For those waiting for me to get back to them about stuff (this includes TravelFish for that review of the Kho Phi Phi guide and Joe for my brief look at broadbandgenie), please bear with me. I am absolutely buried in lesson planning amongst a gazillion (OK – eleven) other assignments.
I’m also off down to London for the weekend so I’m going to push myself slightly further behind! I will get to your stuff ASAP, I promise. Hopefully that’ll be by Wednesday once I’ve worked out what I’m doing for 2nd year. As luck would have it, that usually means one lesson plan copied seven times…
Don’t you love how we tell kids to do things (or not do them) and then undermine the whole concept with our own actions and decision?
Over the last week I’ve gone over the concept of Internet Safety with three classes. Â A key concept in the lessons is “Don’t give out your personal details to anyone”. That is, don’t go publishing your name, address, school and photo on your Bebo page then opening it up to the world.
That’s sensible enough.
I was talking to another teacher (I say “another” as if I’m qualified… roll on summer 2011!) who had the following thrust at him as a question:
“Well, sir, in that case what happens if I lose my school bus pass? It’s got my name, photo and address on it and it’s got the school name printed across the top.”
Of course, he thought this was silly. There’s no way it would have all of those details on.
Actually. Yes. Yes, it does. He looked and was struck dumb. The obvious answer is “well, don’t lose your bus pass” but these things happen. They go walkies, they get dropped, they get stolen along with the bag they’re inside.
And then someone has their hands on this young girl’s school and home addresses.
Does anyone else think this is madness? It’s a school bus pass for a bus that runs from a locale to the school direct, not a public bus. As long as the pupil has a pass, their address is immaterial. It needs a photo to show that the carrier is the one entitled to the bus trip. That, I accept. Even having the name on isn’t the end of the world. The name of the school makes a bit of sense, but why would they be on the wrong bus? If they were colour-coded or had some other identifying feature even that wouldn’t be necessary.
But home address? If the pass is lost, the student applies for another. If it’s got the school name on it then the finder can return it there – the school would be able to find the pupil.
So while we’re telling them not to publish their details somewhere public, the school is handing them a piece of card that they have every chance of dropping with just that information on. Not as bad as shoving a poster up, but depending on who finds it every bit as worrying.
After many false starts and things not being organised, I met up with some of my fellow students for a kickabout in the park after lectures this afternoon. In all, there was a whacking four of us. And the other three were girls.
I will no longer call women the weaker sex. Fairer, certainly – but only when we’re talking about looks as this lot cheated. I have the bruises on my shins to prove it. Catherine, I’m looking at you. Through the tears in my eyes.
In fairness, I’m flipping unfit. The most exercise my legs get is shifting between the clutch, brake and accelerator pedals. This, of course, is no excuse for taking advantage and kicking me in the legs every time I walked past. Next time I’m taking my shinpads.
The conditions certainly didn’t favour football either. We were on soft grass and it was quite cool. The last time I played a full match, I was on an all-weather pitch in 35-degree heat at 8:30 in the morning. Admittedly in Hanoi. This obviously suits me much better.
So aside from the pain, battering, humiliation, wheezing, and the fact that I got caked in mud… I had a pretty good time. Thanks to Catherine, Laura and Mhara (I think I have the names right) for sorting things out and not hurting me too much. Good luck on your placements, ladies!
I’ve done a lot of stuff over the last three years that I never imagined I would. For the full story, check out my Travel Blog. I never, even a little over four years ago, would have guessed I would have done what I have done, achieved what I have achieved, experienced what I have experienced. Sometimes things just happen than give you a nudge in the right direction.
In short, for those new here, I met a lovely young lady who had already arranged to go travelling for 18 months. I was living in a nice house next door to the world’s worst neighbour who was – no exaggeration – driving me insane. Seriously over the edge. I’d bought my house when it was cheap and it had doubled in value. My job, for a great company and with wonderful co-workers, was pretty dull.
In short, I had a lot of reasons to go. A woman to follow, a neighbour to escape from and the funds to do so.
I’m no longer with that woman. In fact, I’m no longer with the next one either! I am, however, the owner of two passports (one full, one getting there), a PADIDivemaster card, and a collection of photos and stories that are simply staggering to me.
This isn’t a post to show off. This is a post to make you sit up and think “I should do that” if you’re at all able. And the reason for this is a story I heard today. It’s a sad one and very true.
To maintain confidentiality I shall use “a friend of mine” as the source. She is a schoolteacher and one of the children she taught last year is nine years old. He has a five year old sister. Last weekend they were sorting out a new hamster cage in preparation for getting the animal itself.
Their mum felt a little weird, and a headache was developing so she went for a lie down. Shortly after she called for her husband – the pain was getting far worse so they called for an ambulance.
By the time she made it to hospital she was brain dead.
Within two days, the machinery keeping her alive had been switched off.
She was 37.
Thirty. Seven.
And with no medical history that pointed to the fact that this might happen.
By all accounts she was very well liked and a wonderful mother to her two children. At least she had the time to bring them both into the world. She achieved something.
I sometimes wonder “what if” I’d not sold up and left. I’d still have a house and (possibly) a steady job. I’d likely own an X-Box360 and a pool table and have a home cinema. But I’d have missed out on the biggest adventure I could ever have hope to have. Walking across Europe, sky-diving, working in a temple in Thailand with baby tigers for crying out loud.
Then I hear about someone like this being taken at such an early age – barely a year older than I am now – and all my regrets vanish.
You only live once. If you’re lucky you’ll get maybe 70-80 years on this planet. If you’re less fortunate, maybe half that. Or less.
Don’t think “I wish…”.
Do it!
For me, it was seeing foreign countries and really pushing my independence. For you, maybe it’s a course in French or spending more time with your children.
Whatever it is – you can do it. It’s too easy to focus on material stuff these days: the flat screen telly, the bigger house, the flasher car. You don’t need them. Penny-pinch, save up, change arrangements, get rid of things you don’t use. You’ll be surprised how much you can make.
And go for it.
You only have one chance. It’s a huge, wonderful world. Don’t regret never giving yourself the opportunity.
I’m dog-sitting for the folks this weekend, so had a quiet night in yesterday evening. Until Poppy started barking incessantly for no apparent reason around midnight. They’re smart enough – I swear they can tell the time.
Before she left my mum told me, “Feed them around four o’clock.” No worries. At five past four, they’d emerged from wherever they were playing and were in my room, trying to jump on my lap. That’s pretty good timekeeping.
Think that’s coincidence? At 8pm – when my parents normally retire to the front room to veg in front of the telly, the dogs again became active. Scratching at the door of the lounge to get in. Clever pups.
This morning I took them for a walk, which was a challenge. They’ve got a kind of “combi-leash” – one auto-retracting handgrip which feeds down to a ring to which each dog then has their own bit of lead. It looks great and efficient, but it’s… entertaining getting them to walk properly.
Taffy always walks against the wall if you have him on his own leash – he’s male and wants to mark his territory. He’s also the “tugger”, wanting to walk you. He’s not bad at it either, given his size (they’re Schitzus, in case you didn’t know). The thing is, Poppy seems to insist on walking on his right if they’re leashed together. As we were walking on the right hand side of the road, this meant she was between him and the wall. Something Taffy didn’t realy pay much attention to each time he lifted his leg.
Ew.
Mind, she gets her revenge. Tripods are sturdy and balanced as their legs are spaced evenly around the radius of the base. However, a rectangular table with a leg missing can tip quite easily. Much like a dog on three legs when its attached friend pulls on the lead.
As for keeping one of them still while the other squats for a number two… You try emptying your bowels while someone yanks on a chain around your neck.
While we’re on that subject, I think I’ll suggest to my mother to get thicker plastic bags for picking up the poop. It’s icky enough to do, but when you can feel how warm it is through the thin layer of polycarbons… Urgh.
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