Maybe the real deal, Maybe not.

Right, Mr Perfect! Thats his name for a start! He's in the Forces, originally from Cornwall so he got an accent like (you need to add the accent there!!) We met online after a massive argument with Mr Dark Horse where I mistakenly thought he was the last man in the world!! I can't remember if I told you about Matt...? 

So I got drunk and followed my friend's advice by signing up, it took me a week to get the courage to go back online and spellcheck what on earth i'd written in my drunken state!! Anyway, I emailed him, we got chatting, then we wrote each other off as living too far away so ignored each other for a bit, then randomly decided to meet, we've been inseparable ever since! He's lovely, gorgeous, funny, considerate and I'm only just discovering he's not perfect!! Yay me!! Just to give you an idea:

I'd had a terrible day, he was bored on night shift so in the morning I got a text picture of s duck holding a yellow rose! He'd remembered me telling him i want s pond in my garden and a duck called Duck and that my favourite glowers are yellow roses - i didn't even remember telling him!! 

Over half term (we'd only been together 3wks) I had to keep two "Mr Perfect Days" free for a surprise treasure hunt! I got a list of items to bring (certain clothes, phone charger etc) and a list of apps to download, then the clues started: starting at RAF Northolt I had to get us to the nearest tube station! Where did Charles Dickens send Pip to in London? Holborn (FYI central line straight through)! Who are the major sponsors of the MK Dons? Doubletree! Then a series if clues: largest Channel Island? Peter Pan and the Lost ???? 7th in line to the throne! Complete the Roman word - amphi???????

Basically he took me to the most amazing 5* hotel in the West End then to see Jersey Boys in the theatre! Was amazing, he chose the hotel to be in my favourite part of London! To say thank you I took him to see Skyfall at the Odeon in Leicester Square! When we got back to mine we got Chinese takeaway and sat on the couch under a duvet eating and watching a film- glamorous! 

The latest lovely thing he did was the other weekend; I had to go in to do a Saturday rehearsal for the show, he came over Friday night, I left him in bed Saturday morning, when I got back at 4 he'd cooked lunch/dinner - yep, he's a really good cook! On Sunday he made breakfast, we went for a walk, came back he made lunch while I watched the rugby again, then after the rugby I fell asleep on him (long week!!) and then he cooked dinner! He loves cooking but living in barracks he can't do any! 

I'm still waiting to discover the fatal floor - it's going to be pretty major I can tell!! He's not perfect, sadly, he's unbelievably stubborn, like point blank refuses to acknowledge another perspective! He cannot see an opinion that isn't his own, he's realised I won't back down either, but the other night after a 6hour disagreement over the first female actresses being prostitutes I said I was backing down - I was right and I stand by my argument, but I couldn't be bothered anymore and I really didn't care enough to keep it going, besides I can't sleep on an argument!! The only major thing is that he's got his options in April so we'll find out if he's going on a 4month attachment overseas, 3months in Afghan, 2yrs at another base in the UK or something in between! Not ideal! I could see myself marrying this one, he just needs to learn to keep his mouth shut sometimes!!

Oh wait - Just discovered another reason why I might have to marry this one: we wont see each other for 3weeks? I've just got my PJs from under my pillow and there's a note saying good night..... I've gone really girlie!! I knew it would happen eventually, but not for someone like him - he's a military man for gods sake!! He's caring and thoughtful (and oh my god the sex is amazing)!!

I'll let you know if I get carried away and accidentally propose!!!

OMG Y...!!

A while ago after a few drinks and another hideous argument with the mini-ex (Mr Dark Horse) I decided to do the unthinkable – yes, I took Mad Kate’s advice and joined a dating site.  I always get flashbacks of Carry On Loving or similar, except with a large amount of shame and embarrassment. I hate the idea of internet dating, it just seems wrong and a little bit too much like an emotional CV, but I have absolutely no way of meeting new people.  I do not have a single friend within a hundred miles and none of my friends think their single friends are good enough for me, which, while I appreciate the sentiment, doesn’t help me much. So, I thought what the hell, downed a bottle of wine and wrote my profile.  I figured I’d keep it simple, more due to my lack of sobriety than my intention to meet someone, so I wrote five whole sentences.  I said I’d been focusing on my career for the past few years and when I looked up into the world again I saw everyone had moved on and got married.  I listed my interests as F1, rugby, dancing, reading and the gym and uploaded the only recent photo taken at a school event. 

Surprisingly I got a few hits and not all of them were awful.  Don’t get me know they were far from normal, but not everyone has Psychopath tattooed across their foreheads.  There were the usual topless/pantless idiots who emailed me saying “hi ur fit” or “fancy a chat” – apparently the need for grammar and punctuation is lost on these people.  I also ruled out the married, the short, the unemployed and the downright weird.  I was about to give up when I got a reply from a very sweet looking guy I’d spotted a few days before.

I was drawn to him because of his incredibly beautiful eyes – you may have noticed I’m not a girlie girl and I certainly do not gush over some random man’s eyes – he just made me curious, so I emailed him.  His profile said he was a ‘sex-pest’ and wanting to know what kind of person advertises themselves as such, I asked him.  He was funny and as sweet as his photos would suggest.  We chatted on and off for a while, but I had decided he lived too far away and being a year younger than me, I was sick of dating men who wanted a mother more than a girlfriend, so I pretty much gave up and went to meet someone else.  It wasn’t until a few weeks later I found a message in my inbox asking how my day was.  We began chatting again, but I still had no intention of meeting him, then out of the blue he gave me his mobile number.  We started texting and I started to wonder what he was like in “real life,” he suggested meeting up and I agreed.  Up until the moment I walked in I was ready to write him off as another idiot with a fatal flaw that was soon to become a deal breaker for me. And then I walked in…

The first time I saw him he flashed me the most dazzling smile I’ve ever seen.  Yep, sucked in straight away.  As I turned from the bar and caught another look at him I realised who he had reminded me of – Tom Daley.  The just-legal-muscle-bound-god my colleague and I had been drooling over during the Olympics.  Yep, I was on a date with his better looking older brother (not literally).  I didn’t care if he broke my heart, he was gorgeous.  We chatted like we’d known each other forever; I remember witnessing so many awkward first dates and I started to wonder what other people thought of us, whether they had guessed we were on our first date or if we looked as natural as we felt.  I say “we”, because a few weeks on, we have talked about it and he felt the same.  There were two things that happened that night that made me want to see him again: he asked if I was hungry so we had dinner (I never ever eat on the first date), but I couldn’t decide what so he ordered two mystery meals and I had to wait and see what they were. The other was that he said he was bored during his night shift so he taught himself to palm read.  He took my hand and started to read my palm – this is the line of something and this is the line of something else, they do this and mean this and this is the Retard Line for believing everything I’ve just told you.  I was completely taken aback, how could I fall for such a ridiculous and obvious line?  He flashed me a smile again and that was it, I would have taken him home that second if he’d asked.

We saw each other again two days later and again two days after that and before I knew it I was smitten.  We talked about everything from work to family to bucket lists to ambitions.  We spent hours on the phone and not wanting to drag ourselves away we spent a long time regretting our lack of sleep during working hours – more so him than me!  This was the first time in a long time that someone was genuinely interested in me, he actually wanted me.  And amazingly, not just for my bum (notably my best feature).  One of the conversations we had to have early on was sex.  Our common ground was innuendo and word play and we spent a lot of time challenging each other to the most innocently controversial statements, but there was a serious undertone.  Having gone through a rough time with two exs in quick succession, I did not want to rush into anything.  The other thing was I’ve been having tests to figure out why the last time I had sex hurt so flippin’ much, so having been prodded and poked my medical practitioners across the County for the past three months, I was in no mood to be prodded again!  Turns out we have very similar views: not till the time is right and we’ll know when the time is right by how well we know each other.  Right, awkward conversation out of the way.  Sadly (and a tad ironically), this brought us closer together and all I wanted to do for the next week was take him home.  I only saw him yesterday and already I’m thinking about the next time I’ll see him.

I guess the main reason I’m thinking about him so much is because I’m not doing any of the running, he is.  It’s always me travelling miles on a moment’s notice to pick them up so that they can have a drink or because they need sleep (not that I do as well or anything), but not this time, in fact I feel really bad that he’s the one doing it all.  We will talk about meeting up and then I’ll get a text with a post code and instructions as to appropriate footwear.  Sound controlling? Yep probably, but for some reason I don’t mind, it’s nice having someone else take charge.  I’m so used to being the dominant one n the relationship (not that this is a relationship – we’re still very much in the ‘dating’ stage), it’s nice that I feel comfortable enough to be around someone who takes charge – plus he does this thing when he kisses me really passionately where he has hold of my hair, not in the league of 50 Shades or anything, I’m not that kind of girl, but enough that I know he wants me.  It’s intense and passionate, but not scary in a “if you leave me I’ll kill you” kind of way.  Of course I’m writing this now, who knows what will happen in a few more weeks, if I’ll even get as far as taking him home.

I read an article in a magazine recently and it said how the only thing worse than constantly meeting the wrong man was meeting the right man. I absolutely understand what she means. This is terrifying – what if he is The One?  What if he is the last person I ever have a first date with?  What if he is the one I wake up to for the rest of my life?  What if he is the last person I feel butterflies over?  The last person to see me naked?  The father of my children?  Seriously, this is terrifying!  I really like him, what if he isn’t perfect? What if I meltdown and he can’t handle it? What if he completely breaks my heart? At least when I’m dating idiots with no future I know how it’s going to end – right there and then – but what do I do when I meet someone I don’t want to lose?  The other problem is there is still so much to know about each other.  We seem to agree on a lot of things, but how much can you know until you live/sleep/eat together every day – what if I get completely sucked in, fall in love (for real this time) and then he breaks me? How do I know I’ll survive this one?  Why am I thinking the worst? Because I’m a realist?  Because I’m a cynic?  Because I’ve been so badly burnt in the past I’m a guarded, emotionally defunct idiot?  I don’t know.  Every time I start to over think I stop myself and go for a run – I’m getting really fit!!  I like him, I know that much.  I may be on my way to humiliation, hurt, love, forever. I don’t know. I guess that’s what growing up is – I won’t know until I get there.

Sh*t, that was scary...

I am finally able to write about this because everything in now fine, but a few weeks ago I realised I really had no idea what true fear was.

My beautiful 11 week old nephew had a bit of a rash and a cold. My dutiful sister took him to the GP who said it was a cold and just a standard rash.  After a night of constant crying she phoned NHS direct and they said to go to straight to A&E.  We didn't panic, after all the GP said he was fine.  My brother-in-law stayed at home and entertained the guests from their other child's 2nd birthday party and I took my sister to the hospital with the baby.  It was when the receptionist ran us to the children's ward that my sister fell apart.  She's always been the calm, logical one, she's the one who holds me together, what the hell do I do?  So I said the only thing that came into my head, "don't panic until they give us something to panic about - ok?"  She said ok and we got into the children's ward, then the treatment room, then the isolation room and finally the team of paediatricians.  Being rushed from room to room this quickly was bad, they were about to give us something to panic about.  My sister was terrified and I had no idea what to do, I kept telling her not to panic, not to pre-empt what might happen.  The doctor told us we did the right thing bringing him in and that he was very very poorly.  I kept hold of my sister in one arm and my nephew in the other and kept listening to what the doctor was saying, it wasn't for a few minutes I realised I'd stopped breathing.  My sister went outside to phone her husband and asked me to stay inside while they fitted the cannula and started the antibiotics and fluids.  Having to hold down a tiny baby made me feel two things: admiration for the doctor doing the procedure and total and utter fear.  Fear of not being able to help my sister, fear of losing him and fear of falling apart.

Over the next 48hours we were told to expect the worst.  All the doctor could say was it was an infection and it was serious.  Then we were told it was meningitis.  I went to work during the day and got back to the hospital most evenings to give them a break so they could see their other son.

For a whole week he was in hospital on so many drips, monitors and medication.  The only things that went through my head were the possibility of brain damage, amputations, septicaemia, blindness or being deaf.  It was horrible.  It was terrifying.  It was so many things I cannot even describe.  It was not until it was over that I realised it was shock.  That gut-rentching split-second when you drop a knife in the kitchen and you don't have shoes on - that was the feeling, but constant and it lasted a whole week until he came home.

The short story is that three other babies had presented with the same symptoms that month so the antibiotics they started immediately cured what he had - luckily it was the same infection and the meningitis was viral not bacterial.

It's only now I look back and think "we don't do anything by halves, do we?"  Mum can't have a bladder infection, she has to have cancer, my nephew can't have a tummy bug, he has to have meningitis...  When Mum was diagnosed my brother-in-law told me I was emotionally detached and possibly dead inside.  He was trying to shock me into understanding myself and to realise I was causing more worry by shutting myself down or putting my shields up, as it's now become known.  I have no idea if I did the right thing for my sister that day; I'll ask her in a few years when my nephew is strong, healthy and running around playing rugby with his brother.  I hope I did the right thing, but I have no idea. No one knows how they will react in that situation, I just did what I thought was right and however much my panic bubbled up inside me, I refused to acknowledge it was there.

If you have a baby or a child who is poorly (cold, tummy bug etc) and they develop a rash - TAKE THEM TO HOSPITAL!  My sister caught the virus so early he actually developed the other symptoms (dislike of light, stiff neck, grumpiness) in hospital, which means he always had a fighting chance.  My other sister has had to overcome an incredible guilt; she is a nurse and because the GP said he was fine, she said not to worry. We all have things to feel guilty about: I saw the rash spread to his foot, but it disappeared a few minutes later so I didn't think anything of it.  The paediatrician put the situation into context for us, "had you brought him in last night we would have sent you home and told you to give him calpol, which is what you did, even if we'd kept him in to monitor, we would not have started treating him until now. You couldn't have done anything differently."  She didn't have to say that, so I guess it's true, but it doesn't stop the odd moment of panic when I think of what might have happened...

Look out for these things:
Generally unwell with...

• a rash (even if it disappears under pressure),
• being grumpy, 
• not wanting to be comforted,
• lethargic and very tired but unable to sleep,
• stiffness in neck and joints.

Don't panic, just get them to hospital!

A year ago today...

A year ago today I was dancing the night away at my friend's wedding.  It was such a great day, I remember it as if it were yesterday, and today they celebrate their first anniversary.  All day I've been looking back and comparing then and now: at 12.15pm I looked at my watch and remembered that JP and I were on our way to the hotel - him determined he knew the way, me allowing him to lead, despite the fact that I knew a shorter route!  At 2pm I remembered how we were stood in the bar chatting to a girl I went to school with and the impending birth of her second child.  Now here I am at 8.30pm thinking about the endless drinking, dancing and giggling that went on all night.

Well, almost all night.

In four hours I will remember the moment I walked in on JP and the bridesmaid in bed together in our hotel room.  I cannot believe it's been a whole year.  I still can't believe how calm I was.  When I look back I see myself screaming and throwing things and doing some sort of Platoon- tribute, but there was none of that.  I excused myself and went into the en-suite telling the bitch to get dressed on the way.  I remember her telling me nothing happened... really?  I remember having to climb down the fire escape steps so that I didn't pass the bride or any of the other guests as I left.  I remember JP leaving me sobbing in the car park, having completely destroyed my faith in humanity, in love, in friendship and ultimately, in him.  That was the last time I saw him and the last time I spoke to him.  I didn't think I'd ever get over him, I thought that was it, I'd lost the love of my life and I was going to be forever alone destined, as Bridget Jones said, to die alone and be found months later half eaten by alsatians.

This year has been a roller coaster and so much has happened to prove to myself that I really can do anything and that JP wasn't the love of my life after all.  This year I've bought a house, been promoted and realised that it's actually ok to judge someone before you get to know them as long as you admit when that judgement is wrong.  I am me: I am determined, I am happy, I am judgemental, I am caring, I am guarded, I am responsible, I am indecisive, I am energetic, I am independent, I am loyal and one day I will find someone who loves and hates all of those things, but above all, I am worth waiting for and I am not willing to settle for second best.

FYI – there is a genetic fault in the male specie, approach with caution if at all.

If your other half ever says these things to you, do not take them as being totally true, regardless of how many times you ask them to be completely honest with you and even if they make you promise never to lie to them:

• You’re really special to me.
• I’m so excited to see you tomorrow.
• I’m in this for the longrun.
• If we’re talking about commitment, I’m there.
• I’m so relaxed around you.
• I’ve got issues, but I want us to be together, please be patient.
• I have no intention of messing this up again.
• I’ve missed you so much.

Having given Mr Dark Horse a second chance I am now massively regretting my decision.  It came with the usual level of BS; I really want us to be friends, I don’t want to be with anyone right now, blah blah blah.  Less than two hours previously everything was fine, he had even told me how much he was looking forward to seeing me.  So what happened in those two hours? According to him – nothing.  We had spent the weekend together and everything had been fine, great even.  We usually get highjacked when we go out so we decided to finally spend the evening in together just the two of us.  He cooked, we watched a film, perfect.  However, there is something fundamental that happened and it caused him to end it.  What was it?

I’ve reached the drunken stage of sarcastic curiosity now, I’m temporarily moving on from anger!  He made me watch rubbish TV at the start of the evening – surely that’s reason for me to finish it – maybe I criticised his favourite presenter, maybe I he gets weirded out by people who hardly talk over films, maybe our discussion about supernoodles made him realise our different choices of flavour constituted irreconcilable differences.  I’ll never know, and the reason I’ll never know is because he’s refusing to tell me.  All he’ll say is ‘something changed’.  I went from being the fun girlfriend who made him feel like he was on top of the world to being an ex.  He once said he loved how considerate I am and how I remember all the little details.  Well, he’ll get quite a shock next week when a bottle of champagne turns up on his doorstep congratulating him on his new job… this isn’t me being a weird stalker, I ordered it last week and the company won’t cancel the order!

I’m so angry.  I’m angry with myself for falling for it again – believing it when he called me special, believing it when he said we belonged together.  The other part is angry with him – I don’t believe him.  I can’t believe he can just turn his feelings off like that, suddenly not feel anything for me and want to be on his own.  Either way he’s lying, whether it was then or now.  I want this to be a glitch, I want him to wake up in the morning and realise he’s made a mistake.  Why did he spend two days begging me to take him back only to end it a few weeks later?  So many questions and I don’t even think he knows the answer.

Still, could be worse, he could have slept with the bridesmaid.

Wow - he's worse than me...!

I've decided to bite the bullet and see how things go with Mr Dark Horse.  It was actually the day after my last post that I got 'the phone call'.  We had been texting all day about life in general and the size of his hangover when I noticed the texts were beginning to skirt an issue.  He never came out and said he'd reconsidered our friendship, but there were definitely hints of that kind.  Shortly before midnight I broached the subject - what's going on? I'd sent him a birthday card for his 30th and apparently that was enough to metaphorically (or metaphysically, I'm not sure) smack him in the face and realise what he'd thrown away.  I'd looked for a card that summed him up and couldn't find one, so I got out some card and scissors and went back to play school to make him one - it was brilliant - full of pictures of the stupid conversations we'd had, a photo of his new car, favourite film, the news headline the day he was born, I liked it.  Thinking no more about it, other than to think it could be seen as slightly lame, I sent it.  To me, it wasn't a big deal, I do that sort of thing for my friends; I did it for my friend from uni last month, for another's engagement, one year I made everyone's Christmas card (I'd just discovered Photoshop).

But enough of the card tangent.  Mr Dark Horse said he missed me, he didn't realise how much until he got my card.  He spent the next few minutes apologising for being an idiot (the 2am Christmas Day saga) and explaining why he was such an idiot.  He put so much effort into the apology it seemed rude not to hear him out.  It was a bit of a realisation for me too though.  I really missed him too.  Yes, he really upset me at Christmas, but everyone can make a mistake and he wants to make up for it.  He's funny and interesting and ok, wears odd clothes, but at least I can steal his superhero t-shirts!!  I've decided to just go for it; he's taking the lead and I'm fine with that.

The new and slightly odd situation is the question of how quickly we should be moving our relationship on.  We've covered the girlfriend/boyfriend status thing - he made it very clear we're serious.  Unfortunately Mr Dark Horse has a tiny reputation for being a bit of a womaniser, therefore we are taking things very slowly.  When I say slowly, I mean dead from the neck down! I understand why he doesn't want to rush things, of course I do, but we've been friends for seven months, we've got to know each other pretty well, we've even (technically) had our first argument.  He says he doesn't want to mess things up and that he's serious about the two of us having a future together.  I'm having to show a lot of self-control; I really like him and I've never dated someone who cared enough to wait, it has always been down to me how quickly things go....

THAT'S IT!  It's always been me who calls the shots, now I'm faced with someone who's been messed around more times than me, who's been hurt worse than me and who has made more mistakes than me.  That's why this feels so strange.  I'm actually in a relationship with someone who wants to get this right.  Maybe I'm finally growing up?!

Love/Hate gets complicated when it's for the same person...

Why is it we have such strong emotions over the same person?  The person who angers you the most is also the person you love the most.  The person you have the most patience for is also the person who winds you up the most?  I don't get it.

Mr Dark Horse is back on the scene.  Having spent Christmas morning arguing via text (it was 2am and he was steamingly drunk) we didn't speak for ages until a few weeks ago I got a message out of the blue asking to meet up.  Since we got chatting again we've become friends again and the argument has pretty much been forgotten.  How?  He really upset me, what he said was really hurtful and selfish, so why do I no longer care about it? Have I realised it wasn't a big deal after all and actually I overreacted, or am I a complete walkover?  He was a really good friend and the first person in ages to make me feel cared about and important; something I never felt with JP - that I was a priority.  We met again for the first time in a pub to watch the end of the 6 Nations final match, I was only going to stay for a few minutes, but ended up there for 3 hours; it was like we'd never been apart, we just talked about the old stuff, caught up and left on a really good note.  I woke up the next morning feeling happier and brighter and again whenever I talk to him, I feel better.  Maybe the argument wasn't such a big deal.  At the time I was really unhappy, my ankle was stopping me working properly, work were being horrible, Mum thought her cancer was back, I'd just lost a load of money on my flat, I was having to move back home, my sister was ill, my other sister was pregnant... it wasn't an ideal time for Mr Dark Horse to tell me he fancied a quickie!  Needless to say he got the full force of what I thought of him, which I don't regret, he needed to know there was a line and he crossed it.

Everything is sorted now though.  I've got a promotion at work, which means I've been accepted for a mortgage and we're ready to exchange contracts so I'll be home very soon.  My new job is really good fun and although a lot more work, I'm enjoying it.  Things are on the up - does this mean I'm more level-headed or just that now everything else is in place I'm finally ready to meet someone new?

Life doesn't stop getting any less complicated, does it?

OFSTED... Grrrrrrr!

OFSTED.

That single word of doom. OFSTED.

It's not even a real word, it's an acronym, and yet it strikes fear into the very heart of every head teacher across the UK.  It doesn't scare me, it intrigues me.  I am a good teacher.  That's not me being big-headed, I am a good teacher.  I work my butt off every day in order to be a good teacher.  I know that the day I find teaching easy is the day I have to leave and do something else.  A good teacher is always trying and always failing, because we are, by definition, people who can always do better.  No two days are the same and no two children are the same, you are constantly improving, constantly making changes and constantly questioning why it was only good.  I want to be brilliant.  Every teacher does, but once we get there we also know there is nowhere else to go, so we keep trying to be brilliant and hopefully we'll get there by the time we retire.

I love my job.  For anyone who has read the backlog of blogs you'll know how much I love my job and I've never been scared of being inspected, but this new form of OFSTED is making me doubt my basic ability to teach.  The whole organisation was overturned in October last year and all new policies put in place, we were told more would be added in January and they were, but on top of that, the policies they had just put in place were changed. So, in short, we have had two major overhauls in four months.  This has sent senior management into meltdown.  We are trying to stay on top of it, but when the inspectors themselves don't know what they are doing, how on earth can we?

My policy has always been the same - the students come first.  Every student is individual, every student has their own target and their own strengths and weaknesses and it is my job to teach them how to deal with those difficulties and to teach them how to learn.  I also teach them how to be nice human beings!  I have been willing to stand up for my policy ever since I started teaching six years ago, and finally OFSTED have agreed the focus should be entirely on the students instead of the teacher putting on a show (under the last government, that's what we were expected to do).  They have a very simple policy:

Every student must make progress in every lesson and this progress must be clearly demonstrated throughout the lesson.

Ok, I can probably do that, although it usually takes longer than 50minutes for a student to understand the structure of a monologue and all it entails, but I'll give it a go.  Of course they forgot to mention the following points:

We will only observe you for 20minutes, we will fail you if we cannot speak to the students when we want, we will decide if the level of progress is acceptable or not and the clincher... if you question every student to make sure they have made progress, you are wasting valuable time that could be better spent teaching!

Are you kidding me??

I've never been scared or OFSTED and I'm still not. I'm hacked off and fed up.  Would it be too much to ask for the organisation to be teachers, ex-teachers, head teachers, consultants?  You know, people who are involved in education right now.  Is that too much to ask?  That the people who have the power to sack us or close us down for failure to provide a good education actually know what they are doing and actually know the situations we are faced with every day.  OFSTED should be a continual study of the school, the teachers and the students.  Anyone can fake it for two days (in fact some schools bring in advanced skills teachers to take the place of their 'less successful' teachers during an inspection), how about you subtly watch us for a term.  Watch us mess up, watch us battle with that student who just doesn't care, watch us succeed, watch us have a brilliant lesson that went completely off-plan, but where they learnt more than you could have planned, watch us laugh with the students who do care, watch us pick up the pieces of a broken family, watch us fail (yes, the horror, it sometimes goes wrong) and watch us try our damnedest to make up for it. Then judge us.  Judge us honestly and judge us fairly.  We're not superheroes and we cannot achieve the impossible, but by the end of the inspection you'll see we sure as hell try to!

You Can't Stop Someone Going Off the Rails...

I’m reading the last few pages of James Corden’s autobiography and I’m finding myself judging him as a brattish, selfish, ignorant idiot.  I love Gavin and Stacey and I generally like him as an actor whenever I see him on TV, but I’m shocked by how angry I am getting with him.  Throughout the book he has told me how wonderful his professional experiences have been, how genuinely fabulous the people he has met have been and how incredible the people he has worked with have been.  The over use of superlatives is driving me up the wall.  I get it, you’ve worked with Mike Leigh, Richard Griffiths and sat behind Piers Morgan before winning two BAFTA’s, you’ve had a glistening if not very short (so far) career.  He also apologises profusely for being an arse; for sleeping around with strangers, for not talking to his normal friends, for taking everything for granted, for keeping his neighbours up all night etc etc etc.  He spends pages describing how he lost himself and how he regrets his actions, but he was in a terrible place and couldn’t handle the success he was having.  Throughout this 336page book of self-realisation I have lost all sympathy for him and have judged him to be, as stated earlier, brattish, selfish and ignorant.

The question is, why?  I also read Michael J. Fox’s autobiography in which he describes the bubble he lived in throughout his life and the number of people he employed to polish the bubble so that his view was never obscured.  Maybe it was the brilliantly worded analogy that made me like him even more, maybe it was the brutal honesty he wrote with, or maybe it was the fact that he truly hit financial rock-bottom, I don’t know.  Both men shared a sudden and extreme success after trying for years.  Both men selfishly felt they deserved their success.  Both men lost the people they loved as a result of such selfishness.  So why do I feel such an annoyance towards one of them and complete admiration for the other?

The answer lies in me and in my judgment of these two people.  I strongly believe that you cannot stop somebody ‘going off the rails,’ you just make sure you do not abandon them when they do.  I teach several children who every day I desperately try to help, guide and, well, stop going off the rails.  The hardest thing I ever had to come to terms with was the theory of just not abandoning them.  I bang my head against a wall every time I hand out a detention for defiance, phone home to get the same voicemail (the one that NEVER calls you back), confiscate banned items, fill in report cards, but I do it because I want to.  The banging never stops; the day it does is the day I have to quit my job.  Here are two adult men who went off the rails for various reasons, I can understand the reasons why don’t I have the same sympathy for them; they are adults, they are victims of their own success and they have the maturity to realise their mistakes.  But why the difference between them?  The only reason I can think of is the time I read them.  I read Michael J. Fox’s autobiography when I was at university and desperately looking for inspiration from people who had also gone through difficult times.  Maybe I held him in some sort of figurehead, a person who acknowledges their downfalls and I saw him more as a romantic tragic hero.  Maybe I’m less tolerant now and so my view of James Corden is obscured; had I read them the other way around I might be more angry at the man who brought me the Flux Capacitor than I am at the one who brought me What’s Occurring?! 

This makes me wonder about the judgments I make every day, the people I meet and the influence my mood has on my relationships.  Spending a lot of time on my own a couple of years ago made me realise what makes me happy, what calms me down, what truly upsets me and how I can be alone without being lonely.  Now I need to realise when I’m feeling ‘hormonal’ or just having an ‘off day’ and remember not to make any major decisions on those days…  I have a strong feeling that it’s just not possible!  I guess that’s why I’m not Prime Minister; we’d declare nuclear war on the referee of the Six Nations just because he claimed a dangerous tackle against Youngs and I happened to be on my period at the time (ahhhh, Youngs). 

All I can do is remember I’m human, I’m not able to remain completely level-headed, logical and rational every day for the rest of my life.  I’m a working-progress, still learning, still f***ing up and still panicking when we run out of milk.  The most important thing is to, as Corden continually says, stay ‘grounded’ and the only way to do that is to surround yourself with people who like you, not your success, your money, your house, your ability to complete complicated maths, but the real you.  Something that Fox and Corden achieve at the end of their books is to understand the importance of family.  Trisha once said “addiction is signified by the impact it has on your relationships”.  It works in other ways too; if you’re not in contact with the people you love because you’re ashamed of something you’ve done or the person you are becoming, then you know you’re doing something wrong.  How quickly you face up to your mistakes is up to you.  I’d love to fast forward twenty years and talk to the kiddies I teach now, they’ll see I only want the best for them and I hope they understand why I spent hours on their backs.  I’d love to go back and talk to my old maths teacher; he was the only one who ever stood up for me (he hit his head so many times I gave him a permanent concussion), I’d thank him, I’d apologise and I’d tell him I understand why he spent hours on my back.

Thank you Mr Ellis!