London...Again. BUT, what I wonder is - When will this trip "be good" for Micaela and I.

In addition to seeing the Pats play at Wembley on Sunday, Micaela and I had another whirlwind tour of London; but in the process it was not all that much fun - not even for me. I am wondering ... as I was told by all my friends - who understand the tumultuous relationship that defines the one I have with my daughter - that this "trip would be good for us"...when exactly is that going to be realized????

On Saturday we checked in to the hotel, grabbed a quick bite to eat in a local cafe and decided to try to secure tickets to a Saturday evening theatrical performance. From here the disagreements with my daughter ensued and her sardonic insults about how boring I am and how much she hates me being endured while deciding on a performance to attend. While we have finally found common interest in attending the theater, what we see is difficult to agree on. I of course want to see Oliver, Othello and Les Miserable's, she expresses desire to see Grease, Dirty Dancing and We Will Rock You. Never the twain shall meet - in the end, the decision was made for us based on availability of tickets - and Micaela's idea that Woman In Black would be good since students at Fairfield had attended it last year. Luckily, we went directly to the theater and got the last pair of tickets in the upper gallery. They weren't the greatest seats, but they did offer a good view of the main stage and while the story line was a bit confusing for Micaela to begin with, she eventually got a grasp on it and did enjoy the horrifying screaming by the ghostly woman in black! While killing time for the remainder of the afternoon we browsed the Covent Garden marketplace where we purchased some Lush hair shampoo products, scarves and enjoyed some dinner outside. Shopping in the marketplace being the effort to appease Micaela's seemingly lack of interest in the entire weekend trip.

Sunday morning dawned to a sunny day and prior to the football game we went to the Tate Britain where I was eager to see the Turner Galleries. I opted out of the Turner & the Master's Exhibit as the additional fee to see this exhibit was quite pricey. Admission to the museum is otherwise free, as are most of the museums in London...not, however, many of the other tourist attractions, as we were soon to find out.

I thoroughly enjoyed the Tate Britain. Many paintings such as Ophelia, Whistler's White & Gray portrait of Cecily, and a variety of sculptures, in addition to the major Turner exhibit were culturally rich. My daughter, however, sat sullen as a rock on a bench in each exhibit, taking time to only view a few pieces and stubbornly rejecting to look at any of the Turner's. She was intrigued by the modern piece of art displayed in the major foyer connecting the galleries, which was a series 26 huge interconnected triangles made of light aluminum and painted black. Quite interesting.

After an exhausting evening at the Pats game, both physically and emotionally, as this was not an overall pleasant experience with my daughter in tow, as apparently I am not "fun" to be with, and she is only happy if she is eating and spending money on herself; we returned to our budget hotel, located centrally between Victoria and Pimlico stations. While much cleaner than our stay at the LSE on our last trip, and this time we at least had an "en suite" bath - the size of a closet - we did get what we paid for at 69 pounds per night. It offered a good base of operations while we were there, however, the beds were little more than hard sets of springs.

On Monday I awoke to yet another one of Micaela's sullen moods as she was not looking forward to another day of walking and going to museums. At one point on this morning, after being told for about the 100th time on the weekend that she did not like me and I was not fun to be with, while reminding me yet again that she was missing birthday parties and sleepovers with her new friends back in Hereford, I decided that I would leave her behind and spend the day alone. I ventured to the nearest cafe for a coffee and then, having a change of heart, returned to get her. Having to engage in yet another burst of banter over her desire to be back in Hereford, I wished I had not returned. I left again, and this time she did follow.

The next stop for the day was a walk to Westminster Abbey, but not before stopping at a McDonald's in an effort to again wipe the puss off Micaela's face, who apparently is always hungry. The only problem with that is, she still does not understand my dollars are only worth 60 cents in this country and that my bank account also has to last through our Stratford and Oxford trip this weekend, where she already has her mind set on purchasing a sweatshirt from Oxford University. My heart was set on touring Westminster Abbey and seeing the Poets Corner, if nothing else. However, the admission fee for the tour of the Abbey for the two of us was about 20 pounds, so I was forced to forego this particular tour. People are not allowed inside any part of the Abbey without paying to enter, unless you are there to attend a worship service, which I gladly would have done if there had been one in session. I satisfied myself with purchasing a guide book of the Abbey and touring the small St. Mary's church on the Abbey site, free of charge, where Micaela actually expressed the desire to light a candle and say a prayer for "dead relatives." Sadly, we continued to the nearest tube stop, dejected that I had not seen one of the most desired places on my list.

Stop number two: The Tower of London, Tower Bridge and the HMS Belfast. Making our way to these places and touring them were also atop the "bucket list"- but once again the pricey admission fees prevented us from being able to engage in the full experience of London and the historical and literary importance of these places for me. Trying to impress upon Micaela the value of this journey is next to impossible, as the priority of a 14 year old continues to be birthday parties and Hay on Fire, the other event her ogre mother is preventing her from attending in order to take her to Stratford Upon Avon to attend a performance of Twelfth Night by the Royal Shakespeare Theater Company - something everyone gets to do - the mother sardonically thinks to herself. Capturing a moment on film includes the side of her head as she eats a much sought after ice cream with flake chocolate while staring at the Thames.

Next stop on Monday: The Spitalfield Marketplace and Petticoat Lane. Again, the Petticoat Lane stop was passed over, as Micaela showed no interest in shopping along one of London's most fashionable and famous markets in London - "what's the point if you can't afford anything." We made our way to the Liverpool station, walked to Spitalfields...which was closing for the day - where she bought a ring in the cheap street market stalls and we had a hot chocolate in Starbucks before deciding on the next stop. Having unsuccessfully attempted to purchase tickets to Oliver earlier in the day, we decided to walk the streets of Leicester Square and try to purchase last minute tickets at any theater for any show - easier said than done, as we once again found our way walking the streets of London from Covent Garden to Picadilly Circus where we finally gave up and decided to just have dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe - another item on the "to do" list -as we made this pact in New York this summer - that we would go to as many UK Hard Rock Cafe's as we could get to while here - so far we have done half of them (Cardiff and London) - there are two more to go, only one of which may be reasonable to get to. A simple dinner, at a place one would expect to be fun can be trying also, as I seemingly did not hear Micaela request desert before I told the server to bring the bill; this of course became another reason to "hate me."

Tuesday dawned to yet another day - and yet another puss face as I announced that the Charles Dickens museum, St. Paul's Cathedral, The Old Bailey, The Old Curiosity Shoppe and the Globe were all on the list of things "to do". In an effort to appease the "museum" itinerary I also included a trip to the Portobello market place, despite the fact that this would take us from one side of the city to the other over the course of the day, before having to catch our bus at 5:30 p.m. In an effort to impress upon Micaela the value of this trip, who was none too pleased, I tried to explain to her how important these places were to me, as I have waited my entire life to make this journey and discover the location of the places in my books - alas, this just serves to spark ridicule and more insults from the mouth of my daughter.

By the end of the day, after walking the full length of the marketplace and riding the tube to St. Paul's (which also required an admission fee), walking to the Globe (also requiring an admission fee) foregoing the walk to the Old Bailey and another stop and walk to find The Old Curiosity Shoppe, I determinedly set my teeth to grit on finding Charles Dickens' home and museum. Micaela or no Micaela, I was not giving up on this pilgrimage. Steeling myself against insults, complaints of hunger and tired feet from walking, I did find my way to this location and felt satisfied at last. Thankfully the admission fee was reasonable for the two of us to venture inside, but quite honestly, I would happily have left Micaela sitting on the doorstep and waiting for me if it hadn't been. It did not disappoint, at least not for me, I am sure Micaela just saw it as an old house with old books, furniture and portraits. To me, I was a guest in Mr. Dickens' home where he wrote Pickwick Papers and saw the desk upon which he crafted Oliver Twist, Great Expectations and A Tale of Two Cities.

Through this entire weekend there is not one mother/daughter photograph as Micaela stubbornly refuses to have one taken, and she also purposely messed up any photos I asked her to take of me - an effort on her part to further prove that she was not having a good time with me and wanted to return "home." I have had to have her retake numerous photos in order to have acceptable ones of myself, but it is hurtful just the same that she is not embracing the opportunity of seeing this wonderful city that I have grown to love in this short time here. I pleaded with her to take one photo, trying to tell her that some day she would regret not having any pictures as memories; to which I am met with snickers and shrugs. The same thing happened with Zach while we were in Europe, as he stubbornly acquiesced to photographs through the pressure of his friends on the trip. Somewhere along the way I have miserably failed as a mother to have raised these disinterested children who have not appreciated the trips and culture laid out before them, the trips and culture I did not have when their age...and thus we get to the reason behind the essay post. Perhaps, having shared that essay, if they are reading this blog, they will finally come to understand some part of their mother's soul.

The Fulbright Essay

The importance of finally posting this essay will become apparent after the next post is made. For now, suffice it to say that I am finally satisfying the numerous requests made by my students to be allowed to read it. This was my labor of love last year when my then high school seniors were busily writing their college essays. The task was to write a brief autobiographical sketch of our lives - I decided to take a creative approach to an otherwise slightly boring topic.

"There is no frigate like a book to take us lands away, nor any coursers like a page of prancing poetry. This traverse the poorest take without oppress of toil; how frugal is the chariot that bears the human soul." - Emily Dickinson.

I was a young girl in high school when I first came across this poem by Emily Dickinson and over the years this poem has taken on new meaning for me at various stages of my life, but always with the same constant theme - books have been my means of traveling the world, meeting new people, and learning about different cultures. My books have provided a means of escape in troubling times and comfort in times in ease.

My earliest childhood memories involve books. I grew up in a small New England mill town as the eldest of three children in a middle class family. My parents saved for years to be able to take us to Disney World when I was twelve, so the ability to travel extensively, or even attend the European trip to France when I was in high school, was quite beyond my reach. However, I did travel to the Midwest and experience life on the prairie with Laura Ingalls Wilder, solve the greatest mysteries with Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys, travel under the sea with Captain Nemo, experience seeking the white whale, Moby Dick, with Captain Ahab, and grow up in a family of all girls, little women, with Jo. My summers were spent reading in the backyard under a tree, by the window of my bedroom or on a sandy beach. Never was I without a book or my library card.

Later, as I grew more sophisticated, I toured Shakespeare's Renaissance England and Italy, Fitzgerald's Jazz Age, Hemingway's Spain and Cuba, Dickens' Industrialized England and revolutionary France, Austen's English countryside, Flaubert's provincial France, Tolkein's Middle Earth, Remarque's first world war, Denisovich's Russian gulags, Allende's Chile, Kingsolver's work of the American missionary in Africa, O'Brien's Vietnamese jungles, and Golden's world of a Japanese geisha girl. My travels took me from one corner of the world to the other, while I remained in my sheltered mill town with a foray to the "big city" to attend college.

As I grew and explored these worlds, the words of Emily Dickinson's poem resonated in my mind from my young adulthood. I was traveling, despite my limited financial means, my ambition to become a writer or journalist inspiring me onward to my commitment to the years of education that desire entailed. It was only natural that I would enter college as an English major, and by my junior year also add the study of world history as a second major. My travels in my novels had sparked an interest in other cultures and historical events that I wanted to pursue on a more intellectual and factual level. Still, my travelling was limited to the classroom and historical fiction.

Later, as I married, had children, and divorced I continued to find solace in my stories and the places I could travel. Eventually I found my way into educational publishing and ultimately returned to school to pursue my Master's degree in secondary education with a concentration in history.

On my first venture into the world of the classroom I quickly introduced my students to the novel, A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens. Lessons on writing and interpretation were combined with history lessons on the causes and effects of the French Revolution and videos on King Louis and Marie Antionette. The one thing I lacked, while exposing my students to this world, was first hand knowledge of the places I was teaching about in my lessons- the streets of Paris wandered by a lonely Sydney Carton, the Palace of Versailles, the Tuilleries gardens, the Conciergerie where Marie Antionette spent her final days, the Place de Vendome, the Siene River, the French countryside and the chateau of the Marquis, the city of London, the Old Bailey, Tellson's Bank, the town of Dover, and the experience of a ferry ride across the English channel. I did not think that this was inhibiting my enthusiasm for the story and bringing this revolution to life for my students. I continued for thirteen years to introduce my students to the world's of my favorite authors, without ever having ventured to Europe, not realizing that my desire to see the world through my own eyes, rather than through the pages of my books, would soon change.

In the fall of 2007, at the age of 42, I was offered the opportunity to be a teacher/chaperone for the school sponsored European trip, which would take place in the summer of 2008, run by my own high school French teacher. Excitedly, I seized this opportunity, not only for myself, but also for my seventeen year-old son, Zachary. I had never had the chance to attend this trip at his age, and I was determined to provide it for him. Since I was able to attend without cost to myself, I began urgently to save the money for Zach's ticket. I was thrilled to get my very first United States passport and thought of the Spanish and French stamps that would be put on its pages. Our trip was scheduled to take us to Barcelona, Provence and Paris...finally, I would be able to walk in the footsteps of Sydney Carton and see the places in my favorite novel.

Nothing can explain my first reactions to the view of the Spanish coastline and Spanish mountains from the highest heights of Barcelona. Tears came to my eyes as I imagined the world of Don Quixote and his windmills. I eagerly learned all I could as I toured this marvelous city. I basked in the richness of its architectural structures and swam in the seas of the Mediterranean as I imagined the Spanish Armada sailing away to invade England. I continued to remain in awe as we traveled by bus through Spain as Hemingway's world of the Spanish Civil War swept before me as I saw old forts in the hillsides. Entering France I visited the intact walled city at Carcassone, constructed by the Cathars to protect themselves from French Catholic invaders. I took photograph after photograph so that I could finally have slide shows of my own European travels to enhance my classroom lessons.

When I arrived in Paris, after a TGV ride through the French countryside, I was overcome once again by a rush of emotions. I could not believe, after years of burying my nose in books with Paris as the setting, I was standing on the platform of the train station...like Charlotte Gray seeking her lost love from World War II. My desire to see the places in the pages of my books has been sparked with my first European tour. In nine short days, my life changed, no longer are the pages of the books good enough. I want to experience first hand, by immersing myself in the culture and lifestyles of the countries I have read about all my life. I believe that I will be a better mom and a better teacher for the opportunity to participate in the experience of a Fulbright Teacher Exchange program.

Mid Term Break & Patriots at Wembley

Probably the best piece of the UK educational system that the US could adopt ... one week off between each new term...of course the flip side of that would mean that students and teachers would attend school until mid July, and the summer holiday would be shortened to six or seven weeks, rather than the ten weeks that is currently enjoyed. While I think I prefer an early release in the month of June, the one week off at this point in my exchange has been a welcome break, if not purely for the sake of getting back to London to do more sightseeing. Sadly, the opportunities provided for the US Fulbright contingency to the UK is not what our counterparts enjoy back in the United States, so we must make the most of our own opportunities. While I had hoped to bring Micaela to Paris on this break, the petrol expenses to travel to and from Peterchurch have mounted up, and my budget has been somewhat curtailed, so three nights in London at a budget hotel, coinciding with the Patriots football game, was all I could manage.

The first term at Fairfield ended on a good note. Year 7 successfully completed their autobiographies - all have been supplied with comments regarding use of paragraphs and creativity, and many students earned house points for their excellent work effort. Year 8 successfully completed reading and presenting oral presentations for the novel Holes (a book I am all too thankful is past me) - all students have been marked and supplied with comments for the appropriate RAF skills. Year 9 students wrote and passed in comparative essays on Roger McGough poetry - again all of which have been successfully marked and supplied with comments prior to leaving school on Friday. Seemingly starved for some opportunity to assess student work - I threw myself into the assessment and comments for these assignments immediately each day. Year 10 finally achieved completion of their coursework essays on Great Expectations, although for one reason or another ten were not yet passed in as of Friday afternoon. I have put these essays aside for the week and will tackle them wholeheartedly with the AQA mark scheme upon return to school next week. Year 11, the house group I currently instruct, had nothing to be assessed, but did complete their initial work with Heney, Clark and pre-1914 poetry. Upon return to school on Monday we will begin working with writing "to argue, persuade and advise."

The highlight of our weekend in London was the much anticipated Patriots vs Tampa Bay NFL football game. It was a beautiful sight to see Patriots jerseys, and all NFL jersey's, displayed on people as they walked the streets of London throughout the weekend. One would assume that a large contingency of Americans had flown into Heathrow airport anytime on Saturday and Sunday to make their way to the stadium, and while that was indeed the case, there were a significant amount of Brits wearing their jerseys in the crowd at the stadium also. There is a pretty big following of American football in England and so of the 85,000 fans in attendance, a majority of them seemingly Tampa Bay fans, the Brits were well represented.

The pre-game ceremonies were heavy hype for the Tampa Bay Bucanneers, as a I later learned, the owner of the Bucs and the owner of Manchester United (a UK soccer/football team) are one and the same- also the Bucs were considered the home team. As Brady and contingency proved, however, hype means nothing if your team cannot perform on the field of play.

My football starved brain was very excited to be at this game... the seats were fairly decent, offering a very good view of warm ups and the game. The stadium is extremely clean, modern and well kept. Americans will be happy to learn that food and beverages are also a rip off at Wembley, as the price of a cold beer was 4 pounds (the equivalent of a little over $6.00). These prices were fairly equal both in and out of the stadium.

Upon arrival at the stadium we were greeted by ware mongers selling all kinds of NFL paraphernalia... and of course Miceala got her t-shirt, while I settled for the souvenir scarf. The weather was fantastic - sun shine with a bit of clouds, a bit of a breeze but balmy for the most part. No heavy winter jackets, scarves, hats or gloves for this game... it was almost early September weather; even after the sun went down it was still not really cold. We got a snack of fish 'n chips and a soda and a cider and took up residence on a bridge-like structure from where we had a view of the NFL Tailgate party - a ticketed event. We were lucky enough to eventually get some tickets from the NFL guy outside the gate and we attended part of the festivities with live band and entertainment before entering the stadium.

The Patriots certainly came to play football on this Sunday afternoon, across the pond, and the score of 34-7 certainly was an old fashioned trouncing, reminiscent of a revolution! Job well done and well worth the time and effort of a short letter way back in the spring!

BUT WAIT...I'm not on cycle!

... the Evaluation Cycle, that is! I came across the pond and was quite happy to know that I had reverted to Year One of the evaluation cycle. I worked on a two year project - which is still in progress - and I had my classroom observation last year! Who would have ever thought I'd arrive across the pond and have to be observed! Surely my years of experience and my selection for a Fulbright Award speak for themselves as to my surety and abilities in the classroom! No one would observe me here! Ha ha...think again!

(Just so you know, most of the previous paragraph is the "cheeky monkey" side of me!) Of course, I fully expected to be observed in a classroom as I taught a lesson; indeed more than one lesson if need be. I am, in many ways, feeling much like a first year teacher, as many of previous posts have indicated and I would be concerned if no one wanted to check on my progress and my ability to handle the curriculum, and teach the children here the skills and knowledge they need to be successful on their GCSE and Coursework. I can attempt to incorporate as much of "my own" methods as possible, but if, at the end of the day, I am not communicating and teaching in a proper British manner, then the students will suffer, and that is the furthest thing from what I want to happen to any of them. I have come to value their quirky accents and their lively personalities from Year 7 to Year 11, and I am not about to let their test scores suffer on my account. I am driving my Year 10 students insane by requiring draft, after draft of their current coursework essays, as I am not settling for anything less than B or A work!

So, after observing Jayne's lesson with her Year 11 students, on The Sick Rose, I nervously welcomed the news from her, as the English Head of Department here at Fairfield, that she would be in this week to observe my Year 11 poetry lesson. How bad could it be, I thought. So what if I flop miserably on my face in this lesson, what can she really do to me??? It won't really affect my file at home? In fact, no one at home will ever see it! (Wrong, as she really did send it on to my department chair at NHS, Paula.) Well, you all know me better than that. I took this observation quite seriously and was determined to do my best; but then again, we were talking about poetry with my Year 11 students, who sometimes are not the liveliest group of students and getting them to participate is sometimes like pulling teeth, so I was a bit worried. I was lucky enough to have some prepared lessons from Jayne on the Heney, Clarke and pre-1914 poetry that is meant to be covered; but the delivery of that lesson would be the key to success. I followed the same pattern of lesson I had previously observed - but as expected, the students were not in a very talkative mood on this day - and try as I might to stimulate original thought and draw their conclusions from them verbally - it was a struggle. In the end, after a bit of coaxing, some group work, and "some get up & sit down" while writing on the board, I successfully got some very good responses from this group as we dealt with the theme of death in four different poems.

Overall, the evaluation was pretty good and Jayne's suggestions for improvement were much appreciated. They centered mostly on pairing students, having them discuss their answers together prior to soliciting answers, so that they feel more confident in sharing. This critique makes much sense to me, as I have noticed that the crux of instruction here revolves around a "pairing and sharing" model, as we would term it. I do need to learn to incorporate more of that in my instructional style. I do indeed incorporate group work and activities at home, however, much of it is focused on project work, not what I normally consider the "individual" thinking and analysis process. There is more emphasis on student centered methods, rather than teacher centered...and at home I do tend to lean more heavily on the teacher centered approach to instruction. It is more conducive to imparting and guiding my top students to test preparation; where there is a large quantity of information they must have to succeed on their tests. Here, where the focus on poetry is personal response rather than the "correct" response, the student centered approach to learning seems to be the norm and more effective.


Jayne's suggestions for improvement were greatly appreciated, as were her compliments and her acknowledgement that I have worked really hard to learn the curriculum, methods and how to mark work. It means a lot to me to have my efforts applauded by her, as I have grown to respect her very much. Students are responding and are learning...so that is the most important thing.

It was a good thing...this evaluation...and has given me confidence to approach the remainder of the term and the next term with eager excitement. I am almost half way through my exchange here at Fairfield and I know that I will be sad when it ends. I have invested a lot of energy and effort into learning this system... I am sorry that I will not proceed through to the end of the year.

Of course, I will now be back on Year 1 of the cycle as of next year...right, Mr. Gauthier?

Going Once...Going Twice!

The Tickets have arrived! Patriots vs Tampa Bay Buccaneers....October 25, 2009 ....Wembley Stadium! I'll be there...where will you be????

Care Packages...

In the past few weeks Micaela and I have received care packages from home with much missed and beloved items from home. For me its been French Vanilla Folgers coffee and international delight coffee creamers, for Micaela its been Smartfood and Cheezit's! Well my friend Christina and my mom sent a few of these items to us...but today we hit the jackpot! Apparently Michael decided that he has been saving a heck of a lot of money on dining out and date nights...and is trying to make up for all of that!!! Gotta love it!

Victory Continued...

So the U14 Fairfield Football girls finished their round robin tournament in Hereford on Monday this week. They were moved to the "gold" division and finished second taking home a pretty snazzy shield (aka award plaque). The girls played tough all day, keeping all their opponents scoreless... in fact, in over six matches not one team scored a goal. The ultimate final pairings were decided with penalty kicks, and the Fairfield girls earned a second place spot as a result of that. They then went into the final game, again based on penalty kicks, and AGAIN the game ended without a score. Penalty kicks were done again...and unfortunatelty, despite hanging tough all afternoon, they were defeated at the net. This is the worst way ever to decide the outcome of a game! But, we all had fun and I gave them a few "American" pep talks to keep them fighting hard! Have I told you all I don't know anything about this game? BUT I do make a great cheerleader from the sidelines!

Just as a note: The attached pictures have been published with the permission of the girls in the photograph & permission of Fairfield High School Administration.

Smile of the Day...

Nothing is better than using food to inspire a sensory language lesson and descriptive writing.

Yesterday's treat: Sploosh & Onions!

Can you believe I actually had children eat an onion like they eat an apple...oh, the red faces and the watery eyes; not to mention the prevailing scent of onions wafting through the corridor and the classroom.

Sorry Matt if they came to History lesson with bad breath!

YouTube - William Blake, "The Sick Rose"

YouTube - William Blake, "The Sick Rose"

YouTube - ABC Wide World of Sports - Opening Theme - 1977

YouTube - ABC Wide World of Sports - Opening Theme - 1977

The Agony of Defeat...

If you're an American over 40, and an ABC network fan, you will recognise the converse to "the thrill of victory..." how many of you remember that poor skier from ABC's Wide World of Sports??? I certainly do....that poor unfortunate soul lived with the stigma of that bone crushing fall for years as he provided the clip to the narration for the popular sports show.

So - ok...with every victory, one must expect that somewhere along the way, one will experience defeat. To admit to it, learn from it, and move forward from it, is the sign of true character. Everyone embarking on this course of exchange teaching, is experiencing some personal and professional challenges where they feel defeated. I know that my fellow US Fulbrighters are all feeling inadequate in some aspect of our profession during our experience in the UK. Each one of us is finding it difficult to manage the number of courses we teach, the lack of preparation periods that accompany those increased preps, classroom management differences, and the differences in "assessments" and "grading"- all of which are out of the norms of our typical experiences. We are not handling every change perfectly, and we are not suceeding at everything we attempt during daily lessons, and while it is easy to openly talk about the successes, it is not easy to admit the failures and mistakes. It takes courage to write about it, but here goes.

While perhaps these next experiences I'm going to talk about, and admit to, are not exactly "agonising" bone crushing defeats, they certainly have sent me back to my first years as a novice teacher, where uncertainty with teaching new curriculum, classroom management and assessment of student work, were some of my biggest challenges, and for a brief amount of time over the past week or so I have felt like an utter failure in my chosen profession...and indeed the professional passion of my life, which is to teach. It is difficult to come to grips with, but it is the truth.

My first defeatist moment arose when I started to investigate the curriculum for the poetry unit of study with Year 11. Having once been a poetryphobe I pride myself on the fact that in the past few years, thanks mostly to my instruction of Advanced Placement Literature students, I have made great strides in my knowledge of, my love of, and my ability to teach poetry to my students at all levels. When I began investigating the particular methodology and modes of instruction for poetry at the GCSE level, I ran across a few things that made my "American" head spin. The most prominent issue being that a "personal response" to poetry is greatly emphasized in this unit of study; the emotional response evoked in the student by a particular piece of poetry and their personal interpretation about what the content represents and the evidence they provide to justify that response...no matter if the child misreads or misunderstands the purpose and subject of the poem as intended by the poet.

As I researched this particular method of instruction about personal student response, I was reminded of Zachary's well-crafted essay, written for an AP English assignment last year, on the poem, Five O'Clock Shadow. Zachary proceeded to write a fairly comprehensive and persuasive piece revolving around the idea that this poem was about the act of shaving one's face. Unfortunately, while he did provide some evidence from the poem, he failed this assignment, since the AP Poetry response rubric shows no mercy for a complete "misread" of the poem and this poem is about the end of one's life and living in a nursing home. Also, since much of how American students are tested is in the format of multiple choice, students often must know the "correct" answer and the "correct" interpretation of a poem, and be able to have the skills to read critically enough to decipher the "correct" meaning - now I was learning that there is no "correct" response to a poem...and while I realize that some of my American colleagues will agree with that, and to an extent so do I, what I do know is that when I administer practice examination questions regarding a particular poem on any subject or by any poet, there is definitely a "correct" and "incorrect" answer to to those particular questions. SO - here I am having to reprogram my brain on yet, one more thing.

The solution was to request observing my head of department, Jayne, teach a Year 11 poetry lesson and I did that on Wednesday. Talk about a rookie moment...observing a peer teach a lesson on something as simple as poetry. In the end it was 100% worthwhile, as I engaged in the process as an active particpant with a group of students where we were assigned to gage our personal response to a William Blake poem titled, "The Sick Rose." The group was challenged to devise as many interpretations and personal responses to the poem as possible in ten minutes...we then regrouped as a large class where all the ideas were shared ...ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime...never once did we study the poem for its "actual" meaning, context, content, or structure...it was a very different lesson than the poetry lessons I am accustomed to teaching; and worthwhile to observe as now I have a much better understanding of how to structure the remainder of the lessons from here on out, with this all important piece of exam preparation. Zach would be interested to know, that under these parameters, perhaps his essay and his response would have scored an A* (star) grade.


My second defeatist moment involves my complete inability to comprehend and wrap my mind around, the seemingly lack of assessment that takes place in this education system, outside of a coursework essay based on a unit of study and the GCSE exam in Year 11. While students are engaged in a variety of learning tasks, they are not assessed for their work in a formal method, such as we use in the United States. Daily work, homework, classwork, group work, and any kind of work "set" for completion by the teacher is not "graded" in the traditional sense that an American thinks of "grading." Students do not take written quizzes, written tests, or complete compositions as best work for "grading." Students do not receive "grade point averages." I have not yet "graded" anything from a student I currently teach. As a result I feel that I don't have a good knowledge of the individual student, their abilities and basic skills in a formal, quantitative method of assessment. Assessment is very much about classroom observation, "over the shoulder grading" and "marking" exercise books. Exercise books are the place where student work is completed; I have cursorily read and briefly commented on student work in these books.


I have been "marking" coursework from this year's Year 11 students, using the AQA marking scheme. This method, is, to say the least, confusing and while somewhat similar to our rubrics at home, it is also very different, as some pieces of work use two rubrics for different sets of skills - for example, "writing" and "reading" skills, and then these marks must be added to deem a final score. I have had the same set of essays given back to me twice because this was not clear to me. My "American" trained brained is finding it difficult to isolate the content of an essay from the grammar of an essay - but indeed, that is the case when some course work essays are being used to assess a student's reading skills and some coursework essays are being used to assess a student's language skills; therefore "marking"them, which consists of using "tick" marks (check marks) and writing a series of annotated comments using the wording provided in the marking scheme, can be somewhat challenging. For example what exactly is the difference between "student responds ", "student understands", or "student is familiar with" in regards to author's use of language. (Those of you at home will have shades of the controversy and anguish experienced when we developed our school wide rubrics and were searching for the descriptors to use.)

Bear in mind that these marking schemes are used throughout the entire country for every school administering this particular set of exams and instructing this particular coursework. Therefore, teachers go through a "calibration" within their school, to determine that all teachers are assessing essays accurately in accordance with the mark scheme. I am being sent to a conference on this particular idea on November the 26th....(that's actually Thanksgiving...when the rest of you are watching football and gorging on turkey I will be engaging in professional development activities...you can laugh now, its ok.)

Fourth, I have found myself frustrated at the numbers of students who do not complete their homework or their daily work. My response to this lack of completion is to assign a break or a lunch detention. After school detentions are reserved for extremely serious offenses and letters must be sent home to parents before an after school detention can be assigned, along with a precursor of other intervention processes including the involvement of form tutors, heads of year, and head of department, when dealing with particularly difficult students. Refocusing students on task, motivating them to complete their work, and maintaining an acceptable level of "noise" in the classroom is proving to be quite challenging, and takes up more instructional time than I, myself, find acceptable, and it is extremely difficult for me to "stay on task" in my lesson,when I have to interrupt myself to refocus students on their work.

In effect this is a classroom management issue. Yes, I am struggling with managing a classroom here! For a person who rarely writes students up at home, except in severe cases of disrespect, this is a major admission for me. I pride myself on a well-run and orderly classroom, where mutual respect is the mantra and where there is an acceptable level of "noise". I feel that every "weapon" I have ever used in my arsenal of tactics has been stripped from me. I cannot threaten with a "zero" for the day on an assignment; I cannot throw out a "pop quiz"; I cannot assign an after school or office detention; I do not have "in-school suspension" to threaten with; I cannot "sick" a coach on an under performing or wise-ass student and threaten to deprive them from practice or playing time; I do not have a list of parent phone numbers or emails instantly at my fingertips for an impromptu phone call home placed directly from the classroom; I cannot make a phone call to the office and have an administrator appear at my door in five minutes to handle any student issues. Don't get me wrong, my classroom is far from being "out of control", but it is not yet at the standard of an acceptable teaching and learning environment that I am comfortable with, or that reflects my skill as a teacher in this particular area. Keeping students on task has proved extremely frustrating.

I have formulated several theories as to why this particular "on task" issue is a problem I am facing here. I don't have an answer and I'm not quite sure what it is...however, on Thursday, when all Year 10 students were taken off "timetable" and given the entire day to spend in English specifically to work on their coursework essays, my top set of 37 Year 10 students, who pose the biggest challenge to me as far as remaining on task with daily work, were diligently and constructively working for a full five hours. They were the quietest I have ever heard them, fully engaged in their writing and actively accepting and seeking out feedback about their ideas and their writing. The seriousness of the coursework essay and the implications of the necessity for a good grade apparently having some effect on the quality of their work and effort during this particular class.

My final defeatist moment has been building over the course of many days, and cannot be simply explained as one specific moment or event...but suffice it to say that my classroom has seen the demise of my trademark "horseshoe" seating arrangement. For a variety of reasons this particular set up just did not work here. First, I believe that I was expecting too much from these students in introducing this concept when it is not anything they are accustomed to, and along with my funny voice, accent, and different teaching style, it may have proven too much to expect them to handle one more "new" thing; especially for the older students who were much too social in this particular arrangement - thus affecting the above mentioned "on task" and "noise level" issues in the classroom. The younger students adapted well to it and understood the expectation of this particular seating arrangement. Second, teaching in this set up is something I have honed over many years and set as an expectation at home for what the arrangement will be in my particular classroom. Many of my American students have had me for more than one year, and so they are adjusted to it. Also, it is not unusual for other teachers to teach in this arrangement at home; therefore, students are much more adaptable to it. That is not the case here. Most classrooms here are arranged in rows facing front, or in small group clusters, and that is what these students are used to. As I was informed by one student, "no other classroom is arranged this way." The idea that one could see all the people around the room, all the time, was too much of a temptation for students to talk across the horseshoe to other students, whether verbally or non-verbally, and to talk to the student in front of them and or on the sides of them. Thirdly, the furniture with which I was working was perhaps not conducive to this style of seating plan. Rectangular tables and individual plastic chairs do not allow for any personal space for each student. The individual desks and welded chairs in my American classroom provide for personal space for each student, and allow for space between and in front of or behind each student. That was not the case here, and so I am sure that this personal space issue also had much to do with the demise of the horseshoe. In the end the decision to rearrange the classroom into small groups of six students was a serious blow to my desire to bring my "teaching" style to the UK...ok...a serious blow to my ego too. It was upsetting, and indeed, I found myself with tears in my eyes as I rearranged the desks.

Why such an emotional response you may wonder, over a silly little seating arrangement? I wondered the same thing... but, one must understand me and my philosophy behind the horseshoe. Shirking conventional "teacher centered" instructional seating plans, with rows facing front, and getting in and among the midst of my students, within the open space of the floor, and being able to monitor work by only having to see over the top of one head to the student behind, is part of my entire educational philosophy. This seating plan style was certainly not something I began my teaching career with, but over time, as I have become more confident with my skills this is where it has evolved; to dismantle it on this side of the pond made me feel like a rookie teacher all over again, without any skills to even do a simple thing like manage a classroom seating plan and make it work. It is very psychologically damaging to one's confidence.
The upside of this - the new seating arrangement has worked well over the past two days and perhaps one issue - that of the seating plan - will directly affect the other issue - that of keeping students focused and on task during daily lessons. Something tells me this will be the case; especially if today's coursework day was in any way related to the overall seating plan.

The Thrill of Victory...

As with any experience such as this one there are bound to be victorious moments where life is good...

This past week there were several such moments...

Successfully completing a full unit of study on Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck, with the first group of Year 11 students to pass through my British classroom, was one of those moments. Albeit a relatively "short" unit of study, when compared to a similar unit I might teach at home on the same novel. My job, in this case, was to guide students to a basic understanding of plot,character, theme, setting, language, style, and historical context. The context study,, providing for some of the most interesting discussions during class time, focused on the Great Depression, the post war era in the United States, migration west to seek jobs...every good English teacher is a great historian also, so lucky for me I was trained in both academic areas. Discussions focused on theme also proved fruitful, as we concentrated on the concept of the American Dream and immigrant workers, as well as migrant workers. These students will return to their study on this novel in the third term, with specific focus on GCSE test preparation, where they will write answers to practice questions and refresh their knowledge on this particular novel, as their focus questions on the exam are about this pieces of literature.

Overall, it was a pleasure to work with these students, and while many of them have remained in my second group of Year 11 students, 11 Esceley, as we progress to the study of poetry by Heaney, Clarke and pre-1914 war poets - just as many have moved on and it saddens me that I have not been able to get to know them better and establish a full year relationship with them, as happens back home, since, in America our students are our students for the full year, there is no switching from teacher to teacher. This rotating only happens in the upper school, not in the lower school, so relationships with the students can be fully developed in those year groups from year to year.

My second successful experience, and in some ways quite refreshing and a reminder of home, was my cover lesson with a group of young men who are in a "functional skills" class. My colleagues at home will recognise this as the equivalent to our PAVE program. During my planning period on Friday, I was assigned to cover for these boys in the absence of their regular teacher. Their lesson was focused on learning about charities, as they are in the process of choosing a charity and planning a fundraiser to benefit this charity during the school's annual charity week. I had been warned that I may find this group of young men a challenge, when actually I found them quite pleasant. As we progressed through the lesson they peppered me with questions and comparisons about charities and the like in the United States. Along the way they managed to ask a few questions about life in Northbridge and other things. I learned a lot from them too - about the numerous charities in the UK, ones that specifically benefit farming families and also about farming and livestock and also about various animals, including cows, sheep and chickens. I learned scads about daily life in the village of Peterchurch. They guffawed occasionally over my funny accent and my colloquialisms. I hope that these boys will run a pancake breakfast for their fundraiser...as I promised to attend/participate in whatever they put together for their charity.

Third successful venture - I made my U14 Girl's football soccer coaching debut and am currently carrying a winning record of 3-1-1! (Not really - since these girls are pretty much self-coached and don't need anyone to "coach" them...but it sounds good!) I got to leave school a bit early yesterday to accompany Ellie Hope to a round-robin tournament for both the U16 and U14 girls football teams at Fairfield. Micaela experienced her first competitive football play in "uniform" on this day also. It was an interesting experience and one which offers a fair amount of commentary on the differences of sport and athletics in the culture of the two schools.

Coming from a high school where students practice their sport daily, sometimes 2-3 hours per day directly after school, even on Saturday's and possibly Sundays, and a culture where it is "illegal" for town sport - or club sport - to take precedence over school sports- the organization of sport here at Fairfield is in stark contrast to that of Northbridge High School.

Fall sport at Fairfield consists of hockey, (aka field hockey), girl's and boy's football (aka soccer), netball, rugby, (I think) and even basketball. Students attend "training" (aka practice) once a week for about 1 1/2 hours per week. If they have other things that are taking precedence on that day, they may not attend. (Micaela actually only attended one training session prior to playing yesterday, due to illness and other things taking place for me where she could not stay after school for training.) As a result, the majority of these girls have never played together in a full practice prior to yesterday's round robin of 15 minute "games." We took both teams, each short one girl, as the U16 play 11 per side, and the U14 girls play 10 per side, into the Hereford Leisure Center; a very impressive athletic complex to be sure. They were scheduled to play these games against a several other area high school teams, some of whom had enough girls to field two teams in each age group. At the last minute some girls from Fairfield, who had originally committed to playing, could not attend for various reasons. The U16 girls did not win any of their "games." The U14 girls won three, tied one, and lost one- not too bad! They were very good players. Since it was my task to "supervise" these girls, I did not see too much of Micaela and the U16 girls, but I saw a few bits of the first and last game.

The style of play is also in contrast to that which happens in Northbridge, as teams play two games per week, in addition to their practice time, and these games generally are full one hour games. Each team in Northbridge has a paid coach, or several, in the case of real "American" football, and these coaches take their competitions extremely seriously, as do the students who take their participation in sport very seriously. Generally the physical education teachers are the "coaches" for just about every organized sport team at Fairfield and they do not receive extra money for supervising these teams and taking them to competitions beyond school time. Fairfield teams would be the equivalent of American intramural sport teams or school club sports; where the level of commitment may not be as high as with varsity or junior varsity sports.

Athletic participation at the club level here in the United Kingdom is where serious levels of competition take place. Most students who play on the school team probably have been involved in premiere club football from the time they were young, and these teams are the teams that take precedence, as it would not be unusual for a child to leave a tournament, such as the one held yesterday, to go to club soccer practice; an action that would have an American student sanctioned from their school team as a punishment.

Opportunities for receiving athletic scholarship money, such as some of the money Zachary receives to attend Assumption College, in exchange for playing football, is not part of the culture of higher learning financial assistance in the United Kingdom. Many students in the U.S. will strive to excel at their high school sports team in an effort to make them more marketable to colleges of their choice. The more talents they can bring to these colleges, over and above their academic achievements, the more chances they have of being accepted. This is true of any extracurricular activity that an American high school student may participate in, including dance, drama, student government and the like.

Just the same, this was my first real opportunity to interact with some of my students outside of the classroom, something I diligently do at home with my students regularly, and also offered me the chance to get to see these girls play a sport, also something I find rather enjoyable. Even though we arrived back in Gilwern rather late, at about 8 p.m., it was worth it. I look forward to attending again next week!

Sunday Roast!

You may wonder what's so wonderful about a Sunday Roast? Well in Britain this is a traditional event...Sunday roast dinner complete with just about every root vegetable you can think of, four different deserts and excellent company...aka the Fairfield English department and their families.

Again, what's so wonderful about Sunday roast? Well, considering its the first real red meat I've eaten since my arrival - right about now I'm suffering from some serious iron deficiency... it's also organic beef raised by the family whose table it graced. Mel and her husband Ian, as mentioned in an earlier post, raise Hereford Angus beef cattle. This business has been in Ian's family for generations. He and his brother currently raise and breed these cattle on 350 acres of pasture land which overlooks the mountains, and some of the most beautiful farmland around. Every direction one looks is a picture postcard.

The cattle that I was lucky enough to walk amongst today are more than cows, they are beautiful, large and utterly magnificent and fiercely protective of their young. As is the case with just about every new experience I embark on, I pepper my host with a myriad of questions, and this walk around the farm was not any different. While dinner was exceptionally delicious - Mel is a great cook -after we had gorged ourselves on pudding and tarts, Ian guided me and some of the other guests around the fields to have a look at the barns, the Bull - named Eddie, some newborn calves and their moms, the field of male cattle who will soon head off to the butcher and the field of heifers, some of whom are soon to give birth; an event I hope to be lucky enough to see while I'm here.

First, Ian and Nigel (Jane's husband) evenly split a bag of cattle feed, some oats and molasses mix, to haul to the pasture for the male cattle. The cows are organic beef, feeding only off the natural grass pasture land, but shortly before slaughter the males are fed this organic feed mix to fatten them up just a bit more...I am told the females don't need any added help as they carry their weight well. Just one similarity I learned exists between cows and humans on this journey around the farm.

The first stop on the way was the holding pen for the breeding bull named Eddie. On this day Eddie had a female visitor to keep him happy until he is released into the field with the heifers. Eddie will have his way with the females until he is then removed from them again. Each female will seek out Eddie while he is in the field with them until she knows she is pregnant, an inborn instinct apparently, and then she will stay away from him. It takes up to three weeks for this process to happen. Any stock that is fathered by Eddie is sent off to slaughter when they reach full size in order to prevent any inbreeding. Male cows are castrated when they are born so as to prevent their knowledge of any kind of breeding desire.

On the way we met Tess, a working sheep dog on the farm, and a cat kept on the premises for mousing in the barns.

The next field held three momma cows and three baby calves; one of whom had just been born this past week, about three weeks ahead of schedule. According to Ian he is quite small, to me he seemed pretty big! It was interesting to see the reaction of the moms to people in their field. They kept themselves between the visitors and their young. Cows can be very gentle, although not approaching people outright, but they have been known to get extremely protective of their young and some accidents happen with walkers who take their dogs up public footpaths with their dogs if there are calves in the field. Apparently farmers are expected to post that a "bull" is in the field also, if their field is used as a "public footpath."

We walked through another field and came upon the pasture with all the male cows. Brown and white cows, & black and white cows. They are huge animals. Walking amongst them was an incredible feeling. Sure, I've seen cows before, at the Big E mostly, but always from behind a fence or a barn wall. I have never been in and amongst them. Walking behind them as they began running through the field, following the feed bags being carried by the men, was and amazing feeling. The ground does shake beneath your feet.

Watching them eat their oats, within a foot or so of their feed troughs, and seeing the oats and molasses mixture sticking to their noses and mouths, while their gigantic tongues would reach out and lick it off was a funny sight. Cows do make eye contact...they stare through you. They examine you. They seem to be thoughtful creatures....probably wondering why I spoke to them in such a strange accent.

As we began walking back towards the farm and towards the females, the males just followed closely behind. I would stop, turn and look at them, and they would stop walking...but always looking at me. When I would walk, they would walk. I walked backwards and they followed.

The same experience was had in the field of females. They are curious and approach apprehensively, never getting too close. They watch you. They stare at you. They follow you. It is incredible. I turned around to find that everyone was already out of the pasture, and there I was still among the herd. I will say I began to walk a bit faster, but the cows walked faster too...and I could feel there feet thudding upon the earth as I walked ahead of them. As the males did, they followed all the way to the gate and stared longingly as if they wanted to get out.

It is bizarre to think that these beautiful creatures, so alive and docile in the pasture today, will eventually hang in a butcher shop, appear on your plate with your next steak dinner, and be frozen in a freezer; but it is a frank fact of the farming life. These animals are not family pets, or prize winning stock, they are raised to serve a purpose, to feed you and I. It is evident in Ian's voice and tone that this is a way of life he truly loves and enjoys and is fiercely proud of. I admire it.