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!