all so impressed, but I just didn't have enough experience with that age group.

Sigh...

She asked me was I working and I said no and she exclaimed "how are you not working? You NEED to be in a school!" She asked if I had registed with an agency I said yes but that it hadn't brought me any work and she told me the name of the agency they use and suggested I register with them and so they might be able to use me here and there for supply work. She also asked if I would be interested in coming to do some storytelling or storytelling workshops at the school. I said yes and after the Easter holidays maybe we can work something out. And while the offer of some volunteer storytelling work is great, it does not solve our financial issues or pay the £5 for the bus to get to the school.

I am beyond disapointed. How does this keep happening???? They think I am wonderful and then don't hire me!!! This is the third time I have had feedback like this after an interview. Both this one and my last school interview could not believe someone hadn't snapped me up already.

Yes, I am wondering that as well. Despite many things being so good in our lives this is the one area (and it is a big area) that I feel really disapointed with. I do not understand if I am so good, why no one will hire me. Everyone seems so reluctant and apologetic when they have to tell me no which should make it feel better. 

Somehow it doesn't.

I had a pretty rough night. Some tears, some wallowing in self pity and general grumpiness. Some ranting and railing and talking bollocks.  But it is a good sign that despite the fact that they cannot seem to hire me they liked me. they really liked me. (to quote Sally Field in her Oscar speech) because it means that if something DOES come up they will keep me in mind.

I am counting my blessings every minute of the day and that seems to soothe the pain in my heart.

I am loved by so many people. Even our friends Constantine who sells the Big Issue (a magazine that homeless or vulnerably housed people can sell to make money. It is not a charity--they buy the magazine for one price and sell for a higher price) is rooting for me. When I bought my magazine today he told me that a lady was handing out cards advertising a tutoring agency in town and he got one for me. So this afternoon I have sent them an email and a CV describing my skills, experience and availability so fingers crossed. I worked for a year at  a similar placed called Sylvan Learning Centre in Louisiana and really enjoyed it.

I have a roof over my head and food on my table. I have friends from near and far who are dear to me. We have more friends from England coming to visit at Easter. I am loved. I can be disappointed and still appreciate  those things.

In the scheme of things I am really blessed.

Life Below Stairs

One of the things I like to do is to research a period in history and write a monologue and perform it for the children in my school to tie into their history topics. This is the perfect opportunity for a gobby show-off like myself to use my talents. I have a BA in theatre and I enjoy creating a character, designing costumes and making props and acting. The children really enjoy it as it makes history come alive and the teachers enjoy it because I can teach the whole of the lesson for them and they get some quality writing out of it. I perform the monologues (which run between 25-35 minutes) and then follow with a Q&A with me in character and then a talk by me about my research. The lesson can take a whole hour.

 

I now have a dramatic monologue complete with costume and props for all year groups. For year three--I am Rose Peppercorn, an eleven year old evacuee during WWII (Britain since the 1940s), for year four I am Boudicca, Celtic warrior Queen (Romans and the Celts), for year five I am Anne Boleyn (The Tudors) and for year six I am Flora Spencer, thirteen year old housemaid to the Greenwood family (The Victorians).

 

Yesterday I performed as Flora and I have to say it went better than my wildest dreams. This is the one with the most complicated set as I had to have a full bedroom set up--with a bed (actually a padded bench), an ornate wooden chair, a table with books, a nightstand with decorative china ornaments (bought for 50p each from various charity shops) and a small wooden trunk. There were loads of props as well.

Here’s Flora with her bucket and scrub brush. I actually had to scrub the stage on my hands and knees for at least a page of dialogue.

Here’s Flora emptying a chamber pot.  One of her least favourite tasks.

 

Many of the monologues require me only to pace around a bit or sit in a chair and occasionally pick up a prop and do something with it (Rose does some knitting and Boudicca threatens people with weapons quite a lot) but this one contains considerably more action as she must be seen to be working the whole time she is talking. So during the 35 minutes I am seen to make a bed, empty the slops, polish boots, sweep the floor, scrub the floor and dust.

It also differs from the other monologues as it breaks the fourth wall and I talk directly to the audience, pretending they are there keeping me company whilst I clean, but having them hide when the head housekeeper Mrs Hughes comes in to scrutinise my work.

I tried to make it a mix of historical truths about life below stairs (maids often slept in the attic and were not allowed personal possessions, that days were incredibly long for housemaids--18 hours a day was not uncommon, that being from the workhouse often meant you were paid less and treated harsher as if you were less of a person etc) but also to show how the cleaning would have been done (scrubbing floors on your knees using cold water--Mrs Beeton, who in 1861 published Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management recommended “cold soft water, a clean scrub brush and a willing arm” as the ingredients for a clean floor). I also wanted to tell her own history so as she cleans she tells the story of her mother who had been a flower seller in Covent Garden until she started coughing up blood and died. How Flora, aged ten, could not work due to taking care of her little two year old brother and ended up in the workhouse--where they were separated by sex and she never saw him again, despite his tender age. That her attempt to contact the workhouse and ask to see him were met with a letter that detailed his death in the most gruesome of circumstances--he burned to death getting too close to an open flame in a fireplace.

 

I chose this because through my research I discovered that one of the leading cause of accidental death of children under the age of five at this period in history was burning to death.  Some of it was the poor families often had no fireguards to protect you from the open flame but it was also due to the development of cheap flannelette fabric. It was very warm against the skin and exceedingly cheap to buy and was favoured by many poor households, but was also extremely  flammable. It also had the unfortunate property of melting onto the skin so if you were set alight wearing it, you died an agonising death with the fabric seared into your flesh. This is the fate of her brother. I set my story in 1872, but it wasn’t until 1908 that laws were passed about fireguards and non-flammable fabric was introduced.

 

She spends much of the monologue reminding the audience to stay quiet and not be seen because she cannot afford to lose her position, even if that position is not a happy one (she is paid half of what the other maid is paid due to coming from the workhouse).It ends on a tragic note for Flora, where momentarily distracted by hunger she carelessly drops a small china figurine while dusting. She offers to pay for it out of her wages and begs the Mistress to please have mercy on her and not send her back to the workhouse, but to no avail.  It ends with her going to pack her bags, leaving without a character reference.

 

This was the first time I had attempted it with the actual breaking of the china ornament. When it tumbled out of my hand the whole audience gasped! Seeing it really broken certainly made it very real for me and I cried real tears as she tried in vain to put it back together again before pleading with the Mistress. A small unfortunate side effect of breaking something was that I accidentally cut myself ever so slightly. I didn’t feel it but as I came out for the curtain call noticed there was a spray of rusty droplets on my white apron and I opened my palm to reveal a small drop of blood and so had to get first aid before the Q&A. Alas, one has to suffer for one’s art, luvvy. A quick glance at Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management revealed that a soak in cold salty water would remove bloodstains.

 

The best bit was afterwards, seeing the reactions of the children who were completely mesmerised throughout the performance. Even the naughty ones sat transfixed and at the end the naughtiest boy of all came up and asked to help me tidy the stage which I found extremely touching.  We had a full fifteen minutes of questions for me as Flora and it could have gone longer, but we ran out of time. The  main question was--What happened to you? Did you go back to the workhouse? So in case you wanted to know the fate of our heroine Flora let me warn you that it is a sad one. She tried to find work but no household would take her on with a character (a letter of recommendation). She tried to be  flower seller like her mother, but in February the flower trade was poor. She decided that if by the end of the week she had not found work she would go back to the dreaded workhouse. She didn’t make it. She was found frozen to death in a doorway. 1872 was a particularly bad winter and eleven other homeless people froze to death that night as well. It made the papers and Mister Greenwood, her former master (who believed it was better for a girl to work as a maid than in a factory because factory girls worked fourteen hours a day, not comprehending that housemaids worked up to eighteen hours a day) read it in the paper, but didn’t even realise that Flora was among the dead.

 

So no Charles Dickens happy ending, with rags to riches for her. But that is what life was like for those in the precarious position of being poor.

 

Poor Flora. But at least the children will never forget.

 

Neither will I.

 

I could not have created the character without copious amounts of research help from the Amazing Spiderman  He found me books about life in the workhouse and books about the working poor. He even located a copy of  Mrs Beeton’s Book of Household Management  and read pertinent parts aloud to me in a posh lady’s voice. Thank you Spiderman, for making this period come alive for me and keeping me in fits of laughter to keep me from crying at Flora’s tragic fate.

 

  

 

 

 

Is this the way to Oriontar?

Have you ever heard of Oriontar? Surely you have. It’s where the three kings come from. You know, we three kings of Oriontar.

 

Yesterday I received a beautiful hand drawn Christmas card from a sweet young girl in my class. She is very clever and one of the best writers we’ve got. Her story about being trapped in a snow globe was a real page turner. 

 

The card had a funny picture and the subversive lyrics to this familiar song:

 

We three kings of Oriontar

Bearing gifts we travel afar…

One in a scooter

One in a car

Oh darn! I don’t know where to park!

 

It made me laugh out loud as that is a silly variation of the song that I had not been previously acquainted with. But I loved with all my heart the word Oriontar. Well, think about it, that’s what it sounds like. Orient are…Oriontar. This may be the best mistake ever. It also came with an apology in case the card was offencive which just shows you what a lovely polite girl she is. I assured her that I found it hilarious.

 

The other British version that I know was taught to me by a funny young lad who is now in year seven. We used to tell each other jokes and try to stump the other person with riddles.

I taught him to sing Ren and Stimpy’s We Wish You a Hairy Chest Wig (and a bucket of beards) for which I’m sure his parents were eternally grateful to me and in return he taught me this one:

 

We three kings of Orient are

One in a taxi

One in a car

One on a scooter

Beeping his hooter

Smoking a big cigar!

 

I just love the Britishness of it. Beeping his hooter. In the classic book Wind in the Willows, Toad beeps the hooter of his motor car and you will never guess the sound it makes. Go on. Have a think. You ready for it? When Toad beeps his hooter it says POOP! POOP! Ah, those wacky Brits.

 

The version I grew up singing (this song really does lend itself ever so nicely to parody) was this one:

 

We three kings of Orient are

Smoking on a rubber cigar.

One was loaded

It exploded….

 

We two kings of Orient are!

 

Oh how we laughed at that when I was a child.  Back in the 70‘s that was cutting edge comedy. Or so we thought.

 

So here’s to a lovely holiday.

May we laugh.

 May we sing.

May we go to Oriontar.

 

Little Poem, who made thee?

Check your facts was one of the three rules my father said to me every day when I was growing up, sandwiched between know that I love you and stand up for what you believe in. My beloved husband and partner in crime hereafter refered to as The Amazing Spiderman has been doing a bit of research on what happens when you take something you read on the internet as gospel without checking your facts.

There is poem, found in countless online lesson plans for teachers, used in countless schools which claims to be written by that old master William Blake. It is in fact written by contemporary author Nancy Willard in her Newberry award winning book A Visit to William Blake's Inn.

The Amazing Spiderman with his spidey sense and excellent reference librarian skills has uncovered this fact and was featured in the news today.

 

** School librarian finds fake Blake **
A school librarian has discovered that a poem widely attributed to William Blake, including in official reading lists, was not really written by him.
< http://www.bbc.co.uk/go/em/fr/-/news/education-22971225 >

I am so proud of him I could burst! He's been fielding calls from the media all day (a rather shy and retiring flower, is my Spiderman) so that hasn't been easy. But I am so pleased for him.

You can see his blog here to read the whole tale. http://thelibraryspider.blogspot.co.uk/

happy reading...oh and check your facts!

edited to add: The next day he had a small one paragraph article in the Telegraph (which always makes me think of that sexist joke--How do you spread the news? Telephone, Telegraph, tell a woman) and a longer one in the Independent. http://www.independent.co.uk/news/education/education-news/school-librarian-puts-the-world-straight-on-fake-william-blake-poem-8667575.html

I love how they said that he "modestly refused to answer and queries"--I told you he was shy!

He left it dead and with its head he went galumphing back

I was asked to recite the poem Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll.  to year six as part of their unit on the Victorians. I was thrilled because I loved this poem as a child--especially the way the words were completely made up as if you could make up a whole new language yourself. There was a time where I was obsessed with portmanteau words (words made up of more than one word. An example from the poem would be chortled--a mixture of chuckled and snort and a more modern example from the fabulous book Room by Emma Donaghue--scave--scared is what you feel but brave is what you’re going to be.)

Do you know this poem? If not then here’s your chance.

Jabberwocky

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

'Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!'

He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought --
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.

And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One two! One two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.

'And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!'
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

Lewis Carroll

 Anyway, I was all set to just recite it dramatically when I thought would add a sword to it for the bit about the vorpal blade went snicker snack. But then I went to sleep and the IDEA FAIRY came to me and gave me a wonderful idea. What if I could make a decapitated head of the Jabberwock to pull up on the line He left it dead and with its head he went galumphing back. Was it possible?

I started to look at various illustrated versions of the poem and then quickly made some sketches. I did a quick mock up to be sure if my idea about the head shape would work and it did. The next day I went to the market and spoke to the Fabric Man and said “I need to make a dragon-like creature. What have you got that’s cheap?” He rummaged around and found me this fabulous silver and black offcut for £1. It was a scrappy remnant but just the right size plus it looked like dragon scales.

Then I went to the Haberdashery Stall to buy some red ribbon for a tongue. I also had an idea of using buttons for eyes --the line is the Jabberwock with eyes of flame and so I was thinking yellow, orange and red buttons stacked on each other would give a nice 3D effect as well as looking fiery. Rose helped me pick out the perfect buttons and then I was set to go.

 I went home and using what I’d bought plus bits and bobs from my scrap bin managed to put together this magnificent creature.

Isn’t gorgeous?

I love him so much I just might have to kiss him on his scaly, dragon-y mouth.

I decided as he had been decapitated he needed some bloody sinews to hang down so I tore some red cloth and sewed it on. It looks gory but not scary which is what I like.

I know some people have queried why a person would spend several hours making something for a one second appearance in a one minute poem, but that’s not the point. It was FUN. It gave me a chance to use my IMAGINATION and the kids (especially the boys) will dig it. Plus, I am ready for when someone asks me to do it again next year.

I got so excited about the idea that I thought of making the head of Medusa for year three’s Ancient Greek topic but Spiderman pointed out I did not want to become a “one trick pony” and become known as the lady who pulls decapitated heads out of bags whilst telling a story. He has a point. I was still slightly annoyed by his comment so I thought about making a decapitated horse head to leave on his side of the bed like a message from the Mafia. But that really would be pushing it. 

So I’ll just stick with my Jabberwock, thank you very much.  I’m really looking forward to telling this one. It will be a frabjous day.

The Oz character time forgot

We were in class the other day trying to teach kids about the 4 directional points on a compass.

The children had managed to come up with N stands for North and S stands for South. We were struggling to elicit a correct response for E and W. After some considerable time a child came up with East. So the teacher winked at me and asked the class how many children had seen The Wizard of Oz. Many hands were raised and we both thought this was a good sign.

So the teacher said: "The Wicked Witch of the East and the Wicked Witch of the ......."

Suddenly a child piped up, "I know! I know! The Wicked Witch of the East and the Wicked Witch of the Wales!"

After we recovered from laughing, we managed to explain that the answer we were actually going for was West, but well done for trying. Plus Wales is actually in the West, so she was partly right.

So there you have it. The character Baum never got around to writing about. The Wicked Witch of Wales, who was probably named Myfanwy or another name that would net you lots of points in scrabble. Well it would  if they allowed names, which they don't. But they should. 


I'll never look at Margaret Hamilton the same way again.

Conservation skills

Conservation: The understanding that something stays the same in quantity even though its appearance changes.  To be more technical (but you don’t have to be) conservation is the ability to understand that redistributing material does not affect its mass, number or volume.

Conservation refers to a logical thinking ability which, according to the psychologist Jean Piaget becomes evident in children aged 7–12 during the concrete operations stage of their development. It is part of Piaget's theory of cognitive development.

We did this in my year three class today. (that’s second grade to my US peeps) and I am sad to say that I still struggle with this. I *know* logically that the short fat container is 1 litre and so is the tall thin container (because they are both clearly marked 1000ml) and yet, I had to run a quick test as I was gathering the materials for the teacher because I had a lingering doubt that it would work. The short fat container seemed so small and the tall was really tall. I did a quick test of filling the small one with water and transferring the water to the tall one.  Needless to say, it worked and I was secretly amazed because I was sure it wouldn’t. I am sure all of the rest of you over the age of 7 probably figured that out, but somehow I am perpetually in that childhood category.

 

At home I cannot judge the container size when it comes to packing leftovers. I am forever pulling out one that is too small or much too big but unlike Goldilocks I can never get it “just right.”

 When I was doing my teacher training we had to run the conservation test on three groups of children. The youngest were about age 5 and were certain that both containers were different and the same water would not fill both. Even after you showed them they still maintained the containers were different capacities.

 The middle group were about 7 years old and at first believed that the containers did not show the same amount of water, but after you showed them they believed and it. This is where I am. With the 7 year olds.

 The last group were 10 or 11 years old. They looked at me like I was incredibly stupid when I asked them about the capacity of both containers. Of course they were the same. They both held the same number of ounces. It didn’t matter about the size or shape of the container. Did I not know that? they seemed to ask with their world weary gaze. I tried to explain that younger people believed that the size and shape of the container mattered, but they were having none of it. Every child swore they had never been so naïve.

 

So there we are. Conservation. A skill that has passed me by. Sigh…..it is a good thing I work in year three.

Oh, that's very different. Nevermind.

Do you remember the character of Emily Litella played by Gilda Radner on Saturday Night Live? Well I had a moment like that yesterday.

Some background information:
Swimming is on the national curriculum for PE in the UK. You have to take your class to the swimming pool once a week for lessons in year 3 for two terms and in, I think, year 5 for one term. We are lucky as our school is just over the road from the pool, but other schools have to get a coach to take them.

Anyway, I was reading the minutes from the staff meeting yesterday and I saw the words SHARK SWIM in the diary.

What??? I completely had a freak out. What kind of people take children to a shark swim??? I'm sure it is educational and what not--but SHARKS and CHILDREN are a bad match. And then I realized I work in year 3 this year. Usually, the teaching assistant for that year group is required to go on trips with their class. Was I going to go on a SHARK SWIM? Not no but hell no. There is no way I was going to do that. Someone else was going to have to go in my place. I went to find my line manager to excuse myself from this nightmare and it turns out what the diary *actually* said was START SWIM. As in, we start swimming lessons for year 3 on that date, not that we are going to go swimming with sharks on that date.

Oh, that's very different. Nevermind.

And to make it worse, I was laughing so hard that I ended up falling over one of those yellow caution the floor is wet signs that someone had carelessly left on the floor after mopping.



So that was my first day back at school then.

Wonderful, Wonderful, what can I say but Oh Wow

To celebrate World Book Day our school asked all different sorts of people--teachers, teaching assistants, the caretakers, parent volunteers, the sport leaders and even the nice lady vicar who does assemblies for us occasionally--to give a 2 minute talk about their favourite book just to show children that we are all still passionate reader as adults. There was talk of a voting at the end to see which book the children liked most. Well, with that thought in mind I set my sights on winning. Nobody can enthuse on books like me. FACT.

I made the obvious choice and talked about The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Here is a transcription of my speech:

Anyone who knows me knows that my favourite book is The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum. This book was originally written in 1900 and is currently being printed in comic book format by Marvel Comics.

 

This was my favourite book as a child and it is still my favourite book today. I am an Oz collector and I have about a dozen different illustrated version of this book on my shelves. I even have Oz Barbie dolls! If you look at my water bottle there is a picture from the book.

 

Many of you think you may know the story if you have seen the film. Raise your hand if you have seen the film The Wizard of Oz? (lots of hands go up)

 

If I were to ask you what colour Dorothy’s shoes were you would say….(everyone shouts RED!) and I would reply WAH WAH! (annoying buzzer sound like you get on game shows when you are wrong) because they are only red in the film because red looked better on camera. In the book they are silver.

 

this is from The Wiz

But it is the story of Dorothy Gale who is whisked away by a cyclone and flies over the rainbow to the Land of Oz where her house lands on the Wicked Witch of the East and kills her. She meets a talking scarecrow, a man made out of tin and a cowardly lion and they travel to the Emerald City. And why was the Emerald City green? (produces green 3D glasses) Because everyone in the city had to wear green tinted spectacles to make everything seem green even when it wasn’t. That’s from the book. (puts glasses away)

 

The wizard tells them they have to kill the Wicked Witch of the West. Now if you’ve seen the film at this point Dorothy starts to cry. A lot. (does best whingy Dorothy impression)

           

“oh Boo hoo, save me. The witch has locked me in the castle. Help me. Boo hoo hoo.”

 

Well it’s not like that it in the book. For one thing Dorothy is only 7 years old not a teenager like she is portrayed in the film. And she’s not a blubber-box. In the book Dorothy is brave and clever and resourceful--she’s not sitting around waiting for someone to save her--she's out there doing the saving! 

This is a wonderful adventure book for both boys and girls who enjoy fantasy and imaginary worlds with a little bit of danger and scariness thrown in. If you like the book then you’re in luck because the author wrote 13 other books about the Land of Oz. We have the second book, The Marvellous Land of Oz, in audio library--so come see me on Tuesday.

I believe that The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is the best and most magical book in the world and if you don’t agree then,

“I’ll get you my pretty--and your little dog too!”

Ok, that last bit was a shameless piece of theatrics that is not even found in the book. I just happen to do a mean Margaret Hamilton impersonation. Well, I brought the house down. Out of 200 kids, one or two voted for The Secret Garden, Black Beauty and The Witches and the rest but  about 190 kids voted for me! But really they were voting for the book.

Many children spoke to me afterwards and wanted to know more about the book, the rest of the Oz books or to share something Oz related with me such as the fact that saw the revival of the musical in London. Because the book were written so long ago I believe all of them are in the public domain and can be downloaded for free on your Kindle or other e-reader device and so I am preparing a sheet that explains where to go and what to get for the children who can access that. I also hope to purchase a few copies for the school library--perhaps with some other Oz books like The Tin Woodman of Oz or the Patchwork Girl of Oz (my other 2 favourites)

Happy reading!

Off/Topic

When you work with children you get some wild and wonderful ideas from them. Their little minds are bursting with creativity and unfettered by societal constraints of what is realistic and what is not. However, you occasionally get a child who so far off topic and in their own little universe it is funny.

Up until this week the tale of the slug has been my favourite one of these.  This child was in my booster group and we had spent days walking in the snow, looking at frost, talking about all the sensations of cold weather, using our 5 senses so that he would be able to write a vivid description about the snow. This is what happened:

Teacher: What is this?
Child: My description.
Teacher: What is it about?
Child: A slug.
Teacher: A slug.
Child: His name is Ralph.
Teacher: What?
Child: The slug. His name is Ralph. He wears a top hat.
Teacher:(sighing) What were you *supposed* to write about?
Child: (indignantly) I did!
Teacher: Where?
Child: In the first sentence.

And sure enough, the saga of Ralph the top hat wearing slug began with the sentence Ralph the slug was cold so he went inside. There you go. Illusion to snow made, let's crack on with the fascinating tale.

This week another of these off topic tales has emerged with another child I work with. His class is called Spain (as all our classes are named after countries) and they have been reading Michael Morpurgo's book Toro! Toro! and watched the film of Ferdinand the gentle bull who loved to smell flowers.  I should have known there was trouble when the child kept forgetting who he was in the story. You were supposed to  be desribing how Ferdinand felt when he was captured and on the way to the bull fight.

Me: How do you think he was feeling? How would you feel?
Child: Scared. I don't like to fight I might get hurt.
Me: Yes I am sure he was scared.
Child: The bulls horns might stab him.
Me: Honey, you ARE the bull!
Child: Oh yeah.

So when they had to write a description of the Matador this is what we got:

The matador was tall and he liked cheese and crackers. Cheese and crackers was his favourite food. He ate cheese and crackers all the time. He ate cheese and crackers so much that he turned into cheese and crackers. When he was not eating cheese and crackers he was bull fighting.

Bit peckish, are we? Thinking about your pack lunch then, hmmm? It turns out no.

Me: You must really like cheese and crackers.
Child: No. that's food for matadors.

Silly me. So when you work with munchkins sometimes you get the strangest things in response. It may not make sense to you, but on Planet Kiddo, it works out perfectly.