I've just got back from a conference being held by dance teachers and experts from all over the County. I have to admit, I hate conferences, I always feel completely inadequate and maybe not stupid, but certainly I spend most of the first half wondering which language they're speaking. This time though, I had the great pleasure of not only understanding every word, but I was asked what I thought... oh my goodness, they actually considered me to be one of their experts!
After an awful day of full-blown nearly-crying, I left the school feeling angry, disheartened and like I didn't know what I was doing anymore. Every teacher lives in fear of two things: 1) the kids will one day realise that 30:1 are easy odds - for them! and 2) that someone will find out we don't really know what we're doing. So imagine my delight when I was consulted and asked to run a quick session, there and then, about how Stanislavski can be used in dance workshops focusing on the solo choreography in SwanSong...
Yes, I'm not a moron!
About Me
- Pixie
- How many times have you wanted to escape to the bottom of the garden and disappear inside your imagination? Well, I've wanted to every since I started school and I doubt I was the only little girl with a fully furnished 'camp' behind the garden shed. Hence how I got the nickname Pixie, and strangely, it's followed me around for the last 20 years. Of course, every now and then even Pixies must emerge into the real world, but the real one's never stop venturing back to camp. So, here's what I've discovered on my travels so far...
Monday, 26 September 2011
Thursday, 15 September 2011
To give up... ? To let go... ?
Boys cause you sleepless nights no matter how they are related to you! The latest boy to cause me to fall asleep at my desk is in fact one of my students. This little lad lost his Mum last year and it has been a year of endless struggles. He is in my tutor group, so I'm the person he sees the most often and I consider him to be, as the others, one of my kids! He has spent the year getting into trouble almost every day. Nothing major, he is a good lad, but small random events; chewing gum, missing detentions, talking and answering back, the usual teenage boy stuff. The problem is every time I look at him, I can see him screaming out for help... or is he? We are only two weeks into the new term and he's been in trouble again. So the question is, which one of us is overreacting? Is he actually just a hormonal teenage boy?
Having spent a lot of time with him and his family over the past year, I worry over the slightest thing he says. He looks after his little brother and is becoming more and more responsible around the house, helping with the shopping and the school run. Dad is brilliant, but how the hell do you cope with losing your incredible wife and finish raising your children, desperately trying not to fall apart in the process. We managed to get him and Dad into therapy, but with the massive gaps in the process, he only got six weeks - how do you support a bereaved 12 year old in six weeks? We also managed to get his Dad help and slowly, they're getting there. But, it's just not enough. Last Christmas, I had to face up to the fact that I can't make this better; I can try and I can support him and be there for him to talk to, but I can't make this go away and I can't 'cure' him. Now I'm having to figure out if his behaviour is because he's a teenager or because he's struggling? If anyone has any ideas, please feel free to suggest them...
I guess I need to stop panicking. I worry every second that I'll miss something or that there's more I could be doing. I'll never give up on him, ever. But I think I need to let him go... This is going to be hard.
Having spent a lot of time with him and his family over the past year, I worry over the slightest thing he says. He looks after his little brother and is becoming more and more responsible around the house, helping with the shopping and the school run. Dad is brilliant, but how the hell do you cope with losing your incredible wife and finish raising your children, desperately trying not to fall apart in the process. We managed to get him and Dad into therapy, but with the massive gaps in the process, he only got six weeks - how do you support a bereaved 12 year old in six weeks? We also managed to get his Dad help and slowly, they're getting there. But, it's just not enough. Last Christmas, I had to face up to the fact that I can't make this better; I can try and I can support him and be there for him to talk to, but I can't make this go away and I can't 'cure' him. Now I'm having to figure out if his behaviour is because he's a teenager or because he's struggling? If anyone has any ideas, please feel free to suggest them...
I guess I need to stop panicking. I worry every second that I'll miss something or that there's more I could be doing. I'll never give up on him, ever. But I think I need to let him go... This is going to be hard.
Tuesday, 13 September 2011
The best piece of advice I've been given in a long time...
"I come across a lot of people in my job and it's very difficult to find people who are kind and nice to be around. I really value the friendships I have. If you find someone who makes you feel good about yourself, who makes you smile and feel relaxed, then spend time with them."
Sunday, 4 September 2011
Whether backwards or forwards, I'm certainly moving!
This feels like a step backwards, but is being made so that I can take a giant leap forwards, so technically this is a run up...
Having been kicked out of the flat (unnecessarily long story about being stitched up by my flatmate and not having enough money to find a place on my own again), I've made the painful decision of moving home for a bit. For any adult who has lived away from parental-types for any period of time, you'll understand what a complete nightmare this is. It took a long time for me to realise it's not the end of the world: yes, I'm having to put my dining table, my TV, my kitchenware and my fabulous sofa into storage. Basically everything I've worked for for the past two and a half years will be boxed up, locked up and it will see daylight when I'm financially solvent again! For a long time I felt like I was back from uni (five years ago) again and having to come home and start my 'normal' life, but finally I'm seeing it for what it is. This is a great opportunity to save (a hell of a lot of) money so that I can buy a house in the next couple of years, something I wouldn't be able to do while paying extortionate rent.
Another positive is the amount of people I've had offer me a place to live: Mum, Dad, oldest sister and next sister up, plus numerous temporary sofa's. All have been completely serious and it's been really nice knowing that I've got people around me who will step up when I need them. After a shockingly s**t year, this was the final straw, but in the calm/cool light of day, isn't so bad (of course, give me a month of living back with Mum and I might change my mind). So, it looks like I'll be spending a few months with one parent then the other, with the weekends at my sister's.
I've thought a lot about how my situation looks to people, well, like me, you know, the judgemental kind. I massively judge people who are my age and still living at home, I just don't see the need for it; I have a responsible job, friends, responsibilities, so why should I be living with parents? Well, the fact is, because the property market sucks and I've only just cleared the debt I built up over living away from home, meaning that if I'm going to remain a sensible, responsible person, I am going to need money. To a judgemental person like me, I appear to be completely lame. To my not-so-judgemental self, it's the difference between buying a house next year and buying a house in five years. This understanding of shutting up and getting on with what you have to do, has partly come courtesy of Mr Barman.
Mr Barman has drifted through my life for the past two years and, as the name suggests, he works in the bar near my sister's house. To my judgemental self (I really don't like this personality trait, but at least I acknowledge it's existence and I try not to let it out too often) I don't like that he's older than me, lives at home and works in a bar - in fact, my sister (who knows him much better and really likes him) frequently tells me off for judging a book by it's cover (i.e.. him). Since getting to know him a bit better, I've had to consider changing his name to Mr Dark Horse. As if to metaphysically slap me in the face, he has had more of a life than me in every way... The reason he's living at home is to look after his Dad (the way of me choosing between my parents is that Mum is not coping with her diagnosis, so we're hoping that having me around focus' her a bit more), he was a firefighter for three years, but was diagnosed with a medical condition and was forced to leave the career he loved, he spent a couple of years travelling and taught English to children in South America, he speaks a few languages... Yep, that was the giant slap in the face I needed to realise just how wrong my judgemental self is.
The fact is, it doesn't matter what people like me think; where I live and who I live with does not determine who I am or what kind of person I am. Anyone who is worth talking to will get to know what I've done and why I am where I am; if they judge me for it, then they're not worth knowing. I really really hope Mr Barman never finds out how I judged him before I knew him. More than that, I hope I stop judging people at all.
Having been kicked out of the flat (unnecessarily long story about being stitched up by my flatmate and not having enough money to find a place on my own again), I've made the painful decision of moving home for a bit. For any adult who has lived away from parental-types for any period of time, you'll understand what a complete nightmare this is. It took a long time for me to realise it's not the end of the world: yes, I'm having to put my dining table, my TV, my kitchenware and my fabulous sofa into storage. Basically everything I've worked for for the past two and a half years will be boxed up, locked up and it will see daylight when I'm financially solvent again! For a long time I felt like I was back from uni (five years ago) again and having to come home and start my 'normal' life, but finally I'm seeing it for what it is. This is a great opportunity to save (a hell of a lot of) money so that I can buy a house in the next couple of years, something I wouldn't be able to do while paying extortionate rent.
Another positive is the amount of people I've had offer me a place to live: Mum, Dad, oldest sister and next sister up, plus numerous temporary sofa's. All have been completely serious and it's been really nice knowing that I've got people around me who will step up when I need them. After a shockingly s**t year, this was the final straw, but in the calm/cool light of day, isn't so bad (of course, give me a month of living back with Mum and I might change my mind). So, it looks like I'll be spending a few months with one parent then the other, with the weekends at my sister's.
I've thought a lot about how my situation looks to people, well, like me, you know, the judgemental kind. I massively judge people who are my age and still living at home, I just don't see the need for it; I have a responsible job, friends, responsibilities, so why should I be living with parents? Well, the fact is, because the property market sucks and I've only just cleared the debt I built up over living away from home, meaning that if I'm going to remain a sensible, responsible person, I am going to need money. To a judgemental person like me, I appear to be completely lame. To my not-so-judgemental self, it's the difference between buying a house next year and buying a house in five years. This understanding of shutting up and getting on with what you have to do, has partly come courtesy of Mr Barman.
Mr Barman has drifted through my life for the past two years and, as the name suggests, he works in the bar near my sister's house. To my judgemental self (I really don't like this personality trait, but at least I acknowledge it's existence and I try not to let it out too often) I don't like that he's older than me, lives at home and works in a bar - in fact, my sister (who knows him much better and really likes him) frequently tells me off for judging a book by it's cover (i.e.. him). Since getting to know him a bit better, I've had to consider changing his name to Mr Dark Horse. As if to metaphysically slap me in the face, he has had more of a life than me in every way... The reason he's living at home is to look after his Dad (the way of me choosing between my parents is that Mum is not coping with her diagnosis, so we're hoping that having me around focus' her a bit more), he was a firefighter for three years, but was diagnosed with a medical condition and was forced to leave the career he loved, he spent a couple of years travelling and taught English to children in South America, he speaks a few languages... Yep, that was the giant slap in the face I needed to realise just how wrong my judgemental self is.
The fact is, it doesn't matter what people like me think; where I live and who I live with does not determine who I am or what kind of person I am. Anyone who is worth talking to will get to know what I've done and why I am where I am; if they judge me for it, then they're not worth knowing. I really really hope Mr Barman never finds out how I judged him before I knew him. More than that, I hope I stop judging people at all.
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