So I’m talking about the long weekend with my Year Eight class, and I mention I’m going to spend some time working on my Lego display. Which leads to discussing how yes, I’m a grown-ass man and I’m into Lego.
STUDENTS: What do you build?
I call up Google images and show them some displays from previous years’ exhibitions. Cue discussion of MOCs v sets and how I get to where I do what I do.
STUDENTS: How many sets do you have?
I tell them.
STUDENTS: How many pieces do you have?
I tell them. I also tell them how much my collection is insured for.
There is a *long* pause.
SMALL VOICE FROM BACK OF ROOM: …………… Are you mad?
You’ll learn, my sweet, summer child. You’ll learn
So…… lot of weather we’ve been having lately, innit?……
All right, let’s talk serious shit. I’ve lost my way since our son Blake completed suicide back in September 2019. Of course it’s understandable — Luscious and I have been swallowed by grief, and anybody who can’t understand how that level of grief can affect you has my permission to stay quiet — but the ultimate end of that process is that my life has turned in upon itself and started eating its own tail. Everything that was supposed to be good about coming to Karratha — gaining fitness, writing more, lowering my stress levels, finding my post-50-year-old-future, etc etc and so forth — was destroyed, and what’s more, I didn’t care.
This can no longer be supported.
Continue reading “WELCOME TO THE BUNGLE. AGAIN.”
So, yeah, my life may have come to a screaming halt, but I’m slowly getting to grips with this teaching gig, and no matter how hard a day gets, it still doesn’t chew on my soul the way The Job That Soured ended up doing. Plus, of course, my style of teaching English doooooeeeessss tend to involve a whole lot of sneaking in other lessons around the side……
Some days, of course, just like writing, you do something so beautiful that you wish you could bottle it. Yesterday was one of those days.
Continue reading “TEACHING DON’T MEAN NUTHIN’ IF YOU AIN’T MELTING HEADS”